Still Not Feeling Well, So We Can’t

The city lights shimmered like stars, neon glowing vividly as night descended.

By the time they finished their evening out and headed home, it was nearly nine o'clock.

Elena Shen bid farewell to the others one by one and followed Ethan Jiang into the car bound for Yushan Residence.

As always, the driver was Eric Chen. And just like before, the partition between the front and back seats rose the moment the car started.

Elena's eyes fixated on the slowly ascending divider. A quiet grumble echoed in her mind—she was itching to press it back down.

But before she could act, an arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

Without warning, Ethan pulled her into his lap.

Same Pullman, same partition, same night cloaked in darkness—and Elena instantly recalled everything that had happened in this car the previous night.

Those blazing-hot memories surged into her mind, making her tense up instinctively. Her spine stiffened, breath held tight in her lungs as if bracing herself for another night of passion right there on the leather seat.

Still nestled in his embrace, she glanced up nervously before he could speak. Her voice was soft, yet her unease was palpable as she murmured:

"I'm still not feeling well... I haven't fully recovered… We can't."

Ethan was momentarily taken aback by her words.

Then he seemed to understand, the light in his eyes softening with a quiet warmth.

His fingers brushed the edge of her lips with a gentle touch, his tone soothing like one coaxing a child.

"Alright. We won't."

Sensing that she was still tense in his arms, he massaged the small of her back, wordlessly urging her to relax.

Then, with effortless ease, he shifted the conversation.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

The diversion worked. Elena, noting that he truly didn't intend to press her into fulfilling any marital obligations tonight, slowly let go of the anxiety in her chest.

She nodded obediently and answered his question.

"But… why the sudden gathering tonight?"

Before arriving at "The Mirage," she had thought someone else had arranged the outing. It just happened that they were both free, and Ethan brought her along on a whim.

But once there, she realized it was he who had orchestrated everything.

Especially the private lounge they used—every detail had clearly been tailored to the tastes of her and her girlfriends. It was anything but a last-minute reservation.

Outside the window, the bright cityscape slipped past in a blur of light and motion.

Ethan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"I made you cry last night. Tonight's gathering was to make amends. Are you still mad at me?"

His voice was low and smooth, rich like aged wine, laced with a tenderness that warmed the soul.

Or maybe it was the closeness of their bodies—but Elena felt as if his words were whispered right into her ear, leaving a lingering tingle.

Her lashes fluttered faintly. Avoiding his gaze, she tried to move off his lap and back to her seat—but he held her firmly, giving her no room to escape.

So instead, she simply lowered her gaze and refused in a small, muffled voice:

"I'm not mad…"

He chuckled quietly, his arms still wrapped around her.

"Really?"

He remembered clearly how she'd looked at him this morning—eyes misted with hurt, more pitiful than any scolded kitten. She hadn't dared to complain out loud, but those clear eyes betrayed every emotion she tried to hide.

Soon, the car arrived at Yushan Residence.

This time, Eric parked at the entrance of the garage instead of driving all the way to the voice-activated lighting zone.

Once the car came to a complete stop, Elena glanced at Ethan, then stepped out first.

Holding her phone, she walked briskly toward the grand entrance hall.

Ethan followed unhurriedly behind her, jacket draped casually over his arm.

Butler Pang was waiting at the door. Upon seeing their return, he immediately instructed the staff to serve supper.

Back at "The Mirage," fearing she might go hungry, Ethan had ordered snacks to be delivered to their private room before seven. Between karaoke and party games, Elena nibbled on plenty of fruit and treats. She wasn't hungry now.

At the dining table, she only had a small bowl of porridge before setting down her spoon and heading upstairs.

Butler Pang watched her ascend the staircase with a blank expression, then turned to Ethan on the other side of the table, his eyes filled with hesitation.

Ethan set down his utensils, his gaze trailing Elena through the decorative lattice of the wine rack. His voice was calm, yet final.

"No need to stop her. Madam had already had supper outside."

Upstairs, Ethan opened the door to their bedroom, but Elena was nowhere in sight. Her phone lay casually at the foot of the bed.

The faint sound of water running drifted from the en-suite bathroom. He guessed she was taking a shower, so he didn't enter. Instead, he quietly closed the door and turned to his study to finish the remaining documents from the day.

When the clock struck ten-thirty, Ethan shut his laptop and returned to the bedroom.

The girl was sprawled across the bed, wrapped in red sheets, intently scrolling through financial charts on her tablet.

He walked over and glanced at the screen, then gently reminded her:

"It's late, Elena. Time to sleep."

She looked up, her eyes bright and clear with not a trace of sleepiness. But at his words, she glanced at the time and obediently closed the tablet, placing it on the nightstand.

Then she lifted the quilt and slid it under the covers.

Her delicate fingers instinctively moved to pull the blanket over her head, but then she remembered what Ethan had told her about not covering her head while sleeping.

So she paused mid-motion and left the quilt resting just beneath her porcelain chin.