MPH - 4

Chapter 4: If I Can’t Protect You Completely

The glass city at night was illuminated with dazzling lights.

Wei Huihui waited at the entrance of the Ritz, wearing a halter dress, sipping her drink and looking around curiously.

I walked over and tapped her on the head, “You pervert, what are you looking at?”

Huihui didn’t resist, only chuckled.

I looked her up and down and said, “Something’s not right.”

“Yingying, I’m in love.” Her eyes sparkled with joy that she couldn’t hide.

I sneered, “Who’s the unlucky guy?”

Since starting college, Huihui had been in three relationships, each lasting less than half a year before she complained they were boring and shouted for freedom. The men would then be cast aside, and she’d continue to hang out with me.

“Yang Ruiyi.” She actually seemed a bit shy, “After we met last time, he called me...”

I considered it and reluctantly nodded, “He’s alright.”

She beamed like a kindergarten child who just got candy, hugging me and laughing.

Looking at her expression, I knew this time she had truly fallen.

We went to the first floor to look at clothes. Huihui enthusiastically dragged me to the men’s section, “Wouldn’t this look good on him?”

She gestured to the salesperson, “He’s this tall, not fat or thin, what size should he wear?”

The salesgirl politely suggested, “Miss, you can take a look at this one, the size should fit.”

I stood aside, watching her happiness for a while, then pointed to the right.

Huihui nodded, “Go ahead.”

I walked alone to another counter to look at business attire for men.

An elegantly dressed salesperson immediately approached, softly asking, “Good evening, Miss, do you need assistance?”

I quietly replied, “I’ll just look first.”

She nodded, “Feel free to browse.”

The quiet luxury brand, the deep brown wooden display cases under bright lights, rows of suits and shirts neatly arranged, high-quality fabrics shimmering faintly.

A few customers came in and spoke in low tones.

Soon, Huihui found me, carrying two large bags, interestedly following me, “Yingying, why suddenly look at formal wear?”

She added, “We’re graduating soon, Yang Ruiyi needs to intern at a law firm and will need to dress more formally.”

She peeked at the price and gasped, “So expensive.”

I pulled her towards the exit.

Huihui tugged my hand, “Women’s clothing is on the third floor, why did you come here?”

“Just browsing.” I asked, “Are you done shopping?”

She nodded.

I said, “Then let’s go eat some late-night snacks.”

Huihui wondered, “Aren’t you going to look anymore?”

I shook my head, “Tired, maybe another day.”

Huihui walked beside me, bouncing around, swinging the bags, continuously talking to me.

A slight sense of desolation crept into my heart; I was already married but didn’t know what size shirt my husband wore.

One evening, Jiazhuo came home from work.

I was watching TV in the living room, the fashion show of McQueen. This genius designer’s premature death had sparked a wave of melancholic British nostalgia in the fashion world.

Jiazhuo sat beside me for a while, “Hmm, do you like his designs?”

I directly answered, “I like how he treated life.”

He was slightly surprised, then smiled as if hearing a little girl’s innocent words.

“Jiazhuo,” I suddenly whispered, “Let me see your collar.”

He frowned, “Why?”

I stubbornly bit my lip, “I just want to see.”

He smiled and obediently lowered his head.

I leaned closer, seeing his clean black hair, clean neck, the texture and lines of his skin. I reached out and gently flipped up the collar of his shirt.

I just wanted to see what size clothes he wore.

His hair tips were slightly prickly, his body mixed with the smell of hard paper and light ink, so warm.

I held my breath, for a moment, even unsure where I was.

The beige sofa next to me, the transparent coffee table, the spacious living room with its elegant tones all faded away, leaving only me gazing at the man beside me, frozen in an awkward pose.

In those few short seconds, I felt my heart shatter into beautiful petals.

“Okay,” I heard my own voice, dreamlike, slowly withdrawing my hand, the dream ended.

I opened my eyes, unable to help but stare at him.

Without a word, he stood up, “I’m going upstairs, take your time.”

I walked to the water dispenser and poured a large glass of water, drinking it down in big gulps.

The deepest thirst in my heart, like seeing a mirage oasis in the desert, forever out of reach.

On an early autumn night, my skin cracked inch by inch, fine flakes between the folds.

The next day at home, I was now a senior in college, about to enter society, knowing I couldn’t play around like this anymore.

I had a good sleep, got up to organize my textbooks and design drawings, then sent emails to contact internship units.

Amidst my busyness, I heard the doorbell ring.

I walked downstairs and saw the person on the electronic screen, a fashionable lady outside with short hair, sparkling diamond earrings, wearing a sophisticated suit skirt. It was an unexpected guest.

I opened the door, unsure how to address her. Everyone around called her Manager Lin, but I’d heard Jiazhuo privately call her Big Sister. After hesitating, I could only smile shyly.

Seeing my thoughts, she calmly said, “We’re all family now, Jiazhuo calls me Big Sister.”

I followed her lead and politely called her, “Big Sister.”

I invited her in and asked, “What drink would you like?”

Lin Baorong nodded slightly, “Coffee, thank you.”

I poured her coffee.

Lin Baorong sat down without unnecessary pleasantries and handed me a large bag.

I took it and opened it, seeing the embossed cover of a fashion male model with a cold, three-dimensional face, puzzled, I asked, “What is this?”

“The latest autumn-winter collection of two brands that Jiazhuo endorses.” She sat on the sofa with her knees together, elegantly holding her coffee, “Zhu Bichan made a call to my office, letting PR send it to you for review. From now on, this task is yours.”

I vaguely remembered Zhu Bichan as Jiazhuo’s secretary.

Lin Baorong continued, “Previously, I picked out his clothes, and the store delivered them directly. Now it’s handed to you. If you’re interested, you can visit the store.”

I felt somewhat embarrassed, “Why think of me? Big Sister has better taste than me.”

Lin Baorong joked, “Now that he’s married, what use do I have?”

My face immediately turned red.

