MPH - 3

Chapter 3: To Comfort the Disappointed Little Girl at Home

A tranquil night.

The corridor was bathed in soft, slanted light, and the plush carpet muffled even the sound of my footsteps. I shuffled lazily down the stairs in my slippers, while my phone buzzed with a text message notification.

As I walked, I kept my head down, focused on typing a reply. Suddenly, I lost my footing on the stairs. Before I could react, I let out a scream and tumbled awkwardly down two steps, bracing myself for the fall.

But then, a pair of arms reached out and steadied me firmly.

I looked up to see the handsome face of a man, so close that I could clearly see the deep, shimmering light hidden in his eyes.

Lao Jiazhuo quickly released me.

“Thank you,” I heard myself say, my voice polite but cold.

He didn’t move, still standing in front of me, one hand resting on the stair railing, gazing steadily at me.

I tilted my head to meet his gaze, unsure if my eyes were filled with defiance, but I vaguely noticed a flicker of darkness in his eyes.

I sidestepped past him, walking straight ahead without looking back. That was the first word I’d spoken to him in three days.

Thinking back on everything that had happened, I couldn’t help but feel resentment. I had worked so hard to please the elders of the Lao family, striving to maintain the appearance of a perfect marriage. But he, who claimed to love his family deeply, couldn’t even spare the time for a single meal with mine.

How cold-hearted.

In recent days, I’d mostly waited until he left for work before leaving my room. After class, I’d return directly to my room, and if I happened to see him in the living room, I’d pretend not to notice.

Perhaps I was being childish, but I just felt wronged and refused to lower my head.

Lao Jiazhuo had always been a man of few words. Even when I deliberately provoked him—like when he went into the kitchen for something and I immediately put down my cup and turned away—he would only furrow his brow slightly, looking mildly helpless.

People often praised Lao Jiazhuo as the second son of the Lao family, gentle and elegant, with impeccable temperament among the aristocratic youth. I sneered inwardly; he simply didn’t care. As the busy second young master, he had no time or energy to bother with such trivial matters.

All I had to do was keep my head bowed and be the perfect ornament.

On Wednesday evening, after returning from class, I had just entered the living room when the phone started ringing incessantly.

I passed by, glanced at the caller ID, and turned to leave.

Even at the staircase landing, I could still hear the persistent ringing from the living room.

I stopped, frowned, and turned toward the opposite room. I knew he was home—I had seen his coat on the sofa.

The study door was half-open. Lao Jiazhuo, wearing black-rimmed glasses, was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in reading documents.

I knocked lightly on the door.

Only then did he notice me. He stood up and nodded slightly. “Hmm, what is it?”

I pointed to the living room and moved my lips. “Phone.”

Lao Jiazhuo preferred silence at home, so all the phones in his room were on mute.

He nodded and stepped out.

I had already turned to head back to my room.

After returning to my room, I dropped my bag and washed my hands. As I came out, I heard two soft knocks on the door in the living room, followed by Lao Jiazhuo’s low voice: “Yingying?”

I stepped out of my room and saw him standing in the living room. The light cast a sharp silhouette of his profile.

I bit my lip and stared at him, saying nothing.

Lao Jiazhuo spoke gently: “They said they couldn’t reach you at the main house. Grandma mentioned that Qi Xuan invited you for tea, but you didn’t go.”

I opened my mouth, my tone indifferent. “Oh.”

“Yingying,” Lao Jiazhuo’s voice was low. “Are you still angry?”

I hesitated, but couldn’t stop myself: “Lao Jiazhuo, if you dislike my family so much, why did you agree to marry me?”

He replied simply: “I don’t dislike your family.”

I snapped angrily: “Then why won’t you have dinner with my mother?”

A fleeting trace of mockery flashed across his lips: “Yingying, since we are legally married, I naturally respect your family. If I’m not mistaken, Madam Liao Landan hasn’t used the Jiang surname for a long time.”

“She’s my mother!” I shouted at him like a cat burned by fire.

He raised an eyebrow: “So what?”

I said coldly: “Please leave.”

He frowned slightly, patiently explaining: “Jiang Yinying, if you think this is my fault, I apologize. But please respect some of my principles. You know, I’m a stubborn person.”

I kicked open the door behind me: “Your damn principles!”

He stood in front of me, maintaining his usual composure, seemingly oblivious to my hostility. His words, however, were like a blade hiding its sharp edge: “Yingying, perhaps we can find a peaceful way to coexist, but don’t harbor any more illusions about me. Not even a little.”

It felt as though I had been slapped across the face, too shocked to even feel shame.

With his hands in his pockets, he remained poised: “If you don’t want to return to the main house, I’ll have my secretary decline Guo Shian’s invitation. I have documents to review. Do as you please.”

Then he turned and walked back into the room.

I collapsed onto the ground, utterly drained.

I sat there for an unknown amount of time, dazed, before finally getting up and heading to the bathroom to shower.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand what sorrow was. Any small disappointment would fill me with resentment. Now, lying in bed, I felt a suffocating weight on my chest, tossing and turning throughout the night.

The next morning, with puffy eyes, I left the house. I saw Lao Jiazhuo dressed neatly in a suit, sitting in the living room on the phone. A dark brown suitcase rested beside the coffee table.

I opened the door, and Xu Ge was standing outside. Seeing me suddenly, he barely managed a stiff greeting: “Good morning, Miss Jiang.”

I wasn’t in the mood to humor him, so I just muttered weakly: “Morning.”

Xu Ge came in and picked up the suitcase. Lao Jiazhuo ended his call and turned to me: “I’ll be away on a business trip for a while.”

I nodded and stepped into the elevator first, pressing the button to close the doors.

As I stepped out of the building, the sunlight was blinding.

Not far from the entrance, I heard someone calling my name.

I turned around and saw Xu Ge standing by the driveway, with Lao Jiazhuo’s car parked by the roadside.

“Miss Jiang,” he rubbed his hands nervously. “Mr. Lao asked if you’d like a ride.”

I glanced at the elegantly seated man in the backseat and gritted my teeth: “Please tell Mr. Lao, thank you, but no need.”

I stood by the roadside, watching the black car speed past me with a roar.

Waking from a long afternoon nap, I found no sunlight outside. The sky beyond the 18th floor was overcast.

The room was eerily silent.

Today marked the fifth day since Jiazhuo had left.

Deep down, I didn’t truly hate him. Days had passed, and I wasn’t the type to hold grudges. Back in high school, there was once a time when Wei Huihui skipped class to hang out and got caught by the teacher. Her father was a drunkard who beat her whenever he was unhappy. Out of fear, she dragged me into it and made me take the blame. I was too soft-hearted and slow to react, and as a result, I was punished by standing in front of the whole school until my grandparents came to pick me up. Later, my grandfather and grandmother scolded me harshly in front of everyone, almost disowning me from the Jiang family.

At that time, I swore to cut ties with her, but we eventually reconciled.

I am a sentimental person. No matter how people change, I can’t bear to part with the memories we once shared.

Especially on an afternoon like this, seeing the empty, spacious house with the curtains fluttering in the breeze, I felt a wave of melancholy.

