The motorcycle roared to life and sped off.
Despite both having two wheels, the experience of riding this heavy-duty bike was entirely different from riding Orange Boy.
After a few sharp turns, Sang Lu felt her heart might leap out of her chest.
Though she could tell Feng Yan was keeping the speed within safe limits, her nerves refused to settle.
At first, she only clutched timidly at the sides of his waist.
Then, gradually, her grip tightened.
By the time they leaned into a curve, she had wrapped her arms fully around him.
The test track at the 4S dealership was wide and smooth, illuminated by floodlights, with only their motorcycle racing across it.
The space felt vast and silent.
All she could hear was the thunderous rumble of the engine.
As she grew accustomed to the speed, Sang Lu’s initial tension faded.
Yet her heartbeat refused to calm.
A different kind of nervousness took hold.
Her arms encircled Feng Yan’s waist, her movements stiff.
The muscles at his sides were firm, solid with strength.
The memory of accidentally pulling open his shirt when she was drunk resurfaced unbidden.
Those well-defined abs were now just a thin T-shirt away from her touch.
The thought sent a faint sweat to her palms.
Feng Yan’s back was broad, the black T-shirt billowing in the wind. Under the floodlights, his pale neck gleamed with a powerful sheen.
From her vantage point, the motorcycle’s sharp lines made his silhouette appear even more stern and unyielding than usual.
As if he weren’t the same person who had gently wiped the water from her wrist earlier.
Sang Lu’s breath hitched.
She couldn’t tell if her racing heart was still due to the speed.
The wind rushed into her helmet, carrying away the heat from her flushed face.
Up front, Feng Yan’s typically composed and stoic expression faltered for a brief moment.
A slight downward glance revealed those fair arms wrapped around his waist—delicate, smooth, glowing like polished jade.
His Adam’s apple bobbed imperceptibly.
A restless heat radiated from where she held him, leaving him unsettled.
With a subtle turn of his wrist, he eased off the throttle.
Slowed further.
And yet, the test track suddenly felt too short.
It should have been longer.
After a few laps, the motorcycle came to a stop.
Sang Lu hopped off cheerfully, removing her helmet with a contented sigh.
"That wind felt amazing! Totally different from riding Orange Boy."
Feng Yan held his helmet loosely, a faint smile flickering in his dark eyes under the streetlights.
Then, as if realizing her words might have been inconsiderate, Sang Lu cast a guilty glance toward Orange Boy, parked alone in the distance, and murmured to herself,
"But Orange Boy is still my favorite. It’s been with me through all the mundane commutes—nothing can replace it."
Unnoticed by her, the man beside her showed a fleeting shift in his gaze at her words.
After a pause, Feng Yan took long strides forward, his tone even. "Let’s go back."
Sang Lu gave an "Oh" and followed.
A few steps later, she realized he wasn’t heading toward Orange Boy.
"Aren’t we taking Orange Boy back?" She tilted her head to look at him.
Feng Yan remained impassive. "Its engine has some issues. It needs to stay here a few more days for repairs before being sent back."
Sang Lu: "?"
Poor Orange Boy. How had she missed so many problems?
It had suffered so much hardship.
She’d have to be more careful when riding it from now on.
The black Rolls-Royce glided through the night, heading toward Qinghe Bay.
Silence filled the car.
Sang Lu connected her phone to the Bluetooth and played some music.
Feng Yan drove, his face as calm as ever, though the occasional tap of his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat betrayed his good mood.
Sang Lu was in high spirits too.
Between the busy filming schedule for her variety show, having time to ride a motorcycle was a refreshing escape.
She rolled down the window slightly, resting her head on her arm as she soaked in the peaceful melodies.
Utterly relaxed.
Then, abruptly, her eyes widened.
A delayed realization struck her.
Wait a minute…
Orange Boy was electric. It didn’t even have an engine!
She stole a glance at Feng Yan, blinking in confusion.
He looked completely unbothered, not at all like someone who’d just misspoken.
Sang Lu turned away, pondering.
After some thought, she concluded that Feng Yan probably had never ridden an e-bike before and simply didn’t know its mechanics.
After much deliberation, she decided not to point out his lack of common knowledge.
How to be a considerate wife in an arranged marriage? She was nailing it!
And so, Feng Yan’s days of driving her to and from work were extended by another week.
——
A week later.
Returning home from work, Sang Lu found Orange Boy parked in the garage at Qinghe Bay.
Every screw gleamed under the light.
It looked brand new.
Delighted, she pulled out her phone to snap a picture, ready to post it on social media—when a call came through.
Her eyes widened slightly at the name on the screen.
Caller: Feng Yan.
Ever since he’d regained his voice, they’d mostly communicated via WeChat.
This was the first time he’d called her.
She answered, pressing the phone to her ear.
Through the receiver, his deep voice carried a familiar yet unfamiliar magnetism.
"Finished work?"
Sang Lu hesitated for a second. "Yeah, just got home."
"Can you go to the old house? Feng Yi’s throwing a tantrum, and the old man can’t control him."
"Huh?"
"I’m tied up in an important meeting and can’t leave."
"…"
Hold on…
She replayed his words in her head.
Was this what Feng Yan had meant when he said she’d be responsible for Feng Yi?
So sudden?
"I can handle him?" Sang Lu asked, bewildered.
"You seemed pretty confident when you poured water on his head," came the dry reply.
His matter-of-fact tone left her momentarily speechless.
As she scrambled for a response, his voice softened slightly.
"Go ahead first. I’ll join you after the meeting."
Sang Lu took a deep breath.
Steeling herself, she relented with a resigned, "Alright then."
Just before hanging up, she called out again.
"Feng Yan—"
A pause on the other end. It was the first time she’d ever addressed him by his full name.
"Yes?"
"Come as soon as you can, okay?" She bit her lip, her voice tinged with worry.
She wasn’t sure she could manage this alone.
If even the old master couldn’t rein Feng Yi in, why did Feng Yan think she could?
He was overestimating her.
What she didn’t realize was how her concerned tone, filtered through the phone, carried a hint of helpless pleading.
After a brief silence, Feng Yan’s low chuckle traveled through the line—light and fleeting.
"Alright. I’ll be there soon," he assured her.
The call ended.
Sang Lu hopped onto Orange Boy and set off.
When she arrived at the Feng family’s ancestral home, Uncle Yue was waiting at the entrance.
As he led her inside, he filled her in.
"The young master ordered that Feng Yi not leave the house all week—to reflect on his actions."
"For the first couple of days, Feng Yi stayed quiet in his room, but otherwise behaved normally."
Uncle Yue glanced at Sang Lu, his face creased with concern.
"But two days ago, he started refusing food and water. The old master can’t do anything about it, so he asked you both to come…"
What kind of outdated drama is this? Sang Lu thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
In just a few sentences, Uncle Yue had painted a scene straight out of a cliché romance—a spoiled young master rebelling for love.
Even cheesy novels didn’t use this trope anymore.
Feng Yi, this guy, what a hopelessly outdated male lead...
Sang Lu silently complained as she turned the corner of the corridor.
Before her stood a small, elegantly decorated villa with simple furnishings.
Uncle Yue pushed the door open.
Sang Lu locked eyes with the person inside.
Both of them froze in surprise.
Feng Yi, sitting slumped on the floor, felt his heart skip a beat.
He warily glanced toward the doorway.
If his sister-in-law is here, does that mean his elder brother is nearby too?
That old man—always so quick to notify Feng Yan!
Sang Lu was equally startled.
Who was this disheveled, unkempt man with dark circles practically hanging down to his chin?
