Volume One, Chapter Thirteen: He Could Do Much More Than Just This

She shook her head vigorously, trying to drive away the chaotic thoughts swirling in her mind.

Ling Dongyan was just testing the seasoning when he heard the noise and turned around, raising his eyebrows at her. “Awake? Come eat.”

His tone was so domestic.

Perhaps she had been too tired lately; Xie Xingyan unexpectedly felt a sense of serene tranquility.

The five-year chasm in time seemed as if it had never existed.

Her attention was fully on him, and naturally, Xie Xingyan noticed something different about him.

Previously, every time she saw him, the top buttons of his shirt were always fastened up to the throat.

But this time, he left two buttons undone.

His collarbone and the contours of his chest muscles were clearly visible.

She glanced inadvertently and suddenly recalled yesterday, quickly averting her eyes.

She had slept deeply, though her voice hadn’t fully recovered and still sounded a bit hoarse. “Okay.”

She walked over slowly, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Thank you.”

These past few days, she had been a walking disaster, causing Ling Dongyan to constantly clean up after her. Saying thanks without taking any real action made her gratitude feel timid.

“The doctor said your appetite might be poor after the fever, so I made some lean pork and vegetable congee, to replenish vitamin C and protein. Eat a little first to settle your stomach.”

He probably noticed her low spirits. “As for the meal you owe me, we’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

The congee, just scooped from the pot, was still hot. After serving it, Ling Dongyan stirred it several times with the spoon to cool it down before placing it in front of her. “You’ve slept a whole day and night, you must be hungry.”

She was not naive and could tell Ling Dongyan said this jokingly to ease her worries.

Still, she was surprised at how long she had slept.

“I did sleep quite long,” she admitted awkwardly, rubbing her cheeks with both hands, squishing them like dumplings, her lips puckered, face distorted from the motion.

Rubbing her face was a habitual gesture that hadn’t changed over the years.

Ling Dongyan hummed in response, a trace of amusement in his eyes. He served himself a bowl of congee as well and naturally sat beside her. “The doctor said your illness this time was because you didn’t rest well. Sleeping more will help you.”

Of course, she knew she needed to rest well.

But…

Her sleep had been poor for years, and even seeing a psychologist hadn’t helped. No matter how late she went to bed, she would still wake up punctually the next day.

Sleeping this much today was unprecedented.

“I know.”

Unexpectedly, Ling Dongyan pressed down on her wrist.

Xie Xingyan was startled. Before she could pull away, Ling Dongyan’s serious voice sounded, “Don’t just say it—do it. Your weak immune system is because you don’t rest properly.”

He tightened his grip slightly. “Remember that?”

It seemed he wouldn’t let go until she answered.

Lowering her head, she scooped a spoonful of congee and ate. “Mm.”

The pressure on her left wrist quickly disappeared; only the sound of the spoon lightly touching the bowl remained. Yet she felt as if the place he had held was burned, hot and numb.

The living room of this spacious penthouse had a high ceiling. Besides the sofa, the only furniture was this dining table.

The table was large, yet he deliberately sat close to her.

But since it was his home, she couldn’t be too obvious about avoiding proximity. Maybe he just liked sitting there?

Sitting so close, his unique scent—a crisp, frosty aroma—became even more pronounced. Xie Xingyan kept her head down, eating spoonful after spoonful of congee without looking up.

By contrast, Ling Dongyan ate slowly and deliberately, as if savoring a delicacy.

The slower his movements, the more attention they drew.

For some reason, sitting side by side, Xie Xingyan’s heart beat faster.

Thump, thump, thump—almost leaping into her throat.

“How’s the taste?”

She nodded and murmured softly, “Delicious, just like at a restaurant.”

Then she felt that sounded too formal and added, “I didn’t expect you to know how to cook.”

Hearing this, Ling Dongyan turned his head toward her. “I know more than just this.”

His voice was like jade striking stone, resonant and clear: “You just haven’t noticed.”

His gaze burned intensely, making Xie Xingyan feel as if she were on fire.

Avoiding his eyes now seemed to imply she was hiding something, so she summoned courage and turned toward him.

The aroma of congee filled the air, wisps of steam drifting between them. They sat so close they could see their own reflections in each other’s pupils.

Ling Dongyan swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Xie Xingyan’s gaze rested on his Adam’s apple, where red marks appeared—more than one.

“Your neck…”

“Remember whose handiwork this is?” Ling Dongyan’s voice held a teasing laugh.

Xie Xingyan recalled—it was from yesterday at the Jin Disi when she mistook him for a pervert and scratched him like that.

“Let me see.”

Her hands moved faster than her mind.

Before her brain could react, her slender fingers lightly traced over his Adam’s apple, gently scraping back and forth. Her worry was genuine. “You’re bleeding. Does it hurt?”

“You called the doctor to see me yesterday, why didn’t you have her disinfect it for you? What if it scars?”

Before she understood the full situation, she had been quite rough.

There were multiple red marks from his Adam’s apple down to his collarbone, unevenly scattered, looking somewhat frightening.

She suddenly reached out, and Ling Dongyan’s eyes darkened for a moment as he grasped her hand.

Xie Xingyan winced, hurriedly explaining, “I just wanted to check the injury.”

Unexpectedly, after releasing her hand, Ling Dongyan stood up.

Seeing him suddenly silent, she thought he was angry.

Just as she pondered how to make amends, a weight settled on her shoulder—a thin blanket was draped over her. “Why are your hands so cold? Just got over a fever and you’re risking catching a cold?”

His posture was a little odd; his body wasn’t facing the table but rather leaning slightly back, almost against her, turned toward the other side.

“These aren’t serious. Put on some ointment later, and it’ll heal,” he said, tightening his collar to cover the red marks.

He stirred the hot congee with his spoon, casually changing the subject. “When I studied abroad, the Western food was so bad I often got dizzy and weak from hunger. I learned to cook for myself, and after doing it enough, I got good at it.”

“That’s a skill, and it always comes in handy once you learn it.”

He glanced at her sideways.

As a man, he had a pair of peach blossom eyes—flowing like rippling water, richly defined and strikingly beautiful.

When serious, they were commanding and imposing; when meeting someone’s gaze, they burned with a charismatic intensity, as if peering into one’s heart.

Xie Xingyan’s heart fluttered under his stare.

It felt as if something was quietly growing in an unseen place. Before she could react, he picked up her bowl.

“If it’s good, have another bowl.”

To verify her sincerity, she drank three bowls of the lean pork congee until her stomach was full before stopping.

Having eaten too much, she could only walk around the spacious home to aid digestion.

The apartment was an ultra-luxury sea-view penthouse. She knew the area—prime oceanfront within the inner ring, where properties sold for hundreds of millions. If her family hadn’t gone bankrupt, perhaps she could have lived here.