Chapter 45: You’re Using Your Eyes To Control Me

The soup noodles that Lu Huaiyan made this evening were even better than the ones he made on his birthday last time.

The rich and white beef bone broth, thinly sliced beef, and a handful of stir-fried sauerkraut—on a cold winter night, this bowl of hearty, smoky soup noodles is the perfect dish to offer to the Five Grains Temple.

After finishing the noodles, the two of them washed up and returned to bed.

When Lu Huaiyan’s arm crossed over, Jiang Se couldn’t help but remember that, when they first started sleeping together, they always kept a distance, just an arm’s length apart.

Perhaps it was because they were used to sleeping alone since childhood, or maybe neither of them liked to be too clingy. On the night they first slept together, they unconsciously kept a distance while lying down.

The only bit of entanglement was their hands, which were intertwined when they woke up.

Now, he crossed that distance, pulling her into his arms as he had done earlier in the morning.

Above her head was his gentle breathing, against her back was his chest, and his ever-increasing body heat.

Jiang Se turned around, her gaze landing on the sharp lines of his Adam’s apple.

Lu Huaiyan, noticing her movement, placed his large hand on her back and asked in a deep, hoarse voice, “Can’t sleep?”

They had slept from just after ten in the morning until three in the afternoon, so it was normal to not feel sleepy now.

Jiang Se said, “Zhang Yue probably won’t try to kill herself again. At least, not now.”

Lu Huaiyan casually responded with an “Mm,” not particularly concerned about Zhang Yue’s situation.

“I don’t want to get revenge on her.”

Lu Huaiyan responded with another indifferent “Mm.”

Even if she did want to take revenge, he would stand by her.

At the time, he didn’t know about Zhang Yue’s relationship with Zhao Zhicheng, so he willingly signed that ineffective agreement to help her.

After learning that Zhang Yue was Zhao Zhicheng’s lover, he understood why Jiang Se had such conflicting feelings about the cheongsam store.

She both loathed it and was attached to it.

Because that store had been bought with the money Zhao Zhicheng used to blackmail Jiang Se.

Lu Huaiyan wasn’t a saint. He knew that Zhang Yue was a tragic woman, but if Jiang Se wanted to take revenge on her, he wouldn’t let others use morality to manipulate her.

That’s how the world works. When the knife doesn’t land on you, you never know how painful it really is.

When it comes to grand principles, everyone acts like a saint.

When he had a falling out with Lu Jinzhong, others called him heartless and cruel, slandering and insulting him behind his back. He just found it laughable.

That man was his father. Was Han Yin not his mother?

Lu Huaiyan lowered his gaze, playing with Jiang Se’s earlobe and smiling ambiguously. “You’re kind to Zhang Yue, but to me, you hold a grudge like no one else.”

“…”

Jiang Se’s ears were particularly sensitive. She turned her face away to avoid his fingers and said faintly, “Zhao Zhicheng killed the other two kidnappers because of Zhang Yue.”

Lu Huaiyan scoffed, “Zhang Yue even taught Zhao Zhicheng to be a good man?”

His eyebrows and eyes were cold as he said, “Uncle Mo said from the traces of the struggle at the scene that Zhao Zhicheng attacked them first. Zhao Zhicheng admitted it and said he did it to keep the ransom for himself.”

At first, it didn’t seem like much, but now, thinking back, he was actually quite thankful that these three men got into a conflict and caused a commotion. Otherwise, he and Uncle Mo wouldn’t have been able to find Jiang Se within 24 hours.

Because Zhao Zhicheng killed the other two men and was injured himself, Jiang Se was able to safely wait for their rescue.

For the ransom…

Jiang Se closed her eyes without saying a word.

Seeing that she didn’t respond, Lu Huaiyan lowered his gaze to look at her.

Her head rested on his shoulder, her eyelashes gently lowered, and her expression seemed somewhat distant.

Lu Huaiyan bent his arm and pulled her closer. “Should we sleep like this tonight?”

Jiang Se raised her lashes and met his gaze, then murmured, “Mm.”

And so, they slept in each other’s arms.

Lu Huaiyan woke up first. He had actually woken up once in the middle of the night, when his arm had fallen asleep.

Once the lady in his arms fell asleep, she didn’t like changing positions. He was afraid any movement would wake her, so he ignored the numbness in his arm and continued to sleep.

Now, he woke up again, still due to his arm being numb.

He was used to enduring it, not even moving his fingertips, and he kept his gaze on her peaceful sleeping face until her eyelashes fluttered lightly, signaling she was about to wake up. Then, he raised his hand and tugged at her earlobe, saying, “My arm is numb.”

Jiang Se was still a bit dazed when she opened her eyes, but after realizing it, she propped herself up with one elbow and sat up.

As she sat up, one of her shoulder straps slid off, and her messy, tousled hair spilled over her shoulder. She sleepily looked at him.

“What time is it?”

Lu Huaiyan’s gaze darkened. It wasn’t just his arm that was numb; other parts of him felt a tingling sensation as well.

He diverted his gaze and glanced at the bedside clock. “Seven thirty.”

Jiang Se was a bit surprised, realizing she had slept for such a long time.