Lin Baorong smiled and stood up, “I have things to do. Yingying, if you’re interested, I’ll invite you to Hong Kong another day for the company’s annual meeting.”

I stood up to see her off, “Thank you, Big Sister.”

Lin Baorong walked with me to the door and suddenly looked at me, “I never understood why Jiazhuo rushed into marriage, but now it seems, his decision indeed has some merit.”

I couldn’t fathom the meaning behind her words and could only smile.

After speaking, Lin Baorong smiled at me, her graceful figure disappeared around the stairwell corner.

What a sharp and elegant woman, I couldn’t help but admire her silently, then turned back inside.

In the afternoon, Jiazhuo called me, “Yingying, I have to go on a business trip and won’t be back tonight.”

“Where are you going?” 

“Shanghai.” He continued, “It might take about a week—” 

Suddenly, I heard someone call him softly from nearby: “Vice President...” 

He spoke to me gently, “I have things to attend to. Take care of yourself.” 

The call ended. 

At home, I worked on my design sketches while studying fashion magazines. After much deliberation, I nervously picked out a few outfits for him. Following his usual preference for understated elegance, I chose a charcoal gray suit set, a pure black double-breasted wool coat, and a slightly more fashionable military green trench coat with a camel-colored jacket. Then I made a few calls, and the store sent someone to deliver them. I signed for the items and carefully hung each piece in the wardrobe. 

On an evening when I was alone at home, I opened the terrace door without realizing that the autumn breeze had already grown cooler. 

A week after school started, I came home after class and saw Jiazhuo’s suitcase in the living room. 

I rushed upstairs, and he emerged from the room, calling me, “Yingying.” 

After not seeing him for a week, I couldn’t help but feel a bit delighted: “You’re back.” 

“I brought you a gift,” he said with a smile, “It’s in the suitcase downstairs.” 

Ever since we got married, Jiazhuo always remembered to bring me gifts whenever he went on business trips—usually branded shoes or bags, all in a youthful and lively style. Clearly, he would never step into such stores himself; it was obviously the work of his secretary. 

Still, I sincerely thanked him: “Thank you.” 

His expression brightened as he stood with his hands in his pockets: “Thank you for taking the trouble to buy clothes for me.” 

I followed him into the dressing room and asked, “I hope they match your taste.” 

He nodded, picked one out, and said lightly, “This one looks very nice.” 

I smiled faintly and lowered my head discreetly. 

In his hand was a fine-striped navy-blue sweater paired with a light brown jacket and a matching plaid-patterned scarf, exuding a subtle yet luxurious casual vibe. This piece wasn’t part of the list Lin Baorong gave me, nor was it Jiazhuo’s usual minimalist style. I had spotted it in a small foreign trade shop on Qingyun Road—it seemed like something suitable for attending a fashion party or enjoying drinks on the weekend. I didn’t know if he would like it, but I thought it would look good on him. Secretly, I hoped he could occasionally relax and enjoy some private time for himself. 

For so long, watching him at the center of power, holding a high position yet constrained by numerous checks and balances, I harbored a strange fear. I was afraid that one day he would be sucked into the vortex of this financial empire. 

I vaguely felt that all of this might lead to the most unpredictable and terrifying consequences. 

I said, “I wanted this to be your birthday present.” 

His birthday was on September 12th. 

He looked genuinely surprised, then sincerely replied, “Thank you.” 

I felt a bit embarrassed: “It’s not very expensive—I couldn’t afford anything too pricey.” 

My father’s secretary regularly transferred funds to me every month, and I also had a card given by Jiazhuo, but I didn’t want to spend his money. To afford this outfit, I spent the summer drawing countless design sketches for several small companies’ engineering teams. 

He patted my head, his tone calm but heartfelt: “Yingying, its value is worth a thousand golds.” 

A week later, Jiazhuo went to Hong Kong for a meeting and returned with a beautifully wrapped box as a gift for me. 

I took it to my room and opened it—a Girard-Perregaux watch, with a pale rose-pink strap and a delicate circle of tiny diamonds around the case. It was incredibly cute and elegant. 

I couldn’t help but let out a faint bitter smile. 

I knew he didn’t want to owe me any favors and was trying hard to draw clear boundaries to keep our relationship within a safe range. 

He was reminding me where the line was. 

And it seemed I could no longer control myself. 

Beyond the glass window, the setting sun cast a thin silhouette against the fading autumn light. 

From the kitchen on the sixteenth floor, the view outside was a breathtaking panorama of beauty that would never come again in this lifetime. 

I sat at the table, holding my rice bowl and muttering to myself: “I dream of a day when valleys rise, mountains fall, and crooked paths become smooth highways; when divine light reveals itself, illuminating humanity—” 

Feeling a gaze from behind me, I turned to see a man leaning against the doorframe. 

He wore a simple, refreshing navy-blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, elbow resting on the wall. On his fair wrist was a sleek, minimalist platinum watch. 

He looked at me and chuckled silently: “Yingying, why are you reciting Martin Luther King Jr.?” 

I clutched a stack of papers to my chest, speaking with patriotic concern: “I am ruthless with you because our nation stands at the brink of survival. We must risk everything.” 

He walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside me. 

I got up to ladle soup for him. 

He sat across from me, holding the spoon and smiling faintly: “So, what exactly happened?” 

It’s a long story. You see, the leader of our drama club has been secretly in love with the beautiful president of the broadcasting club for years. But alas, the flowers were willing, yet the water flowed cold. Now that we’re seniors and about to go our separate ways, we couldn’t bear to see our leader regret this for life. So, last week, before the freshmen welcome party, our passionate secretary-general, taking advantage of our leader’s absence from school, slammed the table and boldly declared to the broadcasting club: whoever’s performance fell short would unconditionally agree to one request from the other club. 

Our drama club’s performances have always been wildly popular across campus for their exaggerated humor and depth. This time, everyone worked even harder, rehearsing tirelessly through the night for weeks. 

The entire club was brimming with confidence, eagerly awaiting our leader’s return to celebrate our victory. 