In the afternoon, I had dozed off for a few hours, feeling uneasy. It was late June, and almost all courses were entering the final exam phase. I had to pull myself together, grab my backpack, and rush to the school’s study room.

Wei Huihui had promised to review with me tonight but bailed at the last minute to attend the electronic engineering department’s graduation party. She asked if I wanted to join, but I declined, heading to the library alone with my backpack.

At nine o’clock in the evening, I rubbed my tired eyes, packed up my books, and prepared to leave.

As I stepped out of the library, a cool breeze swept through. I looked up to see dark gray clouds rolling across the sky. The weather forecast said there would be a typhoon tonight.

I thought about the Marxist Political Economy exam I had taken earlier. The professor teaching the course was notoriously difficult, known as “Ghost-Bane.” Countless students had failed under him over the years. After the exam, the entire classroom was filled with a sense of impending doom. I had been distracted throughout, and I suspected I hadn’t done well.

Next to the library was a small garden where foreign language students often practiced their oral skills. Tonight, however, it was unusually quiet. I slowly walked along the pebble path in the garden.

The tall trees swayed in the wind, casting eerie shadows on the grass on either side of the path. Somewhere nearby, I heard the faint sound of a woman’s breathing.

I grew nervous and quickened my pace to leave. Suddenly, my phone rang. I flinched, fumbling to pull it out of my bag. The screen’s glow briefly illuminated the area, and from the grass came the panicked scream of a young girl: “Ah—”

I took a step back, biting my lip.

In the dim yellow light, I saw two figures embracing and entangled with each other.

My cheeks flushed red, and I quickly pressed the button to end the call. Then I heard a low male voice mutter a clear English curse.

That perfectly enunciated American English, which clearly expressed the intention to shift his下半身的发泄对象 (lower body release) onto me, suddenly ignited my anger.

Damn it, what’s wrong with them? Even on a day with a typhoon warning, they’re out here having野外战斗 (outdoor sex). I grabbed the Marxist Economics textbook from my bag and hurled it at them with all my might!

A mournful “ow” came from the grass. I turned and ran as fast as I could.

I sprinted all the way to the school gate, but my mood didn’t improve one bit. I glanced at my phone—it was Huihui calling. I sent her a message: “I didn’t do well on today’s exam.”

She quickly replied: “You never fail your exams. You’re too much of a perfectionist. Serves you right.”

I cracked a small smile.

Walking out of the subway station with my head down, large raindrops had already begun to fall.

Pedestrians hurried along the roadside, rushing back to their warm homes.

I slowly wandered into the neighborhood. The rain was sparse now, but it stung when it hit my face.

Standing in front of the elevator, I pulled out my wallet and instinctively reached for the hidden compartment on the right side. Suddenly, my hand trembled.

The magnetic card that was usually there was gone.

I rummaged through my wallet again, then carefully searched my backpack, but the card used to access the elevator was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, I turned around and crouched by the stairwell, thinking hard. I vaguely remembered using it as a bookmark while studying.

I took out my textbooks and shook each one vigorously, but the delicate golden card was still missing.

I pressed my burning forehead with my hands. The worst-case scenario: the book I threw away at school contained my elevator card.

The security guard on duty tonight was unfamiliar—probably new—and had already circled me suspiciously several times.

After one last thorough search of all my pockets, I gave up in despair, picked up my bag, and walked out. It seemed that fate had decided I would spend the night on the streets.

Wandering aimlessly around Shijing Avenue for a few rounds, I felt cold and exhausted. My phone screen lit up, dimmed, and then lit up again. I gritted my teeth and finally dialed Lao Jiazhuo’s number.

With the phone pressed to my ear, it rang once, but I suddenly lost courage and hung up.

Two minutes later, the phone rang. Jiazhuo was calling back.

I stared at the phone as it kept ringing, hesitated, and finally answered.

“Yingying?” His voice carried no warmth, only a slight hoarseness.

For some reason, I suddenly felt a surge of委屈 (grievance), my nose tingling painfully. I managed a faint response: “Mm.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is something up?”

I controlled my emotions and asked: “Are you still abroad?”

“Mm, the meeting at the branch office has ended, but I still have a few clients to meet.”

“Oh,” I said awkwardly. “When will you be back?”

“Maybe in a few more days.”

“Oh, then there’s nothing else. You can go ahead and hang up.”

His familiar voice echoed in my ear, but I felt lonelier than ever, unsure of what to say next: “Then you go ahead and get busy. I’ll hang up now.”

As I crossed the intersection, a car suddenly sped up and ran a red light, causing a chorus of sharp honks from surrounding vehicles.

“Wait, don’t hang up,” Jiazhuo suddenly interrupted, his tone firm. “Where are you?”

I paused before answering: “Outside.”

Lao Jiazhuo’s voice remained calm but slightly urgent: “It should be past midnight at home. What are you doing outside?”

“I just went out to buy something and will be back soon. Goodbye.” I hastily hung up, afraid I might burst into tears.

I glanced at my phone—the battery was almost drained.

The branches by the roadside were being whipped by the wind, making a rustling sound. A heavy rain was imminent.

The straps of my backpack dug painfully into my shoulders, and my clothes were damp. My head throbbed painfully.

Dragging my feet, I wandered aimlessly in circles. Unconsciously, I found myself back at Lan Yun Garden. I slowly shuffled toward the entrance, planning to borrow the guard’s phone to call Huihui.

The bright lights at the entrance illuminated the dense raindrops. A man standing by the gate quickly approached.

“Miss Jiang,” he said, stopping in front of me.

I looked at him quizzically. He continued: “Excuse me, are you Miss Jiang Yinying?”

I forced a weak smile: “Hello.”

The man introduced himself politely: “I’m Su Jian, Mr. Lao Jiazhuo’s work assistant.”

I wasn’t sure if I should trust a stranger.

“We’ve met before—in Paris,” he smiled. “When Mr. Lao transferred through Amsterdam, we briefly saw each other.”

I vaguely recalled the group of business elites who accompanied Lao Jiazhuo to Europe for his wedding. Yes, I had a faint impression of him.

“Oh,” I said, enduring the pounding in my head, trying to be polite. “Mr. Su, nice to meet you.”

“Mr. Lao mentioned he’s not in the country and was worried you might run into trouble, so he asked me to check on you.” His demeanor was courteous.

So that’s how it was.

I gave a dry laugh: “I lost my elevator card and couldn’t get into my apartment.”

He nodded, seemingly prepared: “Mr. Lao left a spare magnetic card at the company, which I’ve brought with me. Miss Jiang, I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Raindrops fell on my forehead as I followed him into the elevator, feeling weak and dizzy, nearly stumbling.

Fortunately, Su Jian caught me swiftly.

He escorted me to the living room. I grabbed a tissue to wipe the rain off my hair and face, then thanked him quietly: “Thank you, Mr. Su.”

He maintained a respectful distance in the living room and asked: “Miss Jiang, is there anything else you need help with?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, my voice muffled and low, unable to hide my emotional exhaustion. My nose was stuffy, my head spinning, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

Su Jian glanced at me but said nothing further: “Then I’ll take my leave.”

I saw him to the door, politely bid farewell, and watched as he entered the elevator.

