MPH - 6

Chapter 6: Being with the One I Love at My Best Time

The next day, I requested leave from work. Due to the short notice, I could only book a flight to Singapore for the evening after tomorrow. 

Afraid of upsetting Jiazhuo, I arrived at the airport with an anxious heart and took a taxi to his hotel. The area around the hotel was already under heavy security, so I had no choice but to call Su Jian. 

Su Jian came out quickly to meet me: “Yingying, it’s great that you’re here.” 

He took my bag from the back seat of the car, and as I sat down, I asked: “What’s wrong?” 

Su Jian said: “There are matters in the country, and Mr. Lao sent me back, but I’m worried about his condition.” 

My breath caught, and I urgently asked: “How is he?” 

Su Jian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his expression complicated: “That day, when he came to take over the work from the eldest brother, they had a fierce argument. The eldest is truly reckless. He returned so angry that his chest hurt. The schedule for this high-level conference is incredibly demanding—his body simply can’t handle this level of work...” 

Su Jian turned to look at me and consoled me: “Don’t worry too much. No one dares to advise him. Just make sure he rests more now that you’re here.” 

“Mm,” I softly replied. 

We entered the hotel, and Su Jian helped me check in. A bellboy came over to urge him: “Mr. Su, the car is waiting.” 

Su Jian nodded and said to me: “I have a flight back to the country today.” 

I politely said: “You’re so busy—it’s really inconvenient to trouble you like this.” 

“It’s no trouble,” Su Jian replied as he turned back. “I just ordered some porridge from the kitchen for him. Make sure he drinks some when he comes back tonight. He hasn’t been able to eat much these past few days.” 

That night, when Jiazhuo returned, he wasn’t surprised to see me when he opened the door. He simply said: “Yingying, you’re being too willful.” 

I stepped forward to help him take off his coat: “Did Su Jian tell you?” 

“Mm,” he loosened his tie: “He called me at the airport.” 

I brought a tissue to wipe away the thin layer of sweat on his forehead and gently asked: “Do you want to shower first or have some porridge?” 

He sat down on the sofa outside the suite, his voice low: “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not appropriate.” 

I ladled a bowl of porridge and handed it to him: “Once you’re better, I’ll go back right away.” 

He seemed too weak to argue and slowly drank the small bowl of clear porridge. 

I fetched his bathrobe, went in to run hot water for him, and helped him into the bathroom. 

He obediently went in, showered, and came out. 

I handed him his coat and gave him a warm glass of milk. 

Even after the shower, his energy was still low. Jiazhuo leaned against the sofa, watching me do all this, and suddenly started coughing softly: “Yingying, I’m very busy with work here. I don’t have time to take care of you.” 

“Alright, alright,” I quickly reassured him: “I’ll just check on you and then leave, okay?” 

His voice was hoarse: “I still have a few documents to review. You must be tired from the flight—go to sleep.” 

“Jiazhuo, can you rest early tonight?” 

“Very soon,” he said wearily, his tone gentle. 

I couldn’t bear to bother him further, so I nodded and returned to my room. 

In the early morning, I sat on the sofa by the bed and checked the time. He should have gotten up by now. 

But I couldn’t bear to wake him—I wanted him to sleep a little longer if possible. 

The person on the bed stirred slightly, finally forcing his eyes open with effort. 

“Jiazhuo?” I called softly. 

“Mm,” he instinctively responded, taking a while to focus on me. 

“Yingying—” he became fully awake, propping himself up on the bed. His body barely moved before he collapsed back weakly. 

I steadied him: “Are you feeling dizzy?” 

“A little,” he nodded, leaning on my arm to sit up. 

I reached out to touch his forehead—it was still slightly warm. The persistent fever over the past few days had already drained his strength. Coupled with working while sick, his constitution had worsened. I truly feared whether he could hold on. 

I carefully helped him stand, and he walked toward the bathroom. The luxurious hotel suite was spacious, but he struggled to walk, even stopping midway to rest. 

I cautiously followed him inside. 

He stood under the showerhead. 

I couldn’t help but ask: “Jiazhuo, are you going to shower again?” 

He seemed distracted, pausing for a moment before replying: “I sweated a lot last night.” 

Jiazhuo insisted on showering every morning—it was almost obsessive-compulsive behavior. Even in his weakened state, he still cared so much about his appearance. 

But he could barely stand, coughing softly and having to lean against the wall for support. 

I ran the bathwater: “Come here, it’s more comfortable to lie down and wash.” 

He said softly: “Yingying, please go out.” 

I pleaded: “Please, let me help.” 

He looked at me silently, then slowly began to undress. 

I knelt beside him, supporting the back of his head, gently washing his hair, and massaging his stiff shoulders. His body was weak, and lying there made him drowsy. After the bath, I helped him up and handed him a towel. 

He opened his eyes and cleared his throat: “Let me do it myself.” 

After simply drying off and putting on a bathrobe, he emerged. The faint pink flush from the hot water had already faded, leaving his face pale again, with a light sheen of cold sweat on his forehead. 

Without hesitation, I pulled him to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning his body against mine. 

“Don’t move. Just sit here and rest,” I said. 

Jiazhuo rested his head on me, closing his eyes wearily. 

I dried his hair, dressed him in a shirt, buttoned it up, tied his tie, and helped him put on his coat. He kept coughing, his complexion growing paler. 

Once he was fully dressed, he took some pills from the bedside table and swallowed a handful of them. 

Then he drank a glass of warm water. 

A knock sounded at the door. I went to open it—his assistant and secretary were already waiting outside the suite, ready for another busy day. 

I softly said: “Please wait a moment.” 

Jiazhuo had already stood up: “I’ll arrange for someone to send you back.” 

Overwhelmed with affection and concern, I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his neck: “Jiazhuo—” 

He gently pried my hands off: “Yingying, don’t do this.” 

Coughing softly, he said: “Go back.” 

Tears welled up in my eyes. 

He said: “Don’t act on emotions. Between us, emotions won’t solve anything.” 

I didn’t dare cry, suppressing my sobs with great effort. 

The vulnerability in his eyes was almost breaking—he trembled as he called my name: “Yingying…” 

At that moment, another knock sounded at the door, and the assistant urged anxiously: “Vice President, the morning meeting will be delayed!” 

Jiazhuo took a deep breath and finally let go of my hand, opening the door and walking out. 

I stood in the room, and soon, a stranger knocked and entered: “Miss, Mr. Lao has instructed me to take you to the airport. I’ll wait for you in the lobby downstairs.” 

His gaze held a hint of disdain, likely thinking I was just another fleeting companion of the esteemed young master, now being dismissed after a night together. 

I silently packed my things. 

Escorted to the airport, I held my ticket and entered the departure hall. 

