Song Xinya: “…………”
She asked with great puzzlement, “How do you get hard so easily?”
This peculiar phrasing, Qin Yuhe understood immediately.
He could get her quirks and humor.
And she could get his, too.
The two of them were not only compatible in the bedroom, but they also clicked when bantering and sharing laughs.
Qin Yuhe replied, “It’s a man’s nature.”
Song Xinya: “Man’s nature sure is pervy, huh.”
Qin Yuhe let out a soft laugh, and under the blanket, his large hand slid up her thigh.
“A man isn’t constantly horny for no reason, Mrs. Qin. You’re the one who seduced me just now.”
Song Xinya admitted—she had indeed teased him a moment ago.
She just wanted to mess with him for fun.
She pulled her thigh back; her skin, creamy-smooth, slipped through his palm, softer than a peeled egg.
“Time to sleep. Good night, Mr. Qin.”
Qin Yuhe’s abdominal wound hadn’t been stitched up yet, so he was in a phase of being all talk and no action.
Like an old sow rooting in the mud—all mouth and no power.
He couldn’t put any real strength into it either.
The tiny spark that Song Xinya had ignited didn’t turn into a roaring blaze; Qin Yuhe forcibly suppressed it.
Before long, it was the day for Qin Yuhe to get his stitches removed.
Song Xinya held Qin Yuhe’s arm as they walked out of the villa’s main gate.
The assistant was waiting by the Rolls-Royce, but unlike usual, two tall, sturdy bodyguards stood beside him.
The assistant stepped forward and said, “That bankrupt Boss Qian—a gambler and a drug addict—he’s now at the end of his rope. I’m worried he might try to harm President Qin, especially since he hasn’t fully recovered. So I specifically called in two bodyguards.”
Song Xinya: “You’ve been very thorough. Thank you.”
The assistant: “Mrs. Qin, you’re too kind. This is exactly what an assistant should do. I’m truly happy to be able to help President Qin.”
Qin Yuhe: “Enough with the brownnosing. Open the car door.”
The assistant bent over: “Right away, sir.”
Even he felt like a eunuch possessed by a drama, acting just like one.
The Rolls-Royce arrived at the hospital entrance.
The door opened, and a pair of striking, beautiful red stiletto heels stepped gracefully onto the ground.
Song Xinya got out first, glanced around—the area was bustling with people, peaceful and calm, with nothing unusual in sight.
She walked around to the other side of the car, and as Qin Yuhe stepped out, she took his arm.
Qin Yuhe could sense her nervousness. He patted her hand and said, “It’s fine.”
Song Xinya held his arm as they walked into the hospital: “Let’s just get the stitches out and head straight home. I feel unsafe outside.”
Qin Yuhe: “We’ve got two bodyguards around us. Don’t be too tense.”
The assistant smiled: “Mrs. Qin, relax. The bodyguards already checked the area—no suspicious people.”
Song Xinya let out a sigh. When it came to Qin Yuhe’s health, maybe she was just too anxious.
She kept her arm linked with his, and just as they reached about two meters from the hospital entrance, two ragged-looking children—a boy and a girl—blocked their way.
“Uncle, auntie, our dad has lung cancer. Please give us some money to save him.”
The children were in dirty clothes, thin and sallow, their lips chapped from dehydration. They clearly looked malnourished.
Qin Yuhe gave the assistant a knowing glance.
The assistant walked up to the two little children. "You two little runts sure know how to stop people. You've gone and stopped the richest man in the country. You two are in for a lucky break today, you know that?"
"How much money do you need for your dad's medical treatment?"
The little boy said, "The doctor said it'll be over a hundred thousand."
The assistant pressed, "Can you be more specific? Exactly how much?"
The little girl said, "Eleven, twelve, three... six, seven, eight, nine... ten thousand."
The assistant remarked, "There's a difference of eighty thousand between eleven and nineteen. That's a whole year's salary for a regular person."
Qin Yuhe said, "Give them a round number—two hundred thousand."
If President Qin hadn't run into them, it would have been one thing, but since he did, he couldn't just ignore it.
The assistant took out his phone and arranged for the staff to cover the medical expenses for the two children's father.
Everyone's attention shifted to the pair of little kids.
Suddenly, a man charged from behind, a knife in his hand, aiming straight for Qin Yuhe's carotid artery.
It was the bankrupt President Qian.
Two bodyguards rushed to block him.
But unexpectedly, Song Xinya reacted even faster. She whipped off one of her red high heels, swung her arm in a wide arc, and slammed it hard into President Qian's face. Slap!
The move—shedding the heel, then smacking his face—was so swift and fierce that everyone stood there dumbfounded.
President Qian, knocked to the ground by the blow, was stunned.
Clearly, he'd never imagined that in his lifetime, he'd get smacked in the face by a woman's high heel on a public street.
"What kind of woman is this, so damn fierce!"
In that moment of his daze, Song Xinya yanked off her other red high heel and slammed it into his face once more. Slap!
Then—
Slap!
Slap!
Slap!
With every smack, Song Xinya muttered under her breath:
"How dare you mess with my husband!"
"How dare you mess with my husband!"
"How dare you mess with my husband!"
President Qian's face was swollen from the beating.
He swung the hand holding the knife toward Song Xinya's face.
Slap! Song Xinya smashed her heel into his hand, knocking the knife away!
She went at him with both hands, swinging the heels alternately, pounding President Qian until his head looked like a pig's.
She beat him half-dead, finally satisfied.
She slipped her high heels back on, flipped her hair back, and said, "Try messing with my husband—this is the price you pay!"
The two bodyguards the assistant had brought were completely useless; Teacher Song had single-handedly taken down the criminal.
She wrapped her delicate hand around Qin Yuhe's arm and continued walking toward the hospital, putting on a coquettish tone. "Honey, did I look super fierce just now, like a tigress?"
Qin Yuhe held her hand. "No, even when you were hitting him, you looked so graceful and charming."
Behind them, the shrill sound of police sirens rang out. President Qian, his face swollen like a leavened steamed bun, was hauled away. Next, he would be sentenced for attempted murder.
The stitches on Qin Yuhe's abdominal wound were successfully removed.
The doctor repeatedly warned him, "Right now, only the surface layer of the wound has healed. The deeper tissues, like muscles and fascia, still haven't fully recovered. Absolutely no strenuous exercise. Absolutely no strenuous exercise. Absolutely no strenuous exercise."
Qin Yuhe replied, "Can you pick a different phrase? You're just repeating yourself."
The doctor was speechless.
He was really going all out to make sure President Qin's wound didn't split open again from, well, that kind of activity.
That evening, after taking a shower, Qin Yuhe pressed himself over Song Xinya, his dark eyes gazing deeply at her.
His gaze was profound, tender, soft, and capable of drowning someone.
Song Xinya was lost in his lingering eyes, feeling a dizzying sensation as if he had stolen her very soul.
“The d-d-doctor said... no strenuous exercise.”
Qin Yuhe replied softly, “I know.”
Wasn’t he getting this close just for that?
Song Xinya: “Then why are you still staring at me?”
Qin Yuhe looked at her and said in a low voice, “Thank you.”
He suddenly said this, and Song Xinya didn’t understand at first. She asked, “What are you thanking me for?”
Qin Yuhe: “Thank you for rushing to the front to protect me earlier today.”
Thank you for having a heart willing to shield me.
