Warm Water Burns, Chapter 21

As a child, she’d been troubled by it too. But her mother had told her she didn’t need to live for other people’s eyes.

The world was inherently noisy. If the heart was still, one was free.

Fu Lanzhuo gazed at her deeply but said nothing.

Wen Yan truly didn’t mind the stares outside. She took the initiative and asked, “Gege, are we eating on the sixth floor of Xilan again?”

Fu Lanzhuo’s fingertip pressed the ignition. The engine roared to life with a low, powerful rumble. “Tonight, I’m taking you somewhere else.”

———————–

Author’s Note: I feel like Chairman Fu deliberately showed up at the school so conspicuously to pick up Yan-bao.

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Today’s chapter is dripping with extra content (the confidence of having saved chapters).

I want to make the monthly rankings! Please send nutrient fluid, everyone. Mwah, comments get red envelopes galore. Next chapter will be just as hefty!!!

Chapter 14: Benediction – A Little Jealous

Fu Lanzhuo said he was taking Wen Yan to eat off campus, but he didn’t drive far. He headed straight into a food street near Yanqing University and stopped in front of a Chinese restaurant.

The restaurant’s name was remarkably brief. On the massive ebony plaque above the entrance, a single character was carved: “Xun.” No gold paint adorned it, yet it carried a weighty, understated confidence. Inside, the atmosphere was anything but bustling—elegant and serene. A waitress in a qipao of Song brocade fabric approached to guide them, leading the two upstairs into a spacious private dining room.

One entire wall of the room had been built into an antique display shelf, lined with various curios and collectibles—vases, porcelain, and several thread-bound ancient volumes. At the center of the room sat a rosewood table, its surface clearly polished with great care, smooth as a whetstone. Wen Yan followed Fu Lanzhuo and took a seat.

Fu Lanzhuo was probably accustomed to dining in refined, high-end places like this. The room was even more impressive than the sixth floor of Xilan Cafeteria.

Wen Yan had felt slightly uneasy at first, but when another qipao-clad waitress brought over a small white bowl and set it gently before her, a wave of warmth seemed to rise from the soles of her feet.

Because when the lid was lifted, it revealed a bowl of brown sugar fermented rice with egg. What put Wen Yan at ease was that this time, there was no ginger.

Fu Lanzhuo was almost excessively attentive. He still remembered her period.

“Drink this first to warm your stomach.” The man across from her spoke.

His words made both Wen Yan and the two qipao-clad waitresses at the table glance at him. However, the waitresses were professionally trained. They quickly averted their eyes, then looked back at Wen Yan.

Wen Yan’s appearance couldn’t be summed up with the simple word “pretty.” The kind of refined beauty she possessed was something they’d never seen before. “Xun” was merely a branch located near Yanqing University in Yan City. Both waitresses had been transferred from the main location, where the clientele consisted of high-ranking officials and dignitaries. They’d seen plenty of beautiful female guests, including celebrities. Yet Wen Yan was more beautiful than any of them.

The waitress in the plum-green qipao was about to hand the menu to Wen Yan when she noticed Fu Lanzhuo beckoning her. She paused, walked over, and presented the menu to him with both hands.

Fu Lanzhuo opened the menu.

Wen Yan didn’t watch him any longer. Her gaze fell to the bowl in front of her. She picked up her spoon and began to taste. The fermented rice wine was clean and smooth on her tongue—sweet but not cloying—and slid down her throat with a gentle warmth.

She heard Fu Lanzhuo name several dishes. Gradually, half the brown sugar fermented rice with egg was gone.

Fu Lanzhuo had finished ordering. His gaze was on her now.

It made it impossible for Wen Yan to keep immersing herself in her soup. She lifted her head.

“Take a look—anything else you’d like?” Fu Lanzhuo said, passing the menu to her.

Wen Yan blinked and accepted it.

The menu was exquisite too—thick, a little heavy, shielding half her face as she held it. Her eyes swept over dish after dish, each accompanied by a photo and description. Everything was expensive. She deliberately checked the prices of the dishes Fu Lanzhuo had just ordered. Each one was over two thousand yuan. The most expensive was ten thousand six hundred.

“…”

Wen Yan clicked her tongue.

