NOVPUB
Chapter 72 - 72- the orphanage
But he insisted on going with her, so she gave up. She suddenly felt helpless with this man. She couldn't handle him when he was angry, nor when he was being a rogue. In short, he had her completely under control. He knew exactly how to exploit her weaknesses.
She walked into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, and he followed her in. Seeing that the shelf was empty, with none of his toiletries in sight, he angrily scolded her.
"It's all your fault! You threw out all my stuff! Now what? Am I supposed to skip brushing my teeth and shaving?"
She brushed her teeth with a satisfied smile, throwing back some sarcastic remarks.
"Didn't you pack any in your suitcase?"
"America is my home too! Everything I need is there. Why would I bring all this stuff with me?"
He frowned as he spoke. She rolled her eyes at him. If that's the case, then why did he bring so many clothes with him?
In the end, both of them wore big face masks as they went out. She wore hers to avoid being recognized, while he wore his because he hadn't shaved and didn't want to ruin his image.
It had been snowing for the past few days, and the streets were covered in a blanket of white. She was wearing a thick down jacket but still shivered with cold. When she glanced at the man beside her, only wearing a wool coat, she suddenly felt even colder.
They hadn't walked far when he reached out to hold her hand. Her face turned red, and she quickly tucked her hands into her pockets to avoid him. Just as she was looking down, watching snow accumulate on the tips of her shoes, two arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind, and a warm chest pressed against her back.
She struggled briefly, but it was futile. She gave up and let him hold her as they walked.
She'd never been held like this while walking, and she felt so stiff she could barely move. It was as if he was pushing her forward from behind.
To break the awkwardness, she tried to start a conversation, asking, "What do you want to eat?"
However, his answer didn't ease her discomfort. If anything, it made her want to bite off her own tongue. He leaned close to her ear, and in a provocative tone, he said he wanted to eat her!
At the supermarket.
Even though he wore a big face mask, his tall stature, outstanding demeanor, and the charm in his every move still attracted the attention and squeals of many women. She pulled her knit hat down further, trying to cover all but her eyes.
She hurried ahead, pushing the shopping cart, making a conscious effort to distance herself from him. He strolled leisurely, occasionally grabbing something from the shelves to glance at it, completely carefree, but always keeping a distance of two or three steps from her.
Her shampoo and body wash were both out at home, so when she passed those sections, she couldn't help but stop and carefully choose what to buy.
He looked at the items she was picking out with a face full of disdain.
"Can this shampoo even be used? If I use it, will I get dandruff?"
She shot him a glare at his short hair.
"Mr. Wilson, Head & Shoulders is specialized for dandruff. Don't worry, even if you don't have it now, it'll clean you right up!"
He then grabbed the bottle of body wash she was about to pick, opened the cap, and sniffed it. His brows furrowed tightly.
"Can this body wash even be used? It smells terrible."
She was speechless. To be considerate of Wilson's preferences, she had already picked the most expensive one in the store. What more did he want? Should she buy him Chanel? She might as well give him her life!
She decided to ignore him, pushing the cart and turning away. He, though filled with complaints, couldn't do anything. When they passed the cosmetics counter, she casually grabbed a bottle of Dabao and tossed it into the cart.
He gasped beside her.
"Cynthia, you don't actually use this kind of skincare, do you?"
Heavens! Was she even a woman? The women he knew all used luxury brands to keep their skin looking perfect. Didn't she know that a woman's face was her calling card?
She nonchalantly responded.
"Why should I use it? I bought it for you!"
"What?"
He yelled, attracting the attention of the people around them. He grabbed the bottle of Dabao and, lowering his voice, angrily said to her,
"Cynthia, are you doing this on purpose?"
"A man doesn't need any skincare products—just use Dabao to rub it on, and that's enough!" she replied lazily, with a smile, as she pushed the cart past him. She was wrapped up so tightly, only her bright, sparkling eyes visible, like a mischievous, cute little sprite.
Actually, during the days he stayed at her place, she had seen the skincare products he used—only high-end brands. That bottle of Dabao was just to tease him.
Albert Wilson ground his teeth, placed the bottle of Dabao back on the shelf, and quickly followed her.
After they finished shopping, they headed towards the food section. It seemed like it was Albert Wilson's first time browsing a supermarket that sold everyday necessities; usually, he only frequented luxury brand counters, and Marc and the others took care of all those mundane tasks for him.
In winter, supermarkets always set up hot pot ingredient sections. As they walked by, Cynthia's eyes landed on a shelf with labels of various fish balls, and there was one marked "cuttlefish balls." She couldn't help but associate it with him—uh... smooth, delicious, and tasty cuttlefish balls.
A thought popped into her head, and she smiled, suggesting,
"How about we have hot pot?"
In such cold weather, a steaming hot pot was perfect—simple, atmospheric, and just right.
He frowned, saying,
"What's so good about hot pot?"
Though his mouth said that, his hands were already starting to pick out ingredients.
The first thing Cynthia did was grab a large bag of cuttlefish balls. He looked at her suspiciously.
"You like these?"
"Yeah, cuttlefish balls! They're so delicious—smooth, tasty... hehe!"
She smiled, and no matter how he looked at her, her expression seemed a bit sly. But he couldn't figure out what was wrong, and little did he know, his cool, sophisticated name had been turned into a playful nickname—"cuttlefish balls."
Once they got home, they had a delicious, steaming hot pot. Both of them were so full they could hardly move. Thinking about how she had been the one doing all the work—cooking, lighting the stove, adding ingredients—while taking care of him like he was an old man, Cynthia felt a little irritated.
"Mr. Wilson, now that you're full, don't you think it's time to do some work?"
She gestured toward the pile of leftovers. Judging by his clumsy hands, she knew he was clueless in the kitchen, but surely he could at least wash some dishes.
To her surprise, he obediently took the plate to the kitchen. She felt a little pleased with herself. But not long after, a loud crash made her jump up from the sofa and rush into the kitchen. A plate was lying on the floor, shattered into pieces. She was speechless.
Albert Wilson looked at her with an apologetic face. He really wanted to help her, but when it came to these things, he was completely hopeless. And this was the result.
"Can't even wash a dish without breaking a plate? What else can he do?" Cynthia thought, but now she didn't dare to ask him for help anymore. She pushed him out of the kitchen and cleaned up the mess by herself.
Once she finished cleaning, she found him sitting in the bedroom, surfing the internet. She felt a little uneasy, worrying about the children at the orphanage. Normally, she would be there with them, making dumplings. She wondered how they were doing today.
After much internal struggle, she finally decided to go check on them. She told herself she would go out, and he probably wouldn't follow her this time. Standing in front of the bedroom door, she hesitated for a long while before pushing it open.
He was sitting at the computer desk by the window, focused and serious. He seemed to be working, typing quickly on the keyboard with his long fingers.
She cautiously peeked inside and said,
"Albert Wilson, I'm going out for a bit."
His gaze stayed locked on the emails on the screen, and without turning his head, he casually asked,
"Going to the orphanage?"
Cynthia's eyes widened in shock, and she froze there, gripping the doorframe. Her legs went weak, and her entire body went cold with sweat.
He... he... how did he know she had something to do with the orphanage? Did this man know everything? But did he know about her other identity as a doctor?
