Chapter 438 - 245: This Night, Fiercely Embracing Jiang Yixia

Chapter 438: Chapter 245: This Night, Fiercely Embracing Jiang Yixia

The kitchen light was white, making Jiang Yixia’s face look a little pale.

She stood before the stove, a pot of sober-up soup simmering within. It was made with old ginger and brown sugar. The pungent smell made her eyes sting.

She stirred it with a spoon and took a sip. Too spicy. She added another spoonful of brown sugar, stirred again, and tasted it once more. That was about right.

She turned off the stove, poured the soup into a bowl, and carried it out.

Only one lamp was on in the living room, casting a dim, yellow glow over the sofa area.

Lu Fan was lying there, a blanket pulled up to his chest. His breathing was heavy, each breath labored as if he were holding something back.

Jiang Yixia set the bowl on the coffee table. She stood beside him for a moment, then bent down and called to him, "Lu Fan, get up and drink some soup."

He stirred but didn’t open his eyes.

"Lu Fan," she called again, a little louder this time.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze unfocused.

His face was flushed, his eyes were red, and his lips were dry and chapped.

"What soup?" His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper on wood.

"Sober-up soup. You’ll feel better after you drink it." Jiang Yixia picked up the bowl and held it out to him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the blanket slipping down to his waist.

He took the bowl and stared down at the brown liquid inside for a moment before taking a sip.

"Hot..." He frowned, then took another sip.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Jiang Yixia stood beside him, watching. She wanted to say something, but didn’t.

When he finished, he handed the bowl back to her.

She took it, placed it on the coffee table, and turned to leave.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

His hand was hot, his palm rough, his knuckles distinct.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

"Yixia," he called her name in a low voice.

"Yes?"

"Sit for a while. Talk with me."

Jiang Yixia hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the other end of the sofa.

She hugged her knees, her eyes fixed on the potted devil’s ivy on the TV stand.

Its leaves drooped, and one had turned yellow. ’I should water it tomorrow,’ she thought.

The room was silent except for the TICK-TOCK of the clock on the wall.

Lu Fan leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling in a long silence.

"Yixia," he began again.

"Hm?"

"I remember everything your dad said." His voice was calm, too calm for someone who’d been drinking. "He said I was a bastard, that I ruined you, that I should never dream of stepping foot in your family’s home again for the rest of my life. I remember every single word."

Jiang Yixia replied helplessly, "I know. You’re drunk. You’ve already said that several times."

"He was right." Lu Fan let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I really am a bastard. I left back then, leaving you alone with two kids. I wasn’t there when you cried. I wasn’t there when the kids were sick. I wasn’t there for New Year’s. Your dad cursed me out, and I deserved it. If he’d hit me, I would’ve deserved that too."

As he said this, his tone turned pitiful. "But Yixia, I want to come back. I’ve wanted to come back for a long time. I was just too scared."

Jiang Yixia turned her head to look at him.

His eyes were red, and a glint of moisture shimmered in them under the light.

Her heart clenched, but she didn’t move.

"Do you know why I was scared?" He looked at her, his eyes rimmed with red. "I was afraid you’d hate me. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. I was afraid that if I came back, you would have already found someone else."

His voice began to tremble, and a tear slid from the corner of his eye, tracing a path down his temple and into his hair.

"I think about you every night. When I’m drunk, when I’m sober, I think about you. I was wrong, Yixia. I was so, so wrong."

Watching him cry, Jiang Yixia felt as if something had slammed into her chest.

Now, here was Lu Fan, lying on her sofa, crying like a child.

Her own nose began to sting, but she held back her tears.

She took a deep breath, stood up, walked over to him, and crouched down.

Jiang Yixia reached out. After a moment’s hesitation, she wiped away his tears.

His skin was hot, and so were his tears. They left a wet trail on her fingers.

"Don’t cry," she said, her voice soft, as if afraid of startling him.

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.

His hand was large, completely enveloping hers.

She tried to pull away but couldn’t.

"Yixia," he called her name, his voice hoarse and deliberately laced with a sob.

"Yes."

"Can I hold you?"

Jiang Yixia froze.

She looked at Lu Fan. His eyes were red, filled with tears, anticipation, and fear.

She had never seen him like this before.

He was the type of person who was always confident, who always knew what he was doing and what the next step should be.

But now he was lying before her like a child who had done something wrong, cautiously asking if he could hold her.

Her heart was pounding.

She lowered her head and looked at their intertwined hands.

His fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles and neatly trimmed nails.

Her hand was small, completely enveloped by his, with only her fingertips showing.

She didn’t speak or move.

His hand was trembling slightly.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

He reached out, gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into his embrace.

Jiang Yixia’s body stiffened for a second, but she didn’t push him away.

Lu Fan’s embrace was warm. It smelled of alcohol and tobacco, mixed with that unique scent that was his alone—indescribable, but deeply familiar.

Jiang Yixia buried her face in his chest and heard his heartbeat, a rapid THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

Her hands didn’t know where to go. They hovered in midair for a moment before she finally rested them gently on the side of Lu Fan’s waist.

She patted his back lightly, again and again, as if soothing a child.