Arthur said coldly, without looking back, "Mind your own business. Go cut your watermelon."

Finnegan confidently retorted, "You must like her. You've never cared this much about a woman before!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He thought, Do I like her? He had a favorable impression of Evangeline. From their first meeting, she'd been different and intriguing. Otherwise, he wouldn't have lent her a house before the deal was finalized. However, he'd never been in love before, so he didn't understand these feelings.

Finnegan said, "Silence is consent. You do like her!"

Arthur remained silent. Finnegan approached, circled him, and sized him up. "I used to think you didn't like women. I thought you were gay. Never expected you to like a mentally unstable woman like Evangeline," he said. "You have a unique preference!"

Arthur glared coldly. "Do you have a death wish? Evangeline hasn't been diagnosed. It can't be proven she's mentally ill. Watch your words."

Finnegan cowered. "I'm just kidding! Why are you angry? Besides, liking someone with mental issues isn't embarrassing. She's beautiful. Even if she's mentally unstable, it doesn't matter."

The coldness in Arthur's eyes intensified, and a dangerous aura emanated from him. Finnegan broke into a cold sweat and retreated before Arthur could explode.

It took Arthur half an hour to prepare two dishes and a soup: scrambled eggs, pork carnitas, and mushroom soup.

Evangeline entered the dining room and sat opposite Arthur. Since Finnegan had left after helping her cut the watermelon, they were alone.

Evangeline took a bite and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't expect a rich guy like you to cook. And your culinary skills aren't bad," she said. The delicious food improved her mood, mitigating her anger about Arthur's uninvited intrusion.

Arthur chuckled. "I wasn't always wealthy. I was quite poor until I turned eighteen. After that, I started my own business and gradually became successful."

Evangeline was surprised. "You didn't have family support? Did you start from scratch?"

"I grew up in an orphanage," Arthur explained. "My family hadn't found me before I became successful, so I didn't have their help."

Evangeline praised him unreservedly. "That's impressive, building your company from scratch and making it so successful." The Ferdinand Group had surpassed the Gallagher Group, becoming the top enterprise in Hofcaster, making Arthur the wealthiest man in the city. The Gallagher family's wealth stemmed from three generations running the Gallagher Group, accumulating connections and assets. However, Arthur, at only twenty-six, had started his own business at eighteen and, in less than eight years, created the best enterprise in Hofcaster—a formidable achievement.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at Evangeline's praise. He cleared his throat. "You're impressive too. I watched your livestream. Your courage and skills are remarkable." Just slightly emotionally unstable, prone to anger, he thought.

Evangeline, mouth full, didn't respond. Arthur casually asked, "I'm curious; what kind of man does a capable woman like you like?"

After swallowing, Evangeline replied, "I like a man who doesn't breathe."

Arthur's expression stiffened. Evangeline smiled slightly. "A man who doesn't breathe is truly a plus point," she added.

Arthur lowered his eyes and ate in silence. They finished their meal in silence.

Afterwards, Arthur decided to speak to Evangeline. "Evangeline, the guy earlier was my friend. He's a psychologist; I asked him to check on you."

Evangeline looked puzzled. "Check on me for what?"

Arthur said solemnly, "When I watched your livestream, I felt your mental state was a bit concerning"

Evangeline's face darkened. "Are you suspecting I'm mentally ill?" she asked, displeased. Arthur wanted to admit he suspected both, but he refrained. "Many viewers are worried about your mental state," he said euphemistically. "They think you're being mistreated by the Gallagher family, driving you to mental disorder. I happen to know a psychologist, so I invited him to take a look at you."

Evangeline asked, "Don't bring that up. Tell me, why do you think I'm mentally unstable?"

Arthur was silent for a long time. "You often crawl on the ground. Normal people wouldn't do that."

Evangeline stared at him as if he were an idiot. After a while, she said, "Have you heard of supta matsyendrasana?"

"What?" Arthur asked, puzzled.

Evangeline explained, "Supta matsyendrasana is a term in traditional combat arts. It means to open the spine, to move and control it precisely, making it more flexible." Traditional supta matsyendrasana didn't involve crawling, but Evangeline found imitating animal movements more effective.

Arthur looked skeptical. "Is there really such a move in traditional combat arts?"

Evangeline replied, "Yes, something like that. People like you who work in offices are well-suited for supta matsyendrasana. It can relieve fatigue in your back and waist." Before Arthur could respond, she grabbed his arm. "Come on, let me show you!"

"Thanks, but I don't need it. I can get a massage if I'm tired," Arthur politely declined.

Evangeline, ignoring him, dragged him outside to the garden. With an indifferent tone, she said, "Try it. Supta matsyendrasana is very comfortable. Once you experience it, you'll love this exercise. If you're unwilling to try, that means we have different values. There's no need to meet in person; we can contact each other by phone."

Arthur was speechless. He felt it was revenge for his suspicions about her mental health. He envied her ability to let go of self-consciousness, something he'd suppressed for too long. Since no one was around, he decided to try.

Arthur got down on all fours, awkwardly saying, "I feel embarrassed doing it alone. Can you do it with me?"

Evangeline smoothly performed a push-up. They crawled together. He felt uncomfortable at first, but it surprisingly felt good. So what Evangeline said was true? he thought.

Three thuds sounded from behind. Arthur froze, his joyful expression replaced by stiffness. Behind him stood Finnegan, who had returned, and two friends: Steven Rouse and Hugo Snyder. Their mouths gaped in disbelief.

Evangeline stood up, brushing off the grass. "Who are they?" she asked coldly.

Arthur snapped out of it. He stood up, gloomy-faced. "They're my friends. You've met Finnegan. The one who looks feminine is Steven Rouse, and the one who looks like a womanizer is Hugo Snyder."

Everyone was speechless. Steven stepped forward, throwing a punch. "What do you mean I look feminine? My features are just delicate!" Arthur avoided the punch, kicking him away. "Stay away from me. It's all because of you people that think I like men."

Hugo approached. "You say Steven looks feminine, fine. But why call me a womanizer? When have I done that? No one is more devoted in love than I am!"

Steven punched Hugo. "Argue back if you want, but why drag me in?"

Finnegan watched, a complex expression on his face. He'd planned to help Evangeline, but now Arthur seemed "infected." Seeing them crawling together had nearly made him faint.

Arthur, frowning, asked Finnegan, "Why are you here again? And why did you bring them?"

Finnegan regained his composure. "I went to get psychological test questions. I was thinking of letting her try the traditional method to assess her mental state. As for these two, I met them on my way. They heard that Evangeline was staying at your place, so they tagged along to meet her" He paused. "It seems I'm short on questionnaires. I'll get another set later. You should also take a psychological test."

Arthur said, "I'm not sick. There's no need for a test. Evangeline isn't sick either. You don't have to treat her."

They looked doubtful. Steven said, "You know what patients with mental illness love to say the most? 'I'm not sick!'"

Arthur kicked him. He took a deep breath. "I'm not sick. What Evangeline and I just did is called supta matsyendrasana, a traditional combat arts exercise for body conditioning."

They remained skeptical. Arthur kicked all three to the ground. "Now, crawl!"

Under Arthur's dominance, they reluctantly crawled, gradually becoming more skilled.