The man watched until I passed through security. I politely said: “Thank you. That will be all.” 

He looked at me with slight confusion, perhaps not understanding why I remained so composed and calm, then nodded and turned to leave. 

Sitting in the departure hall, I felt utterly despondent. Everything before my eyes was a blur of gray. 

In my daze, someone suddenly tapped my shoulder: “Yingying!” 

I turned to see a handsome mixed-race man with deep-set eyes and thick eyebrows. I stood up in surprise: “Gary!”

“Hey! It really is you!” The tanned, handsome man broke into a radiant smile, and I was pulled into an enthusiastic hug. 

“How did you end up here?” he asked. 

“I came to visit a friend,” I replied, my mood suddenly dimming. 

He studied me for a moment: “Not in a good mood?” 

“Gary, we’re heading to the Borneo rainforest for a shoot. Why don’t you come along and clear your mind?” He invited me warmly. “You’re such a sweet angel—why the gloomy face? Come on, join us and have some fun.” 

Jiazhuo had been so insistent on sending me away, and no one seemed to care about me… In a fit of stubbornness, I thought, I’ve already taken leave. Should I really go back? 

“What about my flight ticket?” I asked. 

“That’s easy. One of our colleagues couldn’t make it last minute. Since you’re already through security, just take their ticket and board,” Gary called out loudly to his group: “Hey, guys! We’ve got a new member joining us!” 

From the corner of the hall, a group of men surrounded by piles of photography equipment turned their heads. A bearded Westerner shouted in English with a laugh: “Gary, who’s this delicate little girl?” 

“She’s my daughter,” Gary proudly declared. 

The group burst into kind laughter. 

I smiled too. Gary had dated my mother for a while when she was in England. He’s a photographer working for a famous nature magazine. 

Their lively energy lifted my spirits and chased away my loneliness. 

Feeling utterly low, I craved the vibrant, bustling environment they offered. 

---

We landed in Kuala Lumpur and immediately drove into the dense forests of Borneo. In a remote mountain forest near the Sulu Sea, we stayed at a local guesthouse. There was no cell phone signal, and the nearest town was nearly two hours away by car. I wanted to wash away my sorrow in this isolated place. 

The temperature near the equator was pleasant. I followed the photography team as they watched locals hunt wild boar with ancient blowpipes and send messages using long drums. We ventured deep into valleys and thick jungles, observing wonders like the Rafflesia flower through precision lenses. The plant’s meter-long stalks emitted eerie, toxic fumes. We also spotted rare palms, strange big-eyed fish, and countless other marvels. Every moment felt like stepping into a magical world. 

The grueling treks and novel ecosystem distracted me from my inner turmoil. I poured all my focus into overcoming my grief, completely unaware of the shocking events unfolding in the outside world. 

That afternoon, after a day’s work, my companions played on the beach under the setting sun. Flipping through the restaurant calendar, I remembered my aunt’s birthday was approaching. I walked to the innkeeper’s counter—the only place with a phone that could connect to the outside world. 

I dialed my aunt’s number. After a few rings, her slightly weary voice came through: “Hello?” 

“Auntie?” I said. 

“Yingying?!” She screamed, then shouted: “Jiang Yiying, is that you?!” 

“Am I not supposed to be okay?” I asked, confused. 

“Thank goodness, thank goodness—” Her voice trembled, almost breaking. “I thought you were—” 

“You thought wrong,” I cut in. “What happened?” 

“We’re in Malaysia with friends,” I answered clearly. “Did something happen?” 

“Old Wei! Old Wei!” She called for my uncle: “Quick, call my dad and tell them not to come! Yingying’s fine!” 

“No, no, first inform Lao Er. Tell him Yingying called. He’s been losing his mind—” 

Her voice choked up as she continued: “You didn’t board the flight that day?” 

“No.” 

“You little troublemaker, when you get back, I’ll kill you—” She growled, then demanded: “Tell me exactly where you are.” 

“I’m in Borneo—” 

I glanced at the inn’s sign and gave her a remote address. 

“Just stay put and don’t move,” she said hurriedly before hanging up. 

“Gary!” I ran outside and shouted loudly from the beach. 

Gary and I drove to a nearby town and flipped through recent newspapers at a makeshift local office. 

I froze at the headlines: On the day I left Singapore, the plane I was supposed to board had skidded off the runway, exploded, and caught fire, breaking into two pieces on flat ground. 

We stared, dumbfounded, at the chaotic emergency scenes amidst the blazing flames. 

“My God…” Gary muttered. 

“You saved my life,” I said. 

We embraced like survivors of a catastrophe. 

On the way back, Gary said: “I can’t imagine how worried your family must have been. You should go back as soon as possible.” 

I nodded. It was already dark, and Gary planned for us to drive out early the next morning, then head to Sabah to catch a flight. 

Halfway through the drive, it started raining—a miserable turn of weather. 

Back at the inn, I called home and the Lao family mansion. Listening to Grandma mutter prayers of gratitude, I felt a renewed sense of being alive. My impulsive trip had caused so much worry among the elders, and I felt deeply uneasy. This incident must have caused Jiazhuo endless trouble too, but his phone remained unreachable. 

After several failed attempts, I called my aunt again. 

Her voice was lighter now: “Yingying?” 

“Auntie, are you in Singapore?” 

“Yes, I’m back at the hotel now,” she said, still shaken. “What a scare—it was terrifying.” 

I couldn’t help but ask: “How’s Jiazhuo?” 

My aunt sighed: “I haven’t seen him. He’s been so busy, people have been seeking his guidance around the clock. After your uncle informed him you were safe, I heard he collapsed in the lounge from exhaustion and was rushed to the hospital.” 

“He…” My heart raced: “How could this happen…” 

My aunt explained: “As soon as the plane crashed, he rushed to the airport—I heard the police commissioner accompanied him. He immediately joined the Singapore authorities at the explosion site. By the time we arrived, he’d already been at the airport for two days and one night.” 

“While other families were crying, he remained eerily calm. At first, amidst the chaos, he worked tirelessly with the police to maintain order. After the rescue teams left and the investigation began, his assistants kept others away, and he just stood there silently, unmoving, waiting.” 

“Yingying,” my aunt added with a sigh, “he said it was his fault—you were leaving because he told you to take that flight. His calm yet despairing expression was chilling. And his health wasn’t good either; doctors were constantly by his side. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if you’d been on that plane.” 

Outside, the drizzle continued. Deep into the night, I sat in the inn’s lobby, repeatedly dialing that number. 

The signal was poor, and the landline kept cutting out. Jiazhuo’s phone remained unreachable. 

I sat motionless until midnight when suddenly, the roar of an engine shattered the quiet night. 

My heart leapt. I dropped the phone and ran outside. 

