Under the deep night sky,
A black sedan glided over the viaduct.
Gazing at the receding scenery outside the window, Sang Lu was still in a daze.
Beside her, Feng Yan’s sharp and striking features were half-hidden in the dim light.
Sang Lu had carried a cardboard box filled with documents into the car.
Now placed at her right side, it made the otherwise spacious backseat feel slightly cramped.
"Am I crowding you?"
Sang Lu suddenly asked.
As her words fell,
The man who had been looking out the window shifted his gaze.
With a slight downward glance,
He noticed Sang Lu’s shoulder pressed against his arm.
Through the fabric, the unfamiliar sensation was abrupt and unmistakable, as if it had sprouted legs and instantly spread through his entire body.
Along with it came the sweet, citrusy fragrance clinging to her.
The car jolted slightly as it passed over a speed bump.
Sang Lu’s knee inadvertently brushed against his thigh.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
He lowered his gaze, veiling the emotions in his eyes.
Shook his head.
"As long as I’m not crowding you~"
Sang Lu relaxed, then asked:
"By the way, why didn’t you let me know you were coming today?"
It had been so sudden.
Her colleagues had definitely been startled by his unexpected appearance.
Sang Lu’s question carried a hint of preemptive deflection—before Feng Yan could scold her for forgetting the date, she’d shift the blame first.
The subtext was clear: if he had told her earlier, she wouldn’t have forgotten.
Hearing this, Feng Yan paused.
Then slowly turned his head.
His elbow rested on the window frame as he regarded her with leisurely amusement.
His dark pupils glinted with a cool sheen, sweeping over Sang Lu’s face in a slow, deliberate arc.
A trace of playful mockery surfaced.
It seemed he had caught the faint accusation in her words.
A breeze slipped through the window crack,
Carrying the crisp scent of early spring grass and leaves, brushing against Sang Lu’s face.
It should have been refreshing, pleasant.
Yet, under that gaze, Sang Lu inexplicably felt suffocated.
A few seconds later,
Feng Yan’s brow lifted slightly.
His hand, resting on his thigh, rose—long fingers tapped twice against his phone.
Tap. Tap.
A clear, wordless prompt.
Sang Lu: ?
What did that mean…?
Had he… texted her in advance?
Her eyes widened. She immediately unlocked her phone.
Only to find an unread message from Feng Yan sitting quietly in their chat history, untouched.
Swamped with work all afternoon, she hadn’t even spared a glance.
Now, without needing to look up, she could feel Feng Yan’s amused gaze lingering on her face.
As if asking, What else do you have to blame me for?
Sang Lu: ……
Her deflection had failed. She could only muddle through.
She grinned, forcing a chuckle, and changed the subject:
"My bad, totally my fault. Once we get to the old house, I’ll make it up to you. I won’t let you down."
As she spoke, a flicker of confusion passed through the man’s eyes.
……
Memories of their last dinner at the family estate were hazy for Sang Lu.
All she recalled was being completely controlled by the plot back then,
Forced to act in ways that defied reason.
The Feng family had strict traditions—no one dared to take their seat before Grandfather.
Yet that day, she had disregarded all decorum,
Plopping down first without a second thought.
Grandfather, ever magnanimous, hadn’t reprimanded her.
Instead, he kindly instructed the butler to serve her the soup first.
And how had she repaid that kindness?
After a single sip, she frowned and set the bowl down,
Complaining it was too hot, then sulking the entire evening.
Even with such rudeness, Grandfather’s fondness for his old comrade’s granddaughter remained unshaken.
He hadn’t criticized her once, instead praising her as gentle and well-mannered.
And her?
She’d been utterly ungrateful, escalating her behavior.
During a trip to the restroom, she overheard the maids whispering about her sharp tongue.
She’d pointed at them and snapped, "You’re just a servant. One more word and I’ll slap you."
Remembering these actions—committed by her body but utterly foreign to her soul—
Sang Lu clenched her fists.
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.
And it got worse.
After returning home that night, she’d unleashed a torrent of complaints at her silent husband.
—"Your family looks down on me, on this marriage. Your brothers didn’t spare me a single kind glance, and you didn’t even stand up for me…"
She’d twisted the truth, spinning outright lies.
—"Even the servants mocked me, laughed at me for having no assets, for not being a real member of the Feng family…"
In her memory, Feng Yan’s expression had been icy.
Without a word, he’d walked away, shutting himself in the bedroom.
The next day, he’d sent her a bank card—
The sum inside was staggering.
Looking back, Feng Yan as a husband had been impeccable.
Faced with such a spiteful, unreasonable version of her, he hadn’t lost his temper.
He’d even given her money!
The more she thought about it, the more Sang Lu wanted to bury herself alive.
How could she have said those things?
How could she expect Feng Yan to "stand up for her" when he couldn’t even speak?
Heaven above, bear witness—I’m not that kind of person!
Ms. Lin had raised her to respect elders and treat service staff with courtesy.
Damn the plot for forcing her to act like a brainless villain.
So unfair!
Angry, angry, angry!
Today,
She would make up for her past mistakes.
Thankfully, she wasn’t the same person anymore.
With this thought, Sang Lu straightened her posture, confidence renewed.
Feng Yan noticed the movement from the corner of his eye.
Puzzled, he glanced over.
Just as Sang Lu turned to meet his gaze.
Their eyes locked.
Suddenly, Sang Lu spoke:
"By the way, should we go with holding shoulders or linking arms later?"
The abrupt question gave Feng Yan pause.
His handsome features once again clouded with confusion.
What did she mean?
Was this her idea of "making it up to him"?
Unaware of his reaction, Sang Lu muttered to herself,
Voicing her thoughts aloud in a rambling whisper:
"We need to reassure Grandfather, show him we’re getting along well. Acting? Of course not—we are getting along fine."
Feng Yan: "……"
Watching Sang Lu gesture animatedly, alternating between waving her hands and smiling to herself,
Feng Yan’s furrowed brow gradually relaxed.
When they stepped out of the car,
He answered her question with action.
His long arm reached out.
Just as Sang Lu wondered whether Feng Yan would choose shoulders or arms to showcase their "harmonious marriage" to Grandfather—
A large, warm hand settled firmly at her waist.
The faintly bitter scent of cedarwood, mingled with the early spring breeze, enveloped her instantly.
Half-leaning against Feng Yan’s solid frame, she stiffened.
A delayed realization—the heat of his palm seeped through her thin blouse.
Her breath hitched. Dazed, she lifted her eyes.
Feng Yan’s profile was sharp and striking, his lips pressed into a neutral line, cool and detached.
The black shirt accentuated the frost in his gaze.
Sang Lu felt his breath graze the top of her head.
Then, the arm around her waist tightened slightly,
Guiding her forward toward the estate with just the right amount of pressure—
Unyielding, yet not forceful.
Sang Lu followed, bewildered.
She’d given him two options: linking arms or holding shoulders.
And he’d gone with holding her waist…
What a rebel.
