Chapter 83: Don't Leave Me Behind, Sister

Fu Wenzhou did not pause in his actions; though his broad and towering figure ought to exude strength, it somehow appeared frail and pitiable. He scrubbed his hands with force, his knuckles reddened, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain.

From her vantage point, Song Qingyou could only see his trembling shoulders. She frowned, stepped forward, and grasped his wrist, pulling him back.

Unprepared, Fu Wenzhou stumbled, quickly steadying himself. “Youyou…”

His voice was hoarse, tinged with a faint nasal quality.

Song Qingyou hesitated, her gaze lingering on his slender, well-defined hands. The backs were flushed red, his palm littered with several fish scales, as if they were embedded in his flesh—evidence of the force he had used.

Annoyance flickered in her eyes. She raised her hand, carefully picking the scales from his palm one by one. Just as she was about to withdraw, her hand was caught and held.

Fu Wenzhou pressed his lips together tightly, suddenly pinning Song Qingyou against the stove behind him. His eyes were rimmed red, his breath uneven. “I’ll handle those reporters. Fu Changlin and Qin You won’t appear before you again. If you don’t want to make our relationship public, we won’t. It doesn’t matter if we don’t have a formal status. I was too demanding before, it was my fault…”

His heated breath lingered at her ear as he lowered his voice. “Don’t leave me, please—sister.”

Song Qingyou’s breath caught, her back stiffening for a moment.

So, he thought she’d be angry and abandon him.

She suddenly began to reflect on herself. Had she been too harsh, too indifferent to him?

Otherwise, why would this puppy have no sense of security at all?

She slowly lifted her hand, pausing in midair before resting it gently on his back. The moment her fingertips touched his skin, she felt the muscles beneath stiffen.

“Wenzhou,” Song Qingyou called softly.

Fu Wenzhou froze entirely, his dark eyes locked on her face, breathing sharply, voice husky: “Sister, what did you just call me?”

Song Qingyou’s palm slid up his spine, anchoring at the nape of his neck. She pressed downward; their lips were already close, and with a gentle push, they met.

Lips pressed together, breaths mingling.

It was impossible to tell whose sigh had escaped in that moment.

When the man couldn’t help but deepen the kiss, Song Qingyou placed her index finger on his lips, her cool voice tinged with an indescribable desire: “Three years ago, I wronged you, left you in the rain all night. That will never happen again.”

Fu Wenzhou was stunned, his gaze deep and complicated.

Song Qingyou’s fingertip traced his lips. “I’ll handle Fu Changlin and Qin You. You don’t need to get involved.”

Fu Wenzhou raised his pitch-black eyes, emotions roiling beneath the surface.

Seeing him silent, Song Qingyou frowned. “Did you hear me?”

Fu Wenzhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Mm. I heard you, sister.”

After a moment, he cautiously, almost timidly, asked, “So you’ll never leave me again?”

Song Qingyou glanced at him, her finger lifting from his lips, lightly patting his face. “Fu Wenzhou, do I really seem like a heartless, fickle woman to you?”

Fu Wenzhou’s brows were furrowed, his palm caressing her slender waist, his tongue pressed against his molars as he replied, “Sleep with someone and throw them away—aren’t you?”

Song Qingyou was startled, then realized he was referring to what she’d said after their first time together.

Her brows arched slightly. She seized his wrist, stopping his mischief. “Mm, I am. So go ahead and leave.”

Fu Wenzhou: “…”

“And don’t bother with the fish.”

“…” His deep, seductive voice echoed softly, “I’m sorry, I said the wrong thing. Sister, will you forgive me?”

Song Qingyou propped her chin, a faint smile in her eyes. “I suppose I can manage.”

Fu Wenzhou narrowed his dark eyes, leaned in, and bit her earlobe in retaliation.

A shiver ran through Song Qingyou. She tried to retreat, but he held her fast, leaving her breathless, swept away by a tide of uncontrollable desire.

In the end, they never ate the fish. Fu Wenzhou, moving quickly, boiled a bowl of noodles, cradled her exhausted body in his arms, coaxing her quietly: “Youyou, be good, open your mouth.”

Song Qingyou was so drained she didn’t even bother to open her eyes.

She couldn’t fathom how this man could switch so easily between wolf and puppy.

Seeing she wouldn’t eat, Fu Wenzhou continued coaxing, “Youyou…”

“Fu Wenzhou,” Song Qingyou interrupted, opening her eyes. “You’re not allowed to take so long next time.”

Even her bones felt like they were falling apart.

How could she endure this every time!

Fu Wenzhou nearly dropped his chopsticks, looking at her with wounded eyes. “It was only once… If it weren’t for worrying about your health, I wouldn’t have stopped at just once.”

Was he to be deprived even of this one chance?

Thinking of a future where he could only look but not touch, Fu Wenzhou felt as if the sky were collapsing.

Song Qingyou’s gaze was filled with reproach and embarrassment. “You only did it once, but that one time lasted nearly three hours!”

She was genuinely a little angry—clearly, he’d been in control, enjoying himself while she was left utterly spent.

This behavior had to be stopped.

Fu Wenzhou pressed his lips together, finally a bit guilty, lowering his voice to negotiate, “I’ll try to be quicker next time.”

Song Qingyou’s ears burned; why did his tone sound as if she’d used him and then tossed him aside?

She rubbed her brow, deciding to change the subject. “Feed me the noodles.”

Fu Wenzhou dared not disobey her command, carefully offering the bowl and chopsticks.

Song Qingyou’s appetite was small; a few bites and she was full. Fu Wenzhou kissed her lips, then carried the dishes away to wash them.

Afterwards, he carried her to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water eased her fatigue, leaving her far less exhausted.

Leaning against Fu Wenzhou’s chest, she suddenly remembered something from the prison. “Didn’t you pull out Fu Tingshen’s tongue?”

“It’s been reattached,” Fu Wenzhou replied nonchalantly. “I’d rather hear him beg.”

He should fully experience the despair of crying out for help with no one to answer.

After speaking, his eyes narrowed, his tone lazy and wicked. “Youyou, you went to Prison No. 12.”

It wasn’t a question.

Song Qingyou’s heart skipped a beat. She replied with a deliberately bland tone, “I’m tired.”

Fu Wenzhou snorted coldly, possessive and domineering. “You’re not allowed to see Fu Tingshen.”

Song Qingyou: “…”

Who would want to see him?

She turned away, closed her eyes, ignoring him.

As she moved, a strand of black hair slipped through Fu Wenzhou’s fingers. He stared blankly at his hand, then, almost bewitched, brought it to his nose.

How could his Youyou smell so sweet?

He wanted to kiss her, hold her, sleep beside her…

Fu Wenzhou sighed. The road to marrying his wife would be a long and arduous one.