In the distance, a massive Land Rover sped down the narrow road, crushing the innkeeper’s flowerbed and smashing through the white fence with a loud crash. 

The inn’s residents were startled awake and rushed out. 

The car screeched to a halt, tires squealing against the ground. 

Before it fully stopped, a tall, lean figure jumped out, steadying himself against the car door. His gaze swept over the inn and locked onto me standing at the entrance in an instant. 

He rushed toward me without hesitation. 

The men, armed and wary, gathered under the porch. 

I pushed through the burly men and ran toward him. 

He grabbed me fiercely, pulling me into his chest so tightly it felt like my shoulder blades might shatter. Breathing hurt, but my heart, which had been floating aimlessly, finally settled. I felt utterly safe. 

I curled into his embrace and closed my eyes. 

“Let heaven punish me,” Jiazhuo’s voice was raw and broken, each word tearing at his throat. “Let heaven punish me, Yingying. I’ll never let you go again.” 

I clung to his gaunt frame: “I’m fine. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have wandered off—” 

He kissed me fiercely: “No, thank god you did. Otherwise, I’d never forgive myself—” 

I wrapped my arms around his waist, standing on tiptoe to kiss him back: “Don’t say that—” 

“If it weren’t for you,” his body trembled, “if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know what meaning this world holds—” 

We kissed passionately on the rain-soaked lawn under the cover of night. 

Suddenly, bright flashes erupted behind us. I turned to see the group of guys lined up on the wooden veranda, aiming their cameras at us. The sound of shutters clicking filled the air, and the flashlights created a dazzling chaos.

The doors were flung open, and the inn’s residents bustled about, lighting up the house and breaking into cheerful songs. Everyone laughed joyfully as they watched us. The cook soon brought out steaming plates of food. 

I hugged him and asked: “How did you get here?” 

“By helicopter,” Jiazhuo murmured. “But at night, it was impossible to pinpoint the location or land in the dense forest.” 

He seemed a little unsteady, leaning weakly against my shoulder as he caught his breath, yet his expression was one of pure joy. 

That night, in my finest hour, with the person I loved most by my side, I felt like I was living the most complete and abundant chapter of my life. Years later, when the heart-stopping moments had faded, the memory would linger in my heart like a sweet yet thorny vine. I once thought I had the whole world in my hands. 

---

In the morning, the sky outside the tall buildings was overcast—it was deep winter, and the weather was growing colder. 

I turned back with a smile. My beloved man stood before the wardrobe, slightly frowning as he picked out a shirt. 

I set down my cup and walked over, gently wrapping my arms around his waist. 

Jiazhuo held a piece of clothing in his hand and lowered his face, nuzzling my forehead with his chin. 

It felt like a dream—so blissful. 

I had class that morning. After getting dressed, I headed out. Jiazhuo, holding his briefcase, took my hand with his free one: “Yingying, it’s too cold. Let me drive you.” 

I held his fingers and followed him downstairs. 

While waiting for the elevator, I gently rubbed the ring on his ring finger and finally asked the question that had been on my mind: “Jiazhuo, why do you always wear this?” 

“It’s become a habit,” he replied indifferently. 

“Then I’ll take mine out and wear it too,” I said, struck by a sudden idea. 

Jiazhuo glanced at me sideways, as if recalling something, and his lips twitched faintly. 

“What are you smiling about?” I eyed his mischievous grin suspiciously. 

After a moment’s thought, he said modestly: “Hmm, such a large stone.” 

“I did it on purpose,” I grinned. “Anyway, it’s your money. Who cares if it’s tacky or not?” 

He ruffled my hair: “You’re such a child.” 

The car stopped at the school gate. Jiazhuo got out, opened the door for me, and then helped me carry my laptop and several rolls of design drafts from the back seat. 

He smiled: “Be good in class, and come home early.” 

Faced with his charm, I felt unusually shy, unable to even look at him. I simply nodded: “Mm.” 

He was a man who kept his emotions deeply restrained, and due to his long-standing high-ranking position, he was always composed and dignified in public. He rarely held my hand, but his gaze always lingered on me—soft, indulgent, and almost intoxicating. 

Jiazhuo gave me a final smile, then turned and opened the car door. 

I stood by the roadside, watching his car disappear into the distance. 

“Oh—” A voice suddenly sounded behind me, its tone rising. I turned to see Tang Lechang staring at the tail end of the speeding car, whistling loudly: “Cayenne GTS!” 

I turned and walked toward the school. 

Tang Lechang followed, a sly smile playing on his handsome lips. He teased me: “Jiang Yiying, you’re full of surprises!” 

I glared at him fiercely: “Don’t gossip, or I’ll cut out your tongue!” 

He feigned a broken heart, his brows furrowed dramatically: “Is that the three-headed, six-armed man? Did you abandon me for some rich heir?” 

I rolled my eyes: “Tang Lechang, you’re overacting. The psychiatric department at Yanghe Hospital is waiting for you.” 

“Hey, Jiang Yiying, seriously—” His face, which made countless girls swoon, leaned close to mine, carefully studying every flicker of emotion on my face. Then he suddenly asked: “Do I really have no chance?” 

“I have a younger sister,” I said with a playful grin. “She’s having her sixteenth birthday party next year. I can introduce you.” 

Tang Lechang’s bright, lively eyes dimmed slightly, and a hint of dejection crossed his face. 

I felt a pang of guilt and quickly changed the subject: “I have class. I’ll go first.” 

I hurried away. 

“Hey—” Tang Lechang called after me: “Are you coming to tonight’s rehearsal?” 

“Yeah—” The bell rang, and I responded quickly, running toward the classroom. 

Our drama club had already begun preparing for the closing performance of the graduation gala scheduled for the next semester. This group of friends I’d collaborated with for four years was now scattering—some returning to their hometowns in the north, others going abroad or pursuing graduate studies. Our generation, once so vibrant, was now being swept away by the winds of change. 

Tang Lechang, surprisingly, joined the drama club in our final semester, shamelessly securing a small role opposite me in our play. With his smooth talk, he even managed to convince our naive young screenwriter to add him two extra lines. In the play, I played a vain, materialistic second female lead, while Tang Lechang portrayed a poor pizza delivery boy hopelessly in love with me—a supporting character meant to highlight my flaws. 

His first line was flirtatious: “Rose, today’s pizza tastes amazing.” 

His second line was a heartfelt confession: “Dear Rose, I love you so much. While everyone admires your beauty and pride, I alone cherish the loneliness you hide after the curtain falls.” 

And then I kicked him offstage. 

During rehearsals, his delivery was earnest, exaggerated, and incredibly infectious, making the entire cast burst into laughter—and causing me to break character countless times. 

---

After the club meeting that evening, I returned home. Jiazhuo had already finished work and was sitting on the couch resting. Seeing me enter, he said: “You’re back.” 

