Chapter 45: It’s Not Easy to Keep a Stepford Wife

Song Ci was still slightly stunned. The statement was kind of illogical since it came out of Han Zhan’s mouth. Such a statement belonged to old chauffeurs instead! Song Ci took a good look at Han Zhan and thought he was a person who pretended to be all high and pristine, but in actuality, his waters run deep.

Ah, men!

Song Ci stood up and murmured that Han Zhan was bored, and then she ran upstairs to unpack her luggage. After stuffing her clothes into Han Zhan’s wardrobe, she looked at their clothes side by side and finally came to realize that she was really stuck with this man.

Downstairs, Han Zhan stood by the French window and gave his grandfather a call.

A middle-aged man picked up the phone. “Is this Zhanzhan?”

Han Zhan acknowledged it and called that person ‘Uncle Zhong’ before asking, “Where’s my grandfather?”

Uncle Zhong looked at the old man who was busy in the vegetable garden through the window. He said, “Old Master is picking tomatoes. He said that he wanted to make tomato sauce and send it over to you.”

Han Zhan nodded and then looked upstairs. He then said, “Uncle Zhong, I have to trouble you to order some bacon and sausages over.” That afternoon, Du Tingting made a dish of stir-fried bamboo shoots with bacon, and Song Ci, who was afraid of gaining weight, ate a bowl of rice with that dish.

She was too skinny. Han Zhan had pinched Song Ci’s wrist before—it was ridiculously thin.

He needed to feed her well.

At the other end of the call, hearing this request left Uncle Zhong extremely stunned. He spoke with a puzzled tone, “I thought Zhanzhan doesn’t like to eat bacon and sausages?”

Han Zhan smiled and said, “Someone else likes them.”

Hearing Han Zhan’s amorous reply, Uncle Zhong was so stunned that it took a while before his mind started working.

Someone...

What kind of identity must this person have?

Zhong Buhui didn’t probe more. He said that he got it and chatted with Han Zhan for a while more before hanging up.

After a while, Han Aoyu returned from the vegetable garden holding a basket and saw Zhong Buhui in a daze beside the phone. He removed his straw hat and asked Zhong Buhui, “Why are you in a daze? Who called just now?”

“Old Master.” Zhong Buhui turned around and had a strange expression on his face. He then said, “Just now, Zhanzhan called and told us to send some bacon and sausages when we send the tomato sauce over.”

Han Aoyu said, “Oh. We still have them at home and can just send them. What’s the big deal?”

“But Old Master, Zhanzhan doesn’t like those.” Zhong Buhui’s eyes glowed as he said, “Zhanzhan said that someone else likes to eat sausages. Old Master, do you think something is up with Zhanzhan?”

Han Aoyu’s eyes twinkled. “You’re saying that little lad is finally in love?”

Zhong Buhui nodded and said, “I’m afraid so.”

“Oh no, I gotta go have a look!” Han Aoyu exclaimed as he slapped his thigh in excitement. So many years had already passed since that little lad was dumped, and since then, his love life was stagnant. Han Aoyu was worried that Han Zhan couldn’t move on from such heartbreak.

Who was this living God that saved his Han Zhan from hell—he ought to thank her!

...

The living God, Song Ci, was sleeping upstairs. After smelling the pillow that had Han Zhan’s scent on and having wild thoughts for a while, she eventually fell asleep.

Han Zhan hung up the call and went upstairs. Not hearing anything, he was curious about what Song Ci was doing. He pushed open the room door and saw that a long bun was lying on his bed with a head popping out.

Slightly stunned, Han Zhan lightened his footsteps and walked towards the bed.

Song Ci’s body was curled up under the thin blanket, only exposing a beautiful face. Even when she was asleep, her brows furrowed tightly, her hands gripped the blanket, and a layer of perspiration covered her forehead. It was as if she was stuck in a nightmare.

Han Zhan squatted beside the bed and touched Song Ci’s forehead—it was cold. Han Zhan wanted to release Song Ci’s grip on the blanket one finger at a time, but she refused and even shrieked.

“Song Ci, don’t be afraid.”

Song Ci still didn’t release her hands.

Han Zhan didn’t know what to do and could only lightly and rhythmically pat Song Ci’s shoulder, like how a mother would pat her child. He even sang for her. But then, Han Zhan didn’t know many songs—the only one that he could sing in entirety was Li Yuchun’s “Same As You.”

During the days when Han Zhan had an injury and was in complete desolation, it was this song that accompanied him to sleep and gave him strength.

However, this song wasn’t a lullaby. But seeing how much pain and helplessness Song Ci seemed in her dreams, Han Zhan still sang it.

...

Who will pat my shoulder gently in times of the greatest need?

Who’s willing to share my greatest joy?

Days are so long

I’ll be by your side

Witnessing your growth energizes me

Who can forget the wounds you’ve suffered along the way?

Who can foresee where you’ll be in the future...?

Han Zhan was a classic bass and actually sounded quite good singing this song. When Song Ci heard this song, her scrunched up face gradually calmed down and her hands were no longer pale from grabbing the blanket.

Han Zhan noticed that it was effective, and it consoled him.

After confirming that Song Ci was alright and was deep in sleep, Han Zhan covered her with the blanket, adjusted the air conditioning, and then left.

Hey, it wasn’t easy to keep a Stepford Wife either. It was the first day, and he sang her a song at bedtime. Who knew what else would happen next time? However, Han Zhan realized that it wasn’t such a bad feeling.

...

Song Ci woke up and realized that the sky had already turned dark.

She was rather embarrassed, not expecting to sleep the entire afternoon away on Han Zhan’s bed. Song Ci sat up and touched her mouth first to confirm that there wasn’t any saliva before going downstairs.

Han Zhan wasn’t at the first level Song Ci assumed, for she heard talking sounds from the meeting room from time to time.

So, she didn’t disturb Han Zhan’s work.

But she was hungry and needed to eat something.

Song Ci entered the kitchen and opened the enormous refrigerator in Han Zhan’s house. Realizing that the refrigerator was stocked up with ingredients, Song Ci heaved a sigh of relief. She found the ingredients she needed and started preparing dinner while humming away.

After Han Zhan had finished his meeting, he went downstairs. As he stood at a corner of the stairs, he stared at the woman in the kitchen silently for a moment.

Song Ci was still wearing the same set of clothes since morning, and she was humming while wearing a neck brace. She seemed to be in a good mood.

“Making dinner?” Han Zhan appeared at the doorway of the kitchen.

Song Ci was draining the corn kernels. Hearing this, she said without turning back, “Brother Han, have a seat first. I’ll also make dinner for you. It’ll be ready soon.”

Han Zhan was looking forward to tasting Song Ci’s dishes. He sat down in the dining room and poured two glasses of warm water. After a while, he saw Song Ci walking out with two plates. Han Zhan raised his brow and thought to himself, ‘Western food?’

“Ta-dah!”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Song Ci placed one plate in front of Han Zhan. She then bowed to him and said, “Mr. Han, please try it.”

Han Zhan’s smile suddenly froze after he saw the ‘dinner.’

There was only a piece of fried chicken breast about the size of a baby’s fist, a few boiled broccoli, a few spoonfuls of boiled corn, and three red cherry tomatoes on the plate.

The plating was rather nice though.

Han Zhan took in a deep breath, looked up in disbelief, and asked Song Ci, “You’re only eating this?”

Song Ci had already sat down on the chair opposite Han Zhan. She cut into a piece of chicken breast, threw it into her mouth, and chewed the wax-like chicken. She answered Han Zhan, “You think I was born with a good figure? My abstinence in food maintained this.”

The key to a good figure was discipline.