Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sense of being cut off from the world grew stronger, as if the entire world had been sealed away by the torrential rain.

Moisture mingled with the cool fragrance inside the car, lingering at the tip of my nose.

His presence felt more overwhelming than ever.

That almost provocative question from earlier still hung in the air.

I didn’t answer. I only said softly, “Who knows when this rain will stop.”

“Are you in a hurry?” he asked.

“No.” I paused. “I just feel that CEO Fu’s time is more valuable.”

“My time,” he said unhurriedly, his gaze settling on my face again, “seems to have no choice but to be wasted here for now.”

Silence fell once more.

The driver seemed to be having trouble changing the tire.

Suddenly, an unbearably bright bolt of lightning tore across the sky.

The deafening clap that followed startled me so badly I trembled, instinctively shrinking back into my seat.

“Afraid of thunder?” he asked. There was no discernible concern in his tone. It sounded more like a simple confirmation.

“A little…” I didn’t deny it.

He said nothing else. He only reached out and pressed the window control on my side.

It wasn’t exactly a thoughtful gesture. In fact, it was a little abrupt.

But when his arm, still carrying the warmth of his body, came close, my heart felt as if something had brushed lightly against it.

“Thank you,” I said.

He didn’t respond. He withdrew his hand.

Yet the atmosphere inside the car seemed to have shifted quietly.

Time flowed on amid the sound of rain and our silence.

After what felt like a long while, the driver finally finished and returned to the driver’s seat, drenched and apologizing repeatedly.

The car started again, heading toward where I lived.

Neither of us spoke again.

Not until the car stopped at the entrance of the old residential complex I rented in.

The rain had eased a little, but it was still falling in a fine, dense curtain.

I unfastened my seat belt.

“CEO Fu, thank you for taking me home. Be careful on the road.”

He gave a slight nod. His gaze swept over the dim, disorderly surroundings outside the window before returning to my face.

“This is as far as I’ll take you.”

There was nothing extra-no instruction for the driver to hold an umbrella and walk me inside.

It was a reflection of his sense of boundaries, and also of his indifference.

I pushed open the car door, and the cold rain immediately struck my face.

I hurried toward the dim streetlamp at the entrance of the complex.

When I reached the shelter of the eaves, I looked back.

The black Bentley was still parked where it was. It hadn’t left right away.

The dark-tinted windows were tightly closed. I couldn’t see inside.

But I could feel a gaze piercing through the curtain of rain and landing on my back.