CHAPTER 543: 541

"I’m the only one earning money at home, and if President Fu gets displeased and cuts my salary, my brother won’t be able to get married."

Wen Qiao folded her arms across her chest, with a smirk, "Are you guilt-tripping me?"

"No, how could I? I just want you to take pity on me. But if you must go, I won’t hold any grudges. It’s just poor my brother, his marriage will have to be postponed."

Feng Li stared at Wen Qiao with an incredibly sincere gaze, unblinkingly hoping for a positive response from her.

Wen Qiao: "..."

Although Feng Li said he wouldn’t hold any grudges if she really had to go, by the way he was blocking the door, it was clear he didn’t want her to leave.

The standoff lasted for a while, but it was Fu Jinghen, lying on the hospital bed, who finally broke the silence.

"Qiaoqiao?"

His voice, rough from the fever, came from behind Wen Qiao.

"How did you get here?"

Feng Li tilted his head, overjoyed, "President Fu, you’re awake? Are you hungry? I’ll go get you something to eat."

Without waiting for Fu Jinghen’s reply, Feng Li quickly moved to open the door—a sliver, to prevent Wen Qiao from escaping—squeezed through, and then immediately shut it.

Wen Qiao: "..."

Was that really necessary?

She fell silent for a few seconds, then turned and walked toward the sickbed.

"Your assistant told me you were dying, asked me to come collect your body."

The moment Wen Qiao turned and met Fu Jinghen’s eyes, Lin Luang’s words echoed in her mind, igniting her anger, making her remarks very blunt and cold.

Fu Jinghen didn’t get upset. Instead, he looked at her and smiled.

That smile really did give off the ’beautifully ill’ vibe.

Being attractive certainly has its advantages. Just a smile from Fu Jinghen, and Wen Qiao found it difficult to maintain her frosty demeanor.

She looked at his feverishly dry, cracked lips and asked, "Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?"

"Not thirsty," Fu Jinghen shook his head, "You don’t have to fuss."

He nodded toward a chair beside the bed, "Sit there and rest for a bit."

Wen Qiao stood beside the bed, looked down at Fu Jinghen for a few seconds, suddenly felt a bit stifled, turned silently, took a disposable cup, filled it with warm water, and handed it to him.

Fu Jinghen gave her a resigned look, took the cup, and drank all the water in one go.

As he was about to put the cup on the bedside table, Wen Qiao was already extending her hand in front of him.

He paused briefly, then handed the cup to her.

Wen Qiao then dryly said, "Why worry about me? You’re the one who should be resting."

"Sit."

Fu Jinghen, persistent as ever, noticed Wen Qiao hadn’t moved, and made to get up from the bed. Realizing his intention, Wen Qiao quickly pressed down on his shoulder, "Alright, alright, just lie down honestly. I’ll sit."

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but sitting in the chair, she thought she saw a sense of relief in Fu Jinghen’s eyes.

It was as if he feared she would leave at any moment when she was standing.

Before she could retract her hand from his shoulder, he had grabbed it.

Wen Qiao pulled lightly, easily freeing herself from Fu Jinghen’s hold.

Seemingly surprised that Fu Jinghen had let go so easily, a look of astonishment was evident on Wen Qiao’s face.

Reading her puzzled expression, Fu Jinghen smiled, explaining, "I don’t want to force you to do anything you dislike."