The morning sun crept sluggishly through the gaps in the cream-colored curtains, falling directly upon Shen Zhe's pallid, bloodless face. He stirred slightly, but a sharp, searing pain from his left leg shot straight to his brain. A low groan escaped his lips as cold sweat broke out across his skin like a torrential rain.
Shen Zhe realized with a jolt of confusion that he was lying in an unfamiliar room. The air was thick—saturated with the inexplicably faint, delicate scent of pomelo blossoms. This was not his dormitory, let alone the opulent Shen family mansion.
Clang!
A loud crash echoed from outside, followed by the sound of muffled, violent coughing. Shen Zhe struggled to prop himself up just as the bedroom door swung open.
Lin Yan stepped in, her face smudged with streaks of soot, carrying a steaming bowl in her hands. When she saw him awake, her eyes lit up, only to instantly redden with tearful anxiety.
"You're awake! I should have taken you to the hospital... but last night you were so insistent. I had to beg a private doctor I know to come and bandage you up."
She placed the bowl on the bedside table, clumsily scooping a spoonful and blowing on it fervently, her every movement radiating a deliberate awkwardness.
"Please... eat a little to warm your stomach. It's my first time in the kitchen, so it might look a bit... strange."
Shen Zhe looked at the bowl. To call it porridge was generous; it was a bizarre, sludge-like concoction. Some rice grains were turned to mush while others remained stubbornly raw, and charred bits of minced meat floated ominously on the surface. The aroma was indescribable—a heavy scent of burnt protein mixed with an excessive, stinging amount of black pepper.
Lin Yan watched him with an expectant gaze. Her porcelain-white hands were now marred by several red welts from steam burns. She bit her lip, retreating shyly. "If it's too hard to eat, let me go buy something else..."
Looking into her eyes—brimming with what he mistook for pure sincerity—and the burns on her hands, the fortress around Shen Zhe's heart, once as hard as granite, finally suffered a breach. He remembered the previous night: when the whole world had turned its back on him, this petite girl was the one who had dragged him out of the filthy mire.
He took the bowl and forced a large spoonful into his mouth.
The acrid saltiness clashing with the bitter tang of burnt meat assaulted his taste buds. Shen Zhe froze for a second, his throat tightening with an instinctive urge to gag. But seeing Lin Yan anxiously wringing her hands, he forced himself to swallow and managed a strained, raspy smile.
"It's good... really good."
Lin Yan looked as if a heavy burden had been lifted, beaming like a child receiving praise. "Really? Then eat as much as you can! I've been up since five in the morning to prepare this."
"Mm. This is the best porridge I've ever had," Shen Zhe lied, perhaps the most sincere-sounding lie of his life.
He had no way of knowing that while he struggled to swallow that "disastrous" porridge to repay her kindness, Lin Yan was laughing coldly inside. She had cooked it poorly on purpose. She had burned herself on purpose. She had smudged her face on purpose. She knew the golden rule: A man never guards himself against a woman who is clumsy and devoted. Pity was the sweetest poison of all.
"Shen Zhe," Lin Yan murmured tenderly as she re-bandaged his wound, "Your phone was ruined. I took it to a repair shop, but they said it would take a few days. Just stay here and recover. No one will find you. I'll protect you."
Shen Zhe looked at the small girl before him, a surge of gratitude washing over him. He was completely unaware that the cage without bars had just been officially locked.
The arrogant predator had finally walked into the trap—entirely of his own free will.