“I’ll always have time to come by at least once a day.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “What — you don’t want to deal with me?”
“Of course not. I was just about to bring it up.” She shifted her position, drew a sharp, soft breath, then grinned. “You just weren’t on the mountain — you didn’t get to see what a beautiful battle I fought.”
She eagerly launched into an account of the situation on the mountain, then broke it down strategically, and found that every single decision she had made had been the best and most correct choice possible — which made her look all the more pleased with herself.
Zhang Zhixu listened attentively, offering affirmation and praise at intervals, and only reached out to hold her still when she tried to wave her arms around for emphasis.
“Commissioner Chen is quite formidable,” he said. “Next time, could you be even more formidable — and not get injured this badly?”
As he said this, both his hands were pressing down on the wooden splint over her hand. He had leaned toward her and was barely an inch away, close enough that their breath mingled together.
Chen Baoxiang’s heart gave a sudden soft squeeze.
She looked up at him, the corners of her eyes curving gently. “Worried sick?”
“Yes.” He lowered his gaze.
A quiet, weightless syllable — like a petal spinning in the wind.
For a brief moment, Chen Baoxiang thought this person was truly very endearing. He had been driven to such fury by her not long ago, and yet here he was, obediently saying he had worried about her. His knuckles had gone pink, and the corners of his eyes were tinged with red; he leaned close to her with eyes downcast.
It seemed that no matter what outrageous thing she did, he would first be stunned, and then try his best to accept it.
Truly too easy to push around.
“Zhang Fengqing.”
“Hmm?”
“Kiss me.”
“?”
“I have a feeling there’s more trouble ahead.” She sighed, then said with complete naturalness, “You need to kiss me, or I won’t have the strength to face it.”
The man before her shot her a look of indignation, glaring at her — and without a single word, Chen Baoxiang already knew what he was thinking.
— After everything that happened before still hasn’t been properly settled, you have the nerve to make this request?
He flicked his sleeve and turned to stride out, footsteps wide and purposeful.
Chen Baoxiang lay where she was and began counting silently in her head: ten, nine…
The man who appeared to be well on his way out the door suddenly stopped, bit down on something, turned back, braced his hand on the bed frame, leaned down and to the side, and pressed his lips firmly onto hers.
Chen Baoxiang’s eyelashes fluttered, and she burst out laughing.
“What are you laughing at!” He drew back with a cold glare.
“Next time, start counting from three.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Chen Baoxiang said with satisfaction. “Next time — next time I definitely won’t get injured this badly again.”