Chapter 87: Can

Feng Tingshen didn’t look at Rong Ci; he lightly brushed his finger across Feng Jingxin’s nose: “Dad has something to do. Be good and listen to your mother.”

“Okay,” Feng Jingxin muttered reluctantly, glancing at Rong Ci, then walking over and extending her hand for Rong Ci to hold.

This was her way of making up with her.

Rong Ci took her hand, greeted the butler, and left the house.

When they arrived at the Rong residence, Madam Feng had already been there for a while.

Seeing only the mother and daughter, with no sign of Feng Tingshen, Madam Feng immediately frowned: “Where’s Tingshen? Busy again?”

Rong Ci: “Mm.”

Madam Rong, who already knew Rong Ci and Feng Tingshen were on the verge of divorce, also believed Feng Tingshen had no reason to come.

She stopped Madam Feng and said: “He’s busy with work—I understand. Don’t pressure him.”

Once inside, Feng Jingxin went upstairs to play video games with Rong Yunhe.

Rong Ci stayed behind to chat with the two elderly ladies.

Madam Feng loved the two new paintings Madam Rong had created, and when she learned they were painted with the writing set Rong Ci had gifted her for her birthday, she became very interested in that set.

After seeing them, she loved them even more, then added: “Where’s Tingshen? He didn’t forget to prepare something, did he?”

“He prepared something,” Madam Rong replied, her tone less than pleased at the mention of Feng Tingshen, but she continued: “The emerald jewelry he gave you is of excellent quality, and the embroidery he helped deliver is also very fine.”

Madam Feng smiled: “That’s more like it. Looks like he actually listened to me.”

Rong Ci said nothing.

After sitting quietly in the study for a while, the two elderly ladies came out to the courtyard for tea.

Madam Rong glanced across at the neighboring house and remarked casually: “It’s strange—those days, that house was under renovation nonstop. I thought the owner was in a hurry to move in, but then suddenly everything stopped.”

Madam Feng chuckled: “Probably something came up. Didn’t move in after all.”

“Maybe.”

Rong Ci had wanted to sell the house, but feared it might end up bought by someone from the Lin or Sun family.

So she never sold it.

She hadn’t even gone inside to see it.

Because the Sun family had handled it, she didn’t want to step foot in it.

And so it had just sat there, untouched.

As she thought this, she suddenly sneezed, a chill running down her spine.

Both elderly ladies immediately asked: “Are you alright? Did you catch a cold?”

Rong Ci wiped her nose with a tissue and said: “Maybe.”

She’d probably caught a chill last night too, but the symptoms hadn’t been obvious then.

Madam Rong and Madam Feng had been friends for years.

But she never mentioned to Madam Feng what had happened at her birthday banquet, or about Feng Tingshen and Lin Wu.

They simply chatted happily about everything else.

After sitting for a while, Rong Ci’s phone rang—it was Chu Zilian, telling her she’d run into Feng Tingshen and the Lin family again.

She said Feng Tingshen was dining with the Lin family.

Chu Zilian added: “What the hell? Why does this always happen to me?! I didn’t want this!”

Then she asked where Rong Ci was.

Rong Ci replied: “At my grandmother’s.”

“Did you come alone?”

“With Jingxin and Grandma Feng.”

Chu Zilian instantly understood: “So Feng Tingshen didn’t come with you to the Rong house—he went to Lin Wu’s side to keep the Lin family company?”

Rong Ci said nothing.

After hanging up, Rong Ci sneezed again.

Rong Ci’s aunt-in-law, He Mingxue, worried she might be coming down with a cold, boiled her a bowl of ginger soup. After drinking it, Rong Ci felt her head grow heavier, and soon fell asleep.

When she woke up, she realized she had a fever.

A high fever—her head spun dizzily.

Feng Jingxin came over to her side, looking concerned: “Mom, are you sick?”

Rong Ci: “Mm.”

Madam Feng was also worried and wanted to take her back to the Feng residence so their family’s longtime traditional doctor could examine her, saying he healed quickly.

Madam Rong thought her illness had come on too suddenly to delay—it was best to let her return to the Feng ancestral home for the doctor’s care.

Back at the ancestral home, the old doctor came, prescribed medicine, and after drinking one bowl, Rong Ci went upstairs and fell asleep again.

When she woke again, the heaviness in her body and head had greatly improved.

She opened her eyes and saw a small lamp glowing beside her; turning her head, she saw Feng Tingshen sitting there, reading.

She paused.

Then she remembered—this was the ancestral home, Feng Tingshen’s room.

The place he’d grown up in.

Perhaps sensing movement, Feng Tingshen turned his head: “Awake?”

Rong Ci’s throat felt uncomfortable, her mood sour—she didn’t want to speak to him, so she stayed silent.

She grabbed the coat beside her, put it on, and was about to get out of bed when Feng Tingshen brought her a glass of water and held it out.

Rong Ci hesitated, then took it two seconds later—without saying thanks.

Feng Tingshen said nothing, reached out to feel her forehead—Rong Ci’s mind was heavy, but her reflexes weren’t slow; she pulled away.

Feng Tingshen stared, paused, withdrew his hand, and stood: “Zhang Lao is still downstairs. I’ll have him come up to check on you.”

Before she could respond, he turned and left the room.

A few minutes later, Zhang Lao, Madam Feng, Feng Tingshen, and Feng Jingxin all entered the room.

Zhang Lao examined Rong Ci and said her condition had improved significantly, but she must continue taking the medicine; her constitution was weak, her emotions suppressed, so a chill easily made her sick—she needed proper nourishment.

Rong Ci listened and nodded.

Madam Feng asked: “Xiao Ci, are you hungry?”

At lunch, Rong Ci hadn’t eaten much before falling asleep.

Now it was nearly evening—she was hungry, but had no appetite.

Still, the old lady insisted she eat something, then instructed Feng Tingshen to go downstairs and bring up the meal prepared for Rong Ci in the kitchen.

Feng Tingshen turned and went downstairs.

Soon after, he returned carrying the food.

Madam Feng and Zhang Lao left.

Feng Tingshen didn’t leave—he sat nearby reading while Rong Ci ate.

Rong Ci glanced over and realized he was reading the same book she’d read at the hot spring villa.

She hadn’t noticed before, but now she saw—he hadn’t returned it to her.

She frowned: “You—”

Feng Tingshen smiled: “I read half an hour that day and found some of your ideas genuinely interesting—they gave me new thoughts. So I kept it, and flip through it sometimes.”

Rong Ci pressed her lips together and ignored him.

She’d had little appetite to begin with—now she had even less.

Feng Tingshen propped his chin and said: “After all these years, you still can’t even argue properly?”

Rong Ci turned her face away.

Feng Tingshen sighed: “Fine, I won’t upset you. Just eat.”