Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

The proprietress brought over two large iron bowls and gently placed them on the table.

The broth sloshed around the rim of the bowl, the red oil bubbled, and the spiciness wafted straight into my nose.

"Xiao Song, I added extra beef to your boyfriend's bowl. Consider it a gift from me."

"Thank you, boss lady," Jiang Fan replied with a smile.

Song Siyi glared at him, wanting to explain, but after opening her mouth twice, she gave up.

It's hard to explain, and I'm too lazy to explain.

She picked up her chopsticks and began to eat heartily.

Normally, she is very proper when talking to authors or meeting clients outside, but here she completely lets loose.

With so much chili added, I broke out in a fine sweat after only a few bites.

Jiang Fan took out a tissue and handed it over.

Wipe your sweat. Your glasses are fogged up.

Song Siyi took the tissue and took off her glasses, placing them on the table.

Without the glasses obscuring her face, her features became even clearer.

Her eyebrows and eyes were slender, her nose was straight, and her lips were very red because of the spicy food, which made her face look more charming than it usually was behind her glasses.

As Jiang Fan looked at her, a semi-transparent panel suddenly popped into his mind.

[Target: Song Siyi]

【Height: 170cm】

[Weight: 55kg]

[Appearance: 8.8/10]

[Compatibility: A]

Jiang Fan paused for a moment while holding the bowl.

They spent most of the day at the welfare home without making a sound, but then they suddenly appeared in a situation where they were alone together.

This system really knows how to pick its time.

Song Siyi wiped her mouth with a tissue, noticed his gaze, and looked up.

"What are you looking at?"

"You look good without your glasses."

Song Siyi put her glasses back on her nose. "Stop talking nonsense, eat your food."

-

Half an hour later, the two walked out of the alley.

As the night breeze blew, Song Siyi slowed her pace.

She placed one hand on her stomach, her brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Jiang Fan asked.

"My stomach feels a little upset. I ate too fast just now." She bent over and took a deep breath.

"I'll take you to the hospital."

"No need," Song Siyi waved her hand. "My house is just two streets away. I'll just go back and have some hot water. It's an old problem."

Jiang Fan looked at her. "The same old problem?"

"My stomach has been protesting for a long time because I've been reading manuscripts and not eating on time." Song Siyi straightened up and forced herself to walk forward. "Let's go."

Jiang Fan didn't ask any more questions. He drove her through two streets and turned into an old residential area.

There was no elevator, so the two of them climbed four floors.

Song Siyi took out her keys to open the door, her fingers trembling slightly because of stomach pain.

It has two bedrooms and a living room, and although it's not very big, it's kept very clean.

Two large bookshelves stand against the wall in the living room, filled with all kinds of books, neatly stacked.

Jiang Fan went to the kitchen and poured a glass of warm water.

Song Siyi found a bottle of stomach medicine under the TV cabinet, took out two pills, and swallowed them with warm water.

"Does this happen often?" Jiang Fan asked, looking at her.

"There are always a few times a month like that." Song Siyi put her water glass on the coffee table. "The deadlines are the busiest. When authors stop updating, I'm even more anxious than the readers. I don't even have time to eat."

She took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair.

Inside was a white, tight-fitting knit top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing a section of her forearm.

Jiang Fan stood up, walked to the water dispenser, filled another half cup with hot water, and brought it back to the sofa.

Song Siyi huddled in a corner of the sofa, her hand pressed against her stomach.

Jiang Fan sat down, placed his water glass on the coffee table, and reached out to cover the back of her hand that was pressing on her stomach.

Song Siyi pulled her hand back slightly.

"What are you doing? Taking advantage of me again!"

"Don't move, let me warm you up." Jiang Fan's voice was not loud.

He removed her hand, rubbed his palms together, and then pressed them against hers.

My palms felt a little hot through the knitted sweater.

Song Siyi tensed up completely.

Jiang Fan applied just the right amount of pressure, massaging in a clockwise direction.

"Let me massage it for you. Medicine alone is not very effective for stomach cramps." Jiang Fan didn't let go, his eyes fixed on her face.

Song Siyi turned her head away, refusing to look at him.

The living room was quiet, with only the second hand of the wall clock ticking.

