Celia's slender arms rested quietly on the edge of the pillow, like butterfly wings folded in sleep. She was sound asleep.
A healthy pink flush colored her fair cheeks, and her soft breathing filled the entire ward with her gentle fragrance.
Fu Nancheng hadn't closed his eyes once during the business trip. Without her scent, he simply couldn't fall asleep.
He reached out a gloved hand and lightly brushed her cheek with his long index finger.
Celia felt a cool, ticklish sensation on her face. It was as if someone were teasing her in her dreams. She stirred, then slowly opened her sleepy eyes.
Fu Nancheng.
She blinked, dazed, rubbed her eyes with her fists, and once she confirmed she wasn't hallucinating, she abruptly sat up.
Amused by her silly and adorable reaction, Fu Nancheng curved his lips in a soft smile."Still half-asleep? Don't recognize me?"
"Mr. Fu… you're back?" Celia blinked again, still not believing her eyes.
Fu Nancheng took off his black leather gloves and set them aside, glancing at the elderly woman in the hospital bed."Is your grandmother doing okay?"
Celia nodded. "She's stable now. Thank you… truly."
Fu Nancheng looked her over briefly, then asked, "Where's the bathroom?"
"Over there." She pointed toward the corner of the ward.
Fu Nancheng headed in that direction.
As soon as he disappeared behind the door, Celia finally let out a small breath of relief. But almost immediately, his low, magnetic voice called out from inside—
"Celia."
Her heart skipped a beat.
She walked over. "Mr. Fu?"
The bathroom door swung open, and Fu Nancheng, tall and poised, stood in the doorway. His gaze was deep and unreadable as he said two words—
"Come in."
He was asking her to go inside.
"…Mr. Fu, is something the matter?"
"You sure you want to have this conversation out here?" he asked, tilting his head slightly toward her grandmother.
Celia hesitated, then stepped in. She didn't want to disturb her grandmother.
Click.
The door shut behind her, sealing them in.
"Mr. Fu, I'm here. If there's something you want to say, please—go ahead. I really appreciate your help with my grandmother's treatment..."
"You thank people like this?" Fu Nancheng leaned lazily against the doorframe, his tone cutting her off.
Celia was at a loss for words.
She'd known from the start that asking for his help might come at a cost. And sure enough, here it was—he wanted something in return.
"Mr. Fu, how would you like me to thank you? I know you helped because of Sylvia. How about I treat both of you to dinner sometime?"
She brought up Sylvia on purpose—to remind him he was a married man.
Fu Nancheng was sharp. Of course, he caught her implication. The smirk on his lips didn't waver.
"Help me rinse a towel. I need to wipe my hands," he said casually.
"That's all?" Celia walked to the sink, took out a fresh towel, and soaked it in warm water.
Just as she turned, she realized he had followed her. His tall frame loomed behind her, one hand in his trouser pocket, the crisp fabric of his expensive suit brushing her back.
"Why do you smell so good?" he murmured, his voice rough and low. "What is that scent?"
Celia tensed. Her slender figure leaned forward instinctively, trying to create distance between them. She couldn't tell what his intentions were. The subtle tension in his voice—half teasing, half serious—made her heart race uncontrollably.
"I used a body wash with a creamy sandalwood scent," she answered softly. "If you like it, I'll give you one."
She was trying to defuse the situation, to draw a clear boundary.
But Fu Nancheng reached forward, resting both hands on the edges of the sink and trapping her between his arms.
"Alright," he said, eyes dark with amusement. "Give me one. We'll use the same scent."
He'd never heard of that particular fragrance before—creamy, warm, slightly sensual. It crawled down his spine and lingered in the air between them.