Chapter 4: The Mother-in-Law's Comfort

As Chu Fan stepped into the second-floor study, he walked over to the sofa in front of the desk and was just about to sit down when a flat, emotionless voice came from behind him:

“Where do you think you’re sitting?”

Chu Fan froze. Looking up, he saw a man with an expressionless face lifting a hand to point at the hard little wooden stool in front of the desk, his tone cold and uncompromising.

For a moment, Chu Fan was at a loss for words. He stood there and didn’t move, thinking privately, This setup... is this an interrogation or what?

But he still didn’t hesitate for long. After a moment’s thought, he silently walked over and sat on the old wooden stool.

The bench was narrow, hard, and cold, without even a backrest. He straightened his spine and, for a moment, sat more properly than he ever had back in his old days at the criminal investigation unit.

“Zhiyao drove to pick you up today. I don’t want this kind of thing happening again in the future.”

The man folded his hands on the desk and stared heavily at Chu Fan, his voice carrying unmistakable authority and no room for argument.

This was his father-in-law, the municipal Party secretary of Yunzhou City, Song Chenglan.

Sure enough, the man had an imposing presence that hit like a wall.

Chu Fan pressed his lips together and said nothing.

After all, this man had, in a roundabout way, “given” him a cool, restrained wife. He could at least swallow that much for now.

The room fell into silence.

After a moment, Song Chenglan spoke again. His tone had softened a little, though it was still calm and stern:

“How’s the studying going?”

“Studying?” Chu Fan blinked. “What studying?”

As soon as the words were out, Song Chenglan’s expression darkened visibly, and a trace of impatience entered his eyes.

“The review materials for your civil service exam.”

“You think because I’m your father-in-law I can just let you stroll into the system? Let me tell you, if you can’t pass the written exam, nobody can protect you!”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was severe.

Only then did Chu Fan realize that this cheap father-in-law of his had genuinely put some thought into this, planning to move him up from auxiliary staff and get him formally transferred into the traffic police system.

But the prerequisite was simple: he had to pass the written exam on his own.

“I-I’ve been... looking at it.”

Chu Fan didn’t know how else to answer, so he could only force out a perfunctory reply.

“Fine. I’ll test you then.”

Song Chenglan casually picked up a book from the desk, his tone flat.

The moment Chu Fan heard that, his face almost stiffened.

No way... he was really playing this straight?

Testing him? Right now?

His heart lurched. He almost blurted out, I haven’t even flipped through the cover, and now you want to quiz me on the spot? What am I supposed to answer?

His mind went blank, but cold sweat still burst across his skin.

He glanced at the father-in-law beside him, as icy as a mountain of snow, and couldn’t help thinking, My wife’s cold face probably comes straight from this cheap old man!

Of course, same mold, same family! Afraid of upsetting this ill-tempered old father-in-law, Chu Fan hurried to salvage the situation:

“I’ve been a bit busy these last few days... I haven’t read much.”

“Haven’t read much and haven’t read at all are two different things.”

Song Chenglan spoke lightly as he flipped open the book in his hand, lowered his head to glance at it, then lifted his eyes and asked, “Simple one. When the red light is on, under what circumstances can a motor vehicle proceed?”

“...”

Chu Fan’s mind went blank in an instant.

Seriously? He was doing pop quizzes now?

His head was full of crime scenes, interrogation rooms, and homicide reconstructions... and then this was what he had to answer?

He had learned it before, of course, but that was years ago. He’d long since given it all back to his teachers.

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t squeeze out a complete sentence.

Seeing him unable to answer for so long, Song Chenglan’s brows furrowed deeper and his gaze turned colder.

“That’s the first question on the first page of this book.”

“And you’re looking at it like this... have you even turned a page?”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a frigid pressure, as if he were interrogating a subordinate, with not the slightest regard for Chu Fan’s dignity.

Chu Fan’s chest tightened. He didn’t even have the energy to smile bitterly.

Was this really a father-in-law?

This was clearly a three-way pincer attack from a superior, an examiner, and a father-in-law all at once.

“I-I’ll start studying tomorrow!”

Chu Fan’s expression had gone a little stiff. He hurriedly tried to recover, his tone awkward and lacking conviction.

“No need.”

Song Chenglan’s face darkened. With a sudden smack, he slapped the book down hard on the desk, stood up with a stern expression, strode to the door in a few quick steps, yanked the study door open, then slammed it shut again with force before tossing out a cold line:

“Dead mud can’t be used to prop up a wall.”