The two of them got out of bed, washed up, and had breakfast on the way to the hospital. They also brought a serving for He Miao and Zhang Yue.

When they entered the hospital room, He Miao was helping Zhang Yue out of the bathroom.

This was a luxurious single room. Although He Miao had stayed in the hospital overnight, she had slept well and looked energetic.

After helping Zhang Yue back to bed, she took the French croissant and coffee from Jiang Se, then curiously asked, “Was that Mr. Lu your boyfriend, Miss Jiang?”

Jiang Se paused as she was twisting the lid of her thermos, then replied, “No.”

He Miao took a sip of coffee and smiled. “Then he must be pursuing you. Mr. Lu is really handsome, even more so than the celebrities I fancy. With that face, he’d definitely make it big in the entertainment industry.”

Yesterday morning, she had been in such a gloomy mood, and when Mr. Lu appeared, she hadn’t thought much about it.

Now that her mind had relaxed, remembering how Mr. Lu had appeared and said he was taking Jiang Se to sleep, she felt oddly impressed by his boyfriend potential.

Miss Jiang is amazing—able to handle being pursued by such a handsome man.

Seeing He Miao nearly swooning with pink bubbles in her eyes, Jiang Se didn’t respond. She just smiled and handed the opened thermos to Zhang Yue, saying, “It’s minced meat porridge from the hotel. Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you.” Zhang Yue accepted the porridge and began eating slowly.

Her stomach wasn’t in great condition, so after half a bowl, she put down the spoon and looked at Jiang Se, saying, “I’ll be discharged tomorrow morning. I’m fine now.”

Jiang Se glanced at her.

A few days ago, perhaps because she had been ready to die, Zhang Yue had a kind of grounded ease about her.

That sense of ease was gone now, but her eyes were bright, and her expression was peaceful.

She really looked fine. No wonder He Miao had been so cheerful and excited this morning.

“Tomorrow is the Lunar New Year. You all should go back and clean up. This past month, you’ve made so many trips to the hospital because of me, it’s been really unlucky,” Zhang Yue said with a smile. “I don’t want to spend the New Year in the hospital either.”

“Then come to my place tomorrow to celebrate the Lunar New Year,” Jiang Se said lightly. “I bought you a set of spring couplets, so you can take them back with you.”

Zhang Yue was momentarily stunned, wanting to politely decline, but then Jiang Se continued, “My mom invited a tailor from our hometown to make me a New Year outfit—a qipao. It’d be great if you could help me take a look at it.”

“Come on, Master,” He Miao said with a grin, stuffing the last bite of her croissant into her mouth. “Miss Jiang’s house is on Fuchun Street. It’s super lively there. You’ve been in Tongcheng for so many years—how could you not check that place out?”

Zhang Yue swallowed the refusal that had been on the tip of her tongue.

That evening, Lu Huaiyan came to pick them up. As soon as Jiang Se got into the car, she asked, “Tomorrow’s the New Year. Are you going to Hanshan Temple to spend it with Aunt Han?”

“Yeah, I’ll head over tomorrow afternoon,” he replied, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Are you staying home?”

Jiang Se nodded slightly. “Xiao Ye said she’d take me and Jiang Tang out to have some fun tomorrow night.” 

Lu Huaiyan looked away and chuckled. “Alright, then I’ll stay up in the mountains tomorrow night.”

Jiang Se paused at his words, then turned her head to look out the window.

The glass reflected the man’s profile as neon lights flashed by—one moment his sharply defined features sank into shadow, the next they were illuminated by the dim yellow glow.

Suddenly, she recalled what He Miao had said: that when he appeared at the hospital ward’s entrance yesterday morning, he looked like a god descending from the heavens.

Jiang Se had only given a faint smile after hearing it.

Little girls always loved watching tales of gallant heroes riding on seven-colored clouds to save their beloved—except those were just scenes from movies. Where was such romance in real life?

Yet that night, when she received his call outside the operating room, she truly hadn’t expected him to rush back.

She’d said she hated hospitals, and he’d actually come to take her away.

At that point, she’d been on the verge of a fever—she knew that slow-burning sensation all too well. But after he took her back and she slept, that burning fever somehow faded away silently.

They hadn’t done anything in bed.

In the past, whenever they were in bed, they always did something. Like lovers in the throes of passion, they were insatiable for each other, for that act, for the taste of each other’s bodies.

These past two days, though, he hadn’t touched her that way. He just held her—simply held her.

The black sedan rolled over a street shimmering with neon lights.

At the hotel suite, Jiang Se handed him her coat and leaned against the shoe cabinet, watching him.

He Miao had said his face was the handsomest she’d ever seen.

But this man’s appeal wasn’t just his face. The body beneath his coat perfectly matched Jiang Se’s aesthetic tastes.

Back in the States, Jiang Se had once sketched nude models.

She’d heard someone describe a man with supposedly perfect proportions and went to see for herself.

He was indeed well-proportioned—an Eastern European man, his body brimming with a powerful beauty tinged with a touch of poetry.

Later, on their first night together, Jiang Se realized that Lu Huaiyan’s body appealed to her even more than that young Eastern European man’s.

