He missed her...
It was like the first spoonful of honey in the morning falling into warm water, rolling out rings of sweet ripples that echoed in Song Xinya's heart.
She had thought that a man like him, who enjoyed the sense of achievement and satisfaction brought by his career, only had work in his heart.
Song Xinya thought for a moment and asked, "Mr. Qin, are you finished with your work in Shanghai?"
So that's why he had time to miss her.
Qin Yuhe: "No."
Song Xinya: "Oh!"
Qin Yuhe looked down at her, his gaze sweeping over her slightly parted, rosy lips. "You seem very surprised."
Song Xinya answered truthfully, "I am indeed quite surprised."
Qin Yuhe analyzed his own feelings and said, "I think that worrying is a kind of missing someone."
Worrying that she might be in danger, worrying that she might get hurt, worrying that she wasn't doing well, feeling restless and deeply concerned because of her, having a heart filled entirely with her affairs—wasn't this a kind of missing?
Qin Yuhe: "It is only natural for a husband to miss his wife."
Song Xinya: "Yes, it is."
But not every husband would miss his wife.
Some men, after leaving home, were like kites that had broken free from their strings. Without their wives' supervision and the constraints of family chores, they would recklessly throw themselves into the embrace of beautiful women, living it up and forgetting all about home.
During the month Qin Yuhe was away on his business trip, he rarely called her and hardly sent any messages. The contact between them was almost non-existent, but Song Xinya simply trusted him, believing he wouldn't go out and mess around.
She could tell that he was a man with a very high degree of self-discipline.
Lying in Qin Yuhe's arms, Song Xinya savored the words he had just said: worrying is a kind of missing...
She suddenly realized, "Mr. Qin, are you worrying about me?"
Qin Yuhe: "Yes."
Song Xinya was a little puzzled. "Why are you suddenly worrying about me?"
It was because Qin Yuhe clicked into WeChat Sports every day to secretly check her step count.
In current internet slang, this kind of behavior was called... cyberstalking.
Qin Yuhe checked Song Xinya's WeChat steps every day not because he wanted to monitor her, but because they were living apart and he wanted to know more about her day.
If she encountered any trouble, he could know in time and appear by her side at the first opportunity.
Facts proved that his behavior was truly useful. His gaze slowly swept over her body: neck, chest, abdomen, legs, and ankles.
His heart suddenly sank.
He stared at her ankle, which was swollen like a radish, and asked in a gloomy voice, "How did you get hurt?"
Song Xinya: "Because a client's grades were too poor. I poured my heart and soul into tutoring her for a month, and she scored 16 in math. I was so heartbroken that I didn't watch where I was going and sprained my ankle."
Qin Yuhe scoffed lightly. "Just a client, and it's worth risking your body for?"
Song Xinya looked up at him, her dark, bright eyes flowing with moving charm. She reached out and poked his cheek with her soft fingertips. "This client of mine is your sister."
Qin Yuhe's eyes flickered slightly, unsure if it was because this client was his sister or because of her ambiguous gesture of poking his cheek.
"Even she isn't worth risking your body for."
He looked down into her clear, beautiful pupils. "Your body is mine."
Song Xinya's slender waist suddenly felt a tingle from his teasing words.
Passing through the grand and magnificent doors, he carried her into the living room.
Song Tingye walked towards them. "What yours and mine? Sis, brother-in-law, what are you guys talking about?"
Qin Yuhe: "Not suitable for children."
Song Tingye: "Tch, who are you looking down on? Have you ever seen a 1.88-meter-tall child? Laozi is a teenager."
Song Xinya hated it most when he swore. She shot him a glare. "Still Laozi, why don't you say you're Kongzi (Confucius)."
Song Tingye: "I prefer Mozi."
Song Xinya: "I want to beat you into a ghost."
Song Tingye: "Yoshi, you pretty little lady."
Song Xinya raised the bag in her hand and threw it at him. "Stop acting like a fake foreign devil here."
Song Tingye raised his hand to catch the bag and saluted. "Yes, sir!"
Song Xinya originally wanted to scold him a bit more, but couldn't hold back and was amused by his shameless appearance.
Song Tingye walked up to Qin Yuhe, bumped his shoulder against Qin Yuhe's, still thinking about what happened just now. "Brother-in-law, what did you just say to my sister? What of my sister's is yours?"
This was not something a seventeen-year-old minor like him should hear.
Song Xinya opened her mouth and said, "Your brother-in-law was just asking why your language grades never seem to improve, and why your essays are always off-topic."
Song Tingye's smile vanished. He pivoted a hundred and eighty degrees on his toes, turned around, and bolted towards his bedroom. "Um, I still have things to do. I'll get going first, bye-bye."
The noise disappeared, and the spacious living room quieted down, leaving only Song Xinya and Qin Yuhe.
Invisible sparks floated in the air.
Placing Song Xinya down to sit on the sofa, Qin Yuhe pulled over a chair and sat opposite her.
The two sat face to face, quite close to each other, so it was inevitable that they would make eye contact.
Song Xinya suddenly thought of a saying: Eye contact is a human's emotionless spiritual kiss.
A feeling of sitting on pins and needles washed over her, and she felt a bit uncomfortable.
What was he going to do?
Scold her for acting on her own and not telling him about her sprained ankle?
No.
His next actions proved that he had no intention of scolding her—
He grasped her slender, white calf with both hands, lifted it, and rested her injured foot on his thigh.
The man's palms were broad and warm, pressing tightly against the skin of her calf. The thin calluses brushed against her skin. It wasn't a rough, stinging pain, but a blunt friction carrying a fiery strength, like sandpaper rubbing against velvet—not painful, but sending a tingling numbness straight to her bones.
Qin Yuhe held her tender, white leg, his deep and dark gaze looking over at her.
Song Xinya's heart skipped a beat. Her hands flustered, she tightly covered the space between her legs.
She was wearing a skirt today...
At this moment, with one leg resting on Qin Yuhe's thigh and the other planted on the ground, and without wearing safety shorts...
Even if she had worn safety shorts, this posture would inevitably feel shameful...
Qin Yuhe originally hadn't planned to look where he shouldn't, but prompted by her movement, his gaze slid downward for a glance.
Her slender, fair fingers twisted together, covering herself very tightly.
Terrified that he might see something.
The corners of Qin Yuhe's lips curled up.
She was covering up so tightly, and he didn't have X-ray vision, so what could he possibly see?
His original intention in lifting her leg wasn't to take advantage of her, either.
The servant brought over a towel and an ice pack. Qin Yuhe wrapped the ice pack in the towel. Holding her calf with one hand, he gently applied the cold compress with the other.
"Ice compress within 48 hours. After 48 hours, I'll help you apply a hot compress."
He looked down at her swollen spot, his expression serious. His fingers pressed down gently, one by one. The ice pack covered her swollen skin with a cool sensation, and occasionally, when his fingers touched her ankle, the feeling was very warm.
He truly didn't mind it at all. With his head lowered, he was very close to her foot, his exhaled breath brushing against her instep.
Thinking about how the dignified heir of a prestigious family was humbling himself to do this for her, Song Xinya felt her heart warm, yet she couldn't help but feel a little bashful.
"I can hold the ice pack myself," she said.
The ice pack in Qin Yuhe's hand moved slowly. "I am waiting on you, and you're complaining?"
"It's not that I'm complaining," Song Xinya replied. "I just feel a bit embarrassed."
"Since relationships are all about give and take, how about we return the favor?" Qin Yuhe suggested.
"What kind of give and take?" Song Xinya asked.
Qin Yuhe looked up at her, his words laced with suggestion. "Tonight, you can wait on me..."