After that, he went off alone toward the balcony.

Standing there with a rigid back, he pulled out a cigarette case, lit one with practiced ease, and took a deep drag. The smoke he exhaled slowly dispersed into the night.

Hearing the noise from the study, Song Zhiyao immediately walked over quickly.

She stood at the doorway, gave Chu Fan a frosty look, and said in a voice without the slightest warmth, “This book was something my dad specially had someone get for you. It’s been almost half a month and you haven’t even turned a single page. What exactly are you thinking?”

Chu Fan opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.

The air seemed to freeze. He could feel the fire being held down in her voice.

“I’m asking you a question. Have you gone mute?”

Song Zhiyao’s voice dropped another notch. Her brows were tightly knit, her arms folded across her chest, the sharp, commanding aura of a female officer fully unleashed, pressing down on Chu Fan until even his breathing caught.

He truly didn’t know how to explain himself. What, was he supposed to say that her husband wasn’t really her husband, but a detective reborn from the dead?

If he said that out loud, wouldn’t they drag him off for a psychiatric evaluation on the spot?

Just as the atmosphere tightened to a breaking point, a gentle voice came from the far end of the corridor:

“What’s going on? Why are you talking so loudly?”

Shen Rulan came over. Her gaze first swept across Chu Fan’s stiff, frozen face, then landed on Song Zhiyao’s cold, hard expression. Though her tone was gentle, it still carried a reproach that left no room for argument:

“Xiaofan just got home from work. And you’re already pushing him like this? Books aren’t going to grow wings and fly away.”

As she spoke, she walked up slowly and stood beside Chu Fan. Her tone shifted as she smiled softly:

“Don’t take it to heart. His dad’s always been that kind of stubborn man, ever since he was young. Stiff as a board, and he never listens to anybody.”

When she finished, she casually took Chu Fan’s wrist as if to lead him away, but her fingertips slid lightly across his skin, carrying a delicate, lingering warmth.

Chu Fan froze, his throat bobbing once.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Song Zhiyao’s brows knot even tighter, while the corner of her mouth nevertheless lifted in a faint smile.

Shen Rulan turned sideways to shield him and smiled gently. “Come on, let’s go downstairs and have some hot tea. Your dad should calm down after a bit of smoking.”

...

The living room was softly lit, and steam was still rising from the kettle on the coffee table.

Shen Rulan gently released Chu Fan’s hand, poured him a cup of hot tea, and set it by his side.

“What your dad said was a little harsh.”

She sat down, her voice mild. “But that’s just how he is. Sharp tongue, soft heart.”

She didn’t sit up straight. Instead, she leaned naturally against one side of the sofa, crossed her legs lightly, and let the smoky purple silk gown slide down along the root of her thigh, clinging tightly to the bend of her legs and outlining the soft, rounded line from calf to the hollow behind her knee.

Chu Fan lowered his head to take the tea, and just happened to catch sight of the hem riding a little high, with a pale strip of skin peeking quietly from the inner seam of the dress. He could even see the contours left by the silk clinging to her flesh.

He quickly lowered his head and answered in a low voice, “I’m not taking it to heart.”

“You’ve suffered a lot these past few years,”

Shen Rulan went on slowly, “If it were some other man, he would’ve already thrown in the towel and walked away.”

“Zhiyao doesn’t say it out loud, but in her heart, she does accept you.”

As she turned to look at him while speaking, the fabric across her chest tightened into a slight curve. The thin silk wrapped around the shape of her breasts, the weave pulling taut, with the lace edge inside faintly visible. Her full, soft mounds rose and fell slowly with her breathing, voluptuous and high, their outline so full it looked as if they might stand out on their own.

Chu Fan’s eyes flickered. The tea in his hands only felt hotter and hotter, as if even his palms were breaking out in a fine sweat.

Seeing that he still didn’t speak, Shen Rulan smiled and reached out to pat his knee lightly. “Don’t worry. With me here, I won’t let you suffer any losses.”

Her hand landed just on the inner side of his knee. Through the fabric, it was warm and soft, and with a slight movement of her fingertips, it almost brushed the nerves at the root of his thigh.

Chu Fan’s breathing tightened, and he straightened his back at once.

Yet she seemed not to notice. As she rose to pour some water, her body leaned forward and the hem of her dress clung tightly to her hips. The full, round curve of her snow-white backside filled the silk completely, and even the outline where her panties cut in was clearly visible, swaying before his eyes with a slight tremble.