One meal here would cover her entire year’s tuition and living expenses.

“Nothing more. You’ve already ordered plenty,” Wen Yan said. She closed the menu and handed it back to one of the qipao-clad waitresses.

Both women smiled gracefully. “Then please wait a moment.”

With that, neither lingered in the room. They turned and left.

There was still a little brown sugar fermented rice left in the bowl. Wen Yan picked up her spoon again.

Her mind wandered—or rather, she was a little distracted.

Fu Lanzhuo watched her. “Next time, you can pick where we eat.”

Wen Yan looked up. “The things I like to eat… you probably wouldn’t be used to them.”

As soon as she said it, she realized that wasn’t entirely accurate. Yesterday, Fu Lanzhuo had eaten Guizhou cuisine with her and seemed to enjoy it. The only dish he hadn’t touched after one bite was the fish mint.

Fu Lanzhuo said, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Wen Yan pressed her lips together and agreed.

Fu Lanzhuo lowered his head and removed his jacket. He stood, draped it over the back of his chair, glanced at Wen Yan, and said, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Wen Yan nodded.

The private room had its own restroom, behind Wen Yan. Fu Lanzhuo went in, and Wen Yan stirred the fermented rice and egg in her bowl with her spoon.

About a third of the egg remained. She scooped it up and finished it.

Smooth and tender. The texture was exquisite.

When Fu Lanzhuo came back from the restroom, Wen Yan had already polished off the entire bowl. Hearing his footsteps, she instinctively turned her head. Fu Lanzhuo was passing beside her. She glanced up slightly and noticed a scar beneath the short sleeve cuff on his right arm. It seemed quite long, winding from his shoulder all the way down to his elbow.

In all their previous meetings, Fu Lanzhuo had always worn a jacket or long-sleeved shirt. She’d never noticed a scar on his arm. Wen Yan froze, instinctively reaching out to grab the hem of Fu Lanzhuo’s shirt. “Gege, your arm…”

Fu Lanzhuo stopped and turned his head.

“What is it?”

Wen Yan reached out and touched the scar on his arm. “Was this from that car accident?”

“No.” Wen Yan’s fingertips were warm. The muscles in Fu Lanzhuo’s arm tensed slightly. “This scar is from a fight when I was a kid. Twenty-three stitches. It has nothing to do with that accident.”

“A fight?” Wen Yan looked up at Fu Lanzhuo.

The air he carried was so mature, so composed—like a heavy, cool piece of jade. She’d assumed someone like him had always been proper and perfect since childhood.

Something like fighting didn’t seem like something that would happen to Fu Lanzhuo.

Fu Lanzhuo’s voice was low. “Mm.”

Wen Yan released the hem of his shirt, but her gaze lingered on the scar.

“Do you think it’s ugly?” he asked suddenly.

Wen Yan shook her head. “Not ugly.”

Fu Lanzhuo’s mouth twitched.

“Did it hurt a lot at the time?” Wen Yan asked.

Twenty-three stitches. Just hearing that hurt.

“I don’t remember. It probably did.” Fu Lanzhuo didn’t remain standing beside Wen Yan’s seat. After answering, he returned to his place across from her and sat down.

“Then why were you fighting back then, gege?” Wen Yan asked curiously. “Is it okay to talk about?”

“There’s nothing I can’t say. I was young. Pretty rebellious. In primary school, my parents were both very busy. At home, there were only the servants, and they couldn’t keep my temper in check. It wasn’t until middle school, when my grandfather took me in to raise me himself, that my personality improved a lot.”

Fu Lanzhuo had been born abroad and attended primary school overseas. At the time, his father, Fu Yechun, was busy expanding markets internationally, and his mother had gone to Germany shortly after giving birth to him. The household was often staffed only by servants. Once he started primary school, as the only child of Asian descent in his class, he was frequently targeted. The class was filled almost entirely with children of the powerful and privileged—all little young masters. In a group like that, a weak personality only invited bullying. So Fu Lanzhuo, even at that young age, had a fiercer temper than anyone else. It wasn’t the aggression of a bully—it was more the vanity of a slightly delusional adolescent boy. He never wanted to be the one taking orders. He wanted to be the leader. If a good friend was being picked on, he’d resolve it with his fists. Once, he’d beaten someone too hard, and the other side ambushed him with a blade in retaliation, stabbing him twice in the arm.

