Chapter 55: Care About Me

The hospital room was cool, filled with a faint, delicate fragrance. The drip from the IV line fell slowly.

The young, handsome gentleman stood quietly in place, patiently waiting.

Eleanor’s gaze was captured by those gentle, deep eyes—her heart tugged softly by their tender warmth.

Facing this man so completely different from Zhuang Qiting, so unlike the man she knew, she felt both a surge of pity and helplessness, unable to decisively say no just yet.

Actually, this kind of request wasn’t that unusual. In passionate Italy, a close face-to-face kiss was even considered a basic social etiquette among gentlemen and ladies.

If she were nineteen and hadn’t met Zhuang Qiting, perhaps she would have been moved by this man’s charm.

Refined and handsome, graceful and eloquent, able to chat endlessly and enjoy boundless romance—he was practically the perfect lover in any woman’s heart.

“Lorenzo, I really have no choice,” Eleanor sighed.

“Just like with Kurt?” he asked.

“Not quite. I see Kurt as a younger brother, even like a son.” Eleanor covered her lips with a smile.

“So I’m not that bad off,” Lorenzo laughed in return.

“You’re a man to me; Kurt’s still a boy,” Eleanor said candidly, then, for some reason, suddenly laughed aloud.

Over the years, men who pursued her or showed signs of affection could be roughly divided into three categories in her eyes.

The first kind was boys, like Kurt. No matter what the most romantic tricks in the world were played in front of her, she only found them cute and amusing, like a little dog. She’d be gentle with them.

The second kind was men, like Lorenzo and Liang Sijie—mature gentlemen.

In front of these men, she knew she wasn’t a sister or a mother but a woman connected to the symbol of “sex.” When interacting with this type, she would think carefully and cleverly navigate the subtle boundaries.

The last kind was the big man—Zhuang Qiting. With Zhuang Qiting, she was most relaxed.

She didn’t think too much, she was gruff, rude, strong-willed, and domineering, even enjoyed punishing others, but she could be the most uninhibited and reckless, speaking without filters, letting out everything crude and uncouth.

“What are you laughing at?” Lorenzo calmly removed the needle during a moment when Eleanor wasn’t paying attention and walked slowly over to stand before her.

“Just something funny.”

Lorenzo, of course, knew perfectly well that the woman in front of him was cleverly steering the conversation away.

A thread of blood trickled from the puncture in the back of his hand, but he wiped it away without hesitation.

His large frame completely covered Eleanor as he lowered his head, his gaze shifting from softness to calm.

“Eleanor…” his voice was hoarse.

Eleanor’s heart softened completely. She barely managed to say, “If it were your kind of—”

Before she could finish, a sudden ringing of the phone interrupted her words.

What she wanted to say was: if the face-to-face social kissing here was just a formality, she could accept it, but anything more intimate, she didn’t feel the atmosphere or the right moment for it.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Eleanor pulled her phone from her exquisite Diamond Evening Bag. It was Secretary Shen calling. She answered without a word, only to hear the frantic shouting from the other end:

“Madam, Madam—It’s not good!!”

Eleanor’s heart jumped. “What’s not good? Stop yelling and get to the point!”

Secretary Shen: “The Chairman suddenly collapsed from severe pain. He’s unconscious now, his face is pale, and he’s breaking out in cold sweat. I—I—”

“Are you kidding me? Call an ambulance immediately and get him to the hospital!” Eleanor’s entire demeanor unconsciously turned furious. “Where is he now? Where does it hurt? Did he eat something bad?”

Secretary Shen glanced sideways at the boss lying on the bed.

Zhuang Qiting shook his head but stubbornly continued, “The Chairman forbade me from calling an ambulance or going to the hospital. He says it’s nothing, just stomach pain, and to endure it. He also won’t let me tell you. Madam, please come back quickly! The Chairman is at the hotel!”

“That old bastard, never letting anyone have peace of mind. I’m coming back now. Tell him to drink some hot water.”

Eleanor hung up, her slender fingers tightly clutching the evening bag, her knuckles whitening, betraying her unease. A rush of sudden flush colored her finely made-up cheeks.

For the first time, Lorenzo saw this side of Eleanor. Like a calm and precious lake, suddenly disturbed violently.

She was always the elegant, charming Grand Lady whose every smile was filled with allure, but she too could get angry, irritable, anxious, and yell loudly into the phone.

“What’s wrong, Eleanor?”

Eleanor looked at Lorenzo, speaking quickly. “Sorry, it’s urgent. I have to go. Lorenzo, we will meet again.”

Her mind went blank.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she turned and started walking away, her footsteps suddenly pausing.

She glanced back.

The man stood silently, watching her leave without blinking.

Eleanor sighed, then quickly turned back before Lorenzo could react.

Standing on tiptoe, her fragrant body gently embraced him, her palm soothingly patting his broad back.

“A hug—I’ll give you a hug too, Mr. Lorenzo, a moving woman.”

Lorenzo smiled. The woman was like a tulip blooming on his chest.

He held her hand, bent down, and gallantly kissed the back of her hand. “Beautiful Miss Eleanor, I hope you remember this Roman holiday. Goodbye.”

