The Billionaire's Hidden Affection

Yan Xixi was just worried.

Li Zhen brought many dishes, and amazingly, there was even a bottle of Lao Gan Ma.

When the wind blew in through the open window, the small table was already filled with dishes: shredded potatoes with green peppers, Lao Gan Ma with chicken pieces, cowboy ribs grilled to perfection, and even a thick, fragrant tomato oxtail soup that had been simmered for seven or eight hours.

When she lifted the lid of the beef soup, Huang Xiaojue slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey, Xiaojue, it’s time to eat. The soup is hot, it’ll be just right after a while."

He sat up and saw her with a hot towel and toiletries, expertly attending to him. As she washed his face, she muttered, "Xiaojue, have you noticed? You have to brush your teeth after you sleep, or else everything tastes bland..."

Face washed, teeth brushed, and when he looked down, he saw that he had already been changed into a loose, comfortable T-shirt.

"This shirt is loose so it doesn’t touch the wound, you know? Hey, your hair’s a bit greasy, I should see if you can wash it tomorrow... Yeah, you can slowly start sitting up and moving around. It’s getting hot, if you stay lying around all covered up, you might get lice..."

Lice?

He grinned, breaking into a smile.

These days, drifting in and out of consciousness, he never knew if this was a dream or reality.

Gently pinching himself, the pain told him—indeed, it was real.

Yan Xixi turned around, just in time to see this scene, she paused, her heart aching, but immediately shifted her gaze, pretending not to have seen it, and her voice remained light: "Xiaojue, have some of this, it’s the best thing to eat when you’re injured..."

This time, it wasn’t her feeding him; she was eating with him.

It was what he longed for the most.

Outside, the roses had long withered, yet the faint floral scent still drifted in with the wind. Sometimes he looked at her, sometimes he lowered his head to eat, as if this scene had never seemed real.

A thousand mountains, ten thousand waters, countless twists and turns, had all led to this moment. But why did this moment, when it finally came in clear consciousness, feel so empty and desolate?

In his heart, a tremor, yet he couldn’t speak, maintaining a calm demeanor.

He just silently watched her go to wash the dishes.

When they were in school, she disliked washing dishes the most. Then, the cafeteria didn’t provide utensils like now, so students mostly brought their own lunchboxes, washed them after eating.

When asked to wash dishes, she’d grumble, saying they were greasy and would make her hands rough.

Then, he’d always help her wash, meal after meal, year after year...

He never thought there was anything wrong because, at home, Huang’s mother didn’t like washing dishes or doing housework either. All his life, he was used to his mother always being neatly dressed. Although not entirely hands-off, aside from occasionally cooking for her son, she really did nothing else.

Old Huang also indulged in letting his wife enjoy herself. As long as his wife was always beautifully dressed and gentle, he’d be happy just watching, and doing a bit more housework didn’t matter.

Essentially, like his father, after spoiling one woman, no flaw seemed to remain.

Only, all his life, he had only washed dishes for one woman.

Now, it was her turn to busily work in the kitchen, preparing three meals a day in countless variations, keeping the whole house spotless, and enduring the dreadful smell of his hair, which had gone unwashed for many days... And she never once showed a hint of impatience.

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