Turning back into the house, I was too tired to move anymore.

Thinking about the modeling assignment due tomorrow, I quickly showered and collapsed onto the bed.

Another quiet dusk.

Today, I finished my exam on the Overview of Chinese Culture and submitted my design project. The last exam was two days away, so I allowed myself a brief sigh of relief.

Returning home, I kicked off my shoes and padded barefoot upstairs, feeling utterly relaxed.

As I reached the second floor, I noticed the living room door was open, spilling out soft yellow light.

My heart skipped a beat. I tiptoed quickly inside.

At that moment, I froze, blinking hard.

On the light purple velvet sofa lay a man, wearing a light-colored plaid shirt, his pale face slightly furrowed in sleep.

Huh, who is this person, and why is he here?

I studied him closely. He looked somewhat gaunt, his brows knitted, his hand resting on his chest. A sliver of his fair wrist peeked out from under his shirt.

He seemed thinner.

I quietly approached and stopped a short distance away, softly calling: “Jiazhuo—”

He opened his eyes with effort, saw it was me, and gave a faint smile, covering his mouth as he coughed lightly.

“You—” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase my question. “Are you done with work?”

He straightened his body and sat up: “Not yet.”

“Then why are you back?”

He suddenly said: “Su Jian mentioned you weren’t doing well.”

I was completely stunned.

He stood up, holding onto the sofa: “I don’t want my absence to affect your studies or life.”

I straightened my back: “It’s not that serious.”

He smiled, though fatigue lingered. This time, it was a genuine, appreciative smile: “That’s good.”

I poured myself a glass of water and gulped it down.

Jiazhuo watched me and asked: “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What are you planning for dinner?”

“Downstairs.”

“And me?”

“You’re on your own.”

He looked at me, his tone slightly helpless: “Come to the kitchen.”

With that, he headed downstairs.

I followed him and watched as he walked straight into the kitchen and opened the fridge: “I had Xu Feng buy some groceries. Do you know how to cook?”

I answered honestly: “No.”

He stood in front of the sleek countertop, his back to me, and said: “Pass me the sesame oil.”

I watched as he deftly removed the backbone from the fresh squid, washed it, and made diagonal cuts with a vertical knife. Then he sliced mushrooms, chili peppers, and bamboo shoots, handing me a plate to mix the sauce for thickening.

Standing behind Jiazhuo, I watched as dish after dish—three dishes and a soup—were brought to the table. Even as I sat down at the dining table, I still felt a bit dizzy.

Lao Jiazhuo washed his hands and sat across from me: “Why aren’t you eating?”

I snapped out of my daze: “So you can cook?”

He smiled: “Living alone for so long, I occasionally cook.”

I asked: “I’ve never seen you do it before.”

“Usually, there are business dinners or work is busy, so no time. I think I’ve been neglecting you,” he said gently, tilting his head slightly. His tone was mild but carried an authoritative air: “Yingying, you’re still young. You can freely do what you love without feeling restricted.”

I lowered my head slightly. After all, our marriage was a transaction. He had already done more than enough; my petty grievances were insignificant.

All my dissatisfaction and disappointment stemmed from unreasonable expectations. It was I who had overstepped.

“I usually eat at the school cafeteria—it’s convenient,” I smiled. “Don’t worry.”

He nodded: “Let’s eat.”

I was truly hungry and devoured the food voraciously.

Lao Jiazhuo sipped his soup. He didn’t eat much; his small bowl of rice remained unfinished.

I asked: “Aren’t you hungry? Why not eat more?”

He replied: “I ate on the plane. You eat more.”

After dinner, we cleaned up the kitchen. It was already 10 p.m.

As I walked out, I saw Jiazhuo on the phone, his voice somewhat weak.

I went to the living room. He ended the call and looked at me. I couldn’t help but softly say: “Rest early.”

He nodded and went upstairs.

I woke up inexplicably in the early morning. I glanced at the clock—it was 6:30 a.m.

Lying in bed, I heard faint movements from the opposite room and soft coughs.

Dazed, I walked into the living room and saw Lao Jiazhuo fastening his cufflinks.

I asked: “So early, where are you going?”

“Did I wake you?” His voice was hoarse. “I need to catch an early flight back to the U.S. for a meeting.”

I was puzzled: “Why so rushed?”

He smiled: “I just took a one-day leave.”

After fastening his cufflinks, he turned around. I handed him the watch from the table.

He put on the watch and looked at me with a faint, enigmatic smile.

I stared at him: “Jiazhuo, did you come all this way just for a meal?”

He patted my head: “To comfort the disappointed little girl at home.”

My heart softened deeply.

Suddenly, he fixed his gaze on me, his words carrying an inexplicable calmness: “Yingying, don’t dwell on the present. You deserve a better life.”

My heart slowly sank, leaving no time for me to utter any words.

He had already put on his coat and walked downstairs.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains. I shook off the gloom of the past few days and headed to the school library early with my notebook.

I still had many things to do and dreams unfulfilled. There was no reason to stay disheartened.

After several days of hard work, I finished revising my final assignment in the professor’s office.

The third year of university coursework had finally come to an end.

After a heavy rainstorm in the afternoon, the weather turned chilly. My colleagues in the department, with their dark circles, waved goodbye and hurried home to catch up on sleep.

I packed up my books and returned home, deciding to have a good long sleep.

But when I finally relaxed completely, I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned in bed for a long time, only managing to drift into a light slumber.

In my hazy state, I heard noises downstairs—a familiar, magnetic voice tinged with barely suppressed anger: “Who do you think you work for?! For matters in the Asian region, you should consult John Kim. How dare you make decisions without consulting anyone!”

I instantly woke up, kicked off the covers, and got up.

“The FTSE index has been falling continuously. Given Ruiyi’s concerns about the worsening debt crisis, how could you recklessly invest without any professional judgment as a financial analyst?!” His tone was sharp: “I seriously doubt your competence—”

His somber voice suddenly rose: “Don’t bring up the old man to pressure me! If it weren’t for your years of service under him, I wouldn’t tolerate you like this. I’ve already filed a report to the headquarters. Your unauthorized decisions have caused enough damage to the company to justify removing you from your position ten thousand times over!”

“Who? The eldest son?” He sneered: “Is the eldest son protecting you? Have him come talk to me personally!”

I stood at the top of the stairs. This was the first time I’d seen Lao Jiazhuo so furious, and I was momentarily stunned.

He looked up and saw me, his words abruptly halting, perhaps not expecting me to be home.

I gestured for him to continue, indicating that he shouldn’t mind me.

He turned back and continued speaking, though his voice remained authoritative, it was noticeably quieter.

After a few more minutes, he hung up the phone.

I hesitated, unsure whether to disturb him now.

The room fell into complete silence.

I watched as Lao Jiazhuo shifted slightly, then leaned against the staircase railing. The cough he had been suppressing escaped his lips.

I saw him pull a handkerchief from his pocket, covering his mouth as the coughing worsened.

I walked downstairs, concerned, and called out: “Jiazhuo—”

He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the cough, then turned and sat on the sofa.

I poured him a glass of warm water.

Watching his chest rise and fall, his face pale from coughing, I couldn’t help but ask: “What happened?”