But fate had other plans. 

The day before the event, Zhang Yuxuan, the lead singer of the school’s most beloved band and three-time champion of the campus top ten, announced he would join the broadcasting club. 

Zhang Yuxuan’s charm was unstoppable, especially among the freshman girls. 

When the voting results came out, we lost by a landslide. 

Wei Huihui, our gossip queen, returned after investigating and dramatically sighed, shaking her head: “Turns out Zhang Yuxuan is Deng Mei’s cousin... Sigh—” 

Deng Mei, the lovely and kindhearted president of the broadcasting club, casually strolled through our office and slowly addressed our secretary-general: “Brother Cai, the statue of Tao Gong in front of the library gathers the essence of heaven and earth. Why don’t you follow the example of our wise ancestors and awaken our ignorant masses? Next Tuesday afternoon, we’ll be waiting for your club’s brilliant performance.” 

The secretary-general gritted his teeth: “Don’t get too cocky!” 

With our leader absent, the secretary-general bravely accepted the consequences but was suddenly assigned by his professor to conduct rural research the next day. 

After exchanging glances, the remaining members decided to draw lots. 

More than a dozen cadres from our club solemnly took turns reaching into the box. 

Unfortunately, the black lot fell to none other than yours truly. 

As cheers erupted around me, I wished I could smack Wei Huihui right then and there. 

Jiazhuo burst out laughing after hearing the story: “When do you have to give your recitation?” 

“Next Tuesday,” I replied. 

“I have a lunch appointment with the chairman of Nanjing University next week, but I’m not sure which day it is,” he mused slightly. “Do you need me to come?” 

“Ah…” I hesitated, “Maybe not. I’ll be nervous…” 

“It seems to be Thursday, so I probably can’t make it,” he smiled. “Good luck.” 

I nodded and continued muttering to myself. 

Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the autumn sky vast and clear, the weather warm and pleasant. 

A gentle breeze blew in front of the library, people coming and going as usual, the atmosphere serene. 

When we arrived, a few members of the broadcasting club were already waiting in front of the library. Yang Ruiyi emerged promptly from the library, still holding a textbook, and immediately stepped forward with revolutionary fervor to shake my hand: “What an honor to witness this grand occasion, Miss Jiang. Good luck!” 

Huihui punched him lightly: “Step aside.” 

Huihui then pushed our leader, who had hurriedly returned, forward: “Meimei, our leader sacrificed even his favorite subordinate for you. Hasn’t this moved your icy little heart?” 

Everyone burst into laughter and exchanged pleasantries. 

Deng Mei shot our leader a glare: “That depends on the performance. Let’s get started!” 

Huihui dragged me up the steps. Someone below shouted: “Go up! Climb higher!” 

There was a narrow platform between the statue and its pedestal. 

Huihui clenched her teeth: “Are we afraid of them?” 

With both hands, she hoisted me onto the marble platform. 

I steadied myself and stood upright. Below, a crowd had gathered. Our leader led our group of comrades in shouting together: “Yingying, give it your all!”

The crowd roared with laughter, clapping enthusiastically and shouting my name. 

I took one last look at the printed speech in my hand, steeled myself, cleared my throat, and began: “One hundred years ago, a great American signed the Emancipation Proclamation, and today we are gathered here at his resting place. This solemn declaration is like the light of a beacon...” 

A small square began to form as people gathered around, whispering and giggling. 

Members of the broadcasting club shouted, “Louder! We can’t hear you!” 

I shouted at the top of my lungs, “It brought hope to millions of enslaved Black people suffering in the flames of injustice that consumed their lives—” 

The crowd below burst into uncontrollable laughter, some even doubling over. 

I saw Huihui holding a DV camera, laughing so hard she could barely keep it steady. 

My cheeks burned, but I gritted my teeth and somehow delivered the entire lengthy text flawlessly, reciting every word with perfect intonation and overflowing emotion. 

More and more people gathered around, and passersby began whistling loudly. 

I continued passionately: “Let us return to Mississippi, return to Alabama, return to South Carolina, return to Georgia, return to Louisiana, return to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities— 

“I dream that one day, even Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.” 

Gradually, the passing crowd formed a small circle, laughing, clapping, and waving their arms. 

Completely absorbed, I gazed at the sky: “On the day freedom comes, all God’s children will sing this song with new meaning: My country, beautiful land of freedom, I sing for you. You are where our fathers died, you are the pride of the first immigrants, let the voice of freedom ring from every mountaintop!” 

Huihui screamed, “Great!” 

Deng Mei led the applause, Yang Ruiyi whistled loudly, and our leader shouted my name at the top of his lungs. Excited young faces gleamed with enthusiasm, the atmosphere electric, applause thunderous. 

Suddenly, I heard a faint sneer. 

I turned my head and saw a tall boy standing at the edge of the crowd. He wore black cotton pants and a white T-shirt, with a striking girl in a red dress by his side. A faint mocking smile played on his lips. 

In the bright sunlight, a glint of light flashed by his ear. 

I turned back and continued waving my arms: “If America is to become a great nation, this dream must be realized. Let the voice of freedom—ring out from the towering mountains of New Hampshire—” 

In an instant, my gaze caught sight of a group of people emerging from the nearby administration building. The slim, upright figure at the front turned to politely shake hands with those beside him before heading toward the black car parked by the roadside. 

The person who appeared to be his assistant opened the car door for him. 

But he suddenly stopped in front of the car, standing still, gazing toward the library. 

My heart skipped a beat. 

Instinctively, I took a step forward. Huihui screamed, “Yingying—” 

My foot slipped, and I tumbled headfirst down the steps. 

Before I could react, a pair of strong arms caught me firmly. 

I opened my eyes in panic and was met with an extraordinarily exquisite and handsome face. A few strands of deep brown hair fell across his forehead, his narrow double eyelids sharp and expressive, a faint smirk on his lips. 

In the sudden silence, he gently set me down. 

His hands remained loosely around my waist as he smiled at me with effortless charm, his clear voice carrying through the air: “Classmate, which department are you from? What’s your name?” 

