Beg Me to Remarry
Chapter 264: Not Used to This

Chapter 264: Chapter 264: Not Used to This

Although it was just a simple four words, to He Xing, they sounded as melodious as a Buddhist chant; his heart softened into a mess, and without concern for anything else, he pulled Fu Han into his embrace.

Fu Han quietly listened to the rhythm of He Xing’s heartbeat, steady and strong. Just listening to his heartbeat seemed almost magical.

Then there was his scent, with a hint of shower gel, reminiscent of a grassy field after a heavy rain, fresh and moist with a hint of coolness that seemed to cleanse one’s spirit.

Fu Han felt an unprecedented sense of tranquility in her soul.

He Xing felt the same tranquility as his arms rested on Fu Han’s shoulders. Her shoulders were so delicate that he dared not rest his entire arm on her, for fear of breaking them.

Fu Han was nearly one meter seventy, but when He Xing held her in his arms, she seemed as small as a kitten, evoking a sense of tenderness.

He Xing’s heartbeat quickened, and without thinking, he lowered his head and kissed Fu Han’s forehead. She did not pull away; encouraged, He Xing’s lips began to move downward, bit by bit, like slow motion in a movie.

But just as He Xing’s lips touched Fu Han’s, she pushed him away as if electrocuted.

Caught completely off guard, He Xing staggered backward several steps, nearly falling over.

Fu Han felt somewhat guilty and reached out to grab He Xing, but her arms were too short to reach him.

Her face turned entirely red, and she stood up, saying awkwardly, "I’m sorry, I... I don’t like this."

"It’s okay, I was too hasty," said He Xing, who, before even straightening his clothes, first sought to relieve Fu Han’s discomfort.

Guilty feelings overwhelmed Fu Han. She didn’t know why she pushed He Xing away, especially since they had once kissed by the riverside before she went abroad, a passionate and poignant kiss that remained a beautiful memory in her heart.

She nodded, her hands clasped, then released as she hesitated to say, "I... I hope you understand that our marriage is... because of Grandfather, we are... different from an ordinary couple."

Something shattered on the floor with a snap, He Xing’s heart.

He looked at Fu Han, his face pale and his heart in agony, yet forced a small smile onto his bloodless face, "I know you don’t want to marry me. Don’t worry, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want after we’re married."

When Fu Han heard He Xing say "don’t want to marry me," it felt as though a knife had stabbed her heart. Her complexion turned from red to white, but ultimately, she nodded, saying something even more cruel, "It’s good that you know."

The room fell silent as death in an instant. Although He Xing smiled at Fu Han, his eyes clearly conveyed unspeakable pain.

He just kept looking at her, but to Fu Han, it felt like torture.

Fu Han wanted to change the subject. It took a long time for her to blurt out, "You must be very busy these days, is it okay for you to be here?"

"As long as you don’t send me away, it’s fine," replied He Xing without hesitation.

Fu Han unexpectedly detected a hint of resentment in his words, which was so at odds with He Xing’s character that she blushed with awkwardness, "Well... this is your home, you can be wherever you want."

Although Fu Han’s response was awkward, she didn’t actually send He Xing away. He Xing’s heart soared, and he didn’t bother her further, instead he picked up a book from the shelf and moved a chair to sit not far from Fu Han.

The room became quiet all of a sudden, and Fu Han felt somewhat uncomfortable. She looked around, noticed her backpack with the drawing board, and thought, with nothing better to do, she might as well continue practicing her drawing.

It was quite funny that on the day she returned to the country, Wang Yixuan had clearly told her at the airport to maintain the density of ten sketches a day. But these past days, Fu Han hardly managed one or two sketches and even feared Wang Yixuan would scold her when sending him the scanned assignments.

Thankfully, Wang Yixuan seemed to have his own concerns these days and did not show any dissatisfaction with Fu Han’s blatant "laziness"; but actually, it wasn’t that Fu Han wanted to be lazy, she had been virtually inseparable from Old Master He, so where was the time for drawing?

Now the repercussions of "laziness" struck; Fu Han grasped the charcoal pencil but couldn’t make a single mark. She chewed on the pencil unconsciously, tangled over what to draw.

Her gaze wandered and inadvertently fell on He Xing.

The evening sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on He Xing, his hair gelled to a shine as if touched by a layer of gold or sprinkled with crushed diamonds.

His head was tilted slightly down, his neck as elegant as a swan’s. His eyelashes were especially long, casting massive shadows on his face from Fu Han’s angle, obscuring his expression.

Outside, the cicadas’ chorus could be heard. Normally, Fu Han would find it incredibly annoying, but now, the earthly noise made a stark contrast with He Xing at that moment, one utterly boisterous, the other utterly serene.

Suddenly inspired, Fu Han’s charcoal pencil began to scratch against the sketching paper, strokes after strokes taking shape, gradually outlining a drawing.

He Xing couldn’t help but lift his gaze to Fu Han, who stood in front of the easel wearing a white T-shirt, black pencil pants, and home slippers, her long hair haphazardly pinned up, revealing a segment of her fair neck, her face bare and natural.

This was the simplest of outfits, but also the most difficult to pull off, yet Fu Han, dressed so plainly, seemed to radiate light, not a blinding glare but a warm light that illuminates the way forward in the dark.

Actually, Fu Han’s unhesitating push had left a small knot in He Xing’s heart; but now, she herself had healed the knot in his heart.

He didn’t know what Fu Han was drawing and was curious, but he would not disturb her.

She had said before that even if her work was exhausting, she would never want to be a housewife; He Xing had always remembered this and had reminded himself countless times not to step on this minefield again.

One reading, the other drawing, Fu Han’s room was a picture of peaceful, idyllic times, as splendid as a world inside a glass globe, a fairytale kingdom, exquisite and bright, without a hint of shadow.

Until a scream shattered the room’s tranquility.