The next day.
Sang Lu slept until four in the afternoon.
When she finally stirred awake and stepped out of the living room, irregular thuds echoed from the direction of the home gym.
She paused mid-step and peeked over.
The gym door was slightly ajar, obscuring the full view.
All she could see was a heavy sandbag swaying in the air, and the fleeting glimpse of a man’s powerfully muscled arms striking swiftly.
No need to guess—it was Feng Yan.
When had he woken up?
How long had he been punching that sandbag?
Sang Lu swallowed hard in disbelief. "…"
Were human bodies really so different?
Just lifting her arms to wash her face earlier had felt like a struggle.
Yet here he was, still energetic enough to pummel a sandbag?
Thud—thud—
The forceful impacts reverberated again.
Each strike seemed to pulse against her eardrums.
Squinting, she could see the veins bulging along his forearms, a sight brimming with raw strength.
Instinctively, she touched her waist.
Memories of last night—no, more accurately, early this morning—flashed through her mind. The scene in the bathroom resurfaced: those same solid arms pinning her in place, rendering her immobile for what felt like an eternity.
All she could do was endure.
Sang Lu shook her head, trying to dispel the blush-inducing images.
A voice inside her screamed: He really needs to stop working out!!!
But she kept it to herself.
Not a sound escaped her lips.
Survival instincts compelled her to stay silent.
Quietly, she turned on her heel.
Putting distance between herself and this man who, once unleashed, wouldn’t stop no matter how much she pleaded.
Sang Lu headed to the kitchen.
She prepared a bowl of yogurt for herself.
Leaning against the kitchen island, she devoured it in three minutes flat.
A hand pressed to her stomach confirmed it still felt hollow.
So she rummaged for snacks and carried them to the living room couch.
The rhythmic thuds from the gym continued to echo in her ears.
As she ate, her mind wandered aimlessly.
She wasn’t even sure what she was daydreaming about.
At some point, the sounds ceased.
Then came steady footsteps as Feng Yan walked into the gym’s attached bathroom.
Sang Lu crunched on a potato chip.
A thought crossed her mind…
When it came to wasting water, Feng Yan had her beat.
He was showering one more time than she had.
…
The man showered quickly. Within minutes, he emerged from the gym, dampness clinging to his skin.
As he walked, he casually pulled a fresh T-shirt over his head.
The motion was efficient, his waist slightly bent as he tugged the hem down, covering the faintly defined abs left from his workout.
Feng Yan took a few steps before his peripheral vision caught a figure on the couch. He turned, meeting Sang Lu’s slightly complicated gaze.
He paused. "You’re awake?"
A pointless question.
Less of an inquiry and more of a filler.
At least, that’s how Sang Lu interpreted it in her current state.
Every muscle in her body ached, and seeing Feng Yan so refreshed and full of energy only fueled her irritation.
So even his most ordinary remark now felt loaded with unspoken judgment.
After a few seconds of silence, she realized her own pettiness and slowly reined in the resentment in her eyes. She nodded at him with a quiet "Mm."
Meanwhile, Feng Yan’s gaze drifted from her face to her neck, lingering on the faint red marks scattered across her fair skin and collarbone.
Sang Lu: "?"
What was he looking at?
The corners of his lips twitched imperceptibly, and his dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
"Why are you staring at me?" she finally asked.
At her question, Feng Yan strode over without hesitation.
He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms in one fluid motion.
Sang Lu froze, caught off guard as she was suddenly enveloped in his embrace.
His crisp, clean scent surrounded her instantly—a mix of post-shower freshness and the lingering musk of exertion.
It was pleasant, intoxicating.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she felt Feng Yan rest his chin atop her head, nuzzling lightly. His deep voice rumbled from above:
"Wanted to look."
His tone was even, his voice cool—an answer to her earlier question.
If judged by sound alone, he might have seemed detached, indifferent.
Yet his hand slid to the small of her back, fingers kneading gently.
The touch was slow, tender.
Sang Lu’s words died in her throat. "…"
Pressed against him, she could feel the subtle vibrations of his chest as he spoke.
Her heartbeat quickened inexplicably.
But…
Was that even an answer?
"Wanted to look," so he stared?
Might as well have said nothing.
He was full of pointless remarks today.
Sang Lu’s inner critic resurfaced, nitpicking silently.
