Sweet Wife in My Arms

But he stared in surprise at his notebook when he opened it.

“Where’s her autograph?” His large eyes were wide with confusion. His hand shot out and closed around Lu Yi’s neck. “Lu Yi, where’s her autograph? What did you do with it? My notebook’s empty!”

Lu Yi opened his eyes and fixed his deep, unwavering gaze upon Lei Qingyi.

“What are you staring at me for? Speak up!” Anyone else would have been unnerved by Lu Yi’s piercing gaze, but Lei Qingyi had grown up with Lu Yi and was practically immune to it. He was the fearless Lei Qingyi, and his nerves of steel had earned him the position of Director of Sea City’s National Security Department.

“You owe me an autograph!” Lei Qingyi had a short fuse and his temper flared now. He moved to kick Lu Yi.

A scuffle ensued, and a minute later Lei Qingyi wiped the corner of his mouth. His hand came away bloody.

“Did you have to go all out on me? Look at my face, it’s a bloody mess! How am I supposed to go out on the streets later, looking like this?”

Lu Yi did not say anything, He picked up his jacket from the floor and put it on. Aside from the slight wrinkles in his shirt, there was nothing to show that he had just been in a fight. Lei Qingyi, on the other hand, was now sporting a black eye and a cut lip. One of his shoes had rolled away; he looked a sorry sight for a 190-centimeter tall man who towered above most everyone else.

“Ugh…”

Lei Qingyi grimaced in pain. He wanted badly to punch Lu Yi in the face, but he knew that he could not beat him in a fight. Lei Qingyi was tall, but Lu Yi was only a little shorter than he was, and extremely quick on his feet to boot.

They walked to Lei Qingyi’s car. He got into the passenger seat and rested his large feet on the dashboard, while Lu Yi got behind the wheel. Lei Qingyi had told Lu Yi to drive because it was his fault he was now, as he put it, “an injured man who had to nurse his wounds.”

“Why didn’t you get her autograph for me?”

Lei Qingyi’s temper had faded, and he could now think clearly enough to ask Lu Yi what had happened.

“She left,” said Lu Yi flatly.

“She left? How?”

Lei Qingyi stretched his massive legs. Fortunately, his modified car was spacious enough to accommodate a man of his size, otherwise, he would probably die of claustrophobia inside.

“She left on her own,” said Lu Yi as he turned the steering wheel. His eyes were narrowed; he seemed to be thinking.

“She ran off to avoid paying the bill?” Lei Qingyi rubbed his chin in a mocking expression of seriousness.

Lu Yi didn’t bother replying. He didn’t know whether Yan Huan had deliberately skipped out on her bill; the fact was, she had run off, and he was not so petty to run after her and demand that she reimburse him for the medical fees. If she was, in fact, his anonymous blood donor, then he owed her his life— a far more expensive debt that the measly sum on the hospital bill.

There was also the Chinese saying that went: “A monk may run away, but the temple cannot run with him.” Lu Yi knew he would be able to find Yan Huan if he had to.

But he was not the type to hound a young lady over a hospital bill.

At that moment, Yan Huan was standing before the door to her apartment. She felt her pockets; she had lost her fish, chicken, vegetables, handbag, and house key. She rested her head against the door, frustrated.

She needed to come up with an excuse to deceive Yi Ling.

After a long moment, she finally reached out and pressed the doorbell. She waited, but Yi Ling did not open the door. Yan Huan felt her blood run cold: had Yi Ling gone out to look for her? It was already late in the afternoon, and Yan Huan had been MIA for hours— Yi Ling was probably dying of panic right now.

She pressed the doorbell again in despair. This time, however, the door suddenly flew open.