Where's My Painting?

In the ward, Ren Yuan handed Qi You the milk tea that his assistant had sent over.

"The doctor won't let me drink it," Qi You said.

Ren Yuan put down the milk tea and smiled as he hugged Qi You in his arms. "Then listen to the doctor. I'll cook porridge for you when we get home."

Qi You smiled brightly and praised, "I knew you were the best."

"Youyou, I heard that the traditional art circle looks down on people with an entertainment industry background like us. Sister Fang Yan has never trusted me, is it because…"

Qi You grabbed Ren Yuan's moving hand. "Yanyan is not that kind of person. She took the initiative to get the medicine to help you. There are many people in the hospital. She understands the disguise."

"Let's try not to trouble Sister Fang Yan in the future, okay? Didn't you say that her grandmother's health isn't good? Then it would be very difficult for her to take care of her usually."

Qi You was infected by Ren Yuan's thoughtfulness. "You're right. Then you have to treat me better and spend more time with me. We'll try not to disturb Yanyan."

When she returned to the garden, Fang Yan was still thinking about Qi You's last words. Could she live a happy life by marrying someone she loved?

Not necessarily.

Fang Yan felt that it was better to be like her and Cheng Zheng, to live together peacefully rather than to be a couple who looked harmonious on the surface.

Cheng Zheng had already opened the package sent by the express delivery and arranged the new bed items.

The two-meter-wide bed in the master bedroom looked brand new. It was the cream-colored color that Fang Yan had carefully selected.

The combination of high-quality cotton and rabbit fur looked surprisingly soft and touchable.

This was a silent invitation. Fang Yan was tempted. She had slept on the sofa for the entire night yesterday. Now, she really wanted to roll around on the big bed.

But Cheng Zheng was lying on it.

Dressed in dark gray knitted pajamas, Cheng Zheng was lazily leaning against the head of the bed, hugging Fang Yan's new fluffy pillow and reading literature.

Fang Yan cursed silently. What kind of torture was this? She had to think of a way to get rid of this person!

"Cheng Zheng, did you clean up the room just now? Not bad. I didn't expect you to have so many skills, haha."

As soon as Fang Yan finished speaking, she wanted to block her throat. As expected, her talent in expressing herself was not high. She only had nonsense skills.

Cheng Zheng put away the documents and raised his hand to rub the space between his eyebrows. "Are you trying to say that I did well?"

Fang Yan nodded. He was indeed a star student.

"Reward?" Cheng Zheng straightened up and asked for Fang Yan's opinion.

Fang Yan: "What do you want?"

"Where's my painting?" Cheng Zheng looked at Fang Yan. "If I remember correctly, Teacher Fang Yan should be preparing the artwork for the university's art exhibition, right? Why don't we do it today?"

Fang Yan: "…"

Fang Yan closed her eyes. She was done for.

She had almost forgotten about this matter. Cheng Zheng had just reminded her.

As a person who kept her word, when Fang Yan absent-mindedly moved the easel over, she once again sighed at Cheng Zheng's outstanding execution.

He had already stripped himself naked.

Cheng Zheng's skin was slightly pale. At this moment, he was lying on his side on the soft bed, only using a long robe to cover his vital parts. He supported his head with his hand and his eyes were half-closed, like a top male model taking photos for a magazine.

Fang Yan stared at the person on the bed and subconsciously loosened her grip.

"Ouch!" Fang Yan cried out in pain.

Then, there was the sound of an easel falling to the ground. Cheng Zheng suddenly opened his eyes and rushed over.

Fang Yan immediately turned to the side. "You, you, you! Hooligan!"

Cheng Zheng placed the easel aside and examined Fang Yan's injuries. "Make yourself clear. I'm a married man. How am I a hooligan if I take off my shirt after taking a shower in my own house?"

Fang Yan slowly turned around. Sure enough, Cheng Zheng was also wearing a pair of shorts that wrapped around his slender and powerful leg muscles.

Fang Yan's breath became hotter and hotter, but Cheng Zheng's expression darkened.

Fang Yan was wearing loose home clothes. There were wounds of varying lengths on her calves, ankles, and the insides of her arms.

Cheng Zheng could clearly see that it was an old injury from countless years ago.

If the one responsible for these scars insisted on inflicting pain in these places, the person must be extremely shameless. He wanted to hit someone's most painful spot, but he did not want to be discovered and have people see his true heartless nature.

Cheng Zheng reached out to touch the wound on Fang Yan's ankle. His fingertips were warm, making Fang Yan's heart tremble.

"This is the "easel" you mentioned?" Cheng Zheng asked.

"It's from my father," Fang Yan said.