I dropped my bag and nestled beside him: “Mm.” 

He untied my hairband, smoothing my hair with his fingers, then lifted me up: “Are you tired? Go take a bath.” 

“No, I’m so sleepy,” I whined, lying on his lap. 

He gently pushed me toward the bathroom: “Be good, go in.” 

After the bath, I felt refreshed. We sat on the bed, looking through the photos Gary had sent us. 

I spread out the set of pictures taken on the night we reunited, saying: “Jiazhuo, let’s each pick our favorite photo.” 

Jiazhuo leaned on the bed, carefully examining the photos before nodding at me. 

“On the count of three—” I said. 

“One, two, three—” 

“This one—” 

“This one—” 

I saw that Jiazhuo had chosen the photo where I was leaning against him, turning my head to look at the camera. I was smiling innocently, revealing a small white canine tooth—a radiant happiness glowing brightly against the dark night, spilling toward the edge of the sea. 

Jiazhuo leaned over to look at the one I had chosen. It was a photo of him holding me in his arms. My back was to the camera, leaving only my silhouette, while his calm face bore a faint smile, making him look exceptionally handsome and vivid. 

We suddenly fell silent, gazing at each other. 

I realized then that our eyes had always been fixed solely on each other. 

Jiazhuo pulled me into his arms and kissed me tenderly. 

Being so close to the person I loved most filled me with a sweetness that seeped into my very bones. 

---

At the end of January, the school went on winter break. 

The designer I worked with at Goldsmiths had just completed a major project and was taking a break before the Lunar New Year. As a result, I had more free time during this period. Every day, I left work on time to spend time with Jiazhuo. Even simple dinners together felt incredibly blissful. 

After returning from Singapore, I accompanied Jiazhuo to the Lao family mansion a few times. Qi Xuan was now five months pregnant, and the doctors confirmed it was a boy. Jiajun was in high spirits. The old master had been dealing with slightly elevated blood pressure, but he remained energetic. The prosperity and wealth of the Lao family were even greater than before. 

Amidst all this splendor, Jiazhuo remained as composed and elegant as ever. He dutifully accompanied the elders during meals, his demeanor perfectly balanced between warmth and restraint. I found his thoughts difficult to decipher. 

What made me slightly happy was that during these visits, the gastric spasms caused by his immense stress hadn’t recurred. After returning from the mansion, Jiazhuo and I stayed at home, living in blissful ignorance of the world’s troubles. 

On weekends, when Jiazhuo didn’t have to work, he rarely slept in late. That morning, after waking up, he sat beside me with a cup of coffee, replacing the cold water beside me with milk. 

I sat on the sofa, continuing to work on my graduation design. I strove for perfection, meticulously refining every detail. As the pieces came together, the house gradually approached the vision I had dreamed of.

“Jiazhuo, let me ask you something,” I said, nibbling on my finger as I stared at the design on the computer screen, still feeling a bit dissatisfied. “If it were for children, what kind of home design do you think they’d like?” 

He leaned over to look at my screen for a moment and said: “Hmm, mushrooms.” 

Mushrooms? My eyes lit up. 

I spread out a sheet of draft paper and quickly sketched a few bold strokes, immediately drawing a cute outline of a fairy-tale castle in the shape of a mushroom on one side of the house, directly connected to the second-floor bedroom of the villa. 

Jiazhuo watched me with interest. 

As I drew, I thought to myself that this would require separate materials and construction, making it even more impractical. I wondered if my professor would scold me when I submitted it. 

“Alright,” he said, gripping my shoulders to interrupt my overthinking. “I’m finally resting today. Didn’t you say we were going shopping?” 

I dropped my pencil and kissed the back of his hand: “Mm, I’ll go change. I’ll be quick.” 

It was nearing the Lunar New Year, and the streets were bustling with lively crowds. 

Jiazhuo clearly wasn’t used to such noisy crowds. When we were parking in the garage, a white Audi inexplicably parked sideways at the entrance, and the driver behind kept angrily honking. Then a security guard came over, shouting loudly. Jiazhuo sat in the driver’s seat, patiently enduring it with a slight frown. 

After parking, we took the elevator up. The entire shopping mall was adorned with colorful posters, exuding a festive and lively atmosphere for the New Year’s goods. 

“Jiazhuo, is it too noisy?” I asked, worried he might not be used to it. “Should we come back another day?” 

“No,” he suddenly reached out and gently pulled me close, dodging a plastic bag that flew across from a man’s hand. 

He smiled: “Yingying, I’m not that delicate. Don’t spoil me.” 

I felt a little embarrassed and smiled, leaning against him. His faint, clean scent surrounded me amidst the chaotic crowd—it was a fragrance that belonged solely to me. 

The thought made me feel guilty. What had I done to deserve being the closest person to him? 

By the time we returned home after dinner, it was already evening. We carried our bags inside, and I collapsed onto the sofa on the second floor, exhausted. Jiazhuo rummaged through the shopping bags and handed me a small fabric-covered storage rack printed with little bears: “Here, take this.” 

“What is it?” I asked, opening it to find a storage cabinet. 

My dolls were scattered all over Jiazhuo’s room, earning me multiple criticisms from the meticulous and orderly second young master. 

I pouted: “I’ll tidy them up tomorrow.” 

“Mm,” he patted my head. “Do it now; there’s no space left to sleep on the bed.” 

I closed my eyes and buried my face in the sofa. 

“Jiang Yiying,” he pretended to be angry. “If you keep throwing things around, I’ll lock them all up in the wardrobe.” 

“No—” I sat up abruptly, protesting seriously. “Then lock me in the wardrobe too.” 

“Why are you so disobedient?” Jiazhuo covered his mouth as he coughed softly, his voice slightly hoarse. “I haven’t been sleeping well these past few days…” 

“Alright, alright, big brother,” I crawled off the sofa. “I’ll do it right away. Don’t be mad…” 

I tidied up the room, organized his wardrobe, cleaned the hairs I’d left on the bed, and noticed some fine dust on the carpet under the coffee table. I rushed downstairs to find the vacuum cleaner. 

Jiazhuo came out of the room after changing clothes and saw what I was doing. He hurried over and grabbed my hand: “Yingying, let the maids handle these things.” 

He led me back into the room: “You must be tired after walking around all day.” 

“Mm.” 

“I have some work to take care of. Why don’t you go take a bath first?” 

“Mm.” 

“I don’t have the energy to manage the house,” Jiazhuo said in his gentle voice. “It’s up to Yingying to take care of things at home.” 

I lowered my head, my nose inexplicably tingling with emotion. 

Home. After my mother left when I was young, I always felt like I was living under someone else’s roof. But now, I finally felt like I truly had a home. 

After taking a bath, I quietly slipped into the study. 

