Chapter Forty-Four: Am I Pregnant?

“What exactly do you expect me to tell your mother?” Shen Huaiqing frowned as she closed the car window. Winter was nearly upon them, and the wind carried a biting chill.

“Uncle Liu, turn on the heater,” Fu Chen instructed.

Uncle Liu, the driver, looked puzzled. It was chilly outside, but hardly cold enough for the heater. He caught Fu Chen’s gaze in the rearview mirror, hesitating as he spoke. “Sir, if we turn on the heater in this weather, the car will get stuffy.”

Fu Chen’s obsidian eyes glanced at Shen Huaiqing, whose complexion didn’t look too good, and replied evenly, “Madam is in a delicate condition; she can’t catch cold.”

Shen Huaiqing was completely bewildered, but before she could say anything—

“Oh! Congratulations, sir!” Uncle Liu hurriedly offered his heartfelt blessings, quickly switching on the heater and activating the seat warmer on Shen Huaiqing’s side.

Now Shen Huaiqing realized how Fu Chen planned to distract Ke Jing’s attention.

“Ow!” Fu Chen suddenly felt a sharp pain at his waist and cried out.

He turned to see Shen Huaiqing glaring at him fiercely; Fu Chen’s habit was always to act first and explain later.

“What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you talk to me first? That kind of lie is far too easy to expose!” Shen Huaiqing whispered accusingly.

Fu Chen leaned in close to her ear, unhurried as he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged everything. My mother won’t find anything amiss. All you need to do is play your part convincingly.”

With a devilish smile, he added, “And if all else fails… we could turn fiction into reality. It wouldn’t be that difficult.”

Shen Huaiqing’s face went from pale to flushed, then back to white again. In the end, she yanked Fu Chen’s ear and ground out through gritted teeth, “You’d better behave, or I’ll ruin my performance.”

Uncle Liu witnessed this scene in the rearview mirror and couldn’t help but sigh at how affectionate young people were these days—even expecting a child, they were still so loving. A gentle smile crept to his lips, and he thoughtfully raised the partition between the front and back seats.

“I have faith in your acting,” Fu Chen said, unbothered by her tugging at his ear, casting a sidelong glance at the closed partition.

With a sly grin, he pointed at the divider and murmured, “See? I told you you could do it. Uncle Liu probably thinks we’re…”

A soft laugh escaped Fu Chen’s lips as he gazed steadily at Shen Huaiqing, his cool eyes warmed by a gentle glow.

In that instant, every nerve in Shen Huaiqing’s body tensed. Her almond-shaped eyes widened almost into perfect circles; arms crossed, she pressed her trembling lips together in nervousness.

She was genuinely afraid Fu Chen might try to make fiction reality right here in the car, especially since there was still over half an hour to go to the Fu family’s old house.

“What… what are you planning? You look so sinister—don’t you dare try anything,” she stammered.

Fu Chen leaned closer, unhurriedly tugging at the knot of his tie with one hand, sliding it loose with practiced ease.

“Hey, hey!” Shen Huaiqing pressed her hand between them, her voice frantic.

Fu Chen’s gaze dropped to her slender arm, which looked as though it would snap with the slightest force. He gently took hold of her wrist, his dark eyes fixed on her, a graceful arch to his brow.

“So you do know fear? I always thought you acted fearless, no matter the situation,” Fu Chen said, the words heavy with implication.

Shen Huaiqing lifted her chin, a flush blooming on her cheeks, and retorted stubbornly, “I’m not afraid! I’m just worried you’ll lose your head and do something you’ll regret!”

Fu Chen pulled her closer, their faces nearly touching, noses almost brushing.

“Why don’t you tell me what exactly it is I shouldn’t do?” His voice was suffused with an intense pressure.

Shen Huaiqing met his gaze, her bright eyes as dazzling as the Milky Way, and with a hint of scorn in her voice replied, “Whatever I say is off-limits is off-limits.”

Fu Chen’s long, slender fingers twined through her jet-black hair, amusement in his tone. “And if I insist?”

His playboy swagger and deliberate rakishness made Shen Huaiqing uncomfortable; she much preferred the aloof, indifferent Fu Chen. This version of him felt like he was putting on a show.

“Fu Chen, could you please stop being so deliberate?”

Fu Chen halted his movements, straightened up, and sat properly to one side.

Shen Huaiqing rolled her eyes. How childish—one remark and he was sulking. Still, this was better. She didn’t have to be so on edge around him.

And so, the two sat in silence on opposite sides of the back seat for the rest of the journey.

Fu Chen got out first, Shen Huaiqing following naturally, slipping her arm through his. She looked up, her brows arched in a radiant smile, dazzling and bright as the morning sun.

Fu Chen glanced down at her, momentarily dazed. Something deep within him—a dark, shadowed corner—seemed to be illuminated. That warm, tingling sensation was one he hadn’t felt since the first time he met Lin Yiqing.

He had to admit, his heart skipped a beat. Awkwardly, he averted his gaze, unable to look at Shen Huaiqing directly.

The butler came up to greet them warmly, deftly taking Shen Huaiqing’s bag and offering a courteous smile. “Young master, young madam, dinner is ready. Master and madam are already waiting for you inside.”

Shen Huaiqing nodded politely, returning the smile. Fu Chen’s face was stony, his lips pressed into a thin line.

The butler seemed about to say more, but seeing Fu Chen’s expression, wisely held his tongue and led them in silence.

“Why do you look so grim?” Shen Huaiqing tugged at his sleeve discreetly, lowering her voice.

“There’s no need to be polite to the servants.” His brows knitted, his eyes dark as night.

Shen Huaiqing sniffed in disdain—what era did he think this was? Servants? How antiquated! It’d long since been advocated that all people are equal.

Upon entering, Shen Huaiqing saw Fu Henian seated at the head of the dining table, expressionless, with Ke Jing on his right. Three or four housemaids were laying out the dishes.

It was like stepping into a real-life royal palace—she couldn’t help but click her tongue. So much pomp for just a meal.

Outwardly, though, she remained calm and composed, as though she were used to such scenes, taking her seat beside Fu Chen.

No sooner had Shen Huaiqing sat down near Ke Jing than Fu Chen rose, took a cup of tea from a maid, and walked respectfully to Fu Henian.

Then, with one knee on the floor, he offered the tea.

“Father, please have some tea.”

Shen Huaiqing could only hear Fu Chen’s deep, steady voice, with no hint of dissatisfaction.

Fu Henian, as though used to this, accepted the tea and scrutinized his son. He took a sip, his voice booming, “Good. You haven’t forgotten your manners. Go back and eat.”

Shen Huaiqing’s gaze lingered on Fu Chen, searching his face for any sign of emotion, but his expression was utterly calm, betraying nothing.

Noticing her look, Ke Jing patted her hand. “Don’t feel sorry for him. It’s the family custom. Chen is used to it.”

Shen Huaiqing managed an awkward smile, absent-mindedly picking at her food.