He slowly sipped the water, lowering his head to compose himself, then looked up: “Sorry for disturbing you.”

I shook my head: “Why let anger harm your body?”

He gazed at me. After the anger subsided, his eyes held a sense of desolation. Slowly, he said: “Yingying, tell me, what do you do when you’re angry?”

Without hesitation, I replied: “Eat a lot.”

He smiled faintly, leaning back on the sofa: “Go change clothes. I’ll take you out for a big meal.”

I went upstairs and changed into a bright-patterned white cotton T-shirt paired with a black chiffon skirt, dabbing on a bit of rouge.

When I came downstairs, I saw Jiazhuo had also changed into a dark gray shirt, casually leaning on the sofa. Despite his slight fatigue, his understated elegance exuded luxury—a true aristocratic gentleman.

Seeing me, he set down his glass of water and smiled faintly: “Let’s go.”

I approached him, but before I could speak, I noticed his furrowed brows as he tried to suppress another cough.

I asked: “What’s wrong?”

He stood up: “I caught a cold a few days ago, but it’s almost gone.”

I remembered: “Bring a jacket. It’s raining today, and it’ll be chilly outside tonight.”

Lao Jiazhuo nodded and went back into the room to fetch a jacket.

He drove us to the best restaurant in town.

We ordered soup, crispy shrimp, plum-steamed cod. The waiter opened a bottle of 1994 dry red wine. Lao Jiazhuo didn’t restrict my drinking; he quietly stirred his soup with a spoon while watching me enjoy the meal.

Looking at me, he smiled faintly: “Yingying, your face is flushed.”

I grinned: “My alcohol tolerance isn’t bad, right?”

He chuckled: “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

As Jiazhuo signed the bill and we walked out of the restaurant, the reflection in the glass revealed the figure of a tall, noble man. His aura of wealth and refinement captivated me in this moment.

Even the yellow-uniformed waiters who opened the door for us couldn’t help but steal a glance at him.

The dazzling lights of the city greeted us, and I felt momentarily dizzy. Clinging to the arm of the man beside me, I thought: What more could life offer?

The car smoothly turned through lush gardens and parked in the garage. Lao Jiazhuo turned the steering wheel, braked, and turned off the engine. The car came to a stop.

“We’re home—” I sighed contentedly.

He turned to look at me and smiled, unbuckling his seatbelt. As he got up to open the door, he suddenly collapsed back into the driver’s seat.

I turned toward him: “What’s wrong?”

How could I not see that he wasn’t feeling well? He hadn’t eaten much all evening, though he seemed fine due to the relaxed atmosphere.

He leaned on the car door, pressed his forehead, then looked up and smiled at me: “It’s nothing. Just a bit dizzy.”

I got out of the car and opened the door for him. He stepped out, closed the door, and the electronic lock beeped. He said: “Let’s go inside.”

After going upstairs, Lao Jiazhuo suddenly said in a low voice: “Yingying, thank you.”

I looked at him: “Why are you thanking me?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering: “Work can sometimes be frustrating. Being with you makes me happy.”

I smiled: “It’s my honor.”

He turned his face away and coughed softly: “Get some rest early.”

I nodded and turned to walk into my room.

At night, after taking a shower, I sat in my room drying my hair. The night breeze was slightly cool, so I closed the window and drifted off to sleep, feeling drowsy.

For some reason, I felt uneasy and kept waking up intermittently.

At around midnight, I woke up again and heard muffled coughing from the opposite room—deliberately suppressed but continuous, filled with pain and melancholy.

I got up and walked over to the other room, knocking on the door: “Jiazhuo?”

After waiting for a while without a response, I gently pushed the door open.

He was still wearing the shirt he had on earlier that evening, leaning against the headboard, half-lying on the bed. His face was pale, his hand unconsciously pressing against his chest, his brows tightly furrowed, likely suffering from palpitations, biting his lip in pain.

I had never really understood his physical condition, as he rarely showed his emotions or thoughts. It was rare to see him in such discomfort.

I reached out to touch his forehead; it was covered in cold sweat, and he felt slightly feverish.

I said: “Jiazhuo, you have a fever.”

He seemed somewhat disoriented but was unusually resistant to being touched by others. He frowned deeply and turned his face away to avoid my hand.

It took him a while to realize it was me: “I’m fine, Yingying. Go back to bed.”

I fetched a clean towel to wipe the sweat from his face and began unbuttoning his shirt.

He seemed to be in great pain but resisted strongly, his hoarse voice barely audible: “Yingying, don’t do this.”

I gently coaxed him: “You’re drenched in sweat. Let me change your clothes. You’ll feel better.”

He was utterly weak, barely able to lift his hand to stop me, but another bout of coughing overtook him.

I removed his sweat-soaked shirt and fetched a long-sleeved pajama top from the wardrobe to dress him in. His body was limp, too weak even to sit up. Still, stubbornly, he clung to the edge of the bed and managed to pull the clothes on himself.

I changed the bedsheet for him and helped him lie back down.

I went downstairs to the pharmacy to buy some fever-reducing medicine. When I returned home, Jiazhuo was still awake.

I approached him, softening my voice: “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he managed to reply with two words, but before he could say more, another wave of coughing interrupted him. He quickly turned away from me, covering his mouth with one hand as his body trembled slightly from the force of his coughs.

Even in such moments, he refused to show any weakness in front of me.

I stood firmly by the bed, waiting for him to catch his breath. Then, I handed him a glass of water to take his medication.

After a while, perhaps due to the medicine taking effect, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Still uneasy, I grabbed a pillow and sat on the couch, watching over him.

He woke up after a short while and saw me beside him, asking softly: “How long did I sleep?”

I glanced at the clock in the room: “Not long, less than two hours.”

I leaned closer: “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m fine now,” he said, the pain in his expression easing slightly. He looked at me: “Yingying, go to sleep.”

I hesitated: “But you…”

His voice was weak yet carried an undeniable authority: “You don’t need to stay with me.”

I didn’t dwell on his deliberate coldness, standing up and saying softly: “If you feel unwell again, call me.”

I didn’t sleep well that night, staying alert to any sounds from the opposite room. Fortunately, Jiazhuo seemed to have fallen asleep, and the room remained quiet throughout the night. I finally drifted off in the early morning.

In the morning, I heard faint noises in the house while still half-asleep.

After struggling for a bit, I finally got up—it was already past 8 a.m.

Walking downstairs, I saw Jiazhuo sitting at the dining table, drinking water. He was fully dressed, though his complexion was paler than usual, showing no other signs of abnormality.

I approached him: “Why are you up so early?”

“I have a meeting at 10 a.m. today,” he said, his voice still somewhat hoarse.

“Are you feeling better? Are you sure you should go to work?”

“I’m fine,” he said, standing up and nodding at me: “I’m leaving.”

I watched the tall figure push the door open and leave. I went upstairs, wrapped myself in a blanket, and continued sleeping.

The final exams had worn me out, so I spent a few days resting at home.

Lao Jiazhuo continued working as usual during these days, though he came home earlier in the evenings—sometimes around 8 p.m. I occasionally encountered him returning from work in the corridor.

