Jiang Cheng pretended not to understand her, asking, "What? Was I wrong?"
Qiu Yihe quickly shook her head.
She lifted her gaze, eyes complicated as she looked at Jiang Cheng.
Qiu Yihe had never been stupid.
She'd devoured case files and studied psychology in depth.
Her grasp of human nature ran deeper than most.
Yet sometimes she found Jiang Cheng impossible to read.
Especially now, fever slowing her thoughts.
Reason insisted Jiang Cheng didn't like her.
But he was so gentle, so disarmingly charming.
She couldn't stop her mind from spiraling again.
A man like him had no need to boil water for her himself.
Let alone say such sweet things.
Nor did she believe Jiang Cheng coveted her family's power the way Zhou Yi might.
True, her grand-uncle still held real authority.
But judging by her father's attitude, Jiang Cheng's family had far greater momentum.
Otherwise Qiu Zheng wouldn't have accepted living under their watch.
As for charm…
Qiu Yihe knew she was beautiful.
Yet beauty, she understood, is merely a plaything before real power.
History shows the nearer a lovely woman stands to power, the crueler her fall.
And a man like him had surely tasted countless top-tier beauties.
Thus, neither power nor beauty was something Jiang Cheng lacked.
So what could he want from her?
The question tormented her.
She did nothing more, unwilling to let him stir her further.
She drained the warm water beside her and stood abruptly.
"I'm going to bed…"
Rising too fast sent blood rushing to her head; black spots danced before her eyes.
The dizzy spell forced her to close her eyes and steady her forehead.
Jiang Cheng rose and caught her.
"What's wrong?"
After a few seconds she shook her head. "Stood up too quick—low blood pressure."
Before the words finished, the room spun; Jiang Cheng's strong arms swept her up in a cradle hold.
Her cheek pressed to his chest, she heard the steady thud of his heart through the thin shirt.
She tried to struggle, but fever left her limp.
Jiang Cheng strode toward the bedroom.
Glancing down, he smiled faintly. "Hold still. If you fall, I'm not responsible."
His low voice carried unquestionable authority—and an odd reassurance.
Her head swam, his faint woody scent filling her nose.
The smell sped her pulse, her cheeks burning hotter.
Last time in the sushi shop they'd been even closer—he'd almost taken her right there.
But danger had distracted her; she'd focused on shaking the drug dealers' suspicions.
Nothing like this quiet, undisturbed moment.
She meant to protest, to make him put her down—yet the words never came.
Instead she let him carry her to the bed.
His steps were sure; she felt the clean lines of muscle in his arms, strong but not bulky.
Sneaking a glance, she saw his sharp jaw, the small knot of his throat.
He bent and laid her gently on the bed as though she were fragile treasure.
The instant she settled, cheeks flushed, she whispered, "Thank you."
But before any romance could bloom she felt something beneath her hips.
"What is it?" Jiang Cheng asked, noting her frown.
"Nothing… just sat on something." She reached under, pulling out two scraps of red lace.
The moment she saw what they were, blood flooded her skull.
Jiang Cheng's gaze fell on the red bra in her hand.
Amusement curved his lips. "Nice style."
Her face flamed scarlet, matching the fabric.
Instantly she regretted buying anything so provocative.
She'd never had a boyfriend or tasted wild pleasures.
Yet she couldn't help collecting sultry lingerie in every color—she owned dozens.
She'd often admire herself in them.
But being caught with erotic underwear? Social death.
She shoved the garments beneath the pillow.
"It—it's not mine! I mean, it is, but not… I mean…" Words tumbled, mortification complete.
Watching her fluster, Jiang Cheng's smile widened.
He let only one teasing line drop.
In this state, pressing too hard on such an outward-tough, inward-fragile woman would backfire.
Push further and she'd only grow more anxious, convinced she was inadequate.