As the drowsy sleep faded, Yan Xiaohan’s gaze cleared, and the atmosphere suddenly became awkward.
He let Fu Shen lean against the headboard, then stepped back three paces, sitting on the low couch, creating a proper and estranged distance.
The two seemed to wake from madness, remembering the absurd betrothal between them.
Regardless of its implications, whether it is a conspiracy or a mismatched matchmaking, its essence remains unchanged, still a marriage.
Just moments ago, Jing Ning Hou, who had a numb face and a heart like still water, was showing signs of a headache again. He was a person who could endure much, but at this moment, he only wanted to forget, to start over, to pretend nothing had happened.
“Continue sleeping, don’t mind me.”
Yan Xiaohan casually swept back his hair and picked up a robe from the bedside, throwing it to him: “It’s cold at night, put this on. I’ll have someone bring up some porridge.”
A man like Fu Shen, born into a noble family, famous from a young age, had seen much and easily became numb to “others being kind to him.” However, perhaps due to the betrothal or because people become especially sensitive during a serious illness, in this series of actions, he first felt Yan Xiaohan’s thoughtfulness, secretly thinking to himself: “Still… quite virtuous.”
Once the thought went askew, all subsequent thoughts involuntarily followed suit.
Looking at his face alone, Yan Xiaohan was even more attractive. He changed out of the black robe of the Flying Dragon Guard, wearing a light-colored wide-sleeved casual old garment. When he lit the lamp, his black hair flowed like water from his shoulders to his chest, drooping tiredly with lowered eyelids. When not smiling, his lips were slightly curved, and the light illuminated a soft and gentle outline that could make people temporarily forget his identity.
Fu Shen squinted, completely unaware of how much he looked like a malicious rogue.
When Yan Xiaohan turned to leave, he closed the door and walked in the corridor. Fu Shen might have been delirious from fever, staring without restraint. Yan Xiaohan finally couldn’t help but flee in embarrassment.
The night-watching servants saw him coming out of the room with a face full of smiles, thinking Fu Shen must have died; otherwise, why would their master be so happy?
