Fiona didn’t know how she got out of his embrace, and if she’d even blushed or struggled. She only knew that when she finally composed herself, she stood by the basin in the bathroom, about to wash her hands.

As she breathed in, Spencer’s smell, a somehow comforting mix of rain and smoke seemed to linger.

Along with the unmistakable tension that filled the room was a sweet, if not subtle tenderness. And yet, it was horrible for a man and a woman to be alone together. Fiona resolved to not come here next week.

Fiona took a deep breath as she felt her face flush. As she walked silently out of the bathroom, she heard a contented sigh from the living room. She found Spencer in an unorthodox position.

He lay down on the sofa, but was too tall that one of his legs dangled out and rested against the floor instead. Despite this, he slept soundly.

He’d fallen asleep in just a few minutes. He must be exhausted.

Fiona quietly approached him and took notice of his slight frown and undisguised fatigue. She wondered if she should wake him up.

"What are you looking at? Do you think I’m handsome?" As he spoke in a hoarse voice, Spencer opened his eyes.

Fiona, startled, stepped back in surprise. "You weren’t asleep?"

"I was." He sat. "I woke up when I heard your footsteps." He always stayed alert.

Fiona was a little embarrassed. She noted to herself that keeping any kind of secret from him in the future would be unwise.

"Breakfast is served. Do you want to have some first?" she asked after a pause.

"Yes." Spencer smiled at her.

"Then have some breakfast, take a shower and go to bed. You’ll feel more comfortable."

She stared back with confusion as she saw Spencer's burning eyes boring into her. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you think you're a bit too chatty?"

"I..." Fiona opened her mouth, but closed it again before saying anything. She turned around and walked to the table. "It's time for breakfast."

Spencer looked back at her as she did so, and put a hand in his pocket. ‘Fiona, don't you think you look like a wife who was waiting for her husband to come home?’ he thought.

"We’ll go back downtown first thing tomorrow morning," he said in between eating.

"Okay." Fiona nodded. "By the way, I don't need to come here next week, right?"

He stopped eating. "No, you don't," he replied.

'Great!'

Fiona smiled.

"Hide your smile a little, won’t you?" Spencer stared at the food in front him, not even daring to cast a glance.

The smile on her face disappeared. "I'm happy. Aren't you happy? You don't have to see me. You should be happy. At least now, no one is going to interrupt your training or lurk around."

"Yes, I am happy," he murmured, paused for a second, and stood up. "I'm full. I'm going to take a shower."

"Wait a minute!" Fiona stopped him. "Does this mean I can go back and sleep in my room now?"

"We’ll be leaving tomorrow. Won’t it be me more troublesome for you?" He frowned.

"I haven't hung up the curtain yet. You know, I wonder how I can sleep at night like that."

"Women are trouble." He glanced at her impatiently and then strode towards her bedroom.

She stared at his back for a few seconds before realizing what he was doing. She quickly pushed the door open and found him stepping on the chair, curtain on hand.

"Be careful!" Fiona shouted.

"Do you think everyone is as clumsy as you?" Due to his stature, he was able to easily draw the curtain. "This is the first time I’ve done this, Fiona."

"Thank you very much, Spencer."

"Thank me more sincerely." He jumped off the chair and drew the curtain to make sure that it wouldn’t fall down again. In a sarcastic tone, he remarked, "How hard did you pull the curtain down? Seems like you bore a grudge against it!"

"I don't know."

"I hope you’re aware that you are nothing but trouble." Spencer turned around and walked out of the room silently. "I'm going to shower.

Don't peep at me." Fiona didn't know how to retort. ‘How can a 26-year-old man be so childish?’

After showering, Spencer felt a burning pain on his left shoulder. He looked in the mirror and saw a large scratch on his back. He had gotten injured but didn’t bandage the wound. As such, the gash began to sting as water ran along.

Fiona drew the pictures, having forgotten that Spencer was still there.

Bang!

A loud noise echoed across the living room. Fiona’s eyes widened with shock, and she ran out with her sketchpad to check. "What’s wrong?"

She saw Spencer standing in front of the mirror as he held a cotton stick and clumsily wiped the blood on his back.

Beside his feet was a stool that had been kicked over and a medicine box whose contents were scattered all over the floor.

"What are you doing? Wouldn’t you rather go the infirmary so they could treat your wound properly?" Fiona asked in a disapproving tone.

"It's none of your business," he snapped at her. He felt her eyes

pierce through him, as if she was looking down upon him like an idiot.

