Chapter 5: Guan Yizhou Is Here!

After Fu Linzhou took Wen Yirou back, he sat alone in his car downstairs for half the night.

He lit a cigarette. The ember flickered on and off in the dark.

He was still thinking about Su Qingsi.

That simple dress. That snow-white neck. Those eyes, clean and empty, holding nothing at all.

No—later there had been fear in them.

What was she afraid of? Him?

He let out a self-mocking laugh and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray.

If she really had lost her memory, then being afraid of him made sense.

His expression back there must have been frightening—cold-faced, like he'd come looking for a fight.

If she hadn't lost her memory, then she was acting. Putting on a fine little amnesia show to draw a line between them.

Either way, it left a dull weight pressing on his chest.

Fu Linzhou closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back three years.

Back then, he'd told himself this kind of woman wasn't worth it.

But thinking about it now—the him of that time had actually hoped she would call. Just once. Even if all she said was, "A-Zhou, are you okay?"

She never did.

Three years abroad, not a word.

He'd assumed she was doing well for herself, too busy to remember an ex-boyfriend.

Now she was back, and she was telling him she'd forgotten him.

Fu Linzhou decided that whether it was true or not, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

——

The next afternoon, Fu Linzhou went to the Su residence.

The Su family's villa sat in the west of the city, occupying half the street.

Their fortunes had declined in recent years, no longer as prominent as before, but the foundation remained—they were still an old established family.

The man who opened the door was the Su family's butler, surnamed Liu. Past fifty, hair graying, he froze when he saw Fu Linzhou.

"President Fu?"

Fu Linzhou nodded. "I'm here to see Su Qingsi."

Butler Liu's face creased with difficulty. "The young miss isn't feeling well today. She's resting upstairs."

"What's wrong?"

"She came back last night and ran a low fever. It got bad enough that she was delirious—talking nonsense."

Liu sighed. "The doctor came by. Said her constitution's weak, and she'd suffered a shock on top of it. She needs quiet and rest."

A shock?

Fu Linzhou's brow furrowed. Was it because he'd been too harsh last night? Had he frightened her?

So fragile? All he'd done was keep a cold face.

"I'll go see her," Fu Linzhou said.

Butler Liu hesitated, then stepped aside to let him in.

Su Qingsi's room was on the third floor, south-facing, with excellent light.

When Fu Linzhou pushed the door open, he saw her lying in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chin, only a small face showing.

She was asleep.

The curtains were half-drawn. Sunlight leaked through the gap and fell across her face, so beautiful it didn't seem real.

Had the Su Qingsi of the past ever been this devastatingly lovely?

Fu Linzhou couldn't remember.

He walked to the bedside.

Compared to last night's blend of purity and allure, the person before him now seemed even more delicate, more fragile.

Fu Linzhou reached out—couldn't help himself—wanting to touch her face.

Before his fingers made contact, Su Qingsi's eyes suddenly opened.

She looked at him, gaze hazy, as if she couldn't tell dream from reality. "A-Zhou?"

Fu Linzhou's hand froze mid-air. She'd called him.

"You remember me?" His voice came out low and rough, with a tension he didn't notice himself.

Su Qingsi blinked. Her eyes slowly cleared.

When she saw Fu Linzhou's face, she seemed startled. "Mr. Fu?"

Fu Linzhou's eyes darkened. That form of address again—distant, polite.

"What did you just call me?"

Su Qingsi shook her head. "I don't remember. Mr. Fu?"

Fu Linzhou stared at her. Under his gaze, Su Qingsi grew uneasy, turned her face away, not daring to look at him—but the tips of her ears quietly turned red.

That hint of red made her skin look even whiter, like a single plum blossom petal fallen on snow—exquisite, intensely alluring.

Fu Linzhou suddenly reached out and pinched her chin, forcing her to turn back.

The skin under his fingertip made him pause.

So soft.

He'd touched Wen Yirou's face before. Wen Yirou's skin was fine too. But Su Qingsi was different.

Her face was so tender it seemed ready to burst with water.

He felt he couldn't get a grip—yet wanted to press harder, to pinch and knead, to see if his fingerprints would really leave a mark.

"Look at me."

Su Qingsi was forced to tilt her face up. A layer of mist rapidly gathered in her eyes.

She looked at him as if she wanted to say something but didn't dare.

That expression—innocent and bewildered, delicate and seductive.

Fu Linzhou's voice grew hoarser. "Su Qingsi, do you really not remember me?"

Su Qingsi bit her lip lightly. The pinch hurt a little, and physiological tears welled up and fell, sliding down her cheek onto his fingers.

Scalding hot. Burning straight into the man's heart.

"I really don't remember."

"Qin Se said I used to know you, but I have no memory of it at all."

"You were so fierce last night. I was scared of you…"

She said she was scared, but she didn't look scared—more like she was being coquettish, nursing a grievance.

Fu Linzhou watched her cry, and his fingers loosened slightly.

She cried beautifully.

Quietly, silently. Tears like beads off a broken string, falling one by one.

She didn't wipe them. Just let them flow, the tip of her nose red, looking utterly pitiful—delicate and soft.

Fu Linzhou suddenly thought of Wen Yirou.

When he'd been cold and disgusted with her, she would look aggrieved and disappointed, would look at him with reddened eyes, would cry too.

But when Wen Yirou cried, he only felt irritated, bothered. He wanted her to stop.

When Su Qingsi cried, he wanted her to cry harder.

He wanted to see the corners of her eyes turn red, wanted to pull her into his arms, stroke her hair, kiss her eyes.

The thought made his heart skip.

"Stop crying." Fu Linzhou spoke, his voice much gentler than before.

"I won't be fierce with you."

Su Qingsi hiccupped, lifted her eyes to him—that look carrying both coquettishness and confusion.

"Really?"

"Really."

Fu Linzhou suddenly leaned in, moving closer.

Su Qingsi's eyes widened. She watched his face come nearer and nearer, her breath stopping.

"You—" She was about to speak when the door was suddenly pushed open.

"Qingsi, I made you some porridge—" Qin Se's voice cut off.

She stood in the doorway, tray in hand, looking at the two by the bed. Her eyebrow arched. "Oh. President Fu's here too."

Fu Linzhou straightened, turned to look at her, his face reverting to its usual coldness. "Qin Se."

"Is President Fu here to visit the sick?" Qin Se walked in and set the tray on the bedside table.

"Because it looks more like you're here to bully someone. My Qingsi's fever hasn't even broken yet—don't go scaring her."

Fu Linzhou said nothing.

He glanced at Su Qingsi. She had already buried herself back under the covers, only a pair of eyes showing, looking at him shyly.

With an outsider like Qin Se present, Fu Linzhou lost the urge to tease her.

"I'll come another day." He turned and walked out.

The door closed. His footsteps faded.

Qin Se sat on the edge of the bed and took Su Qingsi's hand.

"Did he hurt you when he pinched you?" Qin Se checked her chin—sure enough, fingerprint marks remained, stark against her snow-white skin, jarring to look at.

Su Qingsi shook her head lightly. "No."

"No? They're already red." Qin Se touched them gently, distressed.

"That Fu Linzhou. Hasn't changed one bit—still thinks the world revolves around him, does whatever he wants."

"Did he do anything else?"

Su Qingsi blinked. "Nothing else. He just asked if I remembered him."

Qin Se sighed. "Sisi, ever since you lost your memory, you've changed a little."