Every bone, every muscle—it was all just right.

If he were stripped bare and posed as a model in an art studio, the room would probably be packed with people.

Her gaze lingered on him, unabashed.

Lu Huaiyan was taking off his gloves. He’d just removed one when he suddenly looked up, meeting her eyes for a moment before saying calmly, “Se Se, why does it feel like… you’re messing with me just with your gaze?”

“…” Well, kind of.

As he lowered his head to remove the second glove, Jiang Se reached up and took off his glasses.

Removing his glasses was a tacit signal between them, laced with unspoken meaning.

The black lambskin glove slipped off his fingertips. Lu Huaiyan lifted his gaze to her, his eyes dark and intense, almost overwhelming.

“Tell me, princess,” he said. “Where do you want it this time?”

—

When the water from the showerhead cascaded down, Jiang Se stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Lu Huaiyan, don’t let my feet touch the ground.”

On New Year’s Eve, in the dead of night, when he’d pinned her hands above her head, he’d told her that if she hadn’t been injured, if she hadn’t been drugged, he wouldn’t have let her feet touch the floor in the bathroom.

Jiang Se remembered that.

Water droplets slid down the dark gray wall, tracing slowly over her pale shoulders, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone before spilling down her graceful curves and splashing onto the floor in delicate bursts.

She looked like a camellia embedded in an oil painting.

A canvas of muted, low-saturation grays, with a flawless white camellia at its center.

Lu Huaiyan gazed down at her, and as her brows furrowed, he said, “Look up at me.”

He always liked that.

He loved watching how her pupils dilated bit by bit because of him in moments like these.

When they stepped out of the bathroom and she braced herself against the vanity, he didn’t ask her to look at him again. Instead, he made her look into the mirror.

By then, they’d been out for over half an hour. The thin layer of mist on the mirror had long dissipated, leaving it so clear that even a mark on her shoulder was perfectly visible.

His eyes were heavy, dark, with a primal ferocity lurking in their depths—an aggression that matched his very nature.

Her feet were on the ground then, but it hardly felt like it.

It was like when she’d studied ballet—standing on her toes, arches taut, the slender muscles of her calves stretched tight.

More exhausting than dancing for two hours.

Back in the bedroom, she leaned against the soft pillows and demanded, with righteous indignation, that he massage her feet and legs.

Lu Huaiyan sat on the mattress and actually did it.

Her foot was the length of his palm, her ankle slender, her legs straight and evenly proportioned.

He recalled how, just after they’d left the bathroom, she’d sat on the vanity, and through the misty mirror, he’d seen the beautiful, captivating line her arched foot traced downward.

He couldn’t resist then, turning his head to kiss the top of her foot.

He couldn’t resist now either, pressing her foot down and planting another kiss on its arch.

“Do you remember your performance at Borde when you were twelve?” he asked suddenly.

Her face still bore a flush that hadn’t yet faded, her usually cool brows and eyes softened with languor. Her lashes hung low, like weary butterfly wings folding quietly in the dark.

Hearing his words, she lifted her eyelids. “The school anniversary?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember. I danced *Swan Lake*.” His thumb pressed into the sole of her foot, tickling her, so she pulled back a little, asking casually, “Did you go watch that day?”

“I watched half of it. Cen Li and Guo Song dragged me there, saying you and Guo Qian were both performing.” Lu Huaiyan gave a low chuckle. “Back then, you didn’t look happy dancing at all.”

He could tell she wasn’t happy after just half a show?

Jiang Se said, “When I came offstage, everyone said I danced well. Even Madame Ji was very satisfied.”

Lu Huaiyan gave her a half-smile.

Back then, she and Guo Qian—one danced without joy, the other danced carelessly and kept messing up. He’d gotten bored after a while and left the little auditorium without looking back.

Her foot was still firmly in his grip, and too tired to pull free, she pursed her lips and said, “I wasn’t happy. I wanted to dance the Black Swan, but Madame Ji wouldn’t let me.”

Ji Yunyi had insisted she dance the White Swan, saying the Black Swan didn’t suit her.

But she was stubborn and practiced both sets of steps.

Once, during rehearsal, the girl playing the Black Swan had to take a last-minute leave, and Jiang Se volunteered to take her place. She even recorded it to show Ji Yunyi.

That night, Ji Yunyi’s expression had been far from pleased.

Lu Huaiyan said, “I’m probably the only one in the audience who could tell you weren’t happy.”

She’d smiled both on and off the stage, the undeniable star of the show. Who else could’ve noticed her discontent?

Jiang Se looked at him. “Did you think I was unbearably fake back then—clearly so unhappy yet forcing a smile?”

Lu Huaiyan hissed, “Are we digging up old scores now?”

He let go of her ankle, slid his hands to her waist, and pulled her onto his lap, laughing. “How old were you back then? I just found it boring and left. I never liked watching those things anyway—where would I find the time to care whether Miss Unhappy’s smile was real or fake?”

Jiang Se: “…”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Alright, next time Miss Unhappy dances, I promise I’ll watch from start to finish without blinking. How’s that?”

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