CHAPTER 80: CHAPTER 80: HE HASN’T COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN HER, HAS HE?

Silence—

The air in the bathroom suddenly seemed to freeze, plunging into a suspiciously dead silence.

Ann Vaughn’s small mouth opened and closed again, her bright eyes blinked several times, and then she suddenly realized why Cyrus Hawthorne just asked her if the two things were happening simultaneously.

As a doctor, in the eyes of a doctor, the patient is not defined by gender during treatment.

Hence, at first, she didn’t notice anything amiss.

Reminded by Cyrus Hawthorne, Ann Vaughn was stunned, with redness continuously creeping up her cheeks.

"I, I’ll go out now!" Ann Vaughn hastily dropped this statement and fled the bathroom as if escaping.

With her mind filled with embarrassment, she didn’t hear the low laughter coming from behind her.

There was a hint of amusement in Cyrus Hawthorne’s cold, narrow eyes, his fingertips slightly warm, for some reason feeling an urge to rub that silly hamster’s cheek.

Probably because Ann Vaughn’s earlier dazed behavior delighted this big Buddha, so when she did acupuncture on him, he was very cooperative, and did not make any more sarcastic remarks.

Ann Vaughn’s cheeks were still a bit hot, trying to keep her gaze fixed on his back, avoiding looking elsewhere.

As time silently passed, Ann Vaughn meticulously inserted the golden needles accurately into Cyrus Hawthorne’s back acupuncture points, her small mouth tightly pursed, looking particularly serious.

And the scene Cyrus Hawthorne saw through the small mirror not far away was exactly this.

He couldn’t see the situation on his back, but he could feel her soft yet strong fingertips occasionally skimming over his back skin.

"Is it done yet?" Cyrus Hawthorne closed his eyes, his voice magnetic and hoarse as it spilled from his throat.

Only by listening carefully could one detect the restraint in his voice.

"Almost." Ann Vaughn replied to him while inserting the last golden needle into an acupuncture point, exhaling lightly, "Don’t move, half an hour is enough."

Having said that, Ann Vaughn stood up, "I, I’ll go check if the medicine is ready!"

Cyrus Hawthorne did not notice her odd behavior, his narrow eyes half-open lazily, his handsome as cast face noble and indifferent, the long fingers in the water seemingly casually touched the half-moon scar on his waist.

The inexplicable emotion just surfaced in his eyes was instantly replaced by clarity.

Half an hour passed, Ann Vaughn went into the bathroom to remove the golden needles from Cyrus Hawthorne’s body, and when he came out, she handed him the freshly brewed herbal medicine, with two mint candies in her hand.

"It’ll be a bit bitter, have a candy afterward and it’ll feel better."

Ann Vaughn remembered that when they were young, both of them hurt their throats in that fire, and the herbal medicine prescribed by their grandpa, she would always find ways to hide, refusing to obediently drink medicine.

But no matter where she hid, the only person who could always find her was Cyrus Hawthorne.

He would sneak a mint candy into her mouth when their grandfather wasn’t looking, telling her it wouldn’t be bitter anymore.

Although the medicine was still bitter, Ann Vaughn’s heart was sweet for a long time.

Cyrus Hawthorne looked down at the two mint candies she had forcefully stuffed into his hand, seemingly casting a somewhat unresolved sidelong glance at her, then lifted the medicine bowl and drank it all down in one go.

Completely unaware of Ann Vaughn’s gaze gradually softening and becoming nostalgic.

If he looked carefully at those two candies, he would find that the candy brand was one he was very familiar with, known only to him.

After tidying up the kitchen, Ann Vaughn went to the guest room, intending to remind Cyrus Hawthorne that it was getting late, and past midnight, The Water Terrace no longer allowed vehicle entry and exit.

But found him lying asleep on the bed in the guest room, apparently due to the sleep-inducing ingredients in the herbal medicine.

In his sleep, he conceals the sharpness and coldness he usually has, his whole person seeming to soften, the tranquil and elegant appearance with eyes closed as if it were a watercolor painting with deep ink and light colors.

Just one glance, and she could no longer tear her gaze away.

"Cyrus Hawthorne." Ann Vaughn walked softly to the bedside, gently calling twice, and seeing he didn’t wake, she found herself captivated by his sleeping face.

It was a long while before Ann Vaughn managed to draw back her emotions and turned to leave him to rest.

Out of nowhere, a cool grip seized her wrist, and in the next instant with a sudden pull, she was yanked over!

Ann Vaughn’s eyes widened in shock, caught off guard and pulled into a broad, faintly warm embrace, her cheeks pressed tightly against the man’s chest, she dared not move, her breath slightly tight.

She attempted to straighten up, only to be held tightly by the domineering palm around her waist.

The other hand threaded through her hair, fingertips stroking gently over the back of her neck as if soothing.

Ann Vaughn’s body immediately tensed up, this was the gesture Cyrus Hawthorne loved to do most when comforting her as a child.

She thought, he had long forgotten their childhood memories.

But for him to remember this means he hadn’t completely forgotten her, hadn’t he?

The corners of Ann Vaughn’s eyes turned slightly red as she fought to control her emotions, struggling against the iron embrace, propping herself onto the bed into a half-kneeling position, intending to move away from him.

Just as she felt Cyrus Hawthorne’s hands loosen, before she managed to quickly slip out, she was swiftly hooked around the waist and pulled back.

Ann Vaughn unconsciously kicked with her small leg, the temperature in the room continuously rising.

Suddenly, a coolness brought Ann Vaughn’s brain a jolt of clarity.