Chapter 27: Stirrings of the Heart

Perhaps it was just her overthinking, but there was an indescribable sense of distance about him.

It felt just like that day at the funeral, the way she had felt toward him.

Once this keen perception hit her, the words she had prepared in her mind died on her lips. Everything she had agonized over all night, tossing and turning, was now stuck firmly in her throat.

She stood there, stunned, and before she could even say a word, the lock clicked.

"Get out."

Jiang Mugui stared at him, feeling somewhat dazed. The concern he had shown her in recent days, his promises to make things up to her—they seemed to have vanished into thin air, as if he had reverted to the cold, detached man he had been years ago.

But after only a few seconds, she regained her composure. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I understand, Father. I will be careful."

She opened the car door and stepped out.

Then, she said softly, "Goodbye."

The man’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he exerted force. Once the girl had left, he watched her retreating figure with a complex expression.

He watched for a few seconds before looking away.

Back home, he felt a lingering, inexplicable agitation. Unable to shake the stifling sensation, he pulled a beer from the refrigerator and downed it. As the sharp, stinging liquid hit his throat, he felt only one thing: a choking sensation.

But even that could not mask the restlessness in his heart, which felt like a tangled knot of thread he could not unravel. After finishing the drink, he crushed the can, tossed it into the trash, and turned toward the bathroom.

The girl’s lingering scent remained in the room, along with the clothes he had changed out of.

Even as he gathered them to toss into the washing machine, that same scent rushed into his senses. The image of her clinging to him, her arms locked around the nape of his neck, her entire body pressed against his, flooded back into his mind.

In an instant, his lower abdomen tightened. Realizing his reaction, Mu Anyan was so shocked that his brows furrowed deeply. After grabbing a towel to dry his hair and body, he put on a robe and, without a second thought, called Fang Muqing.

"Anyan?" Fang Muqing sounded flattered when she answered.

"Are you free?" The man’s voice was deep.

The three words were enough for the woman on the other end to discern his intent. She immediately showered, applied makeup, and prepared everything before arriving at his home.

Yesterday, she had returned home feeling dejected, even lying awake at night seething with frustration, but today, things had taken a turn. She knew the thing Mu Anyan liked most about her was that she handled everything just right, always appearing exactly when he needed her.

That was why she had stayed by his side the longest.

Once she pressed herself against Mu Anyan, he didn't say a word, leading her straight to the bedroom. Yet, her understanding of the man told her he was deeply troubled; his movements on the bed felt like he was forcing himself to get into the mood.

Though she realized he was in a bad mood, she was not in a hurry, gently undressing him.

The foreplay was brief, and Mu Anyan kept his body under control, just as he always did.

However, he had been too hasty just now, forgetting that this was the same bed the girl had slept in yesterday—though he seemed to have built an immunity to that scent, he found himself thinking of other things instead.

Years ago, at midnight, he had finally returned home to find the girl still awake, huddled in her dress on the living room sofa. The house was cold and desolate.

He had frowned, asking, "Why aren't you asleep yet?"

Jiang Mugui looked up, her eyes wet and shimmering, which made his heart ache. "Father, my stomach hurts, but Mom hasn't come back, and the nanny returned to her hometown."

That day had ended with him taking her to the hospital. He didn't know why his thoughts had drifted to that specific scene. He then thought of how lively and adorable she used to be, and how she had grown more and more silent over the years, carrying a complex mix of ingratiating yet prickly emotions whenever she faced him.

His breathing grew more rapid. The woman’s warm breath washed over him, and he suddenly opened his eyes to see Fang Muqing’s beautiful face.

Her hair hung down, sticking to his chest. A sudden, profound sense of sorrow welled up in his heart.

Yet, he had no intention of stopping. As Fang Muqing’s eyes turned sultry, two words escaped her lips: "Father..."

He froze abruptly, his body coming to a sudden halt. His expression darkened to the extreme. As his hand clamped down on her jaw, his eyes reddened, and he questioned her, word by word: "Who gave you permission to call me that?"