Quickly, the sharp heels echoed on the tiled floor as Eleanor ran out of the hospital room, her curls bouncing, just like that day when she sprinted wildly through the streets of Rome.

*

Back at the Zhuang residence, they were waiting for Eleanor’s return.

A sudden splash of water, rough and almost violent, spilled onto Lorenzo’s hand.

He barely paid it any mind and immediately put down the cup, lying back on the bed.

A moment ago, his expression had been cold and stern; now it was much softer—softer still, as if the baby inside him still cared. With just a little scheming, he’d lured her back.

Secretary Shen barely opened the door before Eleanor shot her a fierce glare, silencing her completely. “Madam…”

Eleanor strode inside briskly, hurrying toward the bedroom. “How is he? You can’t just agree with everything he says! If he refuses to go to the hospital, so be it?”

Secretary Shen hurried after her, “Madam, please slow down.”

The bedroom was dimly lit. The main light was off, only a small desk lamp was on its lowest setting, casting a faint glow over the mountainous contours on the bed.

The man lay in shadow and half-light, perhaps weakened by illness, the silhouette fragile, unlike his usual robust vigor.

Eleanor bit her lip, feeling a mix of pity but mostly frustration. That bastard—when sick, go to the hospital and see a doctor! He acts like he’s young, thinking he can cure all pain by sleeping it off.

Secretary Shen finished her task quietly and slipped out, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Eleanor didn’t turn on the light, afraid the brightness would make Zhuang Qiting more uncomfortable.

She stepped softly through the dimness and sat at the bedside. The man lay on his side, brow furrowed tightly, clearly enduring the pain.

“Zhuang Qiting, are you still okay?” Her tone was gentle.

Her rare and precious tenderness was like healing hot spring water flowing into his ears.

Zhuang Qiting felt his bones soften; his breath grew slightly heavy. In a low voice, he responded, “…I’m okay.”

“Where does it hurt? Your stomach? What did you eat last night?” Eleanor reached out to feel his forehead. No fever. Then she slid her hand under his clothes to check his back, finding no sweat.

“I didn’t eat. I waited for you.” His voice was hoarse.

Eleanor frowned. “Then you must be hungry. I told you not to wait, but you never listen. How old are you? You’re more troublesome than a child.”

“I wanted to wait for you.” Zhuang Qiting lifted his eyelids, quietly gazing at her.

Eleanor’s expression remained worried, tense, not relaxing. Hearing this, the hardest parts of Zhuang Qiting’s heart softened.

His wife was worried about him. She cared.

“Are you trying to play the suffering husband act? Starving yourself sick so you can get my attention?” Eleanor could no longer hold back her anger and smacked the bulging ridge sharply.

“Mm…”

The man immediately furrowed his brow, squeezed his eyes shut, and curled up slightly.

“I didn’t hit you hard… okay, okay… don’t exaggerate.” Eleanor pouted and quickly apologized.

Her soft hand had already slipped under the covers, rubbing his abdomen, wondering how her hand could cause such pain.

The cool and delicate palm touched the burning-hot muscles. For both, the temperature and the contact were soothing. Both sighed quietly in their hearts.

Eleanor focused on rubbing, while Zhuang Qiting closed his eyes and enjoyed the tenderness.

The bedroom was dark and quiet, their breathing at different rhythms slowly merging into one.

A strange, rare, sweet tenderness lingered between them.

Eleanor suddenly felt her face flush for no reason, her heart pounding, but she pretended to be calm as she continued rubbing. The man’s stomach wasn’t soft—muscular, firm, and strong.

“This side too… baby.” Zhuang Qiting’s eyes darkened, his voice hoarse as he grabbed her wrist and moved it a few inches.

“Here?” Eleanor pressed with two fingers, puzzled. “Here? The intestines? Appendix?”

Without overthinking it, Eleanor continued rubbing until Zhuang Qiting let out a low, husky breath filled with desire.

Eleanor froze, then her palm suddenly moved with precision, gripping sharply in the dark.

Damn.

“You old dirty dog!!! Can you be serious for once?” Eleanor gritted her teeth and pressed her fingers hard, like grabbing a burning hot rod.

Zhuang Qiting’s Adam’s apple bobbed repeatedly. “Arou…”

“I don’t believe you have any stomach pain! You’re lying!” Eleanor got even angrier, her fingertips kneading like clay, making the veins on her fingers pulse.

Zhuang Qiting couldn’t take it anymore and gave up pretending.

He abruptly threw off the covers, wrapped his iron arm around Eleanor’s arm, flipped over, and pinned her heavily beneath him.

His hot breath brushed her face. Eleanor glared into those mischievous black eyes hidden within.

Zhuang Qiting laughed and kissed her over and over, then kissed a few more times.

His burning kiss pressed sharply against her center, making her unable to move.

“Eleanor, I’m not lying. You care about me.”

Care? Eleanor knew exactly what Zhuang Qiting was up to—he wasn’t sick at all; he was faking.

This man’s tricks were getting more elaborate and shameless by the day!

Had she known, she would have kissed a top-tier handsome man like Lorenzo fiercely instead.