The rainstorm outside the window still raged, like relentless drumbeats hammering against the tense, fragile atmosphere within the cramped space. Only a dim floor lamp lit the living room, its light stretching the shadow of Li Chenyuan holding Su Xiaolan onto the mottled wall, like a still, tension-filled oil painting.
Su Xiaolan leaned against his solid arm, sipping warm water in small gulps. The fog of high fever ebbed and flowed like the tide—sometimes receding, allowing her brief moments of awareness; other times surging violently, dragging her back into unconscious depths. Now, the cool water sliding down her parched throat brought fleeting clarity.
She forced her heavy eyelids open slightly, her blurry vision struggling to focus.
First to enter her sight was the sharp, cold line of his jaw, startlingly close. A single drop of rainwater, still undried, traced the tense contour, slowly sliding down until it vanished into the slightly open collar of his white shirt. The shirt, soaked through, clung tightly to the powerful muscles of his chest beneath. The warmth and sense of strength beneath the thin fabric transmitted clearly through the shoulder and back she leaned against.
Li Chenyuan?!
The realization pierced through the haze of fever like an ice dagger!
Su Xiaolan's entire body stiffened violently! Everything that had just happened—the shattered door, the savage kiss, the icy embrace—exploded in her mind like a kaleidoscope of fragmented images! Overwhelming terror made her instinctively struggle to break free!
"Don't move." A low, hoarse voice came from above her, carrying undeniable force. Simultaneously, the arm encircling her tightened slightly, halting her struggle. "You're still feverish."
That voice… it lacked the previous violence and coldness. Instead, it held a suppressed weariness and… an unyielding insistence she'd never heard before?
Su Xiaolan froze, not daring to move again. Trapped against his chest, the scent of his cool, woody cologne filled her nostrils, mingling with the dampness of rain and the warm, distinctly male body heat radiating from him as he cared for her. This potent aroma invaded her senses, making her heart pound frantically, her cheeks burning hotter from both fever and acute embarrassment.
She stole a glance upward, her eyes colliding with his lowered gaze.
Those eyes, always fathomless, holding frost and absolute control, seemed… different now in the dim light. The turbulent storm within seemed to have calmed, replaced by a heavy, focused intensity. He was looking down at her, his gaze fixed on her drinking. His long, thick lashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, partially obscuring his emotions yet making his focus appear even more profound and inscrutable. His brows were still slightly furrowed, as if grappling with an exceedingly complex and critical problem.
Why… why was he looking at her like this?
Why was he holding her?
Su Xiaolan's heart hammered against her ribs like a drum, threatening to shatter them. She hastily lowered her lashes, afraid to look any longer, feeling as if everywhere his gaze touched burned. She quickened her pace of drinking, desperate to end this suffocating intimacy.
The glass of water was soon empty.
"More?" Li Chenyuan asked quietly, his voice still rough.
Su Xiaolan shook her head vigorously, her voice barely a whisper, "N-no… no more… Thank you…" She tried to push herself out of his embrace to sit up.
However, the weakness and dizziness brought by the fever made her limbs go limp. Not only did she fail to break free, she slumped back heavier into his arms. Her forehead inadvertently brushed against the spot just below his collarbone, her scorching skin touching his cool, damp shirt.
Both their bodies stiffened simultaneously!
The air instantly thickened with an almost tangible tension. Su Xiaolan flushed scarlet, wishing she could vanish into the earth. The muscles of Li Chenyuan's arm around her visibly tensed. His Adam's apple bobbed once, and his breath seemed to catch for an instant. But he quickly steadied himself. He didn't release her; instead, he adjusted his hold, settling her more securely against him, carefully avoiding that dangerous point of contact.
"Lie down." His voice dropped lower, carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension. Without asking again, he gently laid her back onto the sofa, his movements deliberately steady and distant.
Only when she felt the soft cushions beneath her again could Su Xiaolan breathe. She wrapped herself tightly in the thin blanket like a frightened hedgehog, revealing only her eyes—damp, fever-flushed, and filled with complex emotions—watching him with wary confusion.
Li Chenyuan didn't look back at her. He stood up and walked to the pile of his soaked suit jacket, carelessly discarded on the floor. He bent down to pick it up. Then, he began pacing the small living room like a caged predator, radiating restless agitation and… a palpable sense of being lost?
He walked to the door—warped, twisted, hanging pathetically on its hinges. He pushed it firmly. The frame groaned under the strain, cold wind and dampness pouring in through the gaping hole. His brows furrowed deeply, his expression darkening like storm clouds. This door was irrefutable proof of his loss of control.
He moved to the small kitchen doorway, his gaze sweeping over the simple stove and the slightly cluttered countertop. Then, his eyes landed on the low table beside the old sofa in the corner of the living room.
On the table lay a crumpled, nearly empty potato chip bag—the limited-edition seaweed cheese flavor his driver had delivered last night, which she had ravaged in her anger. Beside it… lay another flattened, neatly folded, empty bag of the same flavor? This one looked old. The packaging was faded, the edges frayed, yet it had been preserved with unusual care.
Li Chenyuan's steps halted.
His deep gaze locked onto the old chip bag, violent waves surging in the depths of his eyes! That packaging… that flavor… He knew it too well! It was the limited-edition flavor often sold out at the small shop outside the university library many years ago. The girl curled up on the old sofa like a sunbathing kitten always had those exact bags scattered near her feet…
She… had kept it? Preserved it so carefully?
