Chapter 174
"Husband."
Zhao Ger approached from the road ahead, holding an umbrella. Seeing Fang Zichen walking side by side with He Huihui—the man scholarly and elegant, the woman beautiful as a flower—they made a striking pair, as though perfectly matched by fate itself.
His steps faltered, his brows unconsciously furrowed, his grip tightening on the umbrella handle. Suddenly, his legs felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, unable to take another step.
Fang Zichen undid his cloak and ran over. "Why did you come out? It's so cold, what if you freeze?"
Zhao Ger watched him urgently draping the cloak over him, his eyes seemingly filled only with him, and couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart, no longer feeling cold at all. "It started raining, so I came to fetch you."
"This light drizzle is nothing." Fang Zichen took the umbrella, wrapped an arm around him, and started walking home. He Huihui seemed to have been forgotten. She stood rooted to the spot, watching the two figures ahead leaning close together, a stifling feeling rising in her chest.
He refused her so directly only a moment ago, yet now he was gently wrapping his cloak around Zhao Ger. How convenient—afraid of the cold one second, and perfectly fine the next!
Zhao Ger glanced back at her, asking as if casually, "What were you two talking about just now?"
Fang Zichen replied lazily, "She said she was cold and wanted to borrow my cloak."
"Then why didn't you lend it to her?" Zhao Ger asked. "Don't you always teach Guaizai to protect girls and gers, to be gentle and considerate towards them? Why didn't you lend it to her?"
"I got the feeling she was interested in me," Fang Zichen said.
If it were an ordinary girl or ger, he might have actually lent it. But the way that girl had looked at him just now was shy and bashful, and she always pretended to run into him accidentally. He was really afraid that if he lent it to her, she might take it as a sign of affection and offer herself to him in return.
His mind was completely filled with Zhao Ger right now, and he was a good man who didn't play both sides. He could only let the girl down.
Besides, he couldn't help but think this girl's judgment was rather off. Out of everyone, she had to fall for someone as steadfast, one-of-a-kind, and impossibly virtuous as him. Wasn't she just setting herself up for disappointment?
Zhao Ger remembered he had said something similar last time when he went looking for a prostitute.
"What about you?" Zhao Ger suddenly asked.
Fang Zichen was confused. "What about me?"
Zhao Ger's voice was muffled as he kicked a small stone on the road. "She's very pretty, a famous beauty from miles around. What do you think of her?"
A beauty from miles around?
That's a bit of an exaggeration!
He had seen all sorts of beauties in his time. Once, on a trip to the North Sea with his elder brother, girls with 36Ds, wearing bikinis, with big wavy hair, fair skin, pretty faces, and long legs would wink at him and say, "Hey there, handsome! Free tonight? Let me take you for a ride!" Yet he had remained as calm and unmoved as a monk in deep meditation, turning them down with firm resolve.
So with someone like He Huihui, what could possibly cross his mind?
And even if he were the type to stray, having a fierce tigress waiting at home meant he’d be courting disaster to even have the idea.
"She's pretty, so what? What's that got to do with me?" Fang Zichen glanced at Zhao Ger, seeing his pursed lips seeming somewhat unhappy, and catching on, immediately declared his loyalty: "I only like you."
"What do you like about me? I'm not as good-looking as He Huihui," Zhao Ger's brow twitched slightly. "Do you think He Huihui is pretty?"
This was no different from a trap question.
Fang Zichen stiffened, playing dumb. "Who?"
"He Huihui," Zhao Ger said.
"Who's He Huihui?" Fang Zichen wore a puzzled expression. "I've never even seen her, how would I know if she's pretty or not?"
"...Didn't you just talk to her?" Zhao Ger pinched the flesh at his waist. "Everyone says she's very pretty. Many young men in the village like her, even ones from other villages."
Fang Zichen felt a bit speechless. "Her being pretty is her business!"
Zhao Ger looked at him. "So, do you like her or not?"
Fang Zichen lowered his head, meeting Zhao Ger's gaze, and said roguishly, "Is her surname Zhao? Is her name Zhao Ger? If she's not called Zhao Ger, then I don't like her. I, the Third Young Master Fang, only like Zhao Ger, who has big eyes, loves to pinch people, and is prone to jealousy."
Zhao Ger's steps halted. His heart pounded as if trying to burst out of his thin, frail chest. He tried his utmost to keep his tone steady, asking, "You... what do you mean by that?"
Fang Zichen hugged him tightly, lowering the umbrella. In the misty rain, amidst the biting cold wind, he gently took Zhao Ger's ice-cold earlobe between his lips, speaking earnestly, tenderly: "I'm saying, the only one I like is Zhao Ger."
He stood tall and straight, his voice clear and resolute. Every word struck deep into Zhao Ger's fragile and sensitive heart.
One after another, almost more than he could bear.
"...What, what did you say? Say it again." Zhao Ger was pierced to the core by the two words 'only like'. This was different from 'I like you'. These two words had an overwhelming, devastating impact on him. His eyes reddened almost instantly.
The longer he spent with Fang Zichen, the smoother the other became at coaxing him, the more fluent his sweet talk, the more uneasy Zhao Ger felt.
His inferiority complex, accumulated over years, was deeply engraved in his bones. It couldn't be erased by just a few phrases of 'I like you' or 'believe me'.
Fang Zichen kept saying how good he was, but Zhao Ger didn't feel he had anything particularly good. His looks weren't outstanding, he couldn't embroider, he couldn't play instruments, chess, calligraphy, or painting, he couldn't be a perfect match for Fang Zichen. He only knew how to work hard with his head down.
But anyone with hands could do that. He had no particularly outstanding qualities. Facing Fang Zichen, he was undoubtedly insecure, timid. In this relationship, he treaded on thin ice, always afraid that one day Fang Zichen would grow tired of him, or that one day, Fang Zichen would like someone else.
In these times, it was all too normal for men to have three wives and four concubines. But now, his husband said he only liked him.
He urgently needed to confirm it once more.
Tears welled in his eyes as he looked up at Fang Zichen from below. This angle made it seem like submission, but his eyes were filled with infatuated love.
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