Jiang Xun lowered his head and fastened his seat belt, but even after he waited a while, Fu Yanli still hadn't started the car.
Fu Yanli rested both hands on the steering wheel. His grip was so tight that the veins stood out on the backs of his hands, his long fingers curled and his fingertips pale.
His finely sculpted jaw was slightly tense, his expression so deeply composed that it betrayed neither anger nor pleasure.
Jiang Xun leaned his head over a little and ventured, "Uncle?"
Then his cheek was pinched.
Fu Yanli really did put some strength into it. Jiang Xun immediately hissed in pain, his handsome brows knitting together.
He didn't dare reach up to push the hand away, only muttered in a small, aggrieved voice, "Why are you pinching me...?"
Fu Yanli eased his grip, his warm fingertips brushing over the young man's smooth cheek.
Jiang Xun instinctively tried to pull back, but his chin was caught in a firm yet measured grip.
Despite the intimacy of the gesture, Fu Yanli's expression remained solemn. "If I hadn't arrived in time, you could very well have been hurt," he said gravely.
Jiang Xun was momentarily cowed and even forgot to pull away.
His chin was forced up slightly. He lowered his eyelids, looking at the hand holding his chin rather than the face opposite him.
"I didn't expect that old bastard to have a weapon." Jiang Xun's voice lacked confidence.
"If you can't protect yourself, don't do that again."
With that, Fu Yanli released him, withdrew his gaze, and started the car.
He asked nothing about what had just happened.
Who that middle-aged man was, or why he had chased him with a knife.
Jiang Xun huddled into the corner beside the window, leaving only his back