After rubbing her stomach for a while, the cramps in her stomach eased considerably, and her tense shoulders gradually relaxed.

"Are you feeling any better?" Jiang Fan asked.

"Hmm." Song Siyi turned back to look at Jiang Fan, and in order to ease the awkwardness, she took the initiative to change the subject.

"You've printed five million copies right off the bat. What if they don't sell..."

She bit her lower lip, trying to be as tactful as possible.

"Jiang Fan, you don't understand the rules of the publishing industry. No matter how good the online novel's data is, physical books follow a different logic. I don't want you to stumble with your very first book."

"You're still the same as when you were a child," Jiang Fan said, looking at her. "You always try to get in front of me in everything."

Song Siyi's eyes were a little sore.

"But I'm not eight years old anymore." Jiang Fan stopped, moved his hand away from her stomach, and then took her wrist. "Sister Siyi."

The word "sister" made Song Siyi's heart skip a beat.

"Five million for the physical book of Journey to the West is just a trial run. Trust me."

Looking at the face in front of her, Song Siyi realized that the features had matured, and the little boy who used to follow her around with a runny nose was nowhere to be found.

Her ears turned red instantly, and she forcefully pulled her hand back.

"Stop bragging. The medicine's kicking in, I need to rest for a bit. You can go home now."

Jiang Fan ignored her and leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

Song Siyi subconsciously leaned back, her back pressed against the cushion, with nowhere left to retreat.

"You...stop messing around." Her voice was strained.

Jiang Fan's gaze slid from her eyes to the bridge of her nose, and finally settled on her lips.

Song Siyi's throat went dry; she had never been stared at like that by a man in her entire life.

Jiang Fan raised his hand, his fingers running through the stray hairs by her ear and stopping at the back of her neck.

The warmth of my palm came through.

Song Siyi closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

Jiang Fan lowered his head and whispered in her ear.

"Siyi, you said when you were little that you would be my bride when you grew up. Does that still stand?"

Song Siyi suddenly opened her eyes.

"When did I say that!"

"When I was ten years old, you carried me to the hospital, and I asked you this while I was on your back. You promised me yourself."

Song Siyi's face turned so red it was almost bleeding; it was a lie she made up to comfort Jiang Fan, who had a high fever.

"I was just trying to comfort you!"

"I don't care. I've got it."

Jiang Fan's lips brushed against her earlobe.

Song Siyi shuddered and her foot bumped into an iron box under the coffee table.

With a snap.

The metal box slid off the edge and fell to the floor.

The contents spilled out, including an old photo album and some odds and ends.

Jiang Fan stopped what he was doing and glanced over.

Song Siyi followed his gaze.

The next second, her expression changed drastically. Forgetting all about her stomach pain, she sprang up from the sofa and lunged at the metal box.

"Don't look!"

Jiang Fan's hands were faster than hers.

He reached out and pulled a laminated old photograph from the pile of clutter.

The photos are quite old; the edges are yellowed, and dust has gotten inside the plastic wrap.

"Stop looking." Song Siyi missed her target and landed directly in Jiang Fan's arms.

Jiang Fan put one arm around her waist to steady her, and held up the photo with the other hand.

In the photo, a seven or eight-year-old boy, naked from the waist down, is standing in the courtyard of the orphanage, crying loudly while hugging a quilt with a large map drawn on it.

A little girl with a ponytail was standing next to her, covering her mouth and laughing.

Jiang Fan stared at the photo, and the original owner's memories surged.

This is the "bedwetting photo" that Song Siyi used to threaten him on WeChat.

Not only are there photos, but there are also words on the back.

The handwriting is childish but very neat.

"May 4, 2002. Xiao Fan wet the bed again today. Fang's mom took a picture, and I secretly developed one and hid it. When he grows up, I'm going to use this to blackmail him into buying me candied hawthorns for the rest of his life."

Jiang Fan looked at Song Siyi, who was filled with shame and indignation, in his arms.

"Sister Siyi."

Song Siyi buried her face in his chest and refused to lift it up no matter what.

"Are you planning to use this photo to blackmail me into buying candied hawthorns for the rest of my life?"

Song Siyi shouted in a muffled voice, "Give me back the photos!"