By middle school, his grandfather, Fu Shenglian, had fully stepped back from the center of power and had plenty of time on his hands. He’d long disapproved of Fu Lanzhuo’s unrestrained life abroad. One phone call, and he had the boy brought back to be raised and disciplined under his roof.

Fu Shenglian was extremely strict. Unlike Fu Yechun’s gentleness and fondness for lecturing, Fu Shenglian was a military man through and through. His approach was always the rod. If words didn’t work, beatings would. Even in his old age, he showed not a shred of leniency. In just two years, the arrogant, unruly young master of the Fu family was completely transformed into a model student. His dead-last grades shot up dramatically in his final year of middle school, landing him in the top ten of the experimental class at the district’s key high school.

Fu Lanzhuo had said a lot. Wen Yan listened, somewhat entranced.

She was curious about everything regarding Fu Lanzhuo, and happy that he was willing to share it with her.

“That kind of change must have been pretty cruel. For someone so young at the time,” Wen Yan couldn’t help saying.

“It was fine. Change is always painful.”

“You must have been terrified of your grandfather.”

“I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

Just as they reached this point in the conversation, the qipao-clad waitress brought in the second course and set it on the table. The dish was called “Yellow Croaker with Rice Cake.” Wen Yan remembered this one cost over two thousand six hundred. A plump yellow croaker had been cut into four segments, resting serenely in a thick, amber-colored sauce that gave it a lustrous golden sheen. Several pieces of water-milled rice cake were arranged around the fish, their texture like jade. The clear, oceanic fragrance and a distinctive savory sauce aroma drifted into Wen Yan’s nose.

It certainly looked delicious, though she still found it hard to fathom a single plate being worth a small fortune.

“Can you handle fish?” Fu Lanzhuo asked from across the table.

Wen Yan rarely ate fish. She’d once had a bone stuck in her throat. She nodded. “I’ll try.”

Suddenly, she felt more like a food critic. This dish was a work of art.

She picked out a piece of fish with her chopsticks and placed it in her mouth. The skin was slightly crisp, and then she felt the extraordinary silkiness of the flesh. The umami of the sauce bloomed across her tongue.

It really was quite good.

“Is it good?” Fu Lanzhuo asked.

Wen Yan hummed.

She noticed he’d been watching her the entire time without picking up his own chopsticks. With the previous course too, only she’d been eating because he’d been telling her about his childhood. Wen Yan said, “Gege, eat with me.”

Fu Lanzhuo’s lips curved. “Mm.”

“Gege, the rice cake is really good too. Very chewy.” After tasting the fish, Wen Yan tried the rice cake and found its texture even more impressive than the fish.

Fu Lanzhuo watched her rosy cheeks puff and move as she chewed. He picked up a piece of rice cake himself, placed it entirely in his mouth, and said in a low voice, “It really is.”

A new dish was brought in. Compared to the yellow croaker with rice cake, this portion was much smaller, served in a ceramic stew pot. The waitress delivered it on a cart, the pot sitting atop a small stainless-steel gas burner to maintain the temperature. Inside was a Middle Eastern abalone about half the size of a palm.

The abalone was removed from the stew pot and transferred to a white porcelain plate, then placed before Wen Yan.

This required a knife and fork. Wen Yan was a little uncomfortable with that. Fu Lanzhuo noticed her hesitation, pulled the plate toward him, cut the abalone into three pieces, then pushed the plate back in front of her.

“Thank you, gege…” Wen Yan felt Fu Lanzhuo was almost excessively considerate. But since it was already cut, she used her fork to pick up the smallest piece and placed it in her mouth.

In truth, her hesitation wasn’t just about switching utensils. She’d wanted to admire the precious appearance of this Middle Eastern abalone a little longer, because this dish cost three thousand six hundred and eighty yuan.

One bite, and over a thousand yuan had simply vanished.

Wen Yan was about to say “Gege, you eat too,” when the second serving of Middle Eastern abalone was brought over and placed before Fu Lanzhuo.

Wen Yan lowered her head, forked another piece, and ate it.