After returning from her parents' home, Sang Lu spent three whole days pondering.
About Feng Yan's selective mutism.
She decided she needed to do something.
Logically speaking, if Feng Yan could speak, she would undoubtedly be overjoyed.
Building a closer relationship couldn’t happen overnight.
If they wanted to maintain communication, talking would certainly be far more convenient than writing.
A few days earlier, after bringing home the crispy fried fish, she had only then heard from Aunt Zhang that Feng Yan never ate fish.
Just as she prepared to devour all the fish herself, she was stunned to see Feng Yan pick up a piece with his chopsticks.
The "Ice Prince" breaking his rule for fish?
What an honor.
Sang Lu was so thrilled she could’ve set off fireworks on the spot.
Now, their relationship was gradually improving.
It was time to push further.
After some online research, she learned that patients with selective mutism needed guidance from family members to help them overcome their emotional barriers and stop "refusing to speak."
What a coincidence!
She happened to be an expert at "verbal therapy."
…
On Saturday afternoon, Feng Yan had just finished his workout in the home gym and stepped out of the shower, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Sang Lu padded over in her fluffy slippers, her steps light and quick.
"Got a minute? There’s something I want to ask you."
Feng Yan paused.
His gaze lowered to meet hers.
The warm spring sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over Sang Lu’s fair skin. Her slightly curled hair shimmered under the light, and her lips, rosy and soft, curved into a cheerful smile.
Vibrant. Alive.
Feng Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly before he averted his eyes.
He tilted his chin toward the sofa.
A silent invitation to talk there.
They sat down.
For some reason…
Whenever she faced Feng Yan’s icy expression, Sang Lu inexplicably turned into a walking meme.
Hands on her knees, eyes wide and earnest.
The picture of obedience.
"I heard Doctor Ji comes every month to treat you—"
Before she could finish, Aunt Zhang passed by the living room and choked on air.
Aunt Zhang hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She had just finished cleaning the home theater and was on her way to the storage room when she overheard. Gripping the mop tightly, she barely suppressed a cough.
The young mistress was just too bold.
It startled her.
Though Feng Yan never explicitly asked the staff to leave during his sessions with Doctor Ji, every housekeeper and butler in the Feng household knew better than to linger—lest they upset the master.
But the mistress… was she always this fearless?
She had an uncanny knack for stepping straight into topics everyone else avoided.
Unfazed by the interruption, Sang Lu kept her earnest gaze fixed on Feng Yan.
"—Next time Doctor Ji comes, let me join you!"
"I read online that treating selective mutism requires full cooperation from family. Since we’re living together now, and I’m the only family you have around, you can count on me. I’ll do everything I can to help."
Her lips pressed into a determined line, her expression as resolute as a soldier’s oath.
The afternoon was quiet, the sunlight warm.
Bathed in the golden glow, her porcelain skin took on a delicate pink hue, her eyes shimmering like stars.
Feng Yan’s dark eyes bore into her, unwavering.
As if trying to see through her.
Drip—
Drip—
Water droplets slid from his damp hair and hit the floor with soft taps.
Fresh from the shower, his collar was damp, his black hair tousled and soft.
Sang Lu’s mind drifted.
A scene from the other day flashed in her head—Feng Yan standing before his corporate employees, composed and authoritative, every inch the elite.
Compared to his current, slightly disheveled state, the contrast was… unexpectedly charming.
The thought vanished as quickly as it came.
Her gaze dropped slightly, only to meet his frost-laden eyes.
The intimidating aura returned in full force.
Meanwhile, Aunt Zhang, still clutching the mop nearby, froze mid-step.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Looking at the young mistress bathed in sunlight, she saw nothing short of a radiant bodhisattva!
The same words.
But to different ears, they carried different meanings.
In Feng Yan’s mind, one word echoed—family.
He had three blood relatives who could be called "family," yet none of those relationships felt like one.
With Old Master Feng, it was respect and reverence.
With his two younger brothers, it was stern, almost paternal discipline.
His gaze sharpened, locking onto the vivid, bright face before him.
Family…
Something soft brushed against his heart.
An unfamiliar, indescribable feeling spread through him.
After a long silence, he lowered his eyes.
Picking up a pen and paper from the coffee table, he wrote—
"If you’re home that day, you can join."
He never hid his therapy sessions from the staff.
There was no reason to exclude her.
"You have to tell me in advance!" Sang Lu’s eyes widened with excitement, almost disbelieving at how easily he’d agreed. "I’ll definitely be here!"
She beamed at him for several seconds.
Then suddenly—
She held out her pinky finger.
Feng Yan glanced down. "?"
Before he could react, she’d already grabbed his hand.
Quickly sealing the promise, they hooked their fingers and pressed their thumbs together.
"Deal~"
The man's straight posture stiffened slightly.
The lingering warmth of her soft palm against his still tingled on his skin.
Sang Lu, oblivious to his unease, giggled.
After a few seconds, her laughter abruptly halted.
Wait… Had she just acted like a grade-schooler, grabbing Feng Yan’s hand for a pinky swear?
So embarrassing.
Still, his hand was surprisingly nice to hold—
Slender, well-defined, with firm knuckles and a comforting warmth.
Heh~
The thought made her eyes crinkle with another smile.
Then, just as suddenly, her expression froze.
She suddenly realized how creepy she must look, grinning one moment and blank-faced the next.
Sang Lu: "…"
