Zhou Yu didn't give him a chance to react. With one swift move, he jumped into the car, slammed his foot on the gas, and sped off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
Huo Xingzhou lowered his gaze. His face darkened instantly.
In his hand was a small, sleek package that looked sophisticated at first glance. Yet, emblazoned on the front was a corny tagline:
"Happy wife, happy life—only with this magic delight!"
When he flipped it over, the back was even more absurd:
"Talk the talk, walk the walk—satisfy your wife like a boss!"
His expression grew colder, the air around him chilling.
Where on earth had Zhou Yu gotten his hands on such a shady, knockoff product?
"Huo Xingzhou!" Qiao Xi's voice came from the house, soft yet concerned. "Is Zhou Shao gone?"
Huo Xingzhou quickly slipped the offending package into the pocket of his blazer. Seeing her bright and innocent face, he replied flatly, "He's gone."
She approached, catching the stiff look on his face. "Are you not feeling well here in the countryside?" she asked, her tone laced with worry.
"No," he said curtly. "It's just Zhou Yu being an idiot again."
Qiao Xi chuckled nervously and began pushing his wheelchair back into the house. "He seems nice, though. Enthusiastic and chatty. He spent all day talking to my grandmother, and now she's already fast asleep."
After a moment's hesitation, she added, "The house is simple, and there's only one clean room left. If it's inconvenient for you, I can sleep on the floor."
The Qiao family's small brick house was an old single-story dwelling.
Most of the rooms were used for storage; only her and her grandmother's bedrooms were clean.
Huo Xingzhou looked up at her. "I don't mind. It's not the first time."
Her eyes darted away at the memory. Those two incidents had been accidents—once when he was drunk, and another when she'd fallen asleep from exhaustion.
"I'll get some water for you to freshen up and apply medicine," she said as she guided him into the room before quickly leaving.
Curious, Huo Xingzhou glanced around her bedroom. Two bookshelves lined the walls, filled with medical texts and jars of dried herbs. The bed was positioned by the window, where a small ceramic vase held wildflowers, and a wind chime hung above.
The room smelled faintly sweet, like her.
It was simple, warm, and unmistakably hers.
She returned shortly, carrying a basin of water. Setting it on the stand, she said, "Huo Xingzhou, could you take off your clothes, please?" She pulled a fresh set of men's pajamas from her luggage and placed them on the bed.
"Alright."
Without hesitation, he removed his suit jacket and shirt, placing them neatly aside. She helped him sit on the bed and changed him into the pajamas.
Qiao Xi wrung out a towel and gently wiped his back before carefully applying medicine to the wounds.
His fingers idly brushed his cuff, and he spoke in a low voice. "You haven't treated your own injuries yet."
She waved it off. "It's nothing serious. I don't need medicine."
As she picked up his suit jacket to hang it, a small object fell from the pocket.
Huo Xingzhou's reflexes were sharp, and he snatched it up before she could get a good look.
"Just something trivial," he said calmly.
"Oh." She didn't press further, hanging the jacket in the wardrobe.
Huo Xingzhou discreetly tucked the small box under his pillow, cursing Zhou Yu under his breath once more.
"It's late, Huo Xingzhou. I'll turn off the lights now," she said softly.
"Go ahead."
He lay on the side closer to the window, while Qiao Xi settled on the outer edge for convenience.
The bed creaked faintly as the mattress dipped under her weight. She lay stiffly on her side, careful to keep her distance.
This was the first time they'd shared a bed while both were fully awake.
Qiao Xi hardly dared to breathe. Lying perfectly still, her hands folded neatly over her stomach, she tried desperately to fall asleep.
"Move in a little," he said, his tone even. "You're about to fall off."
Reluctantly, she shuffled closer, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his body.
The old palm fiber bed let out a soft, rhythmic creak.
"I-I'll just go sleep with Grandma," she stammered, already halfway sitting up.
A warm, firm hand reached out beneath the covers and clasped hers.
"Do you plan to sleep with your grandmother every night?" he asked, his voice steady. "She'll grow suspicious."
Realizing he had a point, she sighed. "Fine, I'll stay here."
Both of them lay rigidly side by side, their breathing shallow. The night stretched on, thick with tension and an unspoken charge in the air.
"Meow…"
"Meow, meow."
The sound of cats echoed outside the window—soft, lilting cries that carried through the stillness of spring.
Two stray cats had found each other beneath the windowsill, their cries escalating into an unmistakable commotion.
In the quiet countryside night, their "meow-meow chorus" seemed deafeningly clear.
Qiao Xi's face flushed hot. Finally, unable to bear it, she sat up. "I'll go chase those cats away!"
A hand reached out to stop her, burning hot and trembling slightly.
"Qiao Xi…" His voice was hoarse, unsteady.
Maybe it was the box under his pillow. Maybe it was the cats outside. Whatever it was, his thoughts were anything but pure.
"W-what is it?" she stammered, unconsciously licking her dry lips.
His hand was so warm, almost scalding.
The moonlight filtering through the window highlighted her delicate features, the nervous flutter of her lashes.
"Did… did the medicine make you uncomfortable? Or did Zhou Yu give you something strange?" she asked, her voice tight.
Her mind flashed back to that small package.
"No," he said, gripping her hand more tightly. "The problem… is me."
His dark eyes locked onto hers, pulling her into their depths.
Her pulse quickened, her breath shallow.
"I'll check your pulse to see if—"
"Qiao Xi," he interrupted, his voice rough and low. "I'm not a saint. I can't always practice restraint."
Her mind went blank. "I… I see. So you're hungry. I-I'll… help you then."
Gathering her courage, she leaned in and kissed him clumsily, mimicking what he had once done to her.
The kiss sent a shock through him.
Lying flat, he clenched the bedsheet tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to hold himself back.
His breathing grew heavy, almost ragged, a low groan slipping past his lips.
"Stop," he said finally, his voice trembling. "Leave. Now."
She froze, then nodded quickly. "Okay."
Blushing furiously, she scrambled off the bed and fled to the door. She paused, glanced back at him, and then stepped outside, closing the door gently behind her.
Leaning against the cool wall, she smacked her forehead in frustration.
What had possessed her to do something so humiliating?
She stood there for a long time.
Outside, the stray cats finally quieted down. Inside, the bed continued to creak faintly—well into the night.