His complexion was still not good, and he had a slight cough, but his demeanor remained impeccably elegant and composed.

Once, I went into the living room to grab something and happened to meet him coming out to pour water.

He was wearing the black-framed glasses he usually used when reading documents. Seeing me, he asked: “Yingying, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “I just came to get a pencil. I think I left it here last time.”

“Mm,” he nodded, pouring water and taking his medication.

I couldn’t think of anything else to say to him. He always had a way of brushing off any attempts at prying or showing concern with a few light words.

He swallowed a few pills. The study door was half-open, and the computer on the desk was on. Jiazhuo walked back into the study, picking up the documents from the table, and coughed softly: “Sorry, carry on.”

He was in the middle of a video conference.

I quietly walked out.

One night, when I returned home, I saw the familiar car parked downstairs. As I stood by the roadside, someone greeted me: “Miss Jiang.”

I turned and saw Su Jian in a suit.

I smiled: “Mr. Su.”

He nodded: “I brought Mr. Lao back.”

He walked around to the passenger side, but the door opened from inside, and Lao Jiazhuo stepped out.

His movements were unsteady, and Su Jian discreetly supported him.

Seeing me nearby, Jiazhuo forced a faint smile: “Yingying, you’re here.”

His voice was unusually weak and frail.

I approached him: “I had something to do at school and just got back.”

“I won’t go up,” Su Jian said softly beside him, his expression showing a hint of concern.

Lao Jiazhuo nodded at him, and together we entered the elevator.

He remained silent the entire time. I lowered my gaze and saw his tightly pressed lips and unusually pale face reflected in the shiny metal doors of the elevator.

I opened the door and followed him upstairs. He walked very slowly, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

“Jiazhuo—” I called out softly, worried: “Are you okay?”

He shook his head slightly. His usually calm and steady gaze was now somewhat unfocused.

Jiazhuo stood in front of his room, about to reach for the door handle, when his phone suddenly rang. He frowned and pulled the phone from his pocket.

His fingers trembled slightly, and the phone slipped from his hand, falling to the ground. He bent down to pick it up, but as he stood up, his body swayed abruptly.

I quickly reached out to steady him.

“You—” I gripped his arms tightly, frightened: “Where does it hurt?”

Jiazhuo closed his eyes briefly, then straightened up, pushing my hands away: “I’m fine.”

He seemed unwilling to speak, only offering a simple: “Let’s go back to the room.”

I felt slightly embarrassed and nodded: “Okay.”

I turned toward my room, but after taking a few steps, I couldn’t help but look back at him.

Jiazhuo took a step forward, stumbled slightly, and suddenly leaned against the wall for support, his body slowly collapsing to the ground.

I was shocked and rushed to support his shoulders. I, too, lost my balance, and we both fell onto the carpet.

His face was ashen, his eyes tightly shut, and he had passed out.

He didn’t remain unconscious for long. Leaning against my shoulder, he gradually came to.

He pressed his chest tightly, gasping for air, unable to speak for a moment.

I helped him slowly walk toward the room.

Jiazhuo lay down on the bed, burying his head in the pillow, his muffled coughs echoing through the room.

I was anxious, standing by the bed and asking: “Jiazhuo, should we go to the hospital?”

He didn’t respond.

“Then I’ll call Grandma…”

Lao Jiazhuo suddenly lifted his head, breathing heavily, and sharply cut me off: “Don’t make decisions on your own.”

Though his voice was weak, it carried a note of sternness.

His attitude was so firm that I didn’t know what to do.

“Cough, cough—” He looked at me, a flicker of apology in his eyes, his voice softening slightly: “No need. I’ll be fine after a little rest.”

I watched his aloof expression, which seemed to push people away, and turned to close the door behind me.

At 7 a.m., the faint light of dawn seeped into the room. The person on the bed stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

It took him a while to fully wake up. Seeing me, he lightly furrowed his brows but still managed a soft: “Good morning.”

I smiled at him.

He pulled back the covers, preparing to get up.

I pressed my hand against his: “If you won’t let me call Grandma, then you’re not allowed to go to work. You need to rest at home.”

My tone was serious, leaving no room for negotiation. He looked somewhat taken aback.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to budge, he thought for a moment, then closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Around 10 a.m., he woke up again, meeting my gaze. He gave a slight cough and said helplessly: “Yingying, don’t you have school?”

I went to the fridge, grabbed a glass of juice, and looked at him calmly: “Young Master Lao, I’ve been on summer break since the day before yesterday.”

He got up from the bed.

I approached cautiously: “Jiazhuo, where are you going?”

Seeing the concern on my face, he smiled faintly, a hint of affection in his expression: “I’m tired from sleeping. I just want to sit for a bit.”

Still uneasy, I followed him, nagging: “Your health is the most important thing.”

Jiazhuo picked up his phone from the bedside table and called Su Jian: “I’ll be resting at home today.”

“Alright.”

“Yingying’s here with me.”

“Have Zhu Bichan cancel today’s appointments, and postpone the afternoon asset management meeting—”

He paused briefly: “You can handle the client from Dafeng for me. Hold off on any documents that require my signature for now.”

After hanging up, he raised his eyes and quietly looked at me.

I felt my cheeks flush slightly and smiled awkwardly: “I’ll go make breakfast. I’m starving.”

I insisted that he not return to work, and Jiazhuo stayed home to rest for two days.

Every day, I followed recipes to cook porridge for him. He didn’t eat much, occasionally handling emails on his computer. Most of the time, he read or slept when tired.

His energy still hadn’t fully returned, and I was worried.

I curled up on the sofa in the study, watching him carefully review documents on his computer.

“Jiazhuo—” I rested my chin on my knees, gazing at his back—the slim yet sturdy outline of his spine beneath his shirt—and couldn’t help but sigh: “Why hasn’t Grandpa promoted you to CEO yet? You work so hard.”

His movements suddenly froze.

Unaware of the shift in his mood, I continued: “Even when you’re unwell, you still push yourself.”

He typed on the keyboard, picked up a pen to sign some papers, then shut down the computer and walked over to me.

His eyes were hidden behind his black-rimmed glasses, making it hard for me to read his expression. His voice, as usual, was deep and pleasant, though tinged with a cold firmness: “It’s just a fever and fatigue. I’ll be fine after a couple of days’ rest. Don’t make a fuss.”

During these days when Jiazhuo didn’t go to work, my life became very routine—I went to bed early and woke up early every day.

Around 8 a.m., I was in the kitchen when I suddenly heard loud ringing outside, followed by forceful knocking.

The sound reverberated through the house. I hurried over, glanced outside, and opened the door. The booming voice of the elderly master immediately filled the air: “Yingying, where’s the second son?”

I stepped aside to let the old man in: “Grandpa, Jiazhuo’s at home. Please come in and sit.”

Behind the old man stood two people, one of whom was Uncle Guo. I smiled politely: “Uncle Guo.”

The other middle-aged man nodded slightly at me and walked into the house.

I followed the old man and helped him settle onto the sofa.

Turning to pour tea, I smiled: “Grandpa—.” Facing this imposing figure who still commanded authority despite being over sixty, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. “What brings you here? You didn’t even call ahead.”