She glanced at his wound again, frowned, and walked back.

"Fuck you! Come back here!" Spencer kicked the medicine box. He turned around and stared at Fiona. "Apply some medicine on it."

"No, I won't." Fiona clenched her fists. She didn't want to touch him.

His eyes grew stormier as he strode towards Fiona, who noticed him and hurried back.

"Are you trying to escape?" With a sneer, Spencer quickly caught up with her, grabbed her thin arms, and threw her mercilessly on the sofa.

Her sketchpad fell onto the floor. She stared at him. "What do you think you’re doing?"

He smiled and started to move closer to her. He propped his hands on each side of her head. He stared at her more intently, and in a slow voice, he murmured, "I will kiss you if you don’t apply the ointment for me."

"Are you crazy?" Fiona stuttered in disbelief.

"You made me do this." Spencer pursed his lips.

"I hope to never see you again." Fiona turned her head away. "Get out of my way. I'll put some ointment on your wound."

"Somehow, I suddenly don’t want to." He drew closer to her, still smiling. "You seem to hate my being close to you."

"I’m glad you realize that."

"You shouldn’t be!" He sighed deeply. "You had just thrown yourself on me and kissed me, and now this?"

Fiona's face turned red. "That was an accident!"

"Was that your first kiss?" He asked the question as if he already knew the answer.

"That does not count as kissing!" she stammered.

"Really? Then what does?" He went even closer, almost grazing his lips against hers. Fiona could feel his gentle breath on her skin. She knew what he was trying to do, but she couldn’t stop the sweet smell suddenly infiltrate her senses.

"Stay back!" Fiona shouted, pushing him away with her eyes closed. "I told you to get out of my way!"

Spencer stopped abruptly in his tracks as he felt their skins touch. As he looked at every inch of Fiona’s frustrated expression, he wanted to teach her what a kiss was.

"Spencer, don't kiss any other woman! You can kiss only me for the rest of your life!"

"Okay."

As he was about to kiss Fiona, a scene suddenly popped into his head.

It was startling enough that his eyes widened and he pulled back instantly.

Fiona squirmed as she continued to shut her eyes. She didn't know what to do, but then she felt the pressure in front of her suddenly lift. She opened her eyes.

Spencer stood up straight and said sarcastically, "Did you really think I was going to kiss you? Apply the medicine for me."

"Phew!" Fiona’s whole body, which had been rigid and tense just a moment ago, suddenly relaxed. She knew that he was just intimidating her.

Spencer sat on the chair as she walked up behind him. As she bore her eyes on his wounded back, her fingers trembled.

"Hurry up! I'm going to bed!" he said.

"Yes, of course," Fiona replied and immediately started to apply the ointment.

It hurt a little when the medicine touched the wound, but it was nothing to Spencer.

"You have so many scars," Fiona murmured as she traced them with her gaze, one by one.

"They’re a symbol. For men, that is." She could hear a trace of disdain in his voice. "Unlike women who wish for a scar treatment from the most insignificant mosquito bite."

Fiona stopped abruptly as she felt like a thousand ants bit into the scars on her back.

Suddenly, she saw Spencer pick up her sketchpad.

"Don't touch that!" Hurriedly coming back to her senses, Fiona stretched out her hand and tried to reach for it.

"Apply the medicine!" Lifting the sketchpad away from her, he said, "I might tear this apart if it causes that much distraction."

Fiona scowled but said nothing in reply.

He scanned her painting and slowly came to appreciate her talent. There were vast mountains and the clearest rivers and... A necklace? As he flipped to the next page, there was what seemed to be a relatively new painting of a necklace. Three black strands of thread twisted into a whip-like chain, but there was no pendant dangling from it.

"Is this a man’s necklace?" Spencer stared at it. "Did you draw this for some certain man?"

Fiona's face darkened. She replied in an icy tone, "No."

"Don't be shy, Fiona." Spencer laughed. "If there is, I’ll help you."

"I've applied the medicine. Give that back to me," Fiona sneered.

Spencer presented it back to her. Fiona grabbed it and turned around, walking back to the bedroom without saying another word.

"Freak!" Spencer took one last look at her before he also walked back to his bedroom. As he closed his door, his eyes froze with utter confusion. What was wrong with him just now? He even wanted to kiss Fiona. He thought of the past once again.

In the next room, Fiona wore a stone cold expression.

Spencer always brought up all of the most painful memories. She resolved to stay away from him.