Sang Lu slapped Feng Yi on the back.
The sound was heavy and muffled.
The butlers and servants nearby heard it loud and clear.
They all turned their heads abruptly.
To everyone’s surprise, the usually ill-tempered Second Young Master showed no reaction at all, calmly taking the hit.
The onlookers were stunned.
The servants widened their eyes, struggling to hold back their laughter as Feng Yi started to mutter, "Damn it—"
One of them failed to suppress a chuckle.
Soon, waves of laughter rose and echoed across the courtyard.
The atmosphere instantly became relaxed and cheerful.
Different thoughts ran through everyone’s minds.
Old Master Feng’s eyes sparkled with delight: Who would’ve thought… Not only can Feng Yi’s elder brother keep him in check, but even Sang Lu—what a granddaughter-in-law I’ve chosen! She’s got the guts to tame this wild one.
Feng Bai’s face remained expressionless, but inwardly, he was shocked: Does she have some dirt on him?
Under the dim glow of the courtyard lights,
the icy demeanor of the man softened.
As if infected by the mood, his deep eyes warmed with a faint trace of amusement.
A man accustomed to dissecting the underlying logic of everything instinctively sought the source of this rare harmony.
It wasn’t Feng Yi’s half-spoken curse.
Nor was it the servant who had burst out laughing first.
He knew with absolute clarity.
It was her.
——
Back at Qinghe Bay,
Sang Lu sprawled on the sofa, rolling from one end to the other.
She pored over the land deeds Old Master Feng had given her,
scrutinizing every word and punctuation mark.
Still, she felt dazed, unable to believe it.
Feng Yan had been the one to speak up, so why was she the one receiving such a generous gift?
Accepting such a favor weighed on her conscience.
She ought to return the kindness somehow.
With that thought, she picked up her phone,
opened a shopping app,
and decided to buy Feng Yan a small gift—
a modest token of reciprocity.
Since nothing could ever match the value of land deeds, she dismissed the idea of equivalence and focused instead on practical items he might need.
Within that scope, she opted for the pricier, high-quality options—safe choices.
For instance, he spent long hours in his study. Even the finest leather chair wouldn’t be comfortable after a while.
An ergonomic lumbar-support cushion would be perfect.
The idea sparked her creativity.
Her fingers flew across the screen—typing, adding to cart, typing, adding to cart.
Half an hour later,
her cart held nearly twenty thousand yuan worth of items.
Since she’d been browsing home and lifestyle products, the algorithm’s "Recommended for You" section began suggesting similar items.
Big data had accurately "guessed" Sang Lu’s taste.
Without realizing it,
she’d added plenty of things for herself too.
Just as she was happily shopping,
the door to the home gym swung open.
Feng Yan stepped out.
Fresh from his workout and shower, he strode forward while casually drying his damp hair.
Sang Lu looked up, sprang from the sofa,
and darted over to him.
Her sudden movement seemed to startle him, and his hand stilled mid-motion.
She grinned up at him.
The height difference forced her to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze.
She noticed his hair was still wet, his usually cold face tinged with confusion.
The loose black T-shirt draped over his broad shoulders.
The water dripping from her hair dampened a small patch on her shoulder, her locks unusually smooth and tame.
She found herself momentarily spellbound by his effortlessly handsome, lazy demeanor.
It took her several seconds to snap out of it.
Right—she wasn’t here to admire the view. She had actual business to discuss with Feng Yan.
Men’s products offered very few color options.
Black, dark gray, navy, deep brown…
Basically just the same few muted shades on rotation.
Yet even with such limited choices, Sang Lu found herself stuck.
Since this was a return gift—something small but practical—she wanted to pick a color he’d genuinely like.
But she didn’t want to ask Feng Yan directly. That would ruin the surprise when he received it.
So, she settled for a roundabout approach.
Pressing her lips together, she lifted her phone and held it out to him.
"Help me choose. Which of these colors do you think looks best?"
The man paused, then slowly turned his gaze to the screen.
Displayed there was a women’s silk scarf.
With a few swipes of her thumb, Sang Lu cycled through the four available shades—black, gray, brown, and blue.
As Feng Yan studied the screen in silence, Sang Lu sighed inwardly.
She’d gone through quite the ordeal to find this particular scarf, one whose color options perfectly matched the dreary palette she needed to test his preferences.
Feng Yan stared at the screen intently for a while.
Then his eyes lifted, lingering on Sang Lu for a few seconds before dropping back to the phone.
A thought surfaced in his mind.
Suddenly, he wanted to try—to push past his usual reticence and answer her question, purely because he chose to.
The moment the idea took hold, a wave of pressure tightened in his chest.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the mental barrier finally cracked open, just a little.
Drawing a shallow breath, he met her gaze and spoke:
"Don’t you like orange?"
Sang Lu froze, caught off guard.
How did he know she liked orange?
They were standing close, and his voice was low, unhurried, carrying a quiet intensity.
The question itself was casual, yet she inexplicably felt seen—exposed.
Wait a second…
That wasn’t the point.
He’d spoken again!
Compared to the previous two times—triggered by those French jerks and a message from Old Master Feng—this time…
It was undeniably because of her.
All her efforts hadn’t been in vain!
Her eyes slowly brightened. Under Feng Yan’s inscrutable stare, she replied, her tone slightly sheepish:
"Yeah, but orange isn’t an option here, so I thought I’d pick something else."
"Which of these colors do you think is the nicest? The most versatile?"
She glanced away, then added abruptly:
"The one that catches your eye immediately?"
Feng Yan blinked.
His dark eyes remained fixed on her, brimming with unspoken questions.
After a few silent seconds, he exhaled softly, fighting against the discomfort in his vocal cords, and spoke again:
"Black."
"Oh…" Sang Lu drew out the word.
Well, that felt pointless.
Did all domineering CEOs in the world only like black?
Was there not a single tycoon out there who preferred bold reds or vibrant purples?
She double-checked: "So black’s your favorite, right?"
Feng Yan looked lost, his gaze unfathomable. "What color do you want me to like?"