The audience, now snapping back to reality, erupted into wild applause and cheers. 

I glared at him and pulled away. 

Huihui pushed through the crowd to stand beside me, her smile sweet: “Thank you all for coming today! Please give a round of applause for our most beautiful human rights warrior and the dashing knight who descended from the heavens!” 

The crowd cheered jubilantly. 

Huihui shouted at the top of her lungs: “New students, welcome to join the drama club! Here, you’ll realize the most beautiful dreams of your life—” 

I covered my face and pushed through the throng, running toward the administration building. But the roadside was empty. 

I stood there blankly for a moment before turning back. 

On the flower-lined path of the square, I saw the boy from earlier standing on the road. The girl beside him held his hand, seemingly sulking and saying something. He turned and saw me, giving me a meaningful smile. 

A faint sense of loss weighed on my heart, but I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. 

He then casually walked away with the girl on his arm. 

The next day in class, I frowned at the cross-sections and detailed node diagrams on my laptop. The professor came over, glanced at my screen, and pointed: “The lighting here still isn’t quite right.” 

An epiphany struck me. I looked up and smiled: “Thank you, Professor.” 

The professor smiled warmly: “I happened to be on the second floor of the library yesterday, young lady. Very spirited—” 

Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. My classmates passed by, patting my shoulder with friendly smiles. We were all seniors now, our futures uncertain, with no time or energy to delve into others’ romantic affairs. 

There were no classes in the afternoon, so I packed up my books and left campus to catch a ride. Before the semester started, I had sent out several emails and received only a few replies. One of them, surprisingly, was from Goldsmith Company. They were planning a large seaside villa project and needed to hire relevant talent. 

Goldsmith was a reputable company in the city, and this opportunity was precious. 

At the entrance of the academy, a boy walking toward me on the school path had a faint, teasing smile. His T-shirt was spotlessly clean. 

He stopped in front of me, his demeanor natural and relaxed, exuding an air of carefree confidence. 

I tried to walk past him. 

“I’m Tang Lechang,” he said, blocking my way. 

“I know,” I replied calmly. 

That night, Huihui had already sent me all the information about him. 

I skimmed through it briefly. Some Tang family heir, same year as us, studying international politics, exceptionally good-looking, with a list of campus beauties as ex-girlfriends—a modern-day Casanova. 

“Jiang Yiying?” he called my name clearly. 

I raised an eyebrow, irritated: “What do you want?” 

“Would you do me the honor of having a cup of coffee?” 

“I’m busy,” I said and turned to leave. 

“Hey, hey, hey—madam,” he chased after me, “Is this how you treat a sincere gentleman during afternoon tea?” 

I stopped, turned, and gave him an elegant smile: “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Tang. It’s an honor, but unfortunately, I’m unavailable today. Perhaps another time.” 

He stood in front of me, taller than me, his face serious in the backlight: “Do you know? According to the ancient Kelmorian code, you broke my engagement under the waning moon. That makes you the fated woman sent by the heavens. You’re responsible for me now.” 

Good grief, why didn’t Huihui mention in her report that this guy was insane? 

I couldn’t help myself and rolled my eyes: “You’re crazy!” 

After shaking off Tang Lechang and leaving campus, I was already running late, so I hurried to catch a taxi. 

Goldsmith Company was located in a towering commercial building downtown. For an ordinary assistant position, dozens of competitors were already waiting in the HR interview hall. All I could do was try my best. 

After the interview ended, I walked out of the office and checked my phone. There were several missed calls, all from the main house of the Lao family. 

As I headed toward the elevator, I dialed the number to call back, but the phone suddenly rang. 

I glanced at it and quickly answered. 

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo’s familiar, low, and gentle voice came through the line. 

“Mm, what is it?” I asked. 

“Qi Xuan is pregnant. Grandfather has summoned us back to the main house,” he said calmly, with a hint of fatigue in his tone. “Are you at school?” 

“No, I’m outside…” I was momentarily stunned by the news, unable to hide my surprise. 

Jiazhuo simply asked, “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.” 

I gave him the address, hung up, and still felt shocked. Qi Xuan, such a modern woman, had always happily enjoyed her two-person world, traveling everywhere. How could she suddenly be pregnant? 

I waited for Jiazhuo in the lobby downstairs. 

Soon, I saw Jiazhuo’s car pull up. He parked, got out, and walked toward me. 

I picked up my bag and headed outside.

At that moment, the elevator doors behind me opened, and a group of people emerged, surrounding two individuals. The man in the center wore a pale yellow shirt with a white suit jacket. He looked young, and from a distance, he seemed somewhat familiar. 

I politely stepped aside to let them pass first. 

Glancing over, I was surprised to see the department manager who had interviewed us earlier among the group following behind. 

The young man quickened his pace as he approached the entrance, calling out to Jiazhuo: “Senior Brother—” 

Jiazhuo turned his head, showing no surprise, and simply smiled: “Aji—” 

The young man stood in front of him: “How come you’re here without giving me a call?” 

“Just passing by for something urgent,” Jiazhuo replied. “I didn’t expect to run into you.” 

“Last week, I went to Lao Tong for some business, and the secretary said you were on a trip,” the young man said cheerfully. “Promoted to Vice President, huh?” 

Jiazhuo’s expression remained neutral as he nodded: “Yes, I was in Hong Kong at the time.” 

Someone beside them couldn’t help but interrupt: “Aji, this is—” 

The young man turned slightly, introducing Jiazhuo to the others: “This is Mr. Lao Jiazhuo, Vice President of Lao Tong Bank.” 

The middle-aged man behind him immediately stepped forward, eagerly shaking Jiazhuo’s hand: “Mr. Lao, it’s an honor to meet you.” 

“I’m Yang Yongfa, the chairman’s assistant at Goldsmith. You and Aji are—” 

Jiazhuo smiled courteously: “Aji and I are alumni.” 

