Volume One, Chapter 19: Rare and Precious

Pei Jingmo had a naturally fierce look, and after these few days of exhaustion and roughness, he appeared even more intimidating. No wonder the doctors and nurses treated him like a harbinger of doom whenever he appeared.

She was the only patient in the room, which was lavishly appointed, with a private bathroom, a sofa, and all sorts of smart devices. Once the doctors and nurses had left, Song Qingyu asked, “Is this a VIP room?”

Song Qingyu knew that a VIP room cost over two thousand a night.

“Why stay in such an expensive room? A standard one would do just fine.”

Now, with one of them working a regular job and the other starting a business, they had to be frugal. “There weren’t any standard rooms left when we arrived. The doctor saw how badly you were hurt and gave us a discount on this one. It’s only a hundred more than a regular room.”

“We must be really lucky, then.” A weak smile flickered on Song Qingyu’s pale face.

So badly injured, and still calling themselves lucky.

Pei Jingmo understood—she was trying to comfort him.

In tacit agreement, they avoided mentioning what had happened that day. Song Qingyu pointed to her own chin. “Do you… want to freshen up a bit?”

When Song Qingyu hadn’t woken up, Pei Jingmo had been too anxious to leave her side, let alone bother with shaving. Now, realizing how unkempt he must look, he remembered that Song Qingyu was a girl who valued cleanliness. He couldn’t let himself leave a poor impression.

“All right, I’ll go take a shower.”

“Mm.”

While Pei Jingmo was in the bathroom, a nurse came in to change Song Qingyu’s bandages. Hearing the sound of running water, the nurse smiled and said, “Your husband is really good to you.”

“Hm?”

“He hasn’t left your side for a moment these past two days while you were unconscious. His whole world is you. It’s hard to find a man like that these days.”

It was only then that Song Qingyu realized she’d been unconscious for two days.

Did that mean—

Pei Jingmo hadn’t slept at all these two days?

“He really cherishes you,” the nurse went on. She’d seen so many different sides of human nature in the hospital: husbands acting as if their wives’ surgeries or even childbirth were none of their concern—playing games, scrolling on their phones. She’d never expected to witness such devotion from a man.

To be honest, the nurse’s impression of Pei Jingmo wasn’t simply because he’d kept vigil for two days straight. One night, while passing by the room during her shift, she’d caught a glimpse of a scene she would never forget: the girl lay silently on the hospital bed, her face pale as paper, while the man bent over her, hands braced on the mattress, not touching her but as if cradling her within his arms. Restrained yet unable to contain himself, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—a gesture almost reverent and full of tenderness. It was deeply moving.

There had been orders from above to look after the patient in this room with extra care. Among the nurses, gossip held that the girl was a wealthy heiress and the man just a laborer. Stories of rich girls and poor boys belonged in television dramas; in real life, people usually cared more for money than for true affection. But that night, she believed—this man was hopelessly in love with the girl.

Although their marriage had been impulsive, over time Song Qingyu realized Pei Jingmo was a responsible, dependable man. When she’d agreed to marry him, she’d acted on impulse, but she never regretted her choices. Looking back now, she thought herself rather fortunate. At the very least—

Pei Jingmo was a good man.

The sound of running water ceased, and Pei Jingmo emerged in a gray T-shirt. Song Qingyu noticed he only seemed to own black and gray shirts, and during their time together, he’d never bought new clothes—just wore these two shirts in rotation. Maybe, she thought, she should take him shopping for some new ones. After all, he’d taken her in and was paying rent—she couldn’t let him go without.

Cleaned up, Pei Jingmo reverted to his cool and aloof demeanor. Song Qingyu glanced at his buzz cut, feeling the itch to touch it. She wondered what it would feel like under her fingertips.

Noticing her gaze lingering, Pei Jingmo touched his own face. “What is it? Did I miss a spot shaving?”

“…No, it’s perfectly clean.” Song Qingyu turned her gaze away, embarrassed.

Knock, knock, knock—

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Pei Jingmo opened it, and someone delivered their lunch.

Song Qingyu didn’t feel well and couldn’t eat anything greasy. Knowing that Fu Linhan’s housekeeper made excellent congee, Pei Jingmo had called Fu Linhan specially.

Fu Linhan, disgruntled, complained, “Oh, when I broke my leg and almost lost it, I said I wanted your housekeeper’s pear blossom cake. Do you remember what you told me?”

He mimicked Pei Jingmo’s indifferent tone, “You’re a grown man, what do you want with pear blossom cake! You refused me flatly! Now your woman is sick, and you want my housekeeper to make her congee. I—”

“What? Are you going to refuse me too? You should know, if Qingqing isn’t comfortable, no one will have any peace.”

Fu Linhan cursed, “Putting love before friendship! I see right through you! I’m going to tell Xiaobai about this!”

Complain as he might, the congee still arrived. After all, Pei Jingmo had far too many ways of making people miserable—Fu Linhan simply couldn’t risk it.

Song Qingyu truly had no appetite, but the moment the congee was uncovered, the aroma wafted through the room and her eyes lit up. “It smells wonderful.”

She hadn’t eaten in two days and her stomach was empty. Seeing her look like a little hungry kitten, Pei Jingmo smiled for the first time in days.

He ladled some congee into a small bowl. Song Qingyu reached out to take it, but Pei Jingmo said, “Let me feed you.”

“I can manage by myself.”

“Can’t you let me?” His face was the picture of seriousness and stubbornness, as if another refusal would truly hurt him.

It wasn’t a big deal, so Song Qingyu nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

Pei Jingmo sat by the bed, carefully blowing the congee cool before bringing it to her lips, worried she might burn herself.

Song Qingyu took a bite—the congee was smooth and melted in her mouth. It was savory, delicious, and not at all greasy; she had no idea what it was made with, but it was superb.

“Is it good?”

Song Qingyu nodded but the motion tugged at her wound, and she gasped in pain.

Pei Jingmo instantly became anxious. “Slow down, careful with your injury.”

“Mm… It’s just so good…”

“Have a little more, then.”

After one bowl, her stomach and body both felt much better. There was still half left, but Song Qingyu really couldn’t eat any more.

Pei Jingmo set down the bowl and chopsticks, picked up a napkin, and wiped her mouth—

Before Song Qingyu could protest, his hand, through the napkin, had already touched her lips.

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.

Quickly recovering, Song Qingyu pulled away. “I can do that myself.”

Sensing her withdrawal, Pei Jingmo clenched his fists but said nothing. Then he picked up the thermos and started eating the remaining congee.

Song Qingyu was startled. “That… that’s my leftovers.”

“It’s fine. No need to waste.”

Song Qingyu fell silent.

In her experience, eating someone else’s leftovers was something only people very close to each other ever did. Even Chu Xingzhi had never eaten her leftovers. It made her feel a little awkward.

Pei Jingmo, eating congee, was nothing like the gentle way he fed her. He simply drank straight from the thermos like it was soup. In less than a minute, he’d finished it all.

Her gaze involuntarily drifted to his lips.

To be honest, that kiss she’d given Pei Jingmo that day had been a desperate move, but she hadn’t expected him to kiss her back even more deeply.

Still, he’d probably only done it to convince Chu Xingzhi of their marriage.

Thinking back, that kiss had been hot and soft, but also forceful and suffocating.

She’d nearly lost her breath.

Pei Jingmo always seemed so honest, but when he kissed someone, he was as wild as a savage—

Quite fierce, indeed.