Bigoted Mr. Fu Lets Me Do Whatever I Want - Chapter 391

Chapter 391: Still Felt Sorry for Him In The End

Fu Tingyu tucked his phone back into his pocket, his cold glare never straying from Qin Shu’s demure form. He could see the anticipation illuminated in her limpid eyes and it made his heart roar with barely restrained wrath. “What if I say that I must have you return with me to Jiang City?”

Faced with Fu Tingyu’s anger, Qin Shu knew her words would fall on deaf ears and so she remained silent. If she insisted that she couldn’t go back, it would only make him angrier.

In his heart, he probably saw her as a sheltered flower incapable of weathering the wind and rain. She was a woman whom he had to shield from the horrors of the barbaric world outside. He believed that it was in her best interests to remain ignorant of the world and its affairs.

She could not return to Jiang City. She could not relive a past of uselessness, of weakness, of one where she could only stand by and watch as he drowned because of the dead weight that was his wife.

She wanted him to be fine. She wanted to find the missing medicinal herbs for him, but she didn’t want him to know that the woman he wanted to protect was doing something risky.

To help, to be there for him when he needed her most. Therefore, she had to find those medicinal herbs which would help her keep him safe from harm. It was a risk he would never have allowed her to take had he known her true intentions.

If Fu Tingyu ever caught wind of her plan, he would definitely stop her. It would not surprise her if, thereafter, he kept a tighter watch on her.

A haunting stillness swallowed the room, punctuated only by the ticking sounds of a clock that hung near the entryway.

Fu Tingyu stood staring at her like an immovable mountain. He pursed his lips and locked his deep obsidian eyes with hers, waiting for a response.

Qin Shu couldn’t bear his harsh gaze and looked down. His hands were shaking badly and the whites of his knuckles were a stark contrast against his impeccable suit. It was clear to her that Fu Tingyu was doing his level best to contain his volatile emotions.

It was then that she was struck by how much Fu Tingyu had changed. Before, he would not have bothered listening to her at all. He would have simply carried her back with him to Jiang City without so much as a word. Explanations were nothing more than excuses cloaked in sophistry; there was no need for him to put up with what was, in his mind, a poorly crafted cover-up.

He had learnt restraint since then. He was not as impulsive as he once was. Although he still viewed her actions with scepticism and distrust, she knew he had changed for her benefit.

Just as she was about to cup his clenched fist in her dainty hands, a series of polite knocks broke the heavy atmosphere shrouding the room.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was probably room service. Ye Luo was not the type to go about knocking on their door for no reason, and even if he did have one, he would have called in advance.

Fu Tingyu swept past her and went straight to the door. Swinging the door open with more force than necessary, startling the bellhop standing outside.

“S-sir, you ordered lunch,” the bellhop stammered.

“Come in.” Fu Tingyu let go of the door handle and stalked back into the room. As he brushed past her, he offered her his hand. Qin Shu froze, inclining her head in stupefaction. She stayed that way for several seconds.

Fu Tingyu simply said, “Wash your hands. It’s time for lunch.”

Having said his piece, he led her to the bathroom.

Qin Shu followed him in uncertainly.

In the bathroom…

The two of them stood side by side in front of the sink.

The hand sanitiser was situated beside Fu Tingyu. If Qin Shu wanted to make use of it, she would have to reach over him.

Fu Tingyu squeezed its small pump and a slow trickle of hand sanitising fluid was dispensed onto his waiting palm.

Qin Shu reached out for the bottle of hand sanitiser but her hand was stopped by a larger one that enveloped her own. She searched Fu Tingyu’s expressionless face for an answer, unsure of the purpose behind his action. Yet, before she could frame a question and direct it at him, the palm of Fu Tingyu’s hand touched her own, and the hand sanitizing liquid washed her hands in aromatic sterility almost instantly.

She observed the way he applied the cleansing solution to her hand, sliding in between the gaps of her fingers. He was so meticulous that not even her knuckles were spared from his tender ministrations. Fu Tingyu’s gentle touch contrasted with his cold countenance. The difference was as great as night and day.

Fu Tingyu took great pains to ensure her hands were thoroughly cleaned, lathering them with a generous amount of hand sanitising fluid. When he was satisfied that they had been cleaned well, he guided her hand under the automatic faucet and savoured the cool rush of water that spewed out.

