Volume One, Chapter 10: Courting Her Affection

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Lu Wentian said nothing, so Cong Su naturally did not respond. Just then, a car suddenly appeared from nowhere, darting straight toward their vehicle. Cong Su reacted swiftly, flooring the accelerator and sharply steering at an angle to evade the oncoming car. But in doing so, they collided with a roadside bollard by the greenbelt and had to perform a near-drifting maneuver to come to a stop.

The car halted, but the unexpected jolt caused Gu Yan to jerk backward violently. Before she could steady herself, the skid flung her into Lu Wentian. Her seatbelt was unfastened, and if Lu Wentian hadn’t grabbed her and held her close, she might have been thrown out.

“Can’t drive?” Lu Wentian’s expression darkened, his face cold.

Cong Su was clearly shaken and kept apologizing profusely.

Although still shaken, Gu Yan quickly regained her composure. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

As for the other car, its front was completely lodged into the fountain outside a nearby shop, red antifreeze spilling everywhere—a grisly sight.

Cong Su finally lost his temper, cursing, “Damn bastard, driving so fast—what, think you can outrun the Earth’s rotation? A day only has twenty-three hours for you, and you’re rushing straight to the underworld with the extra hour?”

Gu Yan was taken aback. She seldom saw Cong Su like this. Cong Wen used to visit the old manor with Lu Wentian and, having spent much time with him, carried an air of maturity and steadiness, methodical in his actions. Compared to the cursing man now, it was clear why one was called Cong Su and the other Cong Wen.

After venting, Cong Su turned back. “Fourth Master, this car needs to be assessed for liability. Shall I call you a cab or have Cong Wen pick you up?”

Lu Wentian didn’t answer but glanced at Gu Yan.

She understood immediately. “I’ll take a cab.”

Lu Wentian nodded slightly, signaling her to get out.

Gu Yan exhaled in relief, oddly grateful for the sudden accident—it was the only reason she could get out of the car.

Before leaving, she casually glanced back at the vehicle. Then she froze.

The glass on Lu Wentian’s side was shattered, apparently struck by a streetlamp’s iron frame near the greenbelt. Broken glass was scattered everywhere. She hadn’t noticed earlier because his body had been blocking the impact. There was blood on the glass.

Had Lu Wentian been injured?

The thought tightened her chest. She had slammed entirely onto him; he must have been holding her to keep her from flying out and therefore hadn’t had the strength to protect himself.

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Gu Yan wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen and just walk away, but after a moment’s hesitation, she turned back—after all, she used to study medicine. Conscience is a troublesome thing.

She approached, and Lu Wentian stepped out of the car. He wore no jacket, and the silver-gray shirt’s sleeve was noticeably soaked with blood.

The glass must have pierced his arm. Blood flowed copiously.

As Lu Wentian reached to put on his jacket, she stopped him. “You want to let the blood dry up on its own?”

He didn’t move.

Gu Yan had intended to have him remove the shirt to examine the wound but reconsidered, recalling his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and well-defined abs.

Instead, she tore open the shirt buttons along the glass-cut seam by hand, ripping the fabric wider.

After cleaning around the wound slightly, she saw it wasn’t large but couldn’t gauge its depth. She tore off an entire sleeve, fashioned a makeshift bandage, and tied it around his arm.

Her manner was professional—efficient, no wasted movements or words.

“You must go to the hospital to prevent infection,” she told Cong Su. “It might have affected the artery; we don’t know if there’s glass inside.”

The bleeding was heavy and ongoing—either he had poor clotting or the wound was severe.

Gu Yan didn’t plan to accompany him to the hospital; with Cong Su and probably Cong Wen going, it was unnecessary.

Lu Wentian glanced at her but said nothing.

The next day at work, Gu Yan didn’t see Cong Wen or Lu Wentian. She had only seen Lu Wentian the day before, so it didn’t concern her much.

That afternoon, Cong Wen called her, asking her to come and take care of Lu Wentian because he was busy.

“Lu Wentian is hospitalized?” Gu Yan was surprised. Was the injury that serious?

Cong Wen explained briefly that the artery had indeed been injured, the wound was deep, he had been given a tetanus shot, and would need to stay in the hospital for two days.

“Why not let his girlfriend take care of him? I have to work, you know,” Gu Yan declined.

She didn’t want much involvement with Lu Wentian.

Cong Wen held the phone, looked at the man in the hospital bed, and said, “Miss Gu says to have your girlfriend take care of you.”

Lu Wentian looked up at those words.

“That’s what she said. Could it be about the recent rumors involving you and your ex-girlfriend?” Cong Wen hinted with a smile. “How does she know?”

Lu Wentian averted his gaze again.

Cong Wen couldn’t read his expression—neither angry nor pleased.

That evening.

Gu Yan received a call from Lu Ye.

“You still dare to call me?”

Lu Ye laughed softly. “Just got back from climbing. Brought gifts for you and your uncle. Want to come with me tomorrow to see him?”

It seemed Lu Ye knew about Lu Wentian’s injury and had returned because of it.

“I’m working at Lu Feng Finance,” she replied curtly, unwilling to say more.

Meaning she couldn’t skip work.

Lu Ye had a different take: “Exactly! You work under your uncle, he’s as strong as a stallion. If you don’t take this chance to show some goodwill, how long will you wait, until the year of the cat?”

Gu Yan was speechless.

Could he think of a worse metaphor?

“I don’t need to curry favor.”

“I do!” Lu Ye said matter-of-factly.

Indeed, he did need to, or he wouldn’t have pushed Gu Yan under his uncle’s wing. Lu Ye understood their grandfather’s intentions: Lu Wentian was the heir and was not to be involved in finance but rather to run a media company. Lu Ye could wear multiple hats and earn extra, but that required seizing opportunities to ingratiate himself—using Gu Yan as a lucky charm so his ambitions weren’t too obvious.

“Ten thousand?” Lu Ye offered.

Money was her weakness.

“Fifty thousand?”

“One hundred thousand?”

Gu Yan gave in.

One hundred thousand was enough for her to have five surgeries—remove five cysts!

Before leaving, Lu Ye even made her a nourishing soup—at an extra five hundred—to help Lu Wentian recover.

On the way, Gu Yan realized they weren’t headed to a hospital.

“Going to Taihe Hongyu,” Lu Ye said as he pounded on his phone keyboard.

Apparently tired of typing, he switched to voice messages: “Be good. I’m busy today; you’re on your own!”

Gu Yan was indifferent.

Taihe Hongyu was the name of Lu Wentian’s luxury residential complex. She had only heard of it in the past two years but never been there.

Servants had gossiped before, saying Lu Wentian rarely took anyone there, especially women.

So for her to be allowed in was probably due to Lu Ye’s influence.

Outside the villa, the gate arched high above, the four characters “Taihe Hongyu” carved on a huge stone screen.

It gave off a sense of dignified, understated opulence—just like Lu Wentian himself.

The complex was called Taihe Hongyu, and so was Lu Wentian’s villa.

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