This elderly man, with deep lines etched beside his nose and a tightly pursed mouth, glanced at me and waved his hand: “Yingying, sit down.”

I obeyed and sat on a nearby chair.

Frowning, he asked: “Is the second son at home? His secretary said he hasn’t been to work for two days.”

I forced a smile: “Jiazhuo isn’t feeling well…”

Before I could finish, I caught sight of a familiar figure upstairs.

Jiazhuo had already descended the stairs, changed into a fresh shirt and pants, and stood before the old man with his usual calm demeanor.

“Grandpa,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly.

The old man scrutinized him from head to toe before speaking: “Yingying says you’re sick?”

He brushed it off casually: “It’s nothing, just a cold.”

Seeing his indifferent attitude, the old man gestured to someone behind him: “Let Dr. Chen take a look.”

The middle-aged man who had been standing behind the old man stepped forward: “Second Young Master—”

Jiazhuo glanced at him, his eyes cold. He stated clearly: “I’m fine.”

The old man slammed his hand on the armrest of the sofa, his tone sharp with reproach: “If you’re fine, why aren’t you at work?”

Jiazhuo hesitated, his lips moving slightly, but he held back from speaking.

The old man’s voice, now hoarse with anger, rose: “The Q2 financial report has just been released, and the company has a mountain of issues. The Walden acquisition case has been dragging on, and your older brother in the U.S. has been calling me over a dozen times a day to push for progress. And here you are, resting at home, conveniently sick at such a time!”

Jiazhuo’s face suddenly paled.

He straightened his back, exuding an icy aura: “I’ve personally instructed the U.S. branch. The proposal isn’t complete and needs improvement. I’m only resting for two days. Any urgent matters can be handled through my assistant.”

“Jiazhuo, stop making excuses. I know you’re unhappy—” The old man’s voice grew darker: “Li Guoxing disobeyed your orders, underestimated client risk, and made a poor investment. I know you’re upset with your older brother about this, but Li has been with me for over a decade. He’s practically your elder. As a vice president, how can you lack the capacity to tolerate others?!”

Jiazhuo’s tone was firm and arrogant: “If he’s under my command, he must follow the company’s management system!”

“The headquarters has already issued disciplinary actions. What more do you want?” The old man stood up, his temper flaring, his sharp gaze sweeping over everyone: “A little cold keeps you from work for days? Since when did the Lao family produce such lazy descendants!”

“Grandpa—” I couldn’t help but interject softly, but Jiazhuo silenced me with a glance.

He looked at the old man, his eyes full of stubbornness, then gave a faint smile: “Are you saying I’m deliberately delaying the acquisition to embarrass my brother? Is that what you think of me?”

The old man replied coldly: “The entire financial world is watching this acquisition. Look at the mess you’ve caused!”

“Why don’t you ask my brother?” He smiled, a trace of sorrow flickering across his brow.

The old man seemed shaken by his cold tone and fell silent.

I saw Jiazhuo’s hand lightly grip the back of the sofa. His pale face remained impassive, standing silently.

I bit my lip, my heart aching as if it couldn’t breathe.

The atmosphere was heavy and awkward.

Uncle Guo stepped in to ease the tension: “Old Master, don’t blame the second young master. Nothing is more important than the health of our descendants. You know how frail Jiazhuo’s health is. Look at him—he’s lost so much weight. Miss Yingying was just worried about him and let him rest at home. Newlyweds, after all, tend to be affectionate—”

“Miss Yingying, right?” Uncle Guo chuckled and winked at me.

I quickly snapped out of my thoughts and joined in the laughter: “Yes—”

I stood up and offered a cup of hot tea: “Grandpa, please have some tea. Jiazhuo had a slight cold the other day, but he’s better now. If there’s anything urgent, you can call Uncle Guo. If you need Jiazhuo, just have him come over. There’s no need for you to visit in person and miss your card game.”

The old man’s expression softened slightly as he looked at me: “His grandmother certainly has good judgment. She found him a good wife.”

I forced a smile: “That’s my good fortune. Grandma dotes on me.”

The old man took a sip of tea, glanced at Jiazhuo, who remained silent, set the cup down, and stood up, straightening his clothes: “If there’s nothing else, go to the company and handle things properly. Don’t let the staff laugh at you and your brother.”

Then, turning to me, he nodded: “I’ll be leaving now.”

I nodded quickly: “We’ll visit you both soon.”

Uncle Guo opened the door for him, and they left.

I lowered my head. The spacious living room was silent except for the shallow sound of Jiazhuo’s breathing beside me.

Jiazhuo suddenly reached out and touched my cheek, letting out a sigh: “Silly girl.”

I didn’t dare look up because my eyes were brimming with tears.

He leaned back on the sofa and said indifferently: “How did the Jiang family raise such a kind-hearted daughter?”

His tone was full of sarcasm.

I didn’t understand and looked up slightly at him.

He clenched his teeth lightly, though his tone remained calm: “I’m not that fragile. I’m not worth your tears.”

Looking at the resolute coldness in his expression, I felt a chill run down my spine.

Without another word, he turned and walked upstairs.

From that day on, Jiazhuo returned to work as usual. After two days of rest, he was mostly recovered, though his recovery seemed slow. At night, I occasionally heard soft coughs coming from his room.

The summer vacation stretched on, and occasionally I would hang out with a few close classmates, indulging in food, drinks, and fun. Whenever new movies premiered or there were brand sales or birthday parties, there was always something lively to join.

As he wished, I happily did what an eighteen-year-old should do.

Sometimes in the evening, when he saw me dressed up and ready to go out, he would simply remind me: “If it gets too late, call the driver to pick you up.”

His tone was caring, but devoid of any extra warmth.

One day, Huihui dragged me to a beach barbecue. She grinned at me: “Yingying, our class president invited some business management boys to join us.”

I had no particular expectations for this gathering, nor did I have the patience for pretentious small talk. My sole intention was to eat and drink.

I shrugged: “Later, you play by yourself. Don’t drag me into it.”

Huihui nodded seriously: “Got it. I’ll just pretend I brought a pig along.”

I kept a straight face: “You understand me best.”

She sighed in defeat: “Hopeless.”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

When we arrived at the beach, the crowd was already gathered, their laughter filling the air.

Huihui dashed toward the sand, and someone immediately called out to her loudly.

She thrived in such settings, weaving through the crowd and chatting animatedly.

I simply found a comfortable corner to sit, gazing at the azure sea and sky under the setting sun.

While grilling meat, a guy came over to chat. A boy wearing a navy-blue sweater sat beside me, persistently trying to strike up a conversation.

I lazily responded, answering one question out of every three he asked.

When Huihui returned to my side and noticed the boy next to me, her tone brightened: “Hey, you’re not from our department, are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

At that moment, I finally glanced at him. The boy had thick eyebrows and big eyes, quite handsome.

He introduced himself confidently: “I was dragged here. Third year in the Law School, Yang Ruiyi.”

Huihui’s eyes lit up: “Ah, so you’re the famous debater from the Law School! I’ve heard a lot about you. You were the fourth speaker in last semester’s debate finals between the Law School and the Foreign Languages College, right?”