Jiazhuo was wearing black-framed glasses, focused on the computer screen, occasionally flipping through documents beside him. 

He had never allowed me into the study before, but I secretly loved watching him like this. When Jiazhuo worked seriously, his professional demeanor gave him an exceptionally precise and cold aura—it was when he was most attractive. 

When he finished and walked out, I was sitting on the sofa in the outer room. 

“Jiazhuo, I love you,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

He was already accustomed to my sudden bursts of affection and turned to kiss my cheek: “Good girl.” 

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, unmoving. 

He gently patted my shoulder: “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m a little scared,” I muttered. 

He cupped my face and looked at my expression: “Why?” 

“It feels a bit surreal.” 

His brows furrowed slightly as he gazed at me: “Do I make you feel that way?” 

“Jiazhuo,” I carefully chose my words. “Why… why are you willing to—” 

He reached out and gently clasped my fingers: “I once feared I couldn’t make you happy.” 

“But in Singapore, when I thought something had happened to you—” he gave a faint, bitter smile. “At that time, I almost went mad. I even thought that if you really… I’d rather follow you—” 

I had never heard him talk about how he felt during that incident, and I was deeply moved. 

“Yingying, I rarely lose my composure like that.” 

I panicked and clutched his hand: “Are you regretting it now?” 

He looked at me, his gaze filled with a complex determination: “If I’ve made you uneasy, it’s because I haven’t done enough.” 

“I…” I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. 

Jiazhuo frowned and fell silent, then pulled me tightly into his arms. 

I rested against his chest. He treated me so well, yet I still doubted him—it was almost hurting him. I knew that my wavering emotions weren’t helping our relationship. Even during the hardest and most difficult times, I still believed in the possibility of future happiness. 

If this was heaven’s grace toward me, I needed to learn to be grateful and cherish it. 

---

In the depths of winter, the Lunar New Year arrived. 

During the holiday, Jiajun’s parents flew back from the U.S., and the whole family gathered for a lively reunion dinner at the mansion. 

On the eighth day of the new year, Jiazhuo had already returned to work a few days earlier, while I was still on vacation. The Lao family matriarch sent a driver to pick me up to accompany her to the temple to burn incense. 

The elderly lady had been a devout Buddhist for many years, faithfully burning incense and observing vegetarian fasts on the first and fifteenth days of each lunar month. 

Under the warm afternoon sun of winter, the car drove out of the city and headed toward a bustling temple on Dong Mountain. 

From afar, we could see the temple gates shrouded in swirling incense smoke. Couples and groups of people visiting to pray for blessings strolled along. However, our car took a turn and stopped smoothly at a side entrance. Monks were already waiting at the door. After the driver and I helped the elderly lady out of the car, they bowed respectfully: “Please follow me.” 

The elderly lady, dressed in a brocade coat and wearing a jade pendant, had a kind and gentle expression. I supported her as we crossed threshold after threshold, accompanying her in worship. She burned incense devoutly, bowed, knelt, and added oil to the lamps. 

We walked slowly, taking in the sights. The Buddha statue in the main hall was solemn and majestic, its compassionate gaze overlooking all sentient beings. I felt my heart gradually calm, savoring a transcendent sense of peace and serenity. 

I accompanied the elderly lady as she bowed reverently to the east, south, and north, then carefully inserted the burning incense into the tripod with her left hand. 

A familiar monk greeted her with a smile: “Madam, your kindness will surely bring good fortune.” 

The elderly lady smiled warmly. 

A young novice monk approached and invited us: “The vegetarian meal has been prepared in the western wing.” 

The meal was very simple—delicate vegetarian dishes. As I chewed slowly on the fragrant rice, I looked up through the vermilion window to see a corner of the pale blue sky and the glazed roof tiles. The distant sound of the temple bell echoed, and the dappled shadows of tree branches swayed gently in the wind. My heart felt an infinite sense of tranquility. 

After dinner, I accompanied the elderly lady to a quiet corner of the temple to bask in the sun. 

The elderly lady asked: “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Er’lang (second son). How is his health?” 

“Mm…” I thought for a moment and replied: “He’s fine.” 

The elderly lady gazed peacefully at the pomegranate tree beneath the glazed tiles and suddenly said: “Yingying, do you think the old man is biased?” 

I was startled and didn’t know how to respond.

The elderly lady looked at my somewhat aggrieved expression and nodded knowingly, her gaze filled with maternal affection: “Although the old master dotes on his eldest grandson, he hasn’t lost his wits. The old master has been used to giving orders all his life, and the eldest son’s compliance naturally pleases him more.” 

“Jiazhuo’s conduct and work ethic are clear to the old master. But the second grandson is harder to read—his temperament is quieter and prouder, so the old master sometimes leans toward favoritism.” 

I listened quietly. 

“He has always been quiet, especially after his mother passed away. After studying abroad and returning, he became distant from the family,” the elderly lady said. “Yingying, I love this grandson deeply too.” 

I replied softly: “Jiazhuo respects you and Grandfather deeply; he just doesn’t say it much.” 

The elderly lady’s expression turned slightly troubled: “That’s why I worry about him. The second grandson takes after his father—too sentimental, with a heavy heart. Since joining Lao Tong, he’s worn himself thin.” 

“Yingying, understand him more.” 

“Grandma,” I asked hesitantly, “how did Jiazhuo’s mother pass away?” 

The elderly lady looked surprised: “You don’t know?” 

“He only mentioned briefly that his mother adored him greatly.” 

The elderly lady touched the jade bracelet on her wrist, her tone reflective: “My two daughters-in-law—the elder one was worldly and shrewd but lacked grace. My younger son married a nobleman’s daughter—beautiful, yes, but delicate and pampered…” 

Her eyes lowered, fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes barely visible: “After giving birth to Jiazhuo, her health never recovered. She passed away early.” 

I sat silently, unsure of what to say. 

“Yingying,” the elderly lady continued, “the Lao family started with your great-grandfather’s earliest banknote-issuing bank in Shanghai. Over these decades, though our wealth may not be vast, maintaining it hasn’t been easy. Among my daughters-in-law and granddaughters-in-law, I’ve always favored you. The Jiang family raised you well—honest, kind, respectful to your husband, and filial. Your grandfather and I see it clearly.” 

I smiled awkwardly: “Grandma, I’m still young. There’s much I need to learn from you.” 

The elderly lady patted my hand gently: “Take your time.” 

She turned back into the temple hall, clasped her hands together, and stood in quiet contemplation. 

At that moment, a young monk approached: “Madam, Master Huiwu is waiting for you. Today’s lecture is on the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment.” 

The elderly lady stood up and nodded: “Thank you for leading the way.” 

“Yingying, feel free to look around,” she called back to me. 

