Mr. Song, you have crossed the line.

"Who are you?"

"You... ah..."

The man was kicked aside by the person who came in, letting out a miserable howl.

Rong Zheng felt the man who had restrained her legs suddenly disappear. She opened her eyes and saw the man crash to the ground with a thud. Through her teary vision, she saw Song Shiyan's tall figure. He seemed to be a god descending from the heavens. After kicking one man away, he punched the nose of the man who was holding her hands down.

The sound of bones breaking seemed to echo in the air. The man was sent flying to the ground by a punch, howling in pain as blood streamed from his nose.

When Song Shiyan saw Rong Zheng's pitiful and broken appearance on the table, all the restraint in his eyes collapsed, leaving only deep affection and heartache. He quickly took off his black shirt and covered Rong Zheng with it, his voice low and self-reproachful, "I'm sorry I'm late."

Everything happened so suddenly that Rong Zheng was stunned for a moment, almost unable to believe it was real. She cautiously and expectantly whispered, "Song Shiyan?"

"Yes, it's me."

Upon receiving confirmation, Rong Zheng, like a drowning person grabbing onto a piece of driftwood that suddenly fell from the sky, got up from the table and hugged Song Shiyan tightly, trembling all over and sobbing softly.

It's like someone who has been bullied and silently endured all the humiliation and tears, suddenly seeing someone who can support her and protect her. All the strength she has been holding onto crumbles in that moment, and all her vulnerability and grievances surge out, releasing the sobs that have been suppressed in her heart.

Song Shiyan stiffened for a moment, then hugged Rong Zheng tightly, gently stroking her back with his large hands. The usually calm man's eyes were now filled with lingering fear and tenderness.

Fang Zheng, who followed later, stopped abruptly when he saw the scene inside the house where the eldest brother was shirtless and embracing Rong Zheng.

Song Shiyan turned to look at Fang Zheng, who was standing frozen at the door, and said, "Come in."

Fang Zheng immediately looked away and strode into the house. "President Lu will be here shortly."

"Find out who's behind this before handing the man over to Lu Peichuan." As Song Shiyan spoke, his cold and murderous gaze swept over the groins of the two men on the ground.

Fang Zheng understood instantly, "Okay."

Song Shiyan gestured towards the camera filming in their direction, "It's been dealt with."

Fang Zheng: "Okay."

Song Shiyan picked up Rong Zheng from the table and quickly left the room, went downstairs, and came to the outdoor area, where he ran into Lu Peichuan, who was rushing over after getting out of the car.

Lu Peichuan stared blankly for a moment as he looked at Song Shiyan, who was usually indifferent to women, shirtless and holding Rong Zheng, with his black shirt covering Rong Zheng. The next moment, he quickly walked over, naturally extended his hand, and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Big brother, let me do it."

Song Shiyan tightened his grip on Rong Zheng slightly, his eyes calm as he looked at Lu Peichuan. "No need."

Lu Peichuan was clearly surprised that Song Shiyan would refuse. A look of surprise flashed across his eyes as he looked at him with a probing gaze.

Song Shiyan also looked at Lu Peichuan, showing no intention of backing down.

The two locked eyes, and something seemed to be vying for dominance in the air.

Fang Zheng arrived after finishing the task Song Shiyan had given him, interrupting the delicate atmosphere between the two. "President Lu, the thugs upstairs who were bullying Miss Rong are now in your care."

Lu Peichuan continued to look at Song Shiyan without making a move.

Fang Zheng glanced back and forth between the two, vaguely guessing what they were arguing about. "President Lu, someone needs to clean up this mess. Miss Rong has been greatly frightened and shouldn't be disturbed further. Mr. Song and I will take her to the hospital first."

Upon hearing this, Lu Peichuan turned his gaze to Rong Zheng in Song Shiyan's arms and gently called out, "Zheng Zheng."

Rong Zheng was still reeling from the near-death experience and had an instinctive psychological dependence on Song Shiyan, who had suddenly appeared to save her. Upon hearing the sounds from the outside world, she subconsciously snuggled closer to Song Shiyan.

Song Shiyan felt the woman's movements in his arms, and was slightly taken aback at first, then a fleeting look of emotion at being needed flashed in his eyes.

"President Lu?" Fang Zheng called out.

Lu Peichuan was surprised by Rong Zheng's reaction. His eyes were filled with disappointment as he turned away.

Song Shiyan carried Rong Zheng and strode toward the car not far away.

Fang Zheng went over first and opened the back door.

Song Shiyan carried Rong Zheng into the car.

Fang Zheng started the car and drove away.

inside the car.

Rong Zheng slowly recovered from the shock and realized that she was being held on Song Shiyan's lap, with her tightly hugging his waist and leaning against him.

Her face was pressed against his firm chest, the man's strong heartbeat was ringing in her ears, and her palms were against his tight, slender waist without an ounce of fat. All of this told her: Song Shiyan was not wearing a shirt!

His face flushed bright red, almost like it was about to explode.

The image of Song Shiyan taking off his shirt and covering her with it flashed through her mind.

So his clothes...

She lowered her eyes and, sure enough, saw the man's finely crafted shirt wrapped around her body.

She couldn't return the clothes to him; they had been torn to shreds by that man, leaving her tattered and unfit for public display.

If she pushed him away, she would have to face their current awkward situation: him shirtless and her disheveled state. Just thinking about the scene made her want to disappear into the ground.

But I can't push him away...

Are we just going to keep holding each other like this?

Such a relationship between the two is truly improper.

My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. My body, which had been tense during the violent struggle and the close call, felt weak all over after relaxing. There were also burning pains in many parts of my body, probably from the scrapes I got while struggling. I hadn't felt anything before, but now I just felt uncomfortable all over.

I'm so tired, both physically and mentally exhausted.

Rong Zheng's eyelids closed slowly without her noticing. Lost in thought, she was dragged into a dream by exhaustion. When she woke up again, she was in the hospital.

"You're awake. Is there anything else that's bothering you?"

A deep, clear voice sounded beside him.

Rong Zheng turned her head and saw Song Shiyan sitting on the edge of the bed. The image of Song Shiyan suddenly appearing at the critical moment flashed through her mind, as well as the image of her holding him without a shirt on in the car and leaning against him.

Those scenes seemed unreal, like a dream.

When she was in danger, she was panicked and helpless, and passively accepted everything that happened. In the car, she was actually a little dazed, otherwise she wouldn't have fallen asleep even though she knew her behavior was inappropriate.

Only at this moment did she fully regain consciousness.

Thinking of something, she immediately lifted the blanket to check and saw that she was wearing a perfectly intact hospital gown. She breathed a sigh of relief. The next moment, she looked at Song Shiyan, who was wearing a black shirt with the buttons fastened to the top, reverting to his previous abstinent and serious demeanor.

Wasn't that shirt he was wearing wrapped around her before?

He's wearing it close to his skin now...

Rong Zheng felt inexplicably hot all over.

Seeing that Rong Zheng's expression was a little off, Song Shiyan immediately stood up and said, "I'll go call the doctor."

Rong Zheng quickly grabbed Song Shiyan, "No need, I'm fine."

Song Shiyan lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on Rong Zheng's hand that was holding his.