Shen Lan had just braced herself to open the door when a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. “Mr. Xiao, Mr. Xiao, I was wrong! Please, spare me! I’ll never do it again. The money I took—I’ll pay it all back. I’m begging you, just let me go…” The sound was so harrowing that a shiver ran down Shen Lan’s spine. Gripping the railing, she peered down into the hall below. Two bodyguards in black suits were dragging a middle-aged man, also in a suit, toward the exit. The man's forehead was slick with blood, and he was wailing, tears streaming down his face. The bodyguards were deaf to his pleas, their faces impassive as they hauled him away like a sack of dead weight. Shen Lan’s blood ran cold. She realized she’d been fooled by the Xiao Cheng from last night, subconsciously thinking he was approachable, even having the nerve to throw money at him. Oh, right. She had also slapped him. Shen Lan sucked in a sharp breath. The memory of the man’s desperate state made her scalp tingle with fear. “Ms. Shen.” A smooth, gentle male voice drifted up from downstairs. Shen Lan looked down to see Liu Lin standing in the first-floor foyer, looking up at her with his signature smile. It was a little unsettling. “You’re up early, Ms. Shen. Did that man disturb you? Mr. Xiao has already had him dealt with. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Dealt with. How, exactly? Flashes of gruesome images flickered through Shen Lan’s mind, and her legs felt weak. Her old aversion to blood was kicking in. Shen Lan quickly shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts. “No, that’s alright. It’s almost time for breakfast. What would Mr. Xiao like to eat? I’ll go to the kitchen and prepare it for him.” “No need for anything special. Mr. Xiao usually doesn’t have much of an appetite in the morning, so something light will do. As for lunch and dinner, you can decide. He doesn't eat organ meats, but other than that, he isn't a picky eater.” Shen Lan nodded. Xiao Cheng was certainly easier to handle than Lu Yunfan. Lu Yunfan was an incredibly picky eater. No onions, ginger, or garlic. No spicy food. Nothing with a strong flavor like carrots or cilantro. If a meal wasn’t prepared exactly to his liking, he’d flip the entire table. As Shen Lan recalled the past four years of her life, a single conviction solidified in her mind. Wasting pity on a man was a one-way ticket to misery. When Liu Lin returned to the study on the second floor, he found Xiao Cheng leaning back in his chair, massaging his temples, his brow furrowed in pain. A jolt of alarm went through Liu Lin. “Mr. Xiao, is it the headache again?” He quickly fished a vial of pills from his pocket, his expression grave. “It used to happen only once every few days, but it’s becoming more frequent. We can't reach Mr. Zheng—they say he’s gone into the mountains to gather herbs—and the medicine he prescribed is almost gone. What are you going to do when it runs out?” Liu Lin took out a pill and handed it to Xiao Cheng with a glass of water. To his surprise, Xiao Cheng pushed it away. Liu Lin’s anxiety spiked. “Mr. Xiao, Mr. Zheng said you can’t just tough it out. Over time, it can cause nerve damage…” “Where is Shen Lan?” Xiao Cheng interrupted, his voice hoarse as he fought back the throbbing pain that hammered against his skull. “In the kitchen, making breakfast.” Liu Lin was bewildered. Shouldn’t he be taking his medicine for a headache? What did he want with Shen Lan right now? Xiao Cheng hadn't told him about what happened in the grotto. He wasn't entirely sure himself if it was just a coincidence, and this was the perfect chance to test his theory. Once he knew where she was, Xiao Cheng walked straight to the kitchen. Old Mrs. Xiao was a devout Buddhist and had gone to a temple for a retreat; she wouldn't be back for a week or two. Xiao Ren had been out all night and wasn’t home either. With Xiao Cheng as the only master of the house present, there were few staff in the kitchen preparing breakfast. When Xiao Cheng appeared at the kitchen entrance, the maids inside jumped in surprise. Just as they were about to greet him, Liu Lin made a hushing gesture and waved them out. Shen Lan was at a stove near the window at the far end of the kitchen, her attention focused on stirring the congee in the clay pot, completely unaware of his approach. When she felt the congee base was ready, she began adding the other ingredients, then turned to find a lid to let it simmer. But as she turned, she found someone standing right beside her. Tall and imposing, with devastatingly handsome features—who else could it be but Xiao Cheng? Shen Lan jumped, clutching at her racing heart. Was the man a cat? He didn't make a sound. Didn't he know you could scare a person to death? Even with a face like his, appearing out of nowhere was terrifying. She grumbled internally but kept her expression neutral, saying softly, “Mr. Xiao, the congee isn’t ready yet. If you could just wait a little longer…” Before she could finish, Xiao Cheng used his height to his advantage, leaning down and effortlessly enveloping her in his presence. A scent of bitter herbs mixed with a peculiar, warm sweetness filled his senses. Almost instantly, the sharp, splitting pain in his head subsided. He was sure of it now. It wasn't a coincidence. The scent that clung to Shen Lan could truly soothe his headaches. The situation was utterly baffling, yet it was undeniably real. Alarm bells went off in Xiao Cheng's mind, but his body greedily leaned closer, inhaling her scent. He felt himself relaxing, a sensation akin to an addiction; he knew there might be danger, but he couldn't help but surrender to it. Startled by his movement, Shen Lan tried to step back, but the moment she did, his hand shot out, gripping her waist and pulling her back. “Mr. Xiao…” Her voice was laced with panic. “I cook for you. That’s it!”