Warm Water Burns, Chapter 16

“BANG—”

The heavy, violent crash exploded through the air without warning.

Author’s Note:
———————-

Chapter 12: Aurora – I Like You, Wen Yan

By the time Wen Yan registered what had happened, Fu Lanzhuo had already shoved her against the wall. The floor was littered with shards of broken glass in every direction.

The crystal chandelier from the corridor had crashed down. Fortunately, they’d been standing a little farther away, and Fu Lanzhuo had shielded her completely with his body. She didn’t have a single scratch.

“Chairman Fu!” The two bodyguards clearly hadn’t anticipated the chandelier falling. They rushed over, brows knotted tight.

“Gege, are you hurt?” Wen Yan tugged at Fu Lanzhuo’s sleeve, wanting to check whether he’d been struck.

“I’m fine.”

Seeing how worried she was, Fu Lanzhuo turned around in front of her to show her.

Once he’d finished, his voice went cool and flat as he addressed the two bodyguards. “Clean it up.”

“Yes, sir!” they both replied.

“That must have scared you,” Fu Lanzhuo said, trying to soothe her.

“Not really. Just… very unexpected.” Wen Yan’s gaze fell on the pile of broken glass behind Fu Lanzhuo. Against her will, her mind flashed back to that day in the downpour—his luxury car, half crushed by a fallen lamppost.

“Bringing you up to the sixth floor seems to have been a mistake.” The corner of Fu Lanzhuo’s mouth twitched.

A saying came to Wen Yan’s mind. “Broken pieces mean peace and prosperity, gege. It’s really okay.”

Something deepened in Fu Lanzhuo’s gaze. “Mm.”

The sixth-floor dining hall was exceedingly quiet. Once inside, Wen Yan noticed the layout was completely different from every other cafeteria at Yanqing University. It resembled an upscale restaurant off campus. The overall palette was subdued ochre and warm gray. A classical standing screen painted with Tang-dynasty ink wash stood at the center, while the walls displayed elegantly framed calligraphy and traditional ink paintings. There were six dining tables in total, each draped in a linen tablecloth. The chairs and tables were all a deep walnut color with clean, refined lines. The space felt both graceful and expansive.

“Let’s sit here.”

Fu Lanzhuo chose a table by the window. As he walked over, two men in blue Chinese tunic suits approached in tandem and pulled out the chair for him.

They appeared to be staff assigned to this floor. Wen Yan pulled her gaze back from surveying the room and followed. She noticed Fu Lanzhuo hadn’t sat down—he was waiting for her. Once she reached the table, one of the men in a tunic suit pulled out her chair. His attentiveness was almost excessive. The moment Wen Yan began to slip off her backpack, he took it from her. “Allow me, miss. I’ll place it on the chair beside you.”

“Mm…” Wen Yan murmured softly.

Shortly after they sat down, the other man in a tunic suit approached, pouring a cup of hot tea for each of them with graceful, unhurried movements.

The delicate fragrance of Biluochun tea drifted through the air.

“Serve the food,” Fu Lanzhuo said to them.

The two men gave a slight bow, then turned and disappeared around the screen toward the kitchen. About half a minute later, they returned—this time followed by four more people. Together, the six of them each carried a dish.

The first dish was set down steadily on the table. A silver square platter gleamed with cool metallic light, its gilded filigree edges catching the sunlight in a faint golden line. The server lifted the lid, releasing the rich aroma of braised shark fin in yellow sauce.

Next came the second course: a two-handled ceramic stew pot filled with a thick, creamy clam chowder.

Beyond those two, the next four dishes surprised Wen Yan, because the style shifted dramatically. The third was a golden sour soup fish, served in a small cloisonné tripod with glowing charcoal beneath. The fourth was a reddish spicy chicken. The fifth was a plate of wrapped rolls. The sixth… was a plate of stir-fried meat with fish mint.

Those last four were all Guizhou dishes—the specialties of her hometown.

Wen Yan’s gaze moved slowly across those four plates.

It felt like Fu Lanzhuo had arranged this deliberately.

Did he know she was from Huicheng?

And besides—wasn’t she supposed to be the one treating him to dinner tonight?

“That’s a lot of food… There’s no way the two of us can finish all this,” Wen Yan said.

Fu Lanzhuo glanced over the spread. “Six dishes. It’s fine. The portions are all small. We can manage.”

“And if we can’t finish, that’s okay too.”

“But four of them are Guizhou dishes. Gege, do you like Guizhou cuisine?” Wen Yan looked at him.

Fu Lanzhuo’s lashes lowered. He set his teacup back on the table. His brow ridge was sharp, the lines of his face somewhat rigid. “It’s fine.”

“Those four were all prepared for you.”

“…”

A string inside Wen Yan’s chest was plucked. She blinked softly.

“How did you know I’m from Huicheng?”

Bright light poured in from the window. Wen Yan’s black hair fell like a waterfall. A cherry-shaped hair clip was pinned at the back of her head, and a few loose strands were blown across her cheek by a faint breeze, partially concealing the light blush rising there. Her dark eyes were clear and calm, carrying a hint of bewilderment, innocence, and curiosity as she gazed at the man across from her.

