President Fu Is Great at Pretending, and the Frail Young Master Has No Way to Deal With Him

Fu Yanhe frowned.

Why, at this hour, his wife still not eating yet? He was afraid he might be starving.

“What do you want to eat…”

Before Fu Yanhe could finish his sentence, he noticed the person in front of him suddenly stagger. He quickly caught him with swift reflexes.

With this embrace, Fu Yanhe immediately realized something was wrong.

Even with a mask on, he could see that his wife’s face looked too pale, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. If he looked closely, his eyes appeared slightly unfocused, not as clear and energetic as usual, but weak and drained.

No wonder he had sensed that something was off with him, as he seemed sluggish.

“What’s wrong? Do you have a fever again?”

Fu Yanhe’s first thought was that he had a fever. He wrapped one arm around Gu Wenning’s waist, holding him steady, while freeing up his other hand to touch his forehead. The temperature felt normal—not too hot, and even a little cool. Suspecting his senses might be deceiving him, he touched his forehead again but found no difference; their temperatures felt the same.

Gu Wenning’s legs ached, and he couldn’t summon much strength. After stopping to exchange a few words with Fu Yanhe, his legs gave out, and he felt his body lurch forward uncontrollably. He thought he was about to fall into the mud, his heart racing, but unexpectedly he fell into a familiar embrace—a strong and protective hold with a faint scent of men’s cologne.

After closing his eyes and relaxing for a moment, Gu Wenning patted Fu Yanhe’s hand, signalling for him to let go, and said weakly, “It’s nothing.”

But Fu Yanhe refused to let go. Under normal circumstances, though he often harboured secret hopes to subtly take advantage of his wife, as soon as his wife gave him a glance, he wouldn’t dare to act on them. It was a case of a bold heart but no courage.

However, at this moment, letting go of his wife, who appeared so fragile and sickly, would be insane. If he released him now, he might collapse to the ground. He wasn’t foolish enough to let him fall just to listen to his words. In special circumstances like these, his wife’s safety came first.

So, though Fu Yanhe understood what Gu Wenning meant, he ignored it. Instead, he tightened his grip, lifted him up, swiftly placed him into the car, and then ordered the driver with a cold expression, “Take us to the hospital.”

The car’s air conditioner was on full blast, and the temperature inside was warm. The few minutes Gu Wenning had spent outside left him cold and numb, with no warmth in his body. Now, inside the warm space, he unconsciously stretched out and began to relax.

Fu Yanhe held his hand and rubbed it, trying to warm him up. After a while, Gu Wenning’s tightly curled fingers slowly relaxed.

“Instead of going to the hospital, just take me home,” Gu Wenning said, his voice slightly hoarse.

After a pause, seeing that Fu Yanhe’s expression hadn’t softened, he added, “It’s pointless to go. It’s the same old problem. I just need to rest for the night. I know my body best. I don’t need random tests—I need rest. So, Mr. Fu, please stop making a fuss.”

Fu Yanhe’s expression froze. He wanted to argue that going to the hospital wasn’t foolish. How could his illness be cured without seeing a doctor?

However, after thinking it over, what he said made sense. If it was indeed an old ailment, going to the hospital might not help much. Old problems weren’t like emergencies; they couldn’t be fixed in a day or two.

But his wife was only a few years old and hadn’t yet reached his twenties, so why did he have an “old problem”?

At this moment, Fu Yanhe recalled some information about his wife that he had seen earlier that afternoon. His heart grew heavier, and a sinking feeling settled in his chest.

He had been frail and sick since his teenage years and had even been in a car accident. Was it true that his wife had endured a lot of hardships and suffering over the years? So much so that now he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, as if getting sick wasn’t rare at all? He handled it with skill, as though it was something he had learned to manage over time.

In the end, Fu Yanhe didn’t have the driver take them to the hospital, choosing instead to follow Gu Wenning’s wishes.

The journey wasn’t far, and after a few minutes, the car stopped at the gate of the community.

Fu Yanhe got out first. As soon as he stepped out of the car, he walked around to the other side, opened the door, and bent down to lift Gu Wenning into his arms. His movements were so swift that Gu Wenning didn’t even have time to react. His strength was undeniable, and Gu Wenning’s struggle was futile.

Realizing that he was tightly restrained and unable to push Fu Yanhe away, Gu Wenning didn’t resort to anything as rude as punching or kicking. After all, it wasn’t the first time he had been carried like this. One more time or one less time didn’t make a difference, so he simply gave up, burying his face in Fu Yanhe’s chest like an ostrich. If any neighbours saw them, they probably wouldn’t even recognize him.

Fu Yanhe was secretly pleased when he felt his wife’s initial resistance give way to cooperation. He thought to himself that his wife was quite the contradictory person. He had said, “No, no, no, don’t hug me,” but he clearly seemed to enjoy it.

He, too, enjoyed it, getting to hold his wife like this.

He carried him into the bedroom, removed his shoes and socks, and gently placed him on the bed. Fu Yanhe’s gaze fell on Gu Wenning’s legs. He hesitated for a moment, then asked softly, “Honey, your legs… is it because of the car accident?”

Hearing this, Gu Wenning raised his eyelids and glanced at Fu Yanhe, his expression unreadable.

He wasn’t surprised that Fu Yanhe had found out about the car accident. It wasn’t a secret, after all, and a little digging would reveal the information. His grandfather had already looked into Fu Yanhe, so it was only natural for Fu Yanhe to investigate him as well. Even when marrying a stranger, one would want to know some basic information about the other person.

But what Fu Yanhe could discover was limited to the car accident. It would take more time to uncover everything else, and he couldn’t find out everything immediately.

Fu Yanhe didn’t seem to need a response from Gu Wenning and continued talking to himself, “Do your legs still hurt now? Do you need any medicine? Where do you keep the medicines at home? Tell me, and I’ll get them. Would a massage help?”

“I’ve already taken medicine,” Gu Wenning replied softly.

His cheeks were still pale, his hair damp with cold sweat, and a sickly expression lingered between his brows. He looked as fragile as a snow doll, one that could easily melt and disappear.

After removing his mask, the right half of his face was still slightly swollen, though not too obvious. Fu Yanhe’s expression darkened slightly when he noticed it.