“Excellent, excellent—” Yang Yongfa beamed. “What brings you to Goldsmith today, Mr. Lao? Our seaside villa project is currently under negotiation with your bank. Please do give us some guidance. We must have you over for dinner.” 

Jiazhuo glanced toward the building: “No work-related matters. I’m just here waiting for someone.” 

“Who could be so charming that the second young master personally comes to wait for them?” the young man teased. 

Jiazhuo gave a subtle smile: “A younger sister from the family of an elder.” 

With that, he raised his wrist to check the time. Those around him understood, and Yang Yongfa added: “Another time, Mr. Lao, you must join us for dinner.” 

Jiazhuo politely smiled: “Of course.” 

The two men warmly bid farewell to Jiazhuo and left with their entourage. 

I quietly retreated, slipping out from behind a column in the lobby and sneaking outside to the road. My phone rang: “Where are you?” 

I whispered: “I’m outside on the road.” 

“Wait there,” Jiazhuo replied succinctly. 

The car pulled up beside me. He didn’t get out as usual to open the door for me but simply leaned over to push open the passenger-side door. 

I got in, fastened my seatbelt. 

“Why are you at Goldsmith?” Jiazhuo asked, his long, pale fingers gripping the steering wheel. 

“They’re hiring, so I came to check it out,” I replied. 

“Why not go to Jiang Corporation—” 

“I don’t want to.” He knew very well that I wanted to make my own way and live my own life. 

Jiazhuo chuckled softly and didn’t press further. 

The car drove smoothly toward Jinxi Garden on the outskirts of the city. 

After sitting silently for a while, I couldn’t help but ask: “Why did Qi Xuan suddenly decide to have a baby?” 

“Not sure, apparently only 14 weeks along,” Jiazhuo replied. 

I carefully observed his expression, which showed no signs of distress. 

Soon after, he answered a call about work, and I didn’t disturb him. Jiazhuo focused solely on driving. 

When we arrived at the mansion, the deputy manager of Lao Tong’s PR department was standing respectfully in the living room. 

The old master sat in his chair: “Make sure to coordinate with the hospital where Qi Xuan is being examined. Keep the news under wraps until a few weeks pass and the situation stabilizes before announcing it to the media.” 

The deputy manager nodded in agreement and excused himself. 

In the hallway, we encountered a servant leading us inside. He greeted Jiazhuo respectfully: “Second Young Master.” 

Jiazhuo nodded, and we entered the house together. 

“Grandfather,” I stepped into the living room. 

The old master, usually stern, now wore a faint smile: “You’re back. Sit down.” 

Jiajun, seeing us enter, grinned broadly: “Old Two, Yingying, come here! Take a look at these nursery designs and tell us which one you like best.” 

We walked over, and on the sofa sat two people—one was Dr. Chen, the private physician I’d met before, and the other was a woman wearing glasses. 

The old master introduced her: “This is Dr. Shi Zongya, the head of the obstetrics department at Yanghe Hospital and Qi Xuan’s dedicated doctor.” 

They exchanged polite greetings. 

“Yingying is finally here,” Grandma emerged from within, calling out to me from afar: “Go upstairs and keep your sister-in-law company.” 

She stood in the hall, smiling: “Modern wives are hard to read. Her temper has been terrible since the early stages of pregnancy—” 

Though her words sounded critical, her tone was clearly delighted. 

I went upstairs to visit Qi Xuan. 

The bedroom was quiet. Qi Xuan sat on a chaise lounge, wearing silk lace slippers. Seeing me, she called out: “Yingying—” 

I smiled: “Congratulations, soon-to-be mommy.” 

Her smile flickered briefly, tinged with worry: “I’m not ready yet. It was an accident, but Jiajun insisted on keeping it.” 

I consoled her: “It’s inevitable anyway. Having kids young is better; they’ll be healthy and smart.” 

Qi Xuan pouted: “If Grandma wants a great-grandchild, she should’ve asked you to have one. You love kids so much.” 

I blushed: “You’re the eldest daughter-in-law. The elders are thrilled.” 

Qi Xuan tugged at the blanket, her soft voice full of charm: “Yingying, I’m so worried—” 

I quickly reassured her: “Don’t, don’t—” 

Just then, a servant knocked on the door: “Madam, your mother-in-law has arrived.” 

I accompanied Qi Xuan downstairs. Her parents were already seated in the living room. 

Qi Xuan’s father had once been an ordinary manager at a branch of Lao Tong. After his daughter fell in love with the eldest son of the family abroad and married into wealth, he had retired early to focus on playing cards with the old master. 

Qi Xuan called out from afar: “Mom—” 

A woman on the sofa stood up and hurried over: “Oh dear, be careful—” 

Everyone rose to their feet, carefully helping her sit down. 

The family chatted animatedly in the living room, filling the entire mansion with joy. 

Even at the dinner table, the old master still wore a satisfied smile. 

A servant carefully brought Qi Xuan a bowl of soup. 

“This soup was prepared according to Dr. Shi’s instructions. Drink it while it’s hot,” Grandma said kindly to Qi Xuan. “Now that you’re pregnant, no more flying around. Stay home and rest.” 

The old master gazed contentedly at Qi Xuan’s belly: “The eldest son has done well. The Lao family will have successors, and I can finally enjoy some peace.” 

Jiazhuo sat quietly beside me, his face always adorned with a gentle smile. 

Midway through the meal, a servant tried to serve him soup, but Jiazhuo softly declined: “No need, I’m full.” 

The old master’s gaze fell on him, displeased: “Eating so little? How can you stay healthy and work properly?” 

Jiajun rested his hand on the back of Qi Xuan’s chair, his tone affectionate: “Old Two has always been delicate. The Lao family can certainly afford to take care of the second young master. He can take some time off to rest and recover.” 

Jiazhuo’s expression remained calm: “I’m fine, thank you for your concern, Big Brother.” 

Qi Xuan’s mother suddenly sighed: “The second young master truly has good fortune. With Miss Yingying’s family’s wealth and support, everything goes smoothly for him.” 