“Home isn’t the office, and it isn’t an interrogation room.”

She spoke with her back to him, her tone gentle. “Under someone else’s roof, bowing your head once in a while isn’t shameful.”

Chu Fan stared at her back, and a ball of fire seemed to lodge in his chest.

Shen Rulan finished pouring the water, turned around, and set the teacup in front of Chu Fan. She didn’t sit back down right away. Instead, she slowly took a seat beside him and leaned forward slightly.

“I know you weren’t from this circle before,”

she said softly, the scent of tea mingling with the faint fragrance of her body, drifting lightly into Chu Fan’s nose,

“Civil service sounds respectable, but there are more rules than you can count.”

As she spoke, she leaned forward a little more, and that smoky purple silk gown slipped lower along her body. Across her chest, the fabric loosened into a small triangular gap, the shape of her breasts pressing clearly underneath. One edge of a pale pink areola was already caught by the neckline, almost ready to spill free.

Chu Fan sat perfectly straight, his face trying hard to remain calm, but the tips of his ears had already gone slightly red, and he didn’t dare let his eyes fall downward.

“How about this—”

Shen Rulan suddenly raised a hand and adjusted the crooked collar at his chest. Her voice lowered, but her tone remained soft. “If you really don’t know how to study, Mom can pull some strings and find someone to teach you.”

Chu Fan was just about to answer when he heard a soft click. Shen Rulan bent down and reached under the coffee table for a folder full of materials.

In that instant, her entire upper body dipped down. Her waist bent deeply, her chest fell fully forward, and the silk neckline slid with it. Those white, full breasts pressed directly against the edge of the table, the soft flesh deformed under the pressure, the cleavage sinking deep into shadow. Even the peaks of her nipples were clearly outlined by the tightly clinging fabric, and they trembled lightly.

Chu Fan stiffened even more, and even his breathing began to lose its rhythm.

As if she hadn’t noticed, she handed the materials to him and said very calmly, “This is the set of key questions your dad had someone compile. Don’t let him waste that effort.”

“Thank you...” Chu Fan’s voice came out a little dry.

Shen Rulan looked at him, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. Then, as if she’d just remembered something, she stood up and swayed on her feet. Her whole body tilted, and her soft frame nearly fell into his arms.

The silk dress clung to her rounded hips, the entire hem riding up an inch. The line where her panties cut into the back of her body was clearly visible, like an alluring curve under the light. Even the groove between her buttocks was tightly wrapped and gently shaking as her body moved.

“Oh dear...”

She steadied herself with a light hand on his shoulder, while the other hand was still resting on his knee. Lowering her head, she smiled, “Mom’s getting old, and I actually slipped. How embarrassing.”

Chu Fan’s back went tight, and he almost didn’t dare move.

But Shen Rulan’s hand still hadn’t left his knee. Her warm, smooth palm pressed against the inside of his pant leg, and even through the fabric he could feel that searing heat.

Shen Rulan let out a soft breath, as if she hadn’t noticed how tense he was at all, and her voice stayed as gentle as ever:

“Xiaofan, you need to spend more time with Zhiyao. She had a hard childhood, and it wasn’t easy for her to make it this far.”

“She doesn’t know how to act cute, and she doesn’t like asking people for help. For her to take the initiative to pick you up was already difficult enough.”

As she said that, she suddenly withdrew her hand and looked up at him, her eyes warm and calm but carrying an almost imperceptible trace of scrutiny:

“She doesn’t know how to coax people... so if you’re really feeling stifled, don’t just keep it bottled up like a mute gourd.”

Her tone was still like water, with no heat in it at all. Then she casually lowered her head and straightened the hem of her dress that had slipped out of place.

Beneath that gap in the skirt, a pale white edge of underwear slid past the root of her thigh. For only a brief instant, Chu Fan felt a booming shock in his head.

She lowered her head and patted her own knee as if she were merely adjusting her sitting posture, as though she hadn’t noticed that flash of exposure.

“All right,”

she said with a smile as she stood up, “Aunt Qin’s finished making dinner. Let’s go eat!”

After saying that, she turned and walked toward the dining room. The long silk dress swayed against her hips, and with every step it rippled like water. Beneath those supple, taut curves, the line the tight fabric carved out flickered under the light with each sway.

Chu Fan held the cup of tea, now long since cold, his knuckles pale and white, and for a long time he didn’t move.