In a private room, the two of them had dinner together.
Claire Prescott was using a knife and fork, struggling to cut a piece of beef. It wasn't an act; a week of using a brush had made her hands truly weak.
All that effort was noticed by Keane Lowell opposite her.
He smiled slightly and teased, "Where did all the strength you used on me go?"
What strength used on him?
Claire thought for quite a while before remembering what he meant, "If you weren't so bad, I wouldn't have treated you that way."
Her voice was soft, with a hint of charm.
Keane chuckled, "How bad?"
Threatening her with the prescription and her grandfather, wasn't that bad?
Thinking of the prescription made Claire lose confidence, so she didn't dare respond.
At this point, the man said nothing, simply swapped her plate with a ready-cut steak.
The thoughtfulness left her a bit flustered, unsure how to react.
She shyly thanked him.
She was originally uninterested in food due to being unwell, but seeing the evenly cut pieces of beef, her appetite suddenly kicked in.
"What's up with your hand?" Keane asked.
Claire's expression was complex; not wanting to be laughed at by him, she brushed it off lightly, "Just from copying books, it'll be fine after resting for a few days."
As if not believing her, he asked, "What book could make your hand like that?"
"Great Medical Sincerity."
Thinking he wouldn't bother checking what the book was about, Claire had no reservations.
Yet the man flatly remarked, "Your medical ethics must be lacking."
It wasn't a question, but a statement.
She didn't expect him to know the book.
Claire's face darkened further, feeling bitter.
She defended herself, "It's my grandfather being unreasonable; he punished me with book copying because he couldn't win a debate."
"Often causing trouble, making people worry, that's why Elder Sinclair punished you this way," he said rationally, with a tone suggesting the punishment was deserved.
Perhaps in his eyes, she was just an immature little sister.
A sense of irritation welled up within her.
Yet she had no words to counter.
Indeed, from a young age, she had given her grandfather plenty of headaches. Her grandfather, being cautious about traditional Chinese medicine, was understandably worried she'd go astray.
But she just wouldn't accept it.
This punishment made it seem like she had committed some grave sin.
She took a bite of the beef, using food to dissolve the anger.
When the atmosphere calmed down, she couldn't help but glance at him again.
Watching him leisurely cut steak, his every movement exuded elegance and a composed, noble demeanor that spoke of his well-cultivated family background.
Though he was sitting right across, for no reason, she felt as if they were distant, as though no matter how hard she tried, she still couldn't quite reach him.
Suddenly recalling something, she asked him in a negotiating tone, "Could you not hold my actions against me last time? Let's pretend it never happened."
Keane met her gaze, a smile spreading in his eyes, and said, "What, decided to turn over a new leaf?"
Turn over a new leaf...
Claire was at a loss for words, "Well... sort of."
He said, "Did I ever hold it against you?"
Indeed he hadn't, but...
Claire grinned, "Just a precaution."
...
The night silently enveloped the entire manor.
Just as Claire stepped out of the restroom, she overheard two women quietly gossiping.
"I heard Mr. Lowell's been quite lustful lately. Any lady who's somewhat decent-looking can sleep with him. I used to hear he was disinterested in women, but now it seems all men are the same."
"Isn't there a pretty girl always with him?"
"Not her, she's too prim and proper. She barely has any curves, not much to show."
Not much to show...
Claire instinctively glanced down, her expression freezing once more.
But she quickly calmed down, walking up to the sink next to them. Boldly, she eyed their chests and said dismissively, "I bet they're all fake."
With that, she washed her hands and turned to leave, leaving them both speechless.
One of them, clearly dissatisfied, shouted at her receding figure, "What fake, mine are the real deal!"
Claire Prescott didn't pay attention to them, nor did she bother to compare her figure with theirs.
She hadn't anticipated that the diagnosis of Keane Lowell's excessive heart fire that night would spread like wildfire, becoming a subject of private jokes. Had she known, she wouldn't have announced it publicly...
Nonetheless...
