Isn't This a Contract Marriage? Why Are You Sneaking Kisses! - Chapter 5

At the end of January, the misty sky drifted with fine snow. Amidst fluctuating temperatures, a nighttime flurry of sleet had frozen into a thin layer of ice on the ground by morning.

In this fast-paced city, pedestrians shortened their strides, moving with cautious, shuffling steps. On the roads, vehicles had collectively slowed to a crawl.

“It’s fine, there are fewer customers right now, I can handle it alone. Just watch your step; the roads seem to have frozen over.”

“It’s just enough time for me to make you a breakfast cupcake.” Hearing the smiling, gentle female voice on the other end of the line, Shen Silie squinted and responded with a couple of laughs.

The person on the phone was Fei Qingya, a bakery owner he had become close with while working part-time during university.

Back then, he had more than one part-time job, and many required daily pay—a condition not many bosses were willing to accept. Fei Qingya was one of the few who did. Over the years, she had helped him time and again, and their relationship had evolved from employer and employee to close friends.

Even after he started acting and no longer needed so many jobs, he would still head to the back kitchen to help her out whenever the shop got too busy.

Currently, because he was plagued by scandals, he didn’t have much work. It was also the Lunar New Year period, so the regular staff were on holiday. Since he lived alone and was quite skilled at making desserts, he figured he’d put on a mask and go lend her a hand.

A cold wind brushed against his cheek, instantly condensing the warmth from his phone screen into frost patterns.

Shen Silie instinctively tucked his neck into his collar and looked up at the traffic light across the street.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, shrouded in mist and drifting snow. Having just woken up, his consciousness was still a bit hazy, and visibility was poor. Fortunately, there weren’t many cars on the road at this hour.

The light turned green.

Shen Silie rubbed his hands together and stepped carefully onto the icy pavement.

The sound of clinking keys rang in his ears.

A blur flashed before his eyes.

Screeeech—!

The sound of tires screeching against the frozen ground was deafening.

Inside the black Bentley.

A pair of dark green eyes slowly opened.

“What happened?” the man asked in a deep, emotionless voice.

The driver was breaking out in a cold sweat. He turned around, trembling. “I… I hit someone.”

…

“Silie?! Silie! What happened?” Hearing the harsh sound of the collision, Fei Qingya bolted upright from her chair in shock.

The woman’s voice through the receiver was trembling. Snowflakes landed on the hot phone screen, melting into tiny droplets of water.

The car door opened.

A polished black leather shoe stepped onto the thin ice.

The man bent down and picked up the phone from the ground.

“Shen Silie! What’s wrong?! Answer me!” Fei Qingya’s anxious voice continued to pour from the speaker.

On the other side of the call, Shen Silie was slumped on the icy ground. His black hair was scattered messily across his forehead, and his mask had been knocked askew, revealing skin so pale it was startling.

Wet strands of hair clung to his face, and his eyes were brimming with tears from the pain. He looked incredibly pathetic.

He could only hear Fei Qingya’s voice; he hadn’t even had the chance to see who had hit him.

Shen Silie instinctively tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn’t obey. The moment he applied pressure, a tearing pain shot through his knee.

He let out a soft groan and fell heavily back to the ground. His hands propped himself up helplessly on the ice, shaking so hard he could barely support his thin frame.

He managed to raise a hand just to wipe away the tears forced out by the pain.

The phone was held out in front of him.

Shang Jichen looked at the youth—who resembled a stranded stray kitten, completely unaware of how pitiful he looked—and his gaze flickered.

“Can you stand?”

Shen Silie looked up. His vision was a blur. The man’s figure appeared exceptionally tall in the mist, and because he couldn’t focus his gaze, he couldn’t make out the man’s features clearly.

He finally managed to take the phone from Shang Jichen, first reassuring the girl on the other end.

Fortunately, the car had stopped in time; he had only been grazed.

Shen Silie tried to move his legs again. This time, his knee, his foot, and his right wrist all flared with a piercing, agonizing pain. His face turned white, and he could barely breathe properly.

Shang Jichen looked down, his eyes sweeping over Shen Silie’s trembling hands. He didn’t say another word.