Jiazhuo glanced at me, his expression momentarily stiffening. 

The woman continued: “Miss Yingying is such a lovely girl. No wonder the old mistress dotes on you so much.” 

I could only smile. 

So this is how others see it—Jiazhuo, fearing a loss of power, married me to secure ties with the Jiang family and strengthen his position? 

“Jiajun genuinely cares for our Qi Xuan. He’s worked hard to achieve his success, and now Qi Xuan’s blessings have arrived,” she dabbed at her eyes and took Grandma’s hand. “Old Mistress, if our Qi Xuan makes any mistakes, please bear with her.”

Grandma said, “What kind of talk is that? Qi Xuan is the Lao family’s daughter-in-law, working hard to expand our family. I can’t cherish her enough.” 

I sat at the table, feeling as if on pins and needles. Finally, after enduring the meal, I pulled Jiazhuo aside to say goodbye and left. 

The servant brought the car out of the garage and handed the keys to him: “Second Young Master, drive carefully.” 

Jiazhuo nodded. The servant greeted me before turning back toward the mansion. 

Jiazhuo opened the car door, and I remembered that he had suffered from stomach pain the last time he came home. I said, “Jiazhuo, maybe you shouldn’t drive?” 

He replied indifferently, “It’s fine. Get in.” 

I sat beside him, and he turned to look at me, softly saying, “You’ve worked hard.” 

His tone carried a hint of concern. 

My eyes stung, and I quickly shook my head. 

Compared to him, what did I amount to? 

“Good girl,” he smiled faintly. 

He fell silent, his brows slightly furrowed as he focused on the road ahead. The dashboard emitted a soft glow, and his face was calm but pale. 

As the car entered the Blue Charm Garden garage, he finally couldn’t hold back when getting out. He leaned one hand on the car door and pressed the other against his stomach, biting his lips tightly. 

“Jiazhuo, are you okay?” I stood beside him but didn’t dare to touch him. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head, taking a deep breath. With his back straight and noble, he slowly walked toward the stairwell. 

I followed closely behind him, watching as he entered the elevator, opened the door, and went upstairs. 

When we reached the second floor, his body swayed slightly, and he finally leaned against the wall. 

I finally supported his arm: “Lie down on the bed.” 

Jiazhuo curled up, his body already spasming slightly. He clenched his fists and pressed them tightly against his stomach. 

I helped him take off his coat and laid him down, asking, “Is it a nervous stomach spasm?” 

Cold sweat seeped from his forehead, and he panted softly from the pain, barely nodding. 

I turned to find a tissue to wipe his sweat, but he suddenly frowned and tried to get out of bed. I held him down: “Don’t make any sudden movements. Lie still; it’ll pass soon.” 

“You haven’t eaten anything. Vomiting will only make it hurt more.” I warmed my hands by rubbing them together and gently massaged his stomach, speaking softly: “It’s okay. We’re home now. Try to relax—” 

After a long while, I felt the cold skin under my hands gradually warm up, and his body slowly relaxed. He reached out and gently held my hand: “It’s okay now. I’m fine.” 

I got up and poured him a glass of warm water. 

He struggled to sit up, and I placed a pillow behind his back. Jiazhuo leaned against the bed and drank the water. 

“Do you like Qi Xuan?” I held a glass of water and sat in front of him, impulsively blurting out the question. 

There was still a layer of sweat on his forehead, his skin pale and glistening. He looked at me without answering, instead asking, “What makes you say that?” 

I suddenly found myself tongue-tied. I regretted my rashness the moment the words left my mouth and awkwardly replied, “No reason.” 

Jiazhuo’s gaze wandered, and he slowly began to speak: “The year Brother Jiajun married Qi Xuan, my father had just passed away not long before.” 

“Jiajun is the eldest grandson, lively and confident since childhood, always favored. You know, my personality isn’t very good,” Jiazhuo’s expression darkened: “Especially after my mother passed away, my father didn’t have the energy to take care of me. I became unruly and reclusive, not very likable—” 

“How could that be…” I opened my mouth, but my voice trailed off weakly. 

“She’s a wonderful woman, very kind. She’s younger than Jiajun but older than me. At that time, I had just started university, and Jiajun was already working. She was afraid I would sink into depression, so she always dragged me out to play. When I didn’t come home for dinner, she would tell the servants to keep soup warm for me. During that time, I wasn’t in good health, and no one really took care of me. It was tough, but I owe her a lot.” 

“She’s also a kind woman,” Jiazhuo smiled faintly at me: “I was young then, just experiencing naive feelings.” 

“What happened afterward?” I asked. 

“Later, it seemed Brother noticed something, and Grandfather directly sent me to study in America,” Jiazhuo’s tone was casual: “After I returned, I moved out of the ancestral house and started working in the company. We didn’t have much interaction after that.” 

“I just remember her kindness.” 

“She deserves happiness.” 

The room fell silent. 

After much thought, I still softly asked: “Jiazhuo, if Brother were in power, would he—would he tolerate you?” 

His hand trembled slightly, and a faint smile appeared on his lips, carrying an air of clarity and resignation. On his pale, handsome face, there was an ominous sense of decadence. 

“Yingying,” his voice was low, devoid of any fight: “You are free. If I cannot protect you completely, I’ll send you back to your parents.” 

At the end of November, I received an offer from Goldsmith Company and officially started working. Although I was only an assistant doing miscellaneous tasks, the work was busy and fulfilling. I also had the opportunity to learn directly from professional designers, which was excellent training for me. Huihui also interned at a local TV station. As we began writing our graduation thesis proposals, we each became busier. When she had time off work, she was busy with her boyfriend, so we saw each other much less often. 

I ate dinner alone at a restaurant near the company after work. 

This buffet restaurant served both Chinese and Western dishes, reasonably priced and tasty, so many office workers from nearby buildings were accustomed to eating here. 

I was deeply focused on my chicken nuggets when I suddenly heard a man’s voice: “May I sit here?” 