She was curious about what kind of woman a man like him, pursued by many, but with seemingly no success, truly preferred.
As she stepped outside, the evening breeze carried a chill.
Claire instinctively huddled into herself, and immediately, a fine quality suit enveloped her shoulders, accompanied by a shadow overhead.
Looking up, she found herself meeting those profound, noble eyes, unexpectedly tender, giving her a mistaken sense of being cherished by him.
Keane Lowell subtly shifted his gaze, speaking with a warm depth, "It's late, let me take you home."
"Would it be too much trouble?"
"Not at all."
Without further comment, he took long strides ahead.
Claire tugged at the jacket around her, silently following his steps.
She knew well that taxis seldom passed by the mountain, and it was hard to catch one here, so she had to rely on his assistance.
Just as they exited the villa, Assistant Cheney drove up, picking them both up, and they plunged into the thick veil of night.
Inside the car, Claire fumbled for quite a while, trying to find the seatbelt, only to unexpectedly grab onto a warm, slender hand.
She instinctively let go, her heart racing fiercely, making her face flush with heat.
Keane glanced over, catching sight of her through the dim light, then suddenly leaned over, deftly pulling the seatbelt beside her and securing it with a soft click.
Claire slowly relaxed her breath, the lingering scent irresistibly tickling her heart.
The seatbelt gave her a sense of security, yet the silence felt somewhat embarrassing, but soon she calmed herself, turning to gaze out the window.
After descending the mountain, the traffic gradually increased.
Passing by a familiar intersection, Claire suddenly felt uneasy.
Because she knew Sinclair Apothecary wasn't far away.
Upon parting, it's uncertain when she'll see him again, or if they'll have the opportunity to meet once more.
Ten minutes seemed exceptionally fleeting, the car steadily halting at the entrance of Sinclair Apothecary.
Claire regarded him, speaking softly with gratitude, "Thank you for taking care of me today. Next time, if given the chance, I'll treat you."
The faint light blurred his face, leaving his expression indistinct.
He simply turned, meeting her gaze in the dimness.
The man's voice was warmly rich, "You have no way to contact me, is this the sincerity of your offer to treat?"
His words left Claire momentarily speechless, hastily suppressing the curve of her lips, reservedly pulling out her phone for him to add his WeChat.
As she pushed the door to get out, Keane suddenly called out to her.
"Claire."
His voice lowered, asking, "Do you really not remember me?"
There was a silent pause for two or three seconds before Claire replied nervously, "No… no impression."
...
That evening, she sat alone at her desk by the window copying a book, Keane's words echoing in her mind: not even addressing him as brother.
The truth was, she had always disliked the term "brother" and never regarded him as one.
After meeting with the homeroom teacher, they parted ways without any acknowledgment of him as a brother.
However, he enjoyed taking on the role of a guardian, self-appointed as a brother, leading to a second encounter not long after.
At that time.
Her first entry into an entertainment venue was on the day of Zara Leighton's eighteenth birthday celebration.
Among the group of friends she played with, Zara was the eldest.
On the way, Zara reassured them, saying, "Don't worry, I've been to KTV since junior high, we won't get caught."
Sure enough, they entered without anyone stopping them.
While Zara was booking the room at the front desk, Claire inadvertently caught sight of a couple entwined on a lobby sofa, their kiss intense and undeterred by onlookers.
She also noticed the man's hand caressing the woman's rounded curves.
For someone her age, this was quite scandalous, an absolute taboo at school.
At that moment, she vaguely understood the adult exchanges were overtly provocative and thrilling.
Feeling as though she'd seen something forbidden, she quickly averted her gaze.
In the chaos of her thoughts, a force suddenly pulled her from the crowd.
"Where's your courage from, didn't you know minors are prohibited from entertainment venues?" The man's gentle voice bore no reprimanding tone.
Being caught made her heart almost leap out, anxious and bewildered, never expecting to encounter him there.
The other companions watched silently, unsure of the identity of the man holding her or his relationship with her, thus dared not to act rashly.