190: Chapter 190 One photo, and you're blackmailing me for life?

The landlady brought over two large iron bowls and placed them gently on the table.

The soup sloshed at the rim of the bowls, red oil churning, and the spicy scent went straight into their noses.

"Little Song, I added extra beef to your boyfriend's bowl. It's on me."

"Thank you, landlady." Jiang Fan accepted with a smile.

Song Siyi glared at him, wanting to explain, but after opening her mouth twice, she finally gave up.

It couldn't be explained clearly, and she couldn't be bothered to explain it anyway.

She picked up her chopsticks and began to eat in large mouthfuls.

Usually, when discussing with authors or meeting clients, she was well-mannered, but here, she completely let go.

There was a lot of chili, and after only a few bites, a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead.

Jiang Fan pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.

"Wipe your sweat. Your glasses are fogging up."

Song Siyi took the tissue and took off her glasses, placing them on the edge of the table.

Without the obstruction of her glasses, her features were clearer.

Her eyebrows and eyes were slender, her nose bridge straight, and because she was eating something spicy, her lips were very rosy, making her whole face look a bit more charming than usual, which was hidden behind the lenses.

Jiang Fan looked at her, and a translucent panel popped up in his mind without warning.

[Target: Song Siyi]

[Height: 170cm]

[Weight: 55kg]

[Appearance: 8.8 points]

[Compatibility: A]

Jiang Fan's hand holding the bowl paused for a moment.

It hadn't made a move after he stayed at the Orphanage for most of the day, yet it chose to pop up during this moment when they were alone.

This system really knows how to pick its moments.

Song Siyi wiped the corner of her mouth with a tissue, noticed his gaze, and looked up.

"What are you looking at?"

"You look quite good without your glasses."

Song Siyi put her glasses back on her nose bridge. "Stop spouting nonsense, eat your food."

Half an hour later, the two walked out of the alley.

As the night breeze blew, Song Siyi's pace slowed down.

She pressed one hand against her stomach, her brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Jiang Fan asked.

"My stomach feels a bit uncomfortable. I ate too quickly just now." She bent down and took a deep breath.

"I'll take you to the hospital."

"No need." Song Siyi waved her hand. "My place is just two streets ahead, I'll just go back and drink some hot water. It's an old ailment."

Jiang Fan looked at her. "An old ailment?"

"Long-term manuscript reading without eating on time, my stomach protested a long time ago." Song Siyi straightened up, forcing herself to walk forward. "Let's go."

Jiang Fan didn't ask again, drove her through two streets, and turned into an old residential compound.

There was no elevator, and the two climbed up four floors.

Song Siyi took out her keys to open the door, her fingers trembling slightly due to the stomach pain.

A two-bedroom, one-living room apartment; it wasn't big, but it was kept very clean.

Against the wall in the living room stood two large bookshelves, stuffed with various books, arranged neatly.

Jiang Fan went to the kitchen and poured a cup of warm water.

Song Siyi rummaged under the TV cabinet, found a bottle of stomach medicine, pressed out two pills, and swallowed them with the warm water.

"Does this happen often?" Jiang Fan looked at her.

"There are always a few times a month." Song Siyi placed the water cup on the coffee table. "It's worst during the manuscript rush period. When authors stop updating, I'm even more anxious than the readers, and I don't even have time to eat."

She took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair.

Underneath was a white tight-fitting knit sweater, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing a section of her forearm.

Jiang Fan stood up, walked to the water dispenser, filled another half cup of hot water, and brought it back to the sofa.

Song Siyi curled up in the corner of the sofa, her hand pressing on her stomach.

Jiang Fan sat down, placed the cup on the coffee table, reached out, and directly covered the back of the hand she was pressing against her stomach.

Song Siyi's hand flinched.

"What are you doing? Taking advantage of me again!"

"Don't move, I'll help warm it up for you." Jiang Fan's voice was low.

He moved her hand away, rubbed his own palms together, and placed them over it.

Through the knit sweater, his palms were a bit hot.

Song Siyi tensed up completely.

Jiang Fan's pressure was just right, rubbing in a clockwise motion.

"I'll help you rub it. Stomach cramps are slow to react to medicine alone." Jiang Fan didn't let go, his eyes fixed on her face.

Song Siyi turned her head away, not looking at him.