I looked up and saw a tall, smiling young man wearing a black coat, his features refined. 

On his left ear was still an earring, shimmering faintly in the dim light of the restaurant. 

What a persistent ghost. 

I ignored him. 

Tang Lechang pulled out a chair and sat across from me: “I live nearby.” 

I nodded: “What a coincidence.” 

He placed his tray down, unfolded his utensils, and asked, “So, you work at Goldsmith?” 

“How do you know?” I wasn’t surprised and asked casually. 

He grinned: “I have inside sources.” 

I didn’t need to guess to know it was Wei Huihui. 

“Please don’t doubt my sincerity,” he said cheerfully. 

I shrugged. For some reason, I felt unusually relaxed around him: “Suit yourself.” 

Tang Lechang smiled at me, then lowered his head to cut his steak. I noticed his dining posture was surprisingly elegant. 

I continued eating. 

Tang Lechang quickly finished his steak, picked up his drink, and suddenly leaned toward me: “Jiang Yiying, do you really not remember me?” 

I was full and in a good mood, so I let him play around. 

He reached into his bag and pulled out a book, holding it up to me. 

I glanced at it and suddenly widened my eyes. 

The familiar green cover and font: Marxist Political Economy. 

He flipped to the title page, where the ugly doodles and signature were unmistakably mine—unique in the entire city, belonging solely to Jiang Yiying. 

That was—my textbook. 

“You…” How did my book end up in his hands? 

“Jiang Yiying, I told you, you have to take responsibility for me,” he winked, his expression serious. 

I suddenly remembered that dark, stormy typhoon night, recalling how I had startled a pair of lovers on the grass. My face flushed with embarrassment: “So it was you!” 

I angrily exclaimed: “You—you—you shameless jerk!” 

Tang Lechang chuckled awkwardly, even showing a hint of shyness. 

I reached out indignantly: “Give my things back to me!” 

He put the textbook away: “It’s mine now.” 

“I’m not talking about the textbook!” I thought of the elevator magnetic card for Jiazhuo’s apartment—it wasn’t safe for it to fall into the hands of strangers. 

He carefully placed the textbook back in his bag: “Then I didn’t take anything else of yours.” 

“Was there nothing else in the book?” I asked. 

“Nothing,” he replied innocently. 

After thinking about it, I wasn’t sure the card was definitely in the book. Maybe I had lost it elsewhere. Never mind. 

I signaled for the waiter to bring the bill. 

The red-bowtie-wearing waiter approached politely: “This gentleman has already paid.”

I grabbed my bag and left my seat, with Tang Lechang following me. 

“Can I call you?” he asked at the restaurant entrance. 

“No,” I blurted out without hesitation. 

He looked hurt: “We’re at least classmates, aren’t we?” 

I felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and it was indeed a kind of fate: “Thank you for dinner. Next time, let me treat you.” 

Tang Lechang’s face lit up with genuine joy: “Alright.” 

I waved goodbye and headed toward the bus stop. 

He truly was a bright and charming man, as warm as sunlight. 

But my heart was preoccupied with Jiazhuo. All I wanted was to hurry home. 

When December arrived, Jiazhuo asked me: “Yingying, I haven’t had time to celebrate your new job yet. What’s your Christmas wish?” 

“I want to see snow,” I said. Having grown up in the south, where winters were damp and cold, I had always yearned for the silent beauty of a vast snowy landscape. 

He smiled: “I’m not sure if I’ll have time for a vacation.” 

I knew how busy he was, so when Jiazhuo told me he would be traveling to the Americas for work during Christmas, I wasn’t particularly disappointed. 

In the long, gentle flow of time, the past had already faded from sight. Still, I could watch him return home from work under the warm yellow light, his features weary but clear. 

What more could I possibly wish for? 

I truly didn’t care, and deep down, I knew I had no right to. 

The campus buzzed with excitement as the year came to an end. Celebration after celebration unfolded, one after another, full of life and energy. 

On Christmas Eve, Huihui was hosting the media school’s masquerade ball and invited me to join. We went shopping for costumes together. Both of us liked a princess-themed mask; Huihui chose a red one adorned with a large, lush flower, paired with a matching off-shoulder dress—it was stunning. 

I opted for silver-white, styling my long hair into an updo and pairing it with a short suit and riding boots. Huihui rushed over, exclaiming: “Yingying, you look so cool!” 

On Christmas night, colorful fairy lights twinkled among the roadside trees, adding warmth and romance to the chilly winter air. 

Even before the event started, the venue was already packed with people. 

Huihui pulled me through a backstage passageway. Around us, colorful monsters swayed, and a white-clad Sadako floated by, followed by a fanged vampire and a cloaked wizard. 

Suddenly, a beggar wrapped in burlap sacks charged through the crowd and stopped in front of us, extending his arms uncertainly: “Which one is my girl?” 

Huihui smacked him. 

Yang Ruiyi, his wig askew, burst into laughter: “Mercy! Mercy! I’m sorry—” 

I told Huihui: “I’ll play on my own later. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

Huihui pinched my chin, visible beneath the mask: “Have fun.” 

At exactly eight o’clock, the party began. As the curtains slowly rose, the entire venue erupted in screams, the atmosphere instantly ignited. 

After the host’s opening remarks and introductions, I watched Huihui under the spotlight. Her slender figure and delicate features were dazzling. 

Following the speeches, the freshmen performed a group dance to kick things off. The open stage connected seamlessly with the wide dance floor and surrounding audience. Young students kept joining in, some tripping over their feet and hopping around wildly, while others scrambled to pick up fallen high heels. Standing to the side, I laughed until tears streamed down my face. 

Though alcohol was prohibited on campus, fruit wine was allowed as a beverage. I had a few glasses, feeling lightheaded as the lively atmosphere enveloped me. 

The organizers had thoughtfully arranged for a dozen skilled dancers to continuously invite the audience to join in. Under the hazy lights and soothing music, graceful movements filled the space, and soon everyone was swept up in the madness. 

