Chapter 24

At that moment, a series of footsteps sounded outside the door.

Feng Tingshen had returned.

“Dad!”

“Mm.” Feng Tingshen stepped in and walked toward the bedside.

Rong Ci saw him and tried to set Feng Jingxin down to make room, but Feng Jingxin refused to let go, snuggling against her chest and reaching out both arms toward Feng Tingshen.

Feng Tingshen leaned closer and lifted Feng Jingxin into his arms.

As he held her, he was close enough that Rong Ci could smell his familiar male perfume.

Yet, mingled with that familiar scent, another faint, elegant female perfume drifted into her nostrils.

She had just smelled that same perfume on Lin Wu at tonight’s banquet.

Rong Ci turned her face away, stood up, and pulled back from Feng Tingshen until the scents faded from her nose.

Feng Tingshen’s hand, adorned with an exquisite wristwatch, gently rested on Feng Jingxin’s pale forehead, then turned to Rong Ci: “What’s her temperature now? Has it dropped at all?”

Rong Ci repeated the doctor’s words: “The high fever has broken, but it’s still unstable—she might spike again.”

“Mm.”

Feng Tingshen sat on the edge of the bed with Feng Jingxin in his arms; she clung to him, unwilling to get down, but frowned: “Dad, your coat is so stiff…”

Feng Tingshen took off his coat and handed it to Rong Ci; she reflexively took it, hugging it to her chest—until the mingled scents of the two perfumes became unmistakable, and she suddenly remembered: she and Feng Tingshen were about to divorce.

In the past, she would have felt happiness just holding his coat like this—so happy she couldn’t bear to let go.

But now, she set the coat aside carelessly and said to Feng Jingxin: “I’m going downstairs to cook porridge.”

With both Feng Tingshen and Rong Ci home, Feng Jingxin’s spirits had improved; she nodded obediently: “Mm, thank you, Mom.”

Rong Ci smiled and turned to leave Feng Jingxin’s room.

Watching her retreating back, Feng Tingshen’s gaze settled on the suit jacket she’d placed on the chairback.

After setting the porridge to simmer, Rong Ci began preparing other ingredients.

By the time she washed her hands and stepped out of the kitchen, twenty minutes had passed.

Rong Ci hesitated, then went upstairs.

On the second floor, as she turned, she saw Feng Tingshen standing by the window at the end of the hallway, on the phone: “The fever has broken. Don’t worry.”

Was he talking to Lin Wu?

Could Lin Wu truly be worried about Feng Jingxin?

Rong Ci looked away and entered Feng Jingxin’s room.

Feng Jingxin had finished her IV and fallen asleep.

She’d sweated heavily; Liu Shen was carefully wiping her down.

Seeing Rong Ci, Liu Shen immediately moved aside and handed her the towel—assuming she would take over care herself.

After all, Rong Ci had always done so in the past.

In matters concerning Feng Jingxin and Feng Tingshen, she had always handled everything personally.

Rong Ci shook her head.

Liu Shen paused, puzzled but said nothing, and quietly changed Feng Jingxin into dry clothes.

Rong Ci sat on the room’s sofa; after Liu Shen finished, she asked: “Has the doctor left?”

“Mm.”

“What did he say? Will she spike again?”

She was considering whether to stay overnight.

“The doctor said it shouldn’t happen.”

“Good.”

Since Feng Jingxin was no longer in serious condition, she likely wouldn’t need to stay tonight.

The porridge was still simmering; after sitting for a while, Rong Ci went downstairs. Liu Shen was in the kitchen and said: “I’ll watch the fire—you’re tired, Mrs. Feng, sit down and rest.”

Rong Ci stepped out of the kitchen and saw Feng Tingshen sitting on the living room sofa, reading the newspaper.

Seeing her, he glanced over, then returned his attention to the paper.

Rong Ci paused.

In the past, she would have sat beside him, quietly sharing his presence without disturbing him.

But now…

They had nothing left to say to each other.

Thinking this, she turned and went upstairs; Feng Tingshen didn’t call after her.

Yet Rong Ci felt puzzled.

She had expected him to confront her about her and Yu Moxun “bullying” Lin Wu.

But he hadn’t said a word…

No sooner had Rong Ci gone upstairs than Feng Jingxin woke up, pale and weak, and came out looking for her: “Mom, I’m hungry—is the porridge ready?”

“Almost.” Rong Ci asked Liu Shen: “Still feverish?”

Liu Shen smiled: “No fever anymore.”

Rong Ci relaxed, then turned back to the kitchen. Five or six minutes later, she poked her head out and said: “Xinxin, the porridge’s ready.”

Rong Ci ladled the porridge into a bowl, looked toward the door—and saw Feng Tingshen had followed.

Feng Jingxin: “Mom, why only one bowl? Dad should eat too.”

Rong Ci hadn’t realized Feng Tingshen would eat; before she could speak, Liu Shen chuckled: “I’ll get another bowl.”

Rong Ci didn’t plan to eat herself, but she always cooked extra—Feng Jingxin ate little, so a little for each of them was enough.

After serving the porridge, Rong Ci sat down and ate quietly.

Feng Tingshen had removed his wristwatch; his long fingers held the spoon, gently stirring—elegant, graceful, a pleasure to watch.

Feng Jingxin tasted a spoonful, closed her eyes in delight: “I haven’t had this in so long—it smells so good.”

Liu Shen smiled: “Now you’re back in the country, you can have it whenever you want.”

“Mm!”

Rong Ci heard this, paused, but said nothing.

Feng Tingshen sat across from her, also silent.

But Feng Jingxin was cheerful; she seemed to think of something and begged Rong Ci: “Mom, will you sleep with me tonight?”

Rong Ci was about to refuse, but saw how pale and bloodless her face still was, and relented: “Alright.”

Feng Jingxin ate only one bowl; Feng Tingshen didn’t eat much either—the porridge in the pot remained unfinished when they left the dining room.

Feng Jingxin was fastidious; even with a cold, she insisted on bathing.

Rong Ci feared she’d catch a chill, so went in to supervise.

After Feng Jingxin finished bathing, Rong Ci hesitated, then turned toward the master bedroom.

Feng Tingshen wasn’t there.

Rong Ci assumed her belongings had already been removed by his orders.

Inside, she found the bedroom unchanged from when she’d left.

Her everyday items—slippers, hand cream, face cream, water glass—all remained exactly where she remembered them, untouched.

As if she’d never left.

Rong Ci entered the walk-in closet, opened the sliding door—and found her things hadn’t been reduced either.

Or perhaps, since the divorce wasn’t yet final, Feng Tingshen hadn’t dared disturb the old lady by moving her things.

She set aside her thoughts, took a pajama set and a towel, left the master bedroom, and went to Feng Jingxin’s room.

Feng Jingxin sat on the bed playing with a tablet; seeing the clothes in Rong Ci’s hands, she asked curiously: “Mom, are you going to bathe in my room?”

Rong Ci: “Mm.”

She hadn’t been in the bathroom long when Feng Tingshen entered Feng Jingxin’s room.