Sheng Qiaoqiao thought she was hallucinating again.
I pinched my palm hard with my fingertips; it hurt.
She turned to look at Ouyang Jinghua, who was still in shock.
Ouyang Jinghua clutched her chest, her delicate phoenix eyes filled with surprise and emotion. The mother and daughter exchanged a glance, then looked together at the tall and imposing figure approaching.
The vast countryside was shrouded in twilight.
Behind him, the sunset in the west burned brightly and brilliantly, and he seemed to be walking towards her on auspicious seven-colored clouds, his whole body enveloped in a layer of radiance.
With a sore and constricted throat and teary eyes, Sheng Qiaoqiao took a step forward and ran towards him.
She had lost a lot of weight, and even her exquisite makeup couldn't hide her haggard appearance. Her long, slightly wavy hair was loose, and her white gauze dress fluttered in the wind.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she looked pitiful in the glow of the setting sun.
Fu Yanshen's Adam's apple bobbed, his chest ached, and he raised his arm to meet her.
The next instant, the woman's soft, cool, and slightly fragrant body crashed into his chest, and his waist was tightly embraced.
It is the real Fu Yanshen.
It was that familiar, hot, hard chest, exuding a strong masculine aura with a faint tobacco scent, radiating masculinity.
Sheng Qiaoqiao hugged him tightly, her fingers gripping his coat, and she burst into tears of joy.
Fu Yanshen held her tightly with heartache, and placed his other hand on her back. The touch was a little rough; she was too thin.
He knew that over the past year, she had relapsed into depression, suffered a mental breakdown, and attempted suicide twice…
Not far away, Ouyang Jinghua watched the two people embracing tightly in the twilight, her eyes filled with tears.
A question lingered in my mind: Could it be that the DNA comparison by the air crash investigation team has gone wrong again?
But then I thought it was unlikely.
Previously, Ye Hanlin held absolute power, even faking Qiao Qiao's death. Now, the one who holds absolute power is Ye Qizheng.
Ye Qizheng had contacted multiple organizations and conducted repeated investigations into Fu Yanshen's plane crash.
However, it was indeed Fu Yanshen.
Her precious daughter's lifeblood.
Ouyang Jinghua clasped her hands together, sincerely giving thanks in her heart, thanking Heaven for its mercy.
After cooperating with the local police to handle the robbery, they took a private plane overnight and rushed back to China.
Throughout the journey, Sheng Qiaoqiao never let Fu Yanshen out of her sight for a second; the two were inseparable, like shadows.
Several times she thought she was hallucinating, so she not only pinched herself but also let Fu Yanshen bite her.
Fu Yanshen bit her, biting her sensitive earlobe, and then turned her flushed face and kissed her deeply.
Nestled in his warm embrace, enveloped by his hot breath, and inhaling his scent, Sheng Qiaoqiao finally felt at ease.
"Since you're alive, where have you been for over a year? Why haven't you given me a single word?"
After calming down, she couldn't help but ask.
She didn't mean to blame him for making her suffer; she just wanted to know.
Furthermore, he must have had his reasons, otherwise he wouldn't have disappeared without a trace.
Fu Yanshen pressed the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his large hand cupping the back of her head, pulling her into his arms, his chin resting against her forehead.
“I used to be a member of an international organization, like an undercover agent. This time I was on a mission for the organization. The person who boarded the plane that day was my double... but then, things turned out differently.”
He spoke sincerely, but he was actually feeling guilty.
Sheng Qiaoqiao believed him without a doubt and didn't want to blame him anymore. She was extremely grateful that he was able to come back alive.
After a long while, she peeked out from his arms and carefully examined him.
He seemed a bit younger, with a very short buzz cut and stiff stubble. When I first saw him, his dashing appearance was no different from when I first met him.
She remembered something and deliberately touched his hair roots; there wasn't a single gray hair.
"Brother Fu, your hair is black again, or did you dye it?"
Fu Yanshen: "...I didn't get it."
Sheng Qiaoqiao was secretly pleased; it seemed that he hadn't suffered much in the past year and had lived a good life.
...
They returned to the capital at dawn.
At that moment, the sun rose, and the morning light bathed the villa courtyard.
In the garden, hundreds of flowers bloom in vibrant colors, and their home is full of life.
Their fingers were intertwined, and Sheng Qiaoqiao tilted her face to the side, gazing at him with loving eyes, a surge of heat rising in her chest.
She decorated their home and waited for more than a year before he, the male head of the household, finally returned.
Her hands tightened even more.
Fu Yanshen snapped out of his reverie, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. "It finally feels like home again... The morning dew is heavy, come inside quickly."
Just now, the consciousness of his past and present lives, two different time periods, went through his mind.
In his past life, in order to force her to divorce, he cruelly kicked her out of this family.
In this life, after she "passed away," he set fire to the house.
Now, their long-abandoned home is blooming with flowers once again.
...
The bathroom was filled with steam.
Under the shower, the man had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, with clear and smooth muscle lines, without an ounce of excess fat. The scars, large and small, on his back added a touch of wildness.
When Sheng Qiaoqiao handed him a towel, she froze when she saw the scars on his back.
She clearly remembered that during the two years she faked her death, all the scars on his body had been removed, so why did he come back?
She loved him so much that she remembered every single scar on his body, its location and appearance, as clearly as if they were photographs, stored in her mind.
However, the shrapnel wound above his left scapula is gone, as is the burn scar on his calf...
The remaining scars were left from when he worked as her bodyguard before she was reborn.
Fu Yanshen was puzzled; she had been inside for a while, so why hadn't she made a sound?
He suddenly turned around.
The man's tanned pectoral muscles came into her view, and at the same time, she noticed that he did not have the scar left from his heart transplant.
Seeing that she seemed lost in thought, Fu Yanshen raised an eyebrow, walked up to her, and teased her, "What are you looking at so intently?"
A roguish smile played on his lips, and his voice, tinged with lust, became hoarse.
Sheng Qiaoqiao snapped out of her daze and stared straight at him, as if trying to see into his soul.
But she was certain that he was her Fu Yanshen.
But something seems off...
Fu Yanshen stared at her, his dark eyes surging as if he wanted to devour her. He couldn't hold back, pinching her thin, pointed chin, about to kiss her two delicate red lips.
Sheng Qiaoqiao turned her face away. "Brother Fu, quickly dry yourself off so you don't catch a cold."
His kisses brushed against her cheeks, drawn by her unique fragrance. His nose moved down her skin, burying itself in her neck, and he kissed and inhaled her scent.
She couldn't resist. The mirror opposite reflected this scene; he looked like an addict addicted to drugs, unable to break free.
As before, I treated her as the antidote.
"Too small." The man's heavy breathing filled her sensitive ear, and his movements became increasingly rough.
Her legs went weak from his teasing, and she pressed her nose against his burning skin, teasing him in a sweet voice, "Of course it's small without your care."
Upon hearing this, Fu Yanshen felt as if something inside his body was about to explode.
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