“Mm,” I nodded obediently. 

I wandered slowly through the tranquil temple grounds in the afternoon light. A young monk, dressed in an earthy yellow robe, smiled faintly as he approached me: “Do you have no wishes, benefactor?” 

I sat on the vermilion threshold, thought for a moment, then shook my head. What I had was already enough—I shouldn’t be greedy. 

The young man, whose serene demeanor seemed untouched by worldly concerns, studied my face intently. A faint loneliness and compassion spread in his eyes, but in the end, he simply smiled, clasped his hands together in a slight bow, and turned to walk deeper into the temple. 

---

That night, when I returned home, Jiazhuo was in the study. I knocked and entered. 

He pushed aside his laptop and pulled me close: “Did you accompany Grandma to the temple today?” 

“Mm,” I handed him a folded yellow slip of paper. 

“What’s this?” he asked. 

“A talisman for peace and protection. I prayed for it,” I said. 

“For me?” He took it. 

“Jiazhuo.” 

“Hmm?” His voice was gentle. 

“I prayed to the Bodhisattva to bless you with a long life, health, happiness, a beautiful spouse, and prosperous descendants.” 

He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. 

“Yingying, I don’t need such blessings. Share half with you.” 

He held my hand, reached into the bookshelf, and retrieved a clean, elegant file folder. With great care, he placed the talisman inside one of its compartments. 

---

After the New Year holiday ended, everyone returned to work with cheerful faces, though there was an inevitable post-holiday laziness in the air. 

In the midst of my chaotic office work, I received a call from my mother. 

I was buried in piles of blueprints and documents, juggling the phone as I said: “Mom, I’m busy.” 

My mother didn’t mince words: “I taught you meticulous brushwork as a child, and now you’re drawing soulless commercial buildings. You deserve to be exhausted.” 

“Yes, yes, I was wrong,” I replied teasingly, though my tone was lighthearted. 

Finally, I found the document the engineer needed, printed it, and stepped out into the corridor to focus on the call. 

After exchanging pleasantries, my mother, hearing the cheerfulness in my voice, laughed: “A narrow escape often heralds future blessings, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, yes,” I giggled sweetly. 

“I spoke with Gary. He said Lao Er thanked him sincerely and emotionally, treating you like the apple of his eye.” 

I replied: “We’re very grateful to him.” 

“Mom, Jiazhuo and I discussed donating to several families who lost loved ones in that accident to support their children.” 

“Mm,” my mother approved. “Doing good deeds brings blessings from heaven.” 

“I know,” I said. “Mom, I feel so happy right now.” 

“Yingying,” she suddenly called my name, her tone serious. “Then cherish it well.” 

“Mom, I will,” I promised firmly. 

After finishing the call, I returned to the office to continue working. At five o’clock sharp, I packed up and headed to school. In the final stretch of my senior year, my thesis had already been submitted. Aside from preparing for my defense, I devoted my spare time to rehearsals with the drama club. 

Rehearsals were scheduled for Monday and Wednesday evenings, as well as weekends. Sometimes I returned late at night. With Jiazhuo increasingly busy after the New Year, he often had evening engagements. When he returned late at night, exhausted, he let me take care of him as he bathed. 

However, Jiazhuo explicitly disliked the idea of me sitting idly at home waiting for him. So, if I was tired, I would sleep first. When he came home, he’d kiss my cheek, and I’d feel inexplicably at ease. 

Living together, our默契 (rapport) grew stronger day by day. 

After rehearsals, we often went out for late-night snacks. Huihui frequently joined us. Though her irregular work schedule prevented her from participating in this final performance, she came whenever she could to watch rehearsals or join us for meals. Everyone cherished these last moments of university life. 

Life was fulfilling and busy, and time flew by unnoticed. 

Soon, it was our university drama festival. 

On the night of the performance, after applying makeup, I stayed backstage with the other actors, constantly checking my phone. 

Tang Lechang, standing nearby, watched me coldly for a while before finally provoking me: “Jiang Yiying, a good actor should be fully focused before going on stage.” 

I glared at him and put my phone away. 

I had informed Jiazhuo a week ago that we would have our final university performance this weekend. 

Jiazhuo had simply nodded and said: “I might be traveling for work this week, but I’ll try to make time to come.” 

I knew how busy he was. Lao Tong Bank’s electronic system upgrade seemed to involve the entire IT network platform’s integration and restructuring. He worked不分昼夜 (day and night), sometimes even holding meetings with overseas branches in the middle of the night. 

Two days ago, he had gone on a business trip and likely wouldn’t return soon. 

As I thought about Jiazhuo, I glanced toward the stage. More than halfway through the performance, only one act remained before our turn. We were the closing act for the drama category, but Jiazhuo still hadn’t arrived. 

A junior from the arts department came over to remind us: “Yingying, it’s almost your turn.” 

I smiled to acknowledge her, then turned back, distractedly watching the program. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw the side door of the auditorium quietly open. A tall, upright figure entered. He moved through the crowded audience, apologizing softly to those around him while glancing toward the stage. 

My heart skipped a beat. My first reaction was to panic and hide behind the curtain, peeking at him from behind the veil. 

Jiazhuo stood at the side of the stage. Amid the crowd, his tall, elegant figure caught the light. A spotlight illuminated him, creating a striking silhouette of his handsome profile. Half of his face was shrouded in shadow, but his eyes gleamed brightly, like radiant stars. 

A girl beside me followed my gaze and couldn’t help exclaiming: “So handsome!” 

I couldn’t help but smile dreamily: “Yes.” 

Suddenly, applause erupted, and the host announced our act. Familiar music began to play. I was completely mesmerized, staring at Jiazhuo, until Tang Lechang shoved me onto the stage. 

After countless rehearsals, my brain had become a well-oiled machine, responding automatically. I tiptoed gracefully, making my entrance as the haughty, materialistic queen—

As the curtain fell, I heard the enthusiastic cheers of the entire audience. 

Then the curtain rose again, and we held hands to bow in gratitude. Whistles, screams, and glow sticks filled the air. Looking at these familiar faces, I thought of the four years of camaraderie we had shared, and couldn’t help but embrace one another, tears welling up in our eyes. 

We had finally grown up. 

On stage, I turned back to search for his figure, but the crowd was overwhelming—a sea of black below. No matter how hard I strained my eyes, I couldn’t spot him. 

Jiazhuo, thank you for coming. 

I whispered softly in my heart. 

When I came out after changing out of my performance costume, the event was nearing its end. I walked out of the venue with the rest of the cast when my phone suddenly rang. 

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo’s soft voice came through the phone: “Turn around.” 

I turned, and before I could react, a large bouquet of fragrant white flowers was thrust into my arms. 

When I looked up again, Jiazhuo had already tucked his hands into his pockets, smiling faintly as he gazed at me. 