Huihui shoved the corn cob she was holding into my hand and gestured dramatically: “I thought back then that Yang was extraordinary, effortlessly dismantling opponents with his words. And now, seeing you in person, you truly live up to your reputation—such elegance and charm!”

Yang Ruiyi seemed surprised that she recognized him and laughed heartily: “You flatter me. Meeting such a lively and adorable girl from the Media School makes this trip worthwhile.”

I almost gagged.

“Not at all,” Huihui pulled him into a deep conversation: “I heard that the second speaker’s girlfriend used to be the External Relations Minister of the Biology Department, but later fell in love with the third speaker during their collaboration. Was it him who set off fireworks under Ruogu Building to confess his love?”

I inwardly sighed: Wei Huihui’s knack for gossip truly knew no bounds.

Yang Ruiyi chuckled: “Yes, that guy bought a whole box of sparklers and gathered several dorm mates to set them off, though in the end, it didn’t work out.”

Huihui’s witty remarks and lively chatter naturally enlivened the atmosphere, leaving me free to relax and enjoy a honey-glazed chicken wing.

“Yingying,” on the way back, Huihui sat beside me and whispered in my ear: “Yang Ruiyi is pretty good.”

I wrinkled my nose: “He talks too much.”

No matter how I looked at it, none of the boys appealed to me.

Wei Huihui tugged at my hair: “Jiang Yinying, tell me honestly—who is this man you secretly like?”

I raised my hand to stop her: “Stop. Don’t ask me this question.”

She gritted her teeth in frustration: “How can you be so cowardly? Too scared to speak up or pursue him. Aren’t you ashamed?”

I lowered my head, unable to respond.

In my third year of college, after rejecting the eighteenth boy who showed slight interest in me, I was forced by Huihui to admit that I liked someone. But I stubbornly refused to reveal his identity, leaving her helpless.

Huihui rolled her eyes, nibbled her fingers, and pondered: “Gao Han? No, no, the letter he wrote scared you so much you didn’t dare come to school for three days… Yuan Yongnian? No, no, you don’t like muscular guys…”

I wanted to jump out of the window. This guessing game had been going on for nearly a year, and she still enjoyed it.

Having exhausted all my male classmates’ names except those from elementary school, Huihui slapped her thigh: “Is it… Wang Guangji?”

My heart skipped a beat.

Wang Guangji, the most prominent figure on campus, unrivaled in both academics and athletics, handsome and extraordinary, rumored to come from a prestigious family. He was in his third year of graduate studies in the Economics Department and was famously dating the belle of the Foreign Languages College.

This golden couple’s brilliance was unmatched.

Previously, there was a thread on the campus forum where daily street photos of them were posted, followed by endless comments analyzing their expressions, clothing, hairstyles, and accessories.

Such a godlike figure, whom I could only admire from afar, had nothing to do with me.

Her wild imagination left me utterly stunned.

Huihui was startled by my expression: “So… it really is him? No wonder you always dragged me to watch inter-school basketball games in high school.”

I pretended to endure humiliation and sighed softly, lowering my head.

Huihui mulled it over for a while, then sighed sympathetically, her tone unusually rare: “Yingying, his girlfriend seems pretty. You…”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.

Only then did Huihui realize she’d been tricked. She jumped up from her seat and fiercely pinched my neck: “You little wretch, how dare you deceive my pure-hearted feelings!”

We tumbled around on the seat, drawing stares from everyone on the bus.

By the time we got home, it was already late at night.

The taxi stopped at the entrance of the neighborhood. From afar, I spotted Jiazhuo’s car parked downstairs and hurried over.

Jiazhuo was just getting out of the car. I walked up to him: “Jiazhuo!”

The person before me had a slightly flushed, handsome face. His tie was gone, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. Seeing me, he smiled faintly.

I smelled alcohol on him and frowned: “Did you drink?”

There was no sign of drunkenness in his demeanor. He simply said: “Just a little.”

Su Jian got out of the driver’s seat and greeted me: “Miss Jiang.”

I looked at the two of them: “Why did you drink so much?”

“A few new CWLs were sent from headquarters. Mr. Lao accompanied them for dinner and drank a bit,” Su Jian explained softly.

Jiazhuo gestured to him: “Thank you for your hard work. Go rest.”

Su Jian nodded and left.

Jiazhuo and I entered the elevator together. Though slightly tipsy, his steps remained steady.

I followed him upstairs. It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the sofa that I realized he was quite drunk.

I went into the room to fetch clean clothes for him and placed them in front of him: “Jiazhuo, I’ll draw you a bath. Go wash up.”

He raised his eyes and stared at me silently, his brows furrowed, the suppressed pain in his eyes slowly surfacing.

Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me forcefully toward him. Caught off guard, I fell to my knees on the sofa, my body collapsing onto his. My lips brushed against his cheek.

I clearly smelled the luxurious aroma emanating from his neck, mixed with the scent of alcohol—a decadent midnight fantasy.

My eyes widened in shock, completely frozen.

He seemed somewhat disoriented, softly calling my name: “Yingying, why are you here…”

Jiazhuo reached up and gripped my shoulders. His clear, moon-like face was inches away, slowly approaching mine.

Flustered, I could only softly call his name: “Jiazhuo…”

But in that instant, he suddenly sobered up. His fingers tightened painfully on my shoulders, and he froze.

His expression turned cold, frostier with each passing second: “Jiang Yinying, stay away from me.”

With that, he let go of me and walked into the bathroom.

In August, my younger brother invited me and Jiazhuo home for his birthday.

It had been a long time since I’d returned home. Back when I was studying, every time I came home, my father and Aunt Yun would argue endlessly. Grandpa and Grandma doted on their grandson, and aside from Zhang Sao remembering to call me for meals, no one paid much attention to me.

This time, Aunt Yun personally called, her tone warm and insistent, repeatedly urging me to bring the Second Young Master home.

Now, it seemed my status had risen thanks to my husband. Little did they know that I had no idea where my husband was at the moment.

In the morning, I went alone to the children’s store to pick out a gift, bought presents for my father, Aunt Yun, and grandparents, and then took a ride home, planning to leave after dinner.

Huihui had plans to go shopping with me that evening.

I didn’t dare bother the Second Young Master with this trivial matter.

Ever since that night, he had acted as if nothing happened, but I still felt awkward and didn’t want to invite more embarrassment.

Carrying several large bags, I walked into Lan Yun Garden, my whole body steaming with heat.

Before I reached the building, I saw the familiar black car slowly pulling out of the driveway. It stopped beside me.

Jiazhuo got out of the driver’s seat: “Get in.”

I asked: “Where are we going?”

He naturally took the bags from my hands and placed them in the backseat. Turning to me, he said: “Isn’t it your little brother’s birthday? I’ll take you home. I have an engagement tonight, so I can only stay for the afternoon.”

Even after sitting beside him, I still felt somewhat dazed.

He was usually silent, and last night, after watching TV too late, I had fallen asleep next to him.

It wasn’t until Jiazhuo gently nudged me and softly said: “We’re here,” that I woke up.

I rubbed my eyes and quickly smoothed my messy hair.

