President Fu Is Great at Pretending, and the Frail Young Master Has No Way to Deal With Him - Chapter 17

Fu Yanhe used the serving chopsticks (a spare chopsticks to serve others), not his own. Gu Wenning moved his lips. Seeing Fu Yanhe happily picking up food for him, he held back and didn’t say anything.

At first, Gu Wenning stayed silent, but later he couldn’t help speaking, asking Fu Yanhe not to pick up any more food for him. There were more and more dishes in his bowl, piled higher and higher, almost forming a mountain. Gu Wenning couldn’t get a bite of rice even if he wanted to. Additionally, he didn’t have a big appetite and couldn’t eat that much no matter what, so he had no choice but to stop Fu Yanhe, who was still adding food to his bowl.

Fu Yanhe was happily feeding his wife, and seeing him eat the food he placed in the bowl, bite after bite, gave him an indescribable sense of satisfaction. The only downside was that he couldn’t feed his wife directly. Instead, he had to feed him indirectly by serving her vegetables, but even so, Fu Yanhe felt happy. While eating himself, he only casually handled his own meal and kept focusing on picking out food for Gu Wenning.

He was meticulous—deboning fish, removing bones from meat, and choosing the freshest vegetables to give to Gu Wenning. He didn’t seem like a pampered rich man at all; in fact, he was quite good at taking care of people. This was different from what Gu Wenning knew about other young masters from wealthy families. Many of them only reached out for clothes and opened their mouths for food, but Fu Yanhe was clearly not the same. From his previous comments, it even seemed like he could cook for himself.

However, the man was politely rejected by his wife. Even though it was done with courtesy, it was still a rejection. Fu Yanhe’s hand, holding the chopsticks, froze for a moment before he turned and put the fish he had intended for his wife into his own mouth, eating it in a somewhat dejected manner.

Seeing this, Gu Wenning paused, thought for a moment, and then placed a piece of ribs into Fu Yanhe’s bowl.

Fu Yanhe turned his head and looked at him with surprise.

“Is it for me? Honey, you’re too kind. My favourite food is pork ribs.”

Gu Wenning didn’t know Fu Yanhe’s preferences and had picked up the ribs by accident. Hearing Fu Yanhe’s excited tone, he looked away somewhat awkwardly.

Fu Yanhe wasn’t so self-centred as to think Gu Wenning had chosen the ribs especially for him. He knew it was just a coincidence, but even so, it was a happy coincidence, and it made him feel elated.

“My good wife, I’m telling you, I’m not picky about food, but if I had to choose, I prefer meat. I eat all kinds—chicken, fish, duck…”

Gu Wenning wasn’t particularly interested in learning about Fu Yanhe’s eating habits, but after hearing him talk about it a few more times, he absorbed some of the information. At the very least, he now knew that Fu Yanhe loved meat. As he picked out dishes later, he unconsciously chose only meat—ribs, shredded pork, fish, and the like. Gu Wenning might not have realized it, but when Fu Yanhe ate, he immediately noticed that the food tasted better.

His wife had served him food—more than once—and he had even picked out the dishes he liked. He must like him, at least a little bit.

Fu Yanhe was immersed in joy but didn’t forget to pay attention to Gu Wenning’s eating habits. This time, he noticed something unusual.

“Honey, don’t you like carrots?”

A few pieces of carrot remained in Gu Wenning’s bowl, while the other dishes were almost finished.

“Saving it for last,” Gu Wenning said calmly without lifting his head.

Though he said that, his chopsticks never touched the carrots.

Just when Gu Wenning was debating whether to leave the carrots or force himself to eat them, a large, bony hand reached over and took his bowl away.

There were only a few pieces of carrot left, and Gu Wenning had already finished all the other dishes, including the rice.

Fu Yanhe held the bowl, picked up the carrots, and ate them. After finishing, he said, “You don’t have to eat carrots if you don’t like them. You don’t have to force yourself. Wife, what you like is the most important.”

Gu Wenning’s heart moved slightly.

He was still a little shocked that Fu Yanhe actually picked up his leftover food and ate it. At that moment, he didn’t know whether to feel moved by Fu Yanhe’s affection for him and not disdainful of eating his leftover food or to praise him for his diligence, thriftiness, and good handling of the situation.

“Actually, I have always thought that carrots taste weird, and I don’t like them very much. Look, my good wife, we really have the same understanding and even the same preferences. It seems that we are a match made in heaven. One pair on earth.”

Fu Yanhe’s analysis wasn’t very logical.

However, Gu Wenning didn’t know what to say after hearing this. It would be too hasty to conclude that they were a perfect match just because they both didn’t like eating carrots. There were so many people in the world who didn’t like carrots. Were they all born to be a pair?

Gu Wenning suddenly realized that his thoughts had been led astray, and he couldn’t help but feel a complicated emotion in his heart.

After eating and taking a short rest, Gu Wenning refused Fu Yanhe’s enthusiastic help, went to the bathroom to wash up, and then returned to the bedroom to prepare for bed.

As soon as he entered the bedroom, Fu Yanhe came in with two filled hot water bottles.

“Doctor Lin said that if your legs hurt, you can apply hot compresses. Honey, if your legs still hurt, put these two hot water bottles on your knees and see if it feels better.”

The lighting in the bedroom was yellowish and warm. Gu Wenning, who had put on beige pyjamas, seemed to have dissipated a lot of his coldness. His temperament was softer, and he seemed more approachable. Fu Yanhe couldn’t help but take a few more glances.

The hot compress seemed to have some effect, and Gu Wenning felt that the pain was somewhat relieved.

Seeing that Fu Yanhe seemed to have no intention of leaving, Gu Wenning couldn’t help but remind him, “Mr. Fu, it’s past ten o’clock.”

The implication was that it was time for him to leave and go back to his home.

Gu Wenning had no doubt that Fu Yanhe might want to stay. Others might not be able to stay overnight after meeting a few times, but that was not necessarily the case for Fu Yanhe. He was so thick-skinned.

Fu Yanhe, who had been able to be an emperor in his previous life and securely sit on the throne, and who could take charge of the world’s affairs in this life, was naturally a smart man, not a fool. He could hear the euphemistic farewell in Gu Wenning’s words.

But he didn’t seem to understand. Instead, he said enthusiastically, “If my wife can’t sleep, let me tell you a bedtime story.”

“Once upon a time, there was a man named Yu Gong who could move mountains. Wife, what do you think Yu Gong would sing when he moved mountains?”