I lunged forward, clutching both him and the flowers: “I just saw you earlier—how did you disappear so quickly?” 

Jiazhuo gently hugged me, then pulled me back: “Alright, it was too noisy inside, so I came out to wait for you.” 

Jiazhuo smiled: “The performance was wonderful.” 

“Thank you,” I said, still caught in the euphoria of the moment. Beyond saying thanks, all I could do was smile and gaze at him intently. 

Today, he wore a double-breasted dark gray coat, a matching scarf, and brown corduroy pants—his usual meticulous style—but his demeanor felt unusually youthful and fresh. 

Jiazhuo leaned close to me, coughing softly: “Yingying, your classmates…” 

I turned to see Huihui and the others staring at us, wide-eyed. 

“Yingying! Yingying!” Huihui was the first to react, shrieking as she ran over: “You little devil, since when—” 

“Uh… well…” I blushed, stammering as I glanced at Jiazhuo. 

Jiazhuo gave a slight bow to Huihui and politely introduced himself: “Miss Wei, I’ve heard Yingying mention you often. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My surname is Lao.” 

He nodded toward my classmates: “Hello, everyone.” 

Huihui enthusiastically asked: “Which department are you from, Mr. Lao?” 

“I’m already working,” Jiazhuo replied. 

“Oh, what industry are you in, Mr. Lao?” Huihui pressed on. 

Jiazhuo responded gracefully: “Finance.” 

“Speaking of finance,” Huihui suddenly remembered, nudging someone beside her: “Yang Ruiyi, didn’t you say you’ve been reviewing financial contracts recently?” 

Yang Ruiyi, who had been standing quietly to the side, finally spoke: “May I ask which company you work for, Mr. Lao? Our Jin Tai Law Firm has business dealings with several companies.” 

“Mm,” Jiazhuo nodded: “Our company’s legal counsel contract expired recently, so we’ve been meeting with several firms.” 

Yang Ruiyi immediately caught on: “I accompanied my boss to a meeting once. Are you from Lao Tong Bank?” 

Jiazhuo nodded: “I happened to be in a meeting on the sixteenth floor the day before yesterday and met your Director Pan.” 

Yang Ruiyi eagerly asked: “Do you know our Director Pan?” 

“Mm,” Jiazhuo replied: “Not very well. Guan Huasen from our legal department handles communication with your firm.” 

“Is Mr. Guan your subordinate?” Yang Ruiyi, hearing Jiazhuo refer to Guan by name, quickly handed over his business card: “Here’s my card, Mr. Lao. Please feel free to contact me.” 

Jiazhuo glanced down at his clothes and replied humbly: “Sorry, I didn’t bring my card.” 

“Alright,” Huihui pulled Yang Ruiyi away: “He’s here to pick up Yingying, not to talk business.” 

Yang Ruiyi awkwardly chuckled and stepped aside. Huihui then called out to everyone to go for late-night snacks. After some playful banter, they said their goodbyes and left. 

Jiazhuo stood beside me, his demeanor noble and composed, always smiling faintly as he watched us. 

Before leaving, Huihui winked knowingly at me, mouthing: “Don’t let him slip away—sister’s rooting for you!” 

I stuck my tongue out at her playfully. 

Jiazhuo smiled as he watched our antics. Once the crowd dispersed, I asked: “When did you get back?” 

He lowered his head and replied: “This afternoon.” 

I asked: “Have you eaten dinner?” 

“Mm, yes,” Jiazhuo nodded slightly, gesturing toward the car parked by the roadside: “Are you hungry? I’ll take you to grab something to eat.” 

“Not really—” We walked side by side along the road, the night breeze blowing against us. Suddenly, Jiazhuo covered his mouth with his fist and coughed softly. 

I reached out to hold his hand—it was icy cold: “How long were you standing outside?” 

I pushed him toward the car: “And why are you dressed so lightly—” 

Opening the car door, I spotted a thick coat on the back seat and scolded him: “Why didn’t you wear something warmer—” 

Jiazhuo sat in the car and chuckled: “I wanted to look good. I didn’t want to embarrass you.” 

Even now, he still had the energy to joke around. I retrieved the coat from the back seat and touched his face: “Jiazhuo, do you have a fever?” 

He brushed it off casually: “Seems like it. No wonder I feel a bit warm.” 

I wasn’t reassured: “Do you feel unwell? Do you have a cold?” 

Jiazhuo held my hand: “It’s nothing serious. I’ll be fine once we get home. Don’t worry.” 

As the car turned onto the campus road, Jiazhuo braked and made a turn. I suddenly spotted a familiar tall figure standing on the path ahead. 

Through the rearview mirror, I saw Tang Lechang standing at the intersection, motionless, watching our car drive away. 

---

“Yingying?” Jiazhuo emerged from the shower and called out to me: “Didn’t you say you were tired? Why haven’t you changed yet?” 

I crouched by the living room cabinet, rummaging for fever medicine, and brought it over with a glass of warm water: “Take this first, then I’ll shower.” 

He patted my hair and took the glass from my hand. 

I watched carefully as he swallowed the pill. Sitting on the sofa, Jiazhuo pinched his brow, unable to hide the fatigue etched on his face. 

I pulled him toward the bedroom: “Go lie down and wait for me.” 

Jiazhuo lay on the bed, watching me teasingly remove my coat. 

Jiazhuo couldn’t help but laugh: “Hurry up, or I might fall asleep.” 

I hopped toward the bathroom: “You dare—” 

When I came out, Jiazhuo was leaning against the headboard reading. I climbed onto the bed and touched his forehead—it was still warm. 

“Jiazhuo,” I said: “Should we see a doctor?” 

Jiazhuo rolled over and pulled me into his arms: “No need for a doctor. Having Yingying is enough.” 

I nestled into his embrace with a smile. 

His hand slipped under the back of my nightgown, gently caressing my spine, sending waves of tingling warmth through me. 

“Jiazhuo…” I couldn’t help but whisper his name, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his cheek. 

Jiazhuo reached out and turned off the lights, filling the room with an intimate glow. 

---

In the morning, I woke up beside him. Jiazhuo was already awake, and his cool, refreshing morning kiss landed softly on my lips. 

Sure enough, his fever had subsided. 

I felt reassured, checked the time, and looked up at him: “You’re not going to work today?” 

“Su Jian and the others will be here soon,” Jiazhuo said. 

“Why can’t you discuss things at the office?” I asked, puzzled. 

Jiazhuo rubbed his forehead and murmured: “I’m still feeling a bit dizzy—” 

I immediately grew worried and sat up: “Should I call them and cancel? You should rest today, okay?” 

A mischievous glint appeared in Jiazhuo’s eyes. 

I slapped him playfully: “You’re teasing me!” 