Fu Lanzhuo’s eyes darkened. The corner of his mouth pressed in, barely perceptible. “You went viral online, and you’re the top scorer in the province. Finding out where you’re from shouldn’t be difficult, right?”

After the college entrance exam results came out, Wen Yan had been interviewed by the city’s television station. During military training, someone had filmed her and posted it online. She’d even earned the nickname “the most beautiful top scorer.” If Fu Lanzhuo had taken any interest in looking into her, learning her hometown would have been easy.

“Gege, let’s eat. Everything smells wonderful.” Wen Yan’s cheeks were rosy. She picked up her chopsticks first.

Fu Lanzhuo watched her and gave a low hum.

Wen Yan had just bitten into a piece of spicy chicken when she noticed another dish being brought over. This one was small—just a single bowl that looked like a beverage. An unglazed, jade-white porcelain bowl was set down gently in front of her.

Wen Yan lifted the lid. Steam rose to meet her face, carrying a faintly sharp ginger scent.

Inside was a soup of astragalus, Solomon’s seal, red dates, and ginger.

It had clearly just been brewed. A few tiny bubbles still trembled on the surface.

“Drink this first to warm your stomach.” The man across from her spoke, his voice very deep.

She didn’t really love ginger.

But Wen Yan didn’t show it. After all, he’d gone out of his way to have someone prepare this for her.

“Mm.” She nodded, scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to her lips.

Then slowly, a second spoonful. A third.

Throughout this, Fu Lanzhuo watched her quietly.

Wen Yan paused and lifted her gaze.

“Is it good?” Fu Lanzhuo asked.

“Mm… it’s good.” Wen Yan looked at him. “Did you arrange this specially too?”

The soup appeared to be for nourishing qi and blood. He’d already “nourished” her once this morning.

Fu Lanzhuo gave a slight nod.

Wen Yan’s fingers tightened around the spoon.

Her phone buzzed twice. Xiao Xinrui had sent two voice messages.

Wen Yan picked it up, intending to convert them to text, but her finger didn’t press hard enough, and she accidentally hit play. Xiao Xinrui’s excited voice nearly burst through the screen—

“Yan Yan! Ahhh, I have to tell you! Zhou Jinyu accepted my invitation! He’s going to the movies with me tonight! Do you think he likes me? That’s why he said yes, right??”

Wen Yan felt a flush of embarrassment. The moment the audio started playing, her grip slipped, and the phone dropped to the floor. By the time she picked it up, Xiao Xinrui’s voice message had played through completely.

“Sorry…” Wen Yan gave Fu Lanzhuo an apologetic smile. “My roommate.”

“It’s fine.” Fu Lanzhuo’s gaze stayed on her.

[That really is great news.] Wen Yan looked down and replied to Xiao Xinrui.

Three Blades of Grass: [Yan Yan, do you have eyeliner? I want to borrow some. Ugh, I don’t know how to do makeup at all. I want to look gorgeous for the movie with him. That’s it—I need to start learning how to do makeup.]

Zhemuw: [I don’t have eyeliner. Maybe ask Yueyue?]

Three Blades of Grass: [Ugh! If only I were as beautiful as you. Then I wouldn’t need any makeup at all!]

Wen Yan could feel Fu Lanzhuo watching her. It made her a little self-conscious. Her fingertips tapped the screen: [You’re beautiful even without makeup.]

Three Blades of Grass: [You’re so sweet, Yan Yan! I believe you!]

Zhemuw: [Mm, I’m going to eat now, Ruirui. I’m at the cafeteria.]

With someone dining beside her, it wasn’t proper to keep chatting on her phone.

Three Blades of Grass: [Okie dokie!]

After finishing her exchange with Xiao Xinrui, Wen Yan set the phone back on the table.

Just as she picked up her spoon again, she heard Fu Lanzhuo ask, “Since starting university, have you ever envied anyone?”

“Envied someone?”

Wen Yan looked up.

Fu Lanzhuo’s expression seemed somewhat displeased, almost strange. “For example—having a normal campus romance? Someone to walk to the cafeteria with every day, or head to the library together to study.”

He paused for a moment. “Thinking about it like that… doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

Wen Yan blinked. “I’ve never really imagined it that way.”

“And I’m used to it. Used to eating alone, studying alone. If it were two people… I’ve never pictured that scene.”

Fu Lanzhuo’s dark eyes held her gaze steadily. “Then would you mind if your partner didn’t have much time to spend with you every day?”

Wen Yan’s breath hitched slightly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“What about an age gap? You wouldn’t mind that either?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Two different questions. The same answer.

The rigid tension on Fu Lanzhuo’s face softened by a degree. The long fingers of his right hand, resting on the table, shifted faintly.

Wen Yan looked at him. A thin mist seemed to veil her pure black pupils. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“What?” Fu Lanzhuo’s gaze returned to her.

“I…” Wen Yan’s voice went a little faint. “My grandmother once had someone read my birth chart. The fortune-teller said my eight characters are… heavy. People close to me will be affected. In severe cases… their lives could be in danger.”