He simply leaned down, one arm sliding firmly under Shen Silie’s knees and the other around his back, lifting him steadily into his arms.

“Um, I…”

Before he could finish, he was cut off by the sudden sensation of weightlessness. In the process of being lifted, his injured leg was inevitably bumped again.

Shen Silie couldn’t help but gasp for air, curling his body in pain. He instinctively grabbed the man’s clothes, the cashmere fabric bunching up under his palm.

Clouds of white breath drifted between them.

A warm fragrance, accompanied by a faint hint of orange sweetness, swirled around his nose—like a freshly baked fruit cake.

Shang Jichen’s gaze paused. As if unintentionally, he lowered his head, his nose twitching slightly. He pulled the youth a bit closer into his embrace and stepped over the ice toward the idling Bentley.

He placed him in the back seat before getting in from the other side.

“To the Central Hospital.”

The driver, who was terrified after hitting someone, didn’t dare speak. He slammed on the gas and headed for the hospital.

As the seat beside him sank, a faint but undeniable scent of sandalwood, mixed with a hint of cold air, flooded Shen Silie’s senses.

His personal space had been invaded. Sitting in the back row, Shen Silie was incredibly tense, not daring to move an inch.

The car started moving.

Shen Silie’s eyes were red with pain. He wanted to shrink away to the side, but he was firmly pinned to the seat by a hand with well-defined knuckles.

“Don’t move.”

Shen Silie didn’t dare move again.

A fingertip brushed accidentally against his soft skin, making him shiver from the ticklish sensation.

Noticing this, Shang Jichen’s gaze shifted down, landing right on Shen Silie’s already swollen ankle. He assumed the youth was shaking from the pain.

Shang Jichen lowered his eyes slightly, his emerald irises glinting with an unreadable light. He took off his cashmere coat and wrapped it around Shen Silie’s shivering body.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

Shen Silie didn’t answer, nor did he dare look at the man.

Finally realizing the youth was afraid, Shang Jichen paused.

“Sorry. I was out of line.”

Shang Jichen pulled back slightly. “Try not to move too much; your bone might be fractured. Let the doctor give you a thorough checkup in a moment.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

“The responsibility for this lies with me. I will take full responsibility. You can make any request you have.”

Shang Jichen’s tone was very low, devoid of any aggression. His voice was soft and gentle, as if he were afraid of startling him.

Hearing this, the pain seemed to subside a little. Shen Silie’s breathing gradually leveled out. He looked down at his knee; a large patch of his off-white pants was soiled, with faint traces of blood visible.

“Is it very painful?” Shang Jichen asked again.

The initial shock and tension had faded with time. Shen Silie finally turned to look at the man, his eyes finally focusing on the stranger’s face.

Black hair styled in a 7/3 side-part, a few strands scattered over the forehead… he had a superior bone structure, a high bridge to his nose, and thin lips. There was a Western depth to his features, yet a charm that was uniquely Eastern. Especially those eyes.

They were deep as the ocean, but with a casual glance, they seemed only gentle.

Shen Silie’s gaze finally landed on those green eyes. He shook his head, then nodded. “A little.”

Shang Jichen’s gaze lingered on the blood-stained pants for a moment. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing. He simply reached out and pressed a button by the seat, adjusting the angle of the backrest so Shen Silie could sit more comfortably.

The car came to a steady stop in front of the hospital.

“Call the traffic police and report the incident,” Shang Jichen instructed the driver. He got out of the car first and walked to the other door.

The drive had taken over twenty minutes, and the temperature in the car was very pleasant. Arriving at the hospital now, Shen Silie hadn’t quite recovered. He turned his head groggily toward the open door.

Suddenly, his body was in the air. Before he could react, his nose bumped right into the lapel of the man’s coat. The scent of sandalwood mixed with a faint aroma of pine washed over him.

Shen Silie was momentarily dazed.

Following sheer physical instinct, he buried his head into the man’s chest.

Shang Jichen’s pace faltered for a fraction of a second. He looked down at the head pressed against his chest but said nothing. He wrapped the coat tighter around the youth and continued walking forward.