Jiazhuo got out of the car, walked around to open my door, and retrieved the gifts. Zhang Shu had already come out of the house, smiling: “Young Master-in-law, Miss Yingying, welcome back.”

As soon as we entered the house, Aunt Yun greeted us warmly. My father stood up from the sofa, and Grandpa soon followed. The whole family gathered in the living room, sitting with Jiazhuo on the couch.

Grandpa turned to me: “Yingying, Mrs. Lao is here too. She just mentioned you both.”

I smiled and stood up: “Then I’ll go find Grandma.”

Grandma and Mrs. Lao were seated in the dining area outside the kitchen, watching Zhang Shu direct a few maids in grilling abalone over charcoal.

I walked over and squatted in front of them, affectionately saying: “Grandma, I’m back.”

Mrs. Lao pulled me up with a laugh: “Oh dear, who are you calling—”

“Both of you,” I smiled. “You’re both my grandmas.”

Grandma chuckled: “This child, her words are getting sweeter.”

We had returned close to noon, and the kitchen quickly prepared the meal. Aunt Yun ushered everyone to eat.

At the dinner table, Jiang family’s hostess was exceedingly attentive. Aunt Yun served soup to Mrs. Lao and served dishes to Jiazhuo. Zhang Shu stood by with her hands idle, looking even more unnecessary than me.

I sat next to Jiazhuo. He had a good appetite today, drinking soup and eating rice.

After the meal, Grandpa invited him for tea and discussed the rising global inflation and fluctuations in the real estate market.

“Jiazhuo,” my father interjected: “Recently, there has been talk about Hang Seng considering raising interest rates by a quarter to half a percent. Does Lao Tong have any plans to raise rates?”

Jiazhuo leaned back on the sofa, his face bearing a gentle smile: “After the Federal Reserve’s meeting next week, the company will fully consider whether to adjust interest rates. Before the U.S. interest rate decision, it’s unlikely Lao Tong’s loan business will raise mortgage rates. Uncle Jiang, rest assured. If there are any changes in Lao Tong’s loan rates, I will inform you in advance.”

My father glanced at Grandpa before nodding satisfactorily: “That’s good.”

Jiazhuo’s gaze subtly fell on me as I walked out of the dining room. His voice remained calm: “Real estate prices remain high without signs of falling. Jiang family’s properties are all in excellent locations. Moreover, all of Jiang family’s financial dealings with Lao Tong are handled by me personally. Grandpa, you can rest assured.”

His words were measured yet exuded a convincing confidence.

Grandpa poured tea, looking at us with an approving smile: “Young people, full of potential.”

Jiazhuo looked at me earnestly, slightly bowing his head with a humble smile: “Much thanks to the guidance of our elders.”

A sense of unrealistic softness welled up inside me. I smiled at him and left the living room.

I went upstairs to my room, picked up two books from the bookshelf, and walked down the corridor. As I passed a small living room on the second floor, I heard Grandma and Mrs. Lao chatting.

I was about to walk past when I suddenly heard Mrs. Lao softly say: “Yingying doesn’t resemble her mother.”

My steps halted instantly.

Grandma replied: “Yes, this child has always been obedient.”

I quietly stood in the corner by the door and peeked inside.

Mrs. Lao nodded: “You’ve raised her well. She’s filial and sensible. I really like this granddaughter-in-law.”

Grandma sighed deeply, suddenly feeling sentimental: “Our Jiang family only has this one daughter. Marrying her to the Second Young Master honors Yingjie. It’s also a testament to the long-standing relationship between our two families.”

The room fell into silence.

After a long while, Mrs. Lao took out a handkerchief to dab her eyes: “Don’t say that. It’s fate. Master Mai once foretold that my youngest son has a weak destiny. It’s no wonder…”

Grandma held her hand: “Meiru, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not Jiang family’s fault.” Mrs. Lao patted her hand. “Fortunately, Jiazhuo is not like his father. He’s very firm in his actions. Since Yingying married him, the Second Son’s career has been smooth. The old master said that after some more experience, the position of President of the Asian region will eventually be his.”

Grandma’s tone softened considerably: “It’s all thanks to the Second Young Master’s capabilities. Once Yingying graduates next year and gives you a great-grandchild, the past will be forgotten. Our two families will continue to live harmoniously.”

Mrs. Lao thought for a moment, still hesitating slightly: “Does Yingying truly know nothing about those past events?”

Grandma’s tone was firm: “She wasn’t born yet at that time. How could she know? Besides, it’s been so many years. What should be forgotten has long been forgotten.”

Mrs. Lao smiled: “Then I can rest easy. The Second Son has always been reserved since he was young. Though he appears gentle, he’s actually very stubborn. If he doesn’t want something, no one can force him. He agreed to marry Yingying, and I see that he truly cherishes her.”

Grandma relaxed: “That’s good.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone walking up the stairs. I quickly tiptoed away.

Sneaking back to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, letting my thoughts swirl.

I don’t always follow financial news, but occasionally, when I watch the news, I inevitably see the red and white diamond-shaped LTB logo of this vast financial empire in global bond and stock underwriting markets or as financial consultants in large multinational transactions across 8,000 branches in 67 countries and regions.

The global economic situation changes rapidly, and banking is a crucial link in it all. Standing at the top of this financial dynasty, every decision requires immense consideration and effort.

I’m not familiar with economics, nor do I understand what being the Vice President of Lao Tong Asia and Chief Investment Advisor entails. Behind this massive financial conglomerate, overshadowed by the brilliance of Mr. Lao Jiajun, the overseas executive president, Jiazhuo remains exceptionally low-profile. He rarely appears in public and never accepts media interviews. I’ve never seen him at work, so I can’t judge whether he fits my image of a sharply dressed, detached commercial elite negotiating in English with precise words.

What I’m familiar with is the young man in a white shirt, reading documents under the soft light of the study, his slim, pale face slightly furrowed in concentration, growing weary as the night deepens.

His tired, pale face, his silent endurance when sick, his occasional sleeping face with lashes casting a faint gray shadow, like a splendid yet melancholic Venice.

His faint smiles, his gentle coughs—these are treasures I will cherish for a lifetime.

Thinking back to the two grandmothers’ conversation, how much sentimentality comes with age. The stories of the older generation are indeed long.

But what they spoke of, I don’t know. Could it be like a drama on the selected channel, some entangled love affair between our two wealthy families spawning a generation of grudges? Or perhaps I’m not Jiang family’s biological daughter, with a convoluted backstory, discovering years later that the person I married is actually my blood brother, leading to heart-wrenching tragedy… These wild thoughts grew increasingly absurd. Then I heard my father calling me downstairs.

I went down, and Dad said to me: “Jiazhuo has to return to the city for work.”

“I’m leaving too.” I kissed my little brother: “Happy birthday, sweetie. Big sister will play with you next time I come back.”

After another round of warm farewells, we finally stepped out. He and I walked out of the mansion together, standing under the trees in the front courtyard.

“Where are you going?” Jiazhuo asked.

“I’m meeting classmates downtown.”

Lao Jiazhuo nodded: “I’m busy. Let Uncle Guo take you.”

He waved to Uncle Guo waiting under the eaves: “Take Yingying to the city.”

Then he drove off alone.