Spellbound Hearts - Chapter 39 - Did You Think I Wouldn't Dare?

Perhaps it was the sheer number of events that had unfolded throughout the day, but as soon as Ji Xuan got home, she treated herself to a long, relaxing bath and went to bed early.

In the dead of night, while she was deep in sleep, the phone on her bedside table suddenly started ringing.

Startled awake, Ji Xuan let out a breath, shielding her forehead with one hand while fumbling for her phone with the other. She swiped to answer and groggily said, “Hello?”

Before she could say anything else, a hoarse and feeble voice came through the line. It was Song Zhaoli. “Qiu Lin, come over. I’ve got a high fever.”

His voice sounded utterly miserable.

Before Ji Xuan could respond, a fit of coughing erupted on the other end of the line. The sound of his hacking cough instantly wiped away the last remnants of her sleepiness.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Ji Xuan stiffened and replied, “President Song, this is Ji Xuan.”

It seemed like Song Zhaoli hadn’t registered her words. He continued speaking as if on autopilot. “Bring some fever medicine.”

Then, after another bout of coughing, he hung up.

Staring at the now-blank phone screen, Ji Xuan pressed her lips into a thin line.

She was certain now-she and Song Zhaoli were destined to clash.

Tossing her phone aside, Ji Xuan sat up in bed, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

After a moment of deliberation, she picked up her phone again and dialed Qiu Lin’s number.

She called three times. The line connected, but no one answered.

Ji Xuan glanced out the window.

The night outside was pitch black. She felt utterly defeated.

In the end, she rummaged through her home’s first-aid kit, found some fever medicine, and reluctantly headed out.

After all, Song Zhaoli was not someone she could afford to offend.

She knew his address, thanks to Wansheng’s collaboration with him.

Relying on her memory, Ji Xuan drove to his place.

About an hour and a half later, she arrived at Song Zhaoli’s villa.

The villa was located in the heart of the city, yet it was a peaceful enclave amidst the urban chaos. The surrounding area was an upscale residential district, complete with lush greenery, excellent feng shui, and absolute tranquility.

Ji Xuan parked her car, got out, and rang the doorbell.

She pressed it seven or eight times, but there was no response from inside.

Just as she was about to give up, thinking she’d done her due diligence, and even considering taking a photo as proof of her visit before heading home, her phone suddenly buzzed. It was Qiu Lin calling back.

Ji Xuan hesitated briefly before answering. “Hello, Assistant Qiu.”

Qiu Lin’s voice came through, sounding apologetic. “Manager Ji, did you need something? Sorry, I just fell asleep.”

Ji Xuan had no interest in asking why he was awake now if he’d been asleep earlier. She got straight to the point. “President Song called you earlier about being sick, but he accidentally called me instead.”

Qiu Lin sounded surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Ji Xuan confirmed. “I’m at his villa now. I’ve been ringing the doorbell for a while, but there’s no response. Assistant Qiu, do you think…”

She was about to suggest heading back and letting Qiu Lin arrange for a doctor to check on Song Zhaoli, but before she could finish, Qiu Lin interrupted. “No problem, Manager Ji. Don’t worry. I’ll give you the door code. You can go in directly.”

Ji Xuan’s prepared words got stuck in her throat. Forcing a dry laugh, she managed to squeeze out a polite “Thank you.”

Qiu Lin replied, “I should be the one thanking you. This is something I should’ve handled myself.”

Ji Xuan’s response was a curt, “Heh.”

“The code is 241688,” Qiu Lin added.

“Got it. I’ll give it a try,” Ji Xuan said.

She entered the code, and with a soft “click,” the door unlocked.

For some inexplicable reason, as she stood there, Ji Xuan’s mind wandered to Wu Shu.

If Wu Shu were here, she’d probably be waggling her eyebrows and teasing her: “Surprised? Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

Oh, she was surprised. And yes, she didn’t see it coming.

Ji Xuan pushed the door open, holding the medicine in her hand, and spoke into the phone, “Assistant Qiu, I’m inside.”

Qiu Lin responded, “Just follow the cobblestone path straight ahead. At the end, you’ll find the main building where President Song lives.”

“Got it,” Ji Xuan replied.

Qiu Lin added, “Thank you, Manager Ji.”

Ji Xuan forced a polite response, “It’s no trouble.”

After entering the main building, she ended the call and followed Qiu Lin’s instructions to the third floor, where Song Zhaoli’s master bedroom was located.

The bedroom door was tightly shut, and the sound of harsh coughing came through intermittently.

Ji Xuan approached the door, raised her hand, and knocked lightly. “President Song, it’s Ji Xuan,” she called softly.

Apart from the coughing, there was no response from inside.

Alright, she couldn’t exactly expect a feverish patient to give her a proper reply at this moment.

Taking a shallow breath, Ji Xuan turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

The lighting in the master bedroom was dim and warm. Song Zhaoli was lying half-prone on the bed, the blanket covering him from the waist down. His upper body… was completely bare.

Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and well-defined muscles.

Ji Xuan walked over, placed the medicine on the bedside table, and reached out to feel his forehead. It was burning hot.

Perhaps due to his illness, Song Zhaoli seemed to have lost much of his usual intimidating aura. His bangs clung limply to his forehead, making him look… almost endearing.

Endearing?

The moment that word crossed her mind, Ji Xuan quickly dismissed it. Associating “endearing” with Song Zhaoli felt utterly absurd.

“Water,” came a hoarse voice from the bed, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Ji Xuan quickly left the room, went downstairs, and filled a glass with water. She also mixed in the fever-reducing powder she had brought along.

When she returned to the master bedroom, she leaned down slightly and asked, “President Song, can you sit up?”

Song Zhaoli’s eyelids fluttered open. He stared at her for a moment before suddenly reaching out, grabbing the back of her neck, and pulling her forward with unexpected force.

Caught off guard, Ji Xuan lost her balance and dropped to one knee on the floor. Half the water in the glass spilled out.

Before she could react, Song Zhaoli tilted his head slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. “Ji Xuan,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “do you think I wouldn’t dare?”

Wouldn’t dare what?

Ji Xuan was utterly baffled.

Her entire body tensed as she met his gaze, the heat radiating from his forehead making her frown. “Song Zhaoli,” she said, her tone sharp.

He didn’t respond. The grip on the back of her neck tightened, and then, with a sudden resolve, he pushed himself up and pressed his lips to hers.

Ji Xuan froze in shock. By the time she processed what was happening, her tightly sealed lips had already been breached by his determined advance.

Sometimes, there are things in life that defy explanation.

Like now. Ji Xuan couldn’t shake the feeling that Song Zhaoli might be dreaming.

But then again, she couldn’t quite figure out why, in his dream, she would be there.