Huihui squeezed over to me, shouting into my ear: “Yingying, don’t wander too far later. Stay near the stage so I can find you.” 

I nodded at her. 

The boys’ dancing was clumsy, so I stayed slightly to the side, avoiding the center. It was nearly midnight, and the music’s rhythm intensified as the party reached its peak. Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Huihui stood on stage: “Next up is our most exciting segment, dedicated to our beloved classmates!” 

The host continued earnestly: “Tonight, the flames of celebration, joy, and happiness have brought us together. Tonight, romantic music, friendship, and youth unite us. Life is too precious to leave blank. Let’s welcome the Christmas bells with songs and blessings—” 

Another host’s tone turned passionate: “The rest of the time belongs to our dear classmates! Speak your hearts loudly and let the world hear our voices!” 

Amidst the loud, enthusiastic music, a boy rushed onto the stage: “Shu Shu, I love you! After graduation, I’ll take you home to meet Mom and Dad!” 

A group hoisted a girl onto the stage, shouting: “Kiss her!” 

A couple embraced and kissed sweetly. 

Then came a girl’s voice: “Zhang Ming, you jerk! What’s so great about America? I hate you for leaving! I hate you, I hate you!” Her voice broke into sobs. A tall boy beside her pulled her close, pressing her head into his chest. 

“Mom and Dad, we’re sorry. It was my decision to stay in the city and spend all your savings on a house costing 17,000 per square meter. We’ll work hard to repay you!” 

The scene gradually spiraled out of control. Everyone was spinning, screaming, laughing, hugging, kissing. Some crouched on the ground, crying loudly. 

The microphone passed through the crowd. A boy’s deep, pleasant voice carried a hint of exhaustion: “Sister Sha Sha, I’ve finally caught up to your age, but where are you now? Where did you go?—” 

Suddenly, my throat tightened, and my eyes stung with tears. 

Huihui pushed her way to me, shoving the microphone into my hands, her tone encouraging and excited: “Yingying, just say it! Be brave!” 

She gripped my shoulders tightly, shouting into my ear: “Liking someone isn’t something to be ashamed of! Tell him you love him! Say the name of the person you love!” 

She hugged me, her embrace strong and warm. My heart raced. Perhaps it was the cold night and warm wine, or perhaps old wounds had been stirred. Maybe I was possessed. Years of restraint finally crumbled under her urging. 

“Lao Jiazhuo, I love you!” Huihui held the microphone to my chest as I shouted fiercely into the roaring crowd: “I’ve loved you for so many years!” 

Huihui, not fully understanding, screamed along with me: “Lao Jiazhuo! Jiang Yiying says she loves you!” 

The crowd whistled, screamed, and cheered like waves crashing against the shore. 

I leaned into her shoulder, closing my eyes as warm tears streamed down my face. 

Huihui was pulled away by others but still clutched the microphone, continuing to shout: “Lao Jiazhuo, Jiang Yiying really has loved you for years—I swear it!” 

I collapsed to the ground, emotions pouring out, my body weak and drained. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently in my pocket. 

I fished it out, my vision blurred by tears, and pressed the answer button without thinking, holding it to my ear. 

“It’s alright. I heard you,” came Jiazhuo’s familiar, deep, and gentle voice, tinged with slight helplessness and a touch of tenderness. 

It felt like a thunderclap. My hand trembled violently, and the phone slipped from my grasp, falling to the floor. 

I covered my head tightly, suddenly unable to hear anything. 

Amidst the sea of people, Huihui rushed over and pulled me up. 

I picked up the phone, trembling all over, my lips quivering as I said: “I have something to do. I need to leave.” 

Huihui was startled by my expression: “Yingying, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” I forced a smile, trying to steady myself. 

She had her duties. Someone called: “Huihui, it’s your turn!” 

She responded while turning back to remind me: “Take care of yourself.” 

I pushed through the surging crowd, leaving the auditorium. Removing my mask as I walked down the corridor, I saw the wide campus path bathed in the night’s darkness. 

Standing there was a tall, elegant figure—Jiazhuo. Dressed in a gray overcoat, his shirt neatly pressed, his tie perfectly knotted, he exuded composure and grace. 

Jiazhuo said to me: “I was worried you’d be home too late. I just got off the plane and thought I’d come pick you up on the way.” 

I forced a faint smile, lowering my head: “Thank goodness you came. It’s really cold going home at night.” 

Jiazhuo smiled: “Let’s get in the car.” 

The driver opened the door for me. Jiazhuo and I sat in the back seat. His complexion was pale, his features marked by unmistakable fatigue. He closed his eyes quietly, resting. 

Concealing his emotions was his greatest skill.

“Jiazhuo...” I hesitated before speaking: “I...” 

He opened his eyes and glanced at me, a faint sadness in his gaze that seemed to understand everything. Slowly, he said: “What do you want me to say?” 

“Nothing,” I muttered, biting my lip. 

“I’m tired. Let’s go home and rest.” He closed his eyes again. 

I felt a pang of委屈 (grievance). 

He reached over and gently patted the back of my hand, his voice heavy with exhaustion: “Yingying, you’ll grow up.” 

It was as if he were consoling a little girl who couldn’t have the toy she wanted. 

I felt icy droplets falling one by one onto my heart, the burning passion within me slowly cooling. My hands were still trembling, so I clenched them into fists and pressed them against my lips, biting down hard. The sharp pain helped me gradually steady myself. 

By the time we got home, went upstairs, and returned to our room, he remained silent. 

Jiazhuo came and went in a rush, staying at home for only three days before flying back to Europe. His work during this busy year-end period was overwhelming, and I didn’t disturb him. 

During those three days, he never mentioned what had happened. 

I was alone at home. While rummaging through the closet for clothes, pouring water in the living room, or brushing my teeth in front of the mirror, there would be moments when my movements would suddenly freeze. Then, memories of my boldness that night would flood back—regret, disappointment, relief, frustration—all swirling together. In the end, all I could do was smile, a faint bitterness seeping through the corners of my mouth.