The living room was quiet, with only the second hand of the wall clock ticking.

The cramping in her stomach eased a lot after rubbing for a while, and her tense shoulders slowly relaxed.

"Feeling better?" Jiang Fan asked.

"Mm." Song Siyi turned back to look at Jiang Fan, and to ease the awkwardness, she took the initiative to change the subject.

"You're printing five million copies right off the bat. If they don't sell..."

She bit her lower lip, trying to be as tactful as possible.

"Jiang Fan, you don't understand the rules of the publishing industry. No matter how good the web novel data is, physical books are a different logic. I don't want you to stumble on your first book."

"You're still the same as when we were little." Jiang Fan looked at her. "You always want to shield me from everything."

Song Siyi's eyes felt a bit sore.

"But I'm not eight years old anymore." Jiang Fan's hand stopped, moved away from her stomach, and naturally grasped her wrist. "Sister Siyi."

This "Sister" made Song Siyi's heart skip a beat.

"For the physical books of journey to the west, five million is just to test the waters. Trust me."

Song Siyi looked at the face in front of her; his features had matured, and not a trace could be found of the little boy who used to follow behind her with a runny nose.

Her ears turned red instantly, and she pulled her hand back forcefully.

"Stop bragging. The medicine is kicking in, I need to rest for a while. You should go back."

Jiang Fan didn't listen to her, leaned his body forward, and closed the distance between them.

Song Siyi subconsciously leaned back, her back pressing against the cushion, with nowhere left to retreat.

"You... stop it." Her voice was tight.

Jiang Fan's gaze slid from her eyes to her nose bridge, and finally stopped on her lips.

Song Siyi's throat went dry; she had never been stared at like this by a man in her life.

Jiang Fan raised his hand, his fingers passing through the stray hairs by her ear, stopping at the nape of her neck.

The warmth of his palm transferred over.

Song Siyi closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

Jiang Fan lowered his head, leaning close to her ear.

"Sister Siyi, you said when you were little that you would be my bride when you grew up. Does that still count?"

Song Siyi opened her eyes abruptly.

"When did I ever say that!"

"When you were ten. You were carrying me to the hospital, and I asked while lying on your back. You promised me yourself."

Song Siyi's face was red enough to drip blood; that was a lie she had made up on the spot to coax a feverish Jiang Fan.

"I was just coaxing you!"

"I don't care. I remembered it."

Jiang Fan's lips brushed against her earlobe.

Song Siyi shuddered, her foot hitting an iron box under the coffee table.

With a clatter.

The iron box slid off the edge and fell onto the floor.

The contents spilled out, including an old photo album and some miscellaneous items.

Jiang Fan's movements stopped, and his gaze swept over.

Song Siyi followed his gaze.

The next second, her expression changed drastically, and she didn't even care about her stomach pain, springing up from the sofa and pouncing toward the iron box.

"Don't look!"

Jiang Fan's hand was faster than hers.

He stretched out his arm and fished out an old, laminated photograph from the pile of miscellaneous items.

The photo was quite old, its edges yellowed, and there was dust inside the lamination.

"Don't look at it." Song Siyi missed her grab and crashed directly into Jiang Fan's arms.

Jiang Fan wrapped one arm around her waist, steadying her, while holding up the photo with his other hand.

In the photo, a seven or eight-year-old boy, bare-bottomed, holding a quilt with a "map" drawn on it, was standing in the courtyard of the Orphanage crying loudly.

Standing next to him was a little girl with a ponytail, covering her mouth and laughing.

Jiang Fan stared at the photo, the original owner's memories surging up.

This was the "bedwetting photo" that Song Siyi had threatened him with on WeChat.

Not only was there a photo, but there was also writing on the back.

The handwriting was childish but very neat.

"May 4, 2002. Little Fan wet the bed again today. Mother Fang took a photo, and I secretly had one printed and hid it. When he grows up, I'm going to use this to blackmail him into buying me candied haws for a lifetime."

Jiang Fan looked at Song Siyi, who was dying of shame and anger in his arms.

"Sister Siyi."

Song Siyi buried her face in his chest, absolutely refusing to lift it up.

"You were planning to use this photo to blackmail me into buying you candied haws for a lifetime?"

Song Siyi shouted in a muffled voice: "Give me back the photo!"