As the water slipped through their fingers, Fu Tingyu carefully rubbed her hands with his.

They spent two minutes at the sink washing their hands. Afterwards, he grabbed a clean hand towel from the shelf adjacent to the sink and wiped her hands dry.

Qin Shu looked up into his eyes. They were cold gems of the blackest pitch. Framing them was a pair of thick eyebrows that accentuated his dashing already dashing appearance. Though his lips were pressed into a thin line and his body trembled imperceptibly, he continued kneading her hands in his with a deft but delicate hand.

After wiping, Fu Tingyu threw the towel into the trash can, took her hand, and led her out of the bathroom.

Once her hands were dry, Fu Tingyu scrunched up the towel into a ball and threw it into the laundry basket before leading her out.

From start to finish, Fu Tingyu had not uttered a word to her.

The bellhop had laid out the dishes by then and excused himself quickly with a deep bow.

Qin Shu accompanied Fu Tingyu to the dining table. He pulled out the chair for her in an act of gentlemanly grace. She acknowledged his courteous gesture and sat.

Fu Tingyu slid into the chair opposite hers and sat. He sipped on the water that had been poured out for him.

Qin Shu surveyed the dishes that had been prepared. They were all her favourites. But as hungry as she was, she could not bring herself to eat anything.

She regarded the man sitting across from her hesitantly. He had set aside his glass of water in favour of his chopsticks and begun eating. His chopsticks danced from dish to dish with the elegance of an aristocrat. He had always eaten well.

Qin Shu picked up her chopsticks and helped herself to a few of the dishes laid out. She did not want to ruin the atmosphere at the table.

Like the woman in front of him, Fu Tingyu also had no appetite. He was simply putting food into his mouth and chewing mechanically. He could not taste anything and all he felt was discomfort while eating.

Silence reigned at the dining table.

Qin Shu finished her bowl of rice, set down her chopsticks, and wiped her mouth clean of any grease with a napkin.

It was almost in unison that Fu Tingyu put down his chopsticks, and wiped away the grease around his mouth too. He then pulled out his phone and called room service, asking them to take the dishes away.

Then, he stood up and walked out of the dining room. When he passed the glass coffee table, he bent down to pick up the cigarette case and the lighter. He walked to the balcony of the living room and closed the glass door.

He ambled his way from the dining area to a coffee table nearby and picked up his cigarette case and a lighter. Opening the balcony door, he stepped out into the open air and slid the door shut.

Fu Tingyu’s lonely figure sat on a fancy deck chair overlooking the city. His legs were crossed. Between his slender fingers was a cigarette. He lit it using his lighter, watching as hazy spirals wafted slowly into the air. He took a long drag from the nicotine-infused stick, shooing away the smoke that leaked from a corner of his mouth irritably.

Qin Shu idled by the dining table. She appraised the figure of the man on the balcony wordlessly. The atmosphere was grim and depressing.

Considering her options, Qin Shu decided against staying idle. She got to her feet and shuffled across the carpeted floor towards the balcony.

It is often said that women vent their feelings when they are unhappy or sad but cry when put under pressure.

Men, on the other hand, were supposed to be different. Tears were not for them. They did not shed their tears easily.

When they were stressed or irritated, they would either turn to alcohol or cigarettes.

Neither alcohol nor cigarettes are good for them

She had only seen a man cry once.

It was in her previous life when she had been tricked by Qin Ya. She had slashed her wrists and sat in a bathtub filled with water in order to enact her own suicide.

By the time the man had rushed over to save her, she had already lost too much blood and a deathly chill had settled over her pale skin. Her breaths rattled in her chest for only a short while before the last wisps of life escaped her weary form.

It was the first time she had ever seen a man cry till his eyes were swollen with an expression of complete despair clinging to his features. It was as if his whole world had collapsed in on itself, burying him in a thick and lifeless cloud of misery.

A man who had never cried before had shed tears for her. It was a scene more overwhelming than anything she had experienced before, superseding the kiss she had received over the ugly scar resting in a modest corner of her eye.

Recalling the events of her past, Qin Shu strode to the glass door separating the balcony from the room and opened it. At this time, Fu Tingyu had just lit another cigarette. When the door opened, it sent a noxious puff of green cigarette smoke hurling into her face. The smell assaulted her nose and left her coughing and spluttering in its wake.