He grabbed my hand and kissed each of my fingers soothingly. 

We indulged in another round of intimacy beneath the sheets until the doorbell rang. 

Jiazhuo got up and dressed, slipping on a shirt casually: “I’ll go answer the door. You can sleep a little longer.” 

I buried my face in the pillow, savoring the lingering warmth. 

Closing my eyes, I lay there for a while, though I couldn’t fall back asleep. Eventually, I got up and walked out of the room. At the end of the second-floor corridor, the door to a usually vacant room was slightly ajar, and the low murmur of men’s voices drifted out.

I went downstairs to cook breakfast. 

A little later, Su Jian came down: “Yingying, it smells so good.” 

I ladled him a bowl of chicken congee. Su Jian sat at the dining table, contentedly sipping the porridge while remarking: “Marriage really is wonderful.” 

I smiled. It seemed Jiazhuo hadn’t hidden our relationship from his trusted advisors. 

“Where’s Jiazhuo?” I asked. 

“He has a few more things to take care of and will be down shortly,” Su Jian replied. 

After washing my hands, I walked into the living room to pour milk. Suddenly, I looked up and saw a towering figure standing in the living room—broad-shouldered, stern-faced, and expressionless like a poker player. 

Good heavens, what was he doing here? 

I was startled and instinctively turned to run back. 

Zhang Peter’s face darkened immediately. 

Su Jian happened to walk out just then and couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the scene. 

I ran a few steps toward the staircase before realizing I was at home. Stopping in my tracks, I turned around, both embarrassed and angry, to look at him. 

At that moment, Jiazhuo descended the stairs and asked me: “Yingying, what’s wrong?” 

Zhang Peter remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together. 

I stammered: “N-nothing, nothing at all.” 

Jiazhuo placed his hand on my shoulder, glanced at Zhang Peter, and said: “Peter, why is Yingying afraid of you?” 

Zhang Peter opened his mouth but found no words to say. 

Coming to my senses, I quickly said: “No, no—it’s not that. Mr. Zhang took great care of me in London.” 

“Is that so?” Jiazhuo narrowed his eyes, looking between me and Zhang, before casually saying: “Then let’s eat breakfast.” 

---

On the weekend evening, as soon as work ended, my colleagues scattered instantly. 

I sat at my desk, watching the office empty out in moments, and felt a strange sense of loneliness. Just then, my phone rang. 

Tang Lechang called me: “Jiang Yiying, are you free tonight?” 

“Mm, what’s up?” 

“Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a movie?” 

“Why the sudden invitation? What about your Lindas and Alices?” 

“Jiang Yiying, please respect my taste,” he teased. 

As I spoke with him, I walked out of the building. It was already getting dark. 

Jiazhuo had been working overtime these past few days, and by the time he returned, I was usually already asleep. Since going home would mean being alone anyway, I said: “Alright, let’s go—if there’s a good movie.” 

Tang Lechang replied: “I’m heading down now. I’m near your company—I’ll come pick you up.” 

When we arrived at the cinema, Tang Lechang led me directly to a large movie poster. 

“It’s him,” I said excitedly, looking at the dark-themed name on the promotional poster. “I like him.” 

“What a coincidence,” Tang Lechang shrugged. “I just happened to want to watch this movie too.” 

While waiting in line to enter, I tried calling Jiazhuo, but perhaps he was busy—he didn’t answer after several attempts. 

By the time Tang Lechang handed me my drink, the movie had already started. 

Tang Lechang turned out to have quite an appreciation for films. By the end, he enthusiastically discussed some of the most memorable scenes with me. Surprisingly, many of our opinions aligned perfectly. 

Caught up in the conversation, we decided to grab a late-night snack at a nearby café. 

By the time we left the café, it was already past eleven. 

Tang Lechang hailed a taxi on the street: “Let me take you home.” 

“No need, I can easily take a taxi myself.” 

“It’s already so late,” he insisted, maintaining his gentlemanly demeanor. “A lady should always be escorted.” 

The car stopped at the entrance to my building. I got out, and Tang Lechang followed. 

“Thank you for tonight,” I said. 

“The pleasure is mine. Hopefully, my next invitation won’t catch you off guard,” Tang Lechang grinned mischievously. 

“Yingying,” a voice suddenly called from behind me. 

I turned to see a figure standing under the corridor. 

Jiazhuo approached. 

Tang Lechang straightened his posture, his lips tightening as he watched him. 

Jiazhuo gave him a polite nod: “Hello.” 

Tang Lechang studied Jiazhuo for a moment before replying, his voice slightly tense: “Hello.” 

Jiazhuo pulled me closer to him. 

“Thank you for bringing Yingying back,” he said courteously, without another word. 

Tang Lechang looked at us standing side by side. His face paled slightly, but he still responded politely: “You’re welcome.” 

Turning to me, he quickly recovered his playful smirk: “Yingying, see you.” 

I forced a smile: “See you, drive safely.” 

Jiazhuo turned and headed toward the elevator, saying indifferently: “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” 

I checked my phone: “I was in the theater. I turned off the sound and forgot to check—” 

I followed him into the house, and Jiazhuo sank into the sofa: “It’s so late, and I haven’t seen you come home.” 

“I’m sorry, I…” I faltered. 

He smiled and began unbuttoning my coat: “It’s fine. Go change and head upstairs to rest.” 

I dropped my bag and squeezed next to him. 

“That boy—” Jiazhuo asked nonchalantly: “Is he pursuing you?” 

I hesitated: “No… just a classmate.” 

Jiazhuo’s tone was calm: “Tell him you’re already married to me.” 

I said: “Didn’t you mention earlier that the wedding announcement needs to wait for Lao Tong’s PR department to plan?” 

Jiazhuo paused, as if he’d forgotten about it. After a moment, he said: “Once this busy period is over, I’ll discuss it with the elders. We’ll hold the wedding banquet in this city.” 

Hearing his businesslike tone made me feel uneasy: “Jiazhuo, I don’t intend to force you into giving me a title.” 

My tone unintentionally came out harsh. 

Jiazhuo’s expression froze. 

“Yingying,” he finally said after a long pause, “I know it’s irrational, but I feel like an eighteen-year-old boy, unable to tolerate even the smallest grain of sand in my eye. I just wish every second of yours belonged to me.” 

My hands paused as I unbuttoned my coat, staring at him. 

At home, I often hugged and kissed him, showering him with sweet nothings. Jiazhuo usually just smiled in response, rarely expressing anything akin to “love.” But now, had I just heard something resembling—a confession? 

I couldn’t help but giggle quietly. 

Jiazhuo frowned: “And you’re laughing?” 

Unable to contain myself, I burst out laughing. 

Annoyed, he stood up to leave. 

I grabbed him: “