Chapter 18 Fever
Lilly called several times, but no one responded, so she walked to the inner room. As soon as she reached the door of the inner room, she saw him sitting on a swivel chair.
"Mr. White?" Lilly called again tentatively.
When she got closer, he raised his slender neck, closed his eyes, and relaxed his arms on the chair.
Is he asleep?
Lilly couldn't help holding her breath, walked over lightly, and looked at the sleeping man carefully across the desk. He was less cold when he was asleep. His handsome features seemed to have taken off the cold shell, revealing an indescribable tenderness.
Lilly seemed to be possessed, her heartbeat was beating fast, urging her to reach out and touch the man who was perfect even when he was asleep. But just when her hand was about to touch the man's eyelashes, the eyelashes moved and opened.
Lilly's hand froze in mid-air.
"Miss Johnson, what do you want to do?" his eyes regained their previous sharpness, staring coldly at her right hand, which was very close to his nose.
Lilly quickly withdrew her hand and said with an idea, "Lunch is ready. I came up to call you, but I called you many times, and you refused to wake up. I thought you were sick."
He looked at her expression. There was no clue in her expression, but his hearing was always sharp. Lilly's fast heartbeat fell clearly into his ears in the quiet study. His lips slightly raised, looking at the girl in front of him with a smile.
Lilly was frightened by his look and quickly turned around and walked out of the study. He immediately got up and followed her downstairs.
Until she went downstairs, her disordered heartbeat could not be completely stabilized. She couldn't help but blame him. Her appearance was very good at ordinary times, and her appearance when sleeping was ten times higher. Is there any way for people to survive?
After he sat down at the main seat at the dining table, he sent maid to deliver food to Ziyan. Glancing at the food on the table, there was his favorite chestnut roast chicken, Ziyan's favorite candied yams, two side dishes, and a bowl of Tremella and Snow Pear Soup.
Having not cooked for a long time, Lilly was worried that her rusty cooking skills would make him dissatisfied, so she was nervous every time he ate a dish. Fortunately, he did not express his opinion on whether the food was delicious or not until the end.
Lilly finally breathed a sigh of relief, because she knew that for him, silence often meant affirmation. Lilly scooped a mouthful of snow pear soup, took a sip, and secretly looked up at him across the table.
This scene made her feel as if she had returned to Provence at that time, and a trace of attachment quietly rose in her heart.
When she ran away, she never thought that there would be such an opportunity again, to cook for him, or even eat at the same table with him as before. Lilly, who was immersed in this little happiness, had not had time to savor it carefully before she heard his mobile phone on the table ringing.
He put down the spoon, answered the phone, then frowned slightly, replied "I'll go there now," and hung up the phone.
Lilly looked at him, who stood up and left the table after hanging up the phone, and called him in confusion, "What happened?"
"Ziyan was injured in the crew. I'll go see, you eat first." He spoke a sentence, took his suit coat, and walked out of the dining table.
There was a sound of the door opening and closing at the entrance. Lilly sat back in her seat and unconsciously repeated the action of scooping snow pear soup. However, when the sweet soup entered her throat, she couldn't swallow it anyway.
Her mind was full of his hurried departure for Ziyan just now.
"Ethan..." Lilly called out softly, her voice full of love that was once engraved in her heart and is still deeply engraved in her bones. Then she laughed at herself and said, "I'm so stupid."
Why can a little tenderness always make her forget the indisputable fact - the one he cares about is only the girl he raised, Ziyan?
Lilly dragged her tired body into the corridor of the apartment, and the voice-activated lights in the corridor were sensed and lit up.
"Julia, I'm back." Lilly opened the door and greeted her wearily.
Yulia's fingertips were touching the piano keys, flying and dancing, and a string of smooth notes floated out, gradually forming a quiet and gentle music.
After she finished playing a song, she turned her head and found that Lilly, who usually went to the bathroom to take a shower as soon as she returned, was like a puppet without strings, and collapsed on the bed.
"Yulia is still practicing the piano so late, so hardworking." Lilly heard the piano stop and said that her lips had become dry because of singing practice.
"Same here," Yulia's usual cold voice sounded, "but if we talk about hard work, you work as a cook during the day, practice singing in the club at night, and struggle in the gentle place called Ethan White. You are the hardest worker anyway."
How could Lilly not understand the concern contained in her sarcasm? Every day after seeing him, her mood would be affected. She would either walk like a rabbit with joy, or she would be flat like a deflated ball.
She couldn't deny it at all. Despite her best efforts to control it, his influence still existed. Yulia has always been a person who values reality. This is to persuade her to stop at the brink, and she doesn't want her to have unrealistic expectations for hopeless things.
"I know," Lilly felt very sleepy, but she still forced herself to be energetic and bowed respectfully, "Mem, what you said makes sense, but I can still hold on and will never break the precepts. Please rest assured, Mem."