Chapter 39: Why Is Miss Shen Staring at Me?

“Miss Shen, why are you staring at me?”
Perhaps sensing her gaze lingering on his face, he finally allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, his manner careless, his voice low and indifferent.
The fractured, wintry light refracted through the car window, illuminating his sharply defined profile. The corners of his mouth curled in a subtle, mocking smile, while his eyes, dark as ink and steeped in the night, seemed fathomless—like a bottomless abyss drawing her in.
In this hush, an almost tender silence settled between them.
Shen Zhaoxi parted her lips slightly, her voice husky as her calm gaze met his. “Did Grandfather say something to you?”
Otherwise, he wouldn’t be taking such care of her.
A man like Lu Yunzhou, after all, would hardly have the leisure to look after a sickly girl like herself.
In his eyes, she was nothing but an invalid.
“What does Miss Shen think the old master would say to me?”
Lu Yunzhou’s obsidian eyes rested on her face. His tone was cool and clear as he regarded the pale girl before him; her eyes reminded him of flower petals—clear and cold.
She had eyes like peach blossoms, a pallid face, and a voice so frail it was barely above a whisper.
“I…” she faltered.
Yes, what would Grandfather have told him?
In truth, as Grandfather’s student, it was only right for him to look after her.
Moreover, she was his fiancée, though the two of them had never met before.
Before coming to Dongzhou, the heir of the Lu family in the capital was the very definition of a favored son of heaven—noble by birth, dazzlingly handsome.
He had joined the military academy in his youth and seldom returned to the capital in recent years.
So Shen Zhaoxi had barely crossed paths with him.
If not for that incident in Dongzhou, she might have thought of him as an untouchable, transcendent figure—someone every girl would long to pull down to earth.
But she knew he was more than that.
He was a soldier, his hands stained with blood, a guardian of the nation.
In his eyes, she never saw a trace of worldly desire.
If ever there was a man who could be described as pure of heart and indifferent to desire, it was him.
Shen Zhaoxi found herself at a loss for words.
So she chose silence for the rest of the journey.
Lu Yunzhou, too, said nothing more.
Yet, half an hour later, as their car descended the mountain, a rumble of thunder suddenly split the sky—crashing through the forest.
A thunderous roar.
So sudden.

Lu Yunzhou, who had been resting with his eyes closed, abruptly opened them.
Rain lashed down in torrents.
A gale swept through, and the downpour blurred the bamboo leaves on the ground, merging into narrow streams that ran down the mountainside.
The rain came without warning, giving them no time to prepare.
“Young Master Lu, the rain’s too heavy. The road down is dangerous—I think we’d better find somewhere to wait it out!” The driver up front had been arranged by Old Master Shen.
But before leaving, the old master had instructed Lu Yunzhou to see Shen Zhaoxi safely home. So at the first sign of trouble, the driver naturally sought the man’s advice.
“Yes, let’s find a place to shelter from the rain.”
This section of road on Sanqing Peak was treacherous in the rain—especially now, with the storm raging and two young women in the car. Better to be cautious.
They quickly found a place to take shelter, pulling the car to the side.
It was a dilapidated temple deep in the mountains, long abandoned.
A low, crumbling wall still stood, battered by wind and rain, enclosing the temple.
Stone steps led up to the weathered building.
Outside, the plantain leaves were drenched by the rain. Shen Zhaoxi waited under the eaves, sitting in a wheelchair the Shen family’s bodyguard had brought for her. The man stood at her side.
Rainwater soaked his black leather shoes and splattered his tailored trousers.
Shen Xin glanced at her own driver, then looked right—to see the tall, striking man standing beside Shen Zhaoxi, keeping her company.
It wasn’t as if he had a choice—they all had to shelter here.
But why did Lu Yunzhou stand at Shen Zhaoxi’s side without sparing her a glance?
That noble, aloof man looked silent and detached, yet half his body leaned subtly forward, shielding Shen Zhaoxi from the rain.
“Zhaoxi.”
Suddenly, Shen Xin approached, her manner friendly, her smile gentle—like a white blossom after rain.
Her voice was soft as she appeared before them all.
She took a handkerchief from her bag and offered it to Shen Zhaoxi.
The girl in the wheelchair lifted her gaze to Shen Xin. Dressed in white, Shen Xin now seemed more refined and delicate than she had as a child—almost pitiable.
Her dress was wet from the rain.
Yet she offered her own handkerchief to Shen Zhaoxi.
It was a considerate gesture.
But Shen Zhaoxi did not accept it.
Then Shen Xin saw the veiled coldness in the younger girl’s eyes as they met hers.
Her peach-blossom eyes glistened with moisture, her voice low: “I don’t need it.”
As her words fell, a flicker of awkwardness crossed Shen Xin’s face.
After all, Lu Yunzhou was watching.

Though Shen Xin was vexed, she forced herself to maintain a gentle expression. She managed a troubled look. “Zhaoxi, I know I was wrong before—”
But before she could finish, the girl’s soft voice cut her off.
“My head hurts.”
Shen Zhaoxi pressed a hand to her forehead, her face even paler and more fragile in the cold rain beneath the eaves.
Lu Yunzhou frowned.
His dark eyes fixed on her, and then he pressed his lips into a thin line, lifting her from the wheelchair.
Shen Xin’s brow furrowed as she watched Lu Yunzhou carry her into the temple.
Though the temple was in ruins, at least some parts were dry.
Once the driver brought the wheelchair inside, Lu Yunzhou gently set the girl down.
Then, standing tall, he removed his jacket and draped it over Shen Zhaoxi, wrapping her up completely.
Seeing this, Shen Xin’s heart sank.
When had Shen Zhaoxi become like this?
She had always been the one acting before—playing the innocent, feigning weakness.
Now, Shen Zhaoxi had turned the tables.
“Does it still hurt?”
Lu Yunzhou studied the girl’s pale face, realizing she did not seem to be pretending.
She was not.
Her injuries from Dongzhou had been severe; she had only partly recovered after half a month in the capital.
Rainy days made her wounds ache without reason.
Her claim of a headache to Shen Xin was a lie.
But the pain in her chest was all too real.
As Lu Yunzhou bent down to ask about her condition, Shen Zhaoxi lowered her eyes, her face white and lips bloodless.
A cold sweat beaded her fair brow. Though his jacket covered her, her hands and feet remained icy.
Lu Yunzhou frowned, sensing something was wrong.
He reached out to feel her forehead, but just as his hand approached, the girl suddenly looked up—
And seized his hand in hers.
Lu Yunzhou’s gaze darkened.