An indescribable surge of warmth, shockingly intense, mixed with deeper self-reproach and a strange, powerful stirring, slammed into Li Chenyuan's heart! He had thought only he remembered. He had thought those sunlit fragments existed only in the depths of his memory. He never imagined that in another time, in another heart, the same fragments had been treasured and preserved with such reverence!
He turned slowly, his gaze returning to the girl curled up on the sofa.
Su Xiaolan was watching him nervously. Seeing his attention on the old chip bag, a flash of panic and embarrassment—as if a secret had been exposed—crossed her pale face! She instinctively reached to snatch it away, but her movements were sluggish from weakness and fever.
Li Chenyuan didn't speak. He just looked at her silently. His expression was impossibly complex—shock, disbelief, a flicker of something softer, touched, and more turbulent emotions swirling beneath the surface that even he couldn't decipher. This silent scrutiny unnerved Su Xiaolan far more than any words.
"Th-that's…" She tried to explain, stammering incoherently, her face flushing deeper.
Just then, Li Chenyuan's phone, tucked in the wet pocket of his trousers, began to vibrate—sudden, insistent, jarringly loud in the silent living room. It buzzed relentlessly, over and over.
Li Chenyuan's frown deepened, clear displeasure flashing across his face at the interruption. He pulled out the phone. The screen lit up in the gloom: Wang Jing.
He glanced at Su Xiaolan, tense and anxious on the sofa, then at the ruined door. Finally, he swiped to answer and raised the phone to his ear.
"Speak." His voice had reverted to its usual cold, low timbre, carrying an invisible authority that instantly suppressed the strange emotions of moments before.
Wang Jing's voice on the other end was unmistakably anxious and cautious: "Mr. Li! Finally reached you! Where... where are you? The company here..." Her words cut off abruptly, seemingly frozen by the icy aura transmitted through the line.
Li Chenyuan's gaze swept over Su Xiaolan on the sofa, who was now straining to listen, her face still flushed. He cut Wang Jing off. "I am handling important personal matters. All company affairs are temporarily delegated fully to Vice President Li. Do not disturb me unless it's a matter of life or death."
His tone was absolute, brooking no argument. Wang Jing on the other end was clearly stunned by this unprecedented instruction, remaining silent for a long moment.
"Also," Li Chenyuan's voice lowered further, a command leaving no room for doubt, "Contact a reliable security engineering team immediately. Have them bring the best materials and tools to the address I'm sending you now." He recited Su Xiaolan's apartment address. "They have one hour. Fix the door."
Without waiting for any response from Wang Jing, he ended the call and tossed the phone carelessly onto the coffee table with a soft thud.
Su Xiaolan stared, dumbfounded! Handling important personal matters? No disturbance unless life or death?! Sending people to fix the door?! He… he intended to stay?!
A wave of immense panic and absurdity washed over her again!
"Mr. Li! You... you don't need to be here! I... I'm fine! Please go back to the company! The door... I'll find someone to fix it myself!" Su Xiaolan struggled to sit up, speaking urgently, her voice trembling with weakness.
Li Chenyuan turned. His deep gaze settled once more on her face, now flushed even redder with agitation. He didn't speak. Instead, he strode to the sofa and bent down.
Su Xiaolan shrank back in fright.
He merely reached out and felt her forehead again. The scorching heat remained intense.
"The fever hasn't broken." He withdrew his hand, stating the fact calmly. His deep eyes showed no discernible emotion, yet held an unshakeable decisiveness. "Lie down." He tucked in the fallen edge of her thin blanket with a motion that was awkward yet undeniably, forcibly caring—utterly incongruous with his usual demeanor.
Having done this, he didn't look at her again. He walked directly to the living room's only single armchair—an old, worn thing that seemed cramped for his tall frame. He sat down without hesitation, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes. Inescapable exhaustion etched deep lines between his brows. His soaked shirt clung to him, outlining a powerful physique. His hair was still dripping. He emanated a sense of weary stillness after the storm... and a stubborn posture of guardianship.
He actually intended to stay and watch over her?!
Su Xiaolan looked at his profile as he rested with closed eyes, at the clear weariness etched there. She looked at the wild storm still raging beyond the gaping ruin of her door. A tempest of emotions churned within her.
Anger? Yes, for his violent intrusion and loss of control.
Fear? Yes, for this uncontrollable situation.
Shame? Yes, for that kiss and this forced intimacy.
But... something else seemed mixed in with these fierce negative emotions, quietly taking root.
Was it the glass of warm water he held to her lips?
His clumsy yet persistent attempts to cool her down?
The brief, undeniable sense of safety within his embrace?
Or... his figure now, sitting there with eyes closed, drenched to the skin, stubbornly guarding this dilapidated little room?
Su Xiaolan's heart felt squeezed by an invisible hand—aching, tight, a tangled mess. She burrowed deeper into the thin blanket, revealing only her eyes, which watched the man on the single armchair with complex, furtive intensity. He seemed utterly out of place in this cramped space, yet his presence was undeniably, overwhelmingly real.
This confinement, born from a storm of lost control, seemed to be evolving into an unforeseen vigil...
A silent guardianship that no one could stop.
Outside the broken door, the turbulent world still raged. Inside, two souls were trapped in the eye of the storm, forced to confront each other and the deepest, most genuine stirrings within their own hearts.