But as his broad palm worked methodically, the stiffness in her waist gradually eased.
The volume of her mental complaints dwindled…
Until they vanished entirely.
Fine. Maybe he wasn’t entirely terrible.
At least he remembered her soreness.
If he wanted to look, then let him.
She wasn’t unreasonable.
Sang Lu tilted her head slightly, ears tinged pink, feigning nonchalance as she munched on another chip.
She deliberately ignored the scorching gaze still fixed on her face.
Feng Yan had never been one for expressive displays.
Which was why Sang Lu often left him bewildered.
How could one person’s face hold so much vivid emotion?
She was always smiling, but each smile carried a different shade depending on the situation.
Even now, eating chips, her eyes sparkled, crinkling at the corners with a tiny, delighted curve.
Feng Yan found himself recalling the way she looked when sipping a particularly delicious soup.
Her delicate brows would first furrow slightly, then suddenly relax as she let out a sigh, her eyes crinkling with contentment.
Yet when focused on work, her expression transformed entirely.
Pursing her lips in thought, she occasionally tapped her chin with a finger, her eyes lighting up the moment an idea struck, a smug curl lifting the corner of her lips.
Every subtle shift in her expression was vivid and alive.
There were so many, so very many…
He could never tire of watching her.
He delighted in discovering even more layers of emotion flickering across her face.
Like this morning, for instance.
The way she bit her lower lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, damp at the corners—
It enthralled him.
Suddenly, the ringing of a phone shattered his reverie.
His brows knitted in irritation.
With one hand, he picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.
The other remained on Sang Lu’s waist, his fingers still kneading gently.
Upon recognizing the caller’s name, Feng Yan’s brow arched slightly as he answered.
A single icy word escaped him:
"Speak."
"Big bro, you free today? Wanna grab dinner together—?"
Feng Yi’s bright, booming voice crackled through the receiver.
Feng Yan’s frown deepened, finding the noise grating, and he held the phone slightly away from his ear.
Just as he was about to respond, a soft "ah" came from beside him.
Sang Lu’s waist was particularly sensitive, and the pressure from his thumb had been too much. She shot a glare at the culprit, her eyes accusing.
Men never quite grasped their own strength—what he considered light was already too rough for her.
Meeting her glare, Feng Yan’s gaze faltered. His palm smoothed over the spot, his touch gradually gentling.
On the other end of the line, Feng Yi paused too.
It took him only a second to recognize that the voice definitely hadn’t come from his brother.
"Wait—is Sis-in-law there with you?" he asked, surprised.
"Mn." Feng Yan had no interest in elaborating.
He just wanted to end the call.
Hearing this, Feng Yi’s tone grew even more enthusiastic, his voice practically sparkling.
"Perfect! Then Sis-in-law should come too! I booked a table at this private kitchen—heard the food’s amazing. She’ll love it."
No.
That was what Feng Yan wanted to say.
But in the end, he held back.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, the overhead light casting shadows along the sharp bridge of his nose. His expression calm, he turned to Sang Lu and asked,
"Feel like going out to eat? Feng Yi reserved a restaurant."
Sang Lu barely needed to hear the first half of the sentence before nodding emphatically, rubbing her stomach. "Yes, let’s go. I’m starving."
She had no idea why, but today, her hunger was relentless.
No amount of snacks could satisfy it.
Feng Yan’s gaze softened. He gave a slight nod.
Lifting the phone back to his ear, his eyes cooled again, his voice frosty.
"Send me the address."
"Got it—" Feng Yi’s cheerful "roger" was cut off by the abrupt dial tone.
He blinked.
Why was his brother in such a hurry to hang up?
He’d been about to ask to speak to Sis-in-law, just to say hello.
Feng Yi’s face fell briefly.
But within seconds, he shrugged it off with a resigned sigh.
"Eh, typical…"
This was just how his brother was, after all.
Cold, taciturn, impatient—with a face that looked like it had seen a lifetime of crimes.
He should’ve gotten used to it by now, right?
If Feng Yan ever turned gentle and patient one day, now that would be the real shocker.
Shaking off his disappointment, Feng Yi perked up again, his brows lifting cheerfully as he tapped out the restaurant details and reservation time in a message to his brother.
Meanwhile—
The very man branded as cold, taciturn, and impatient was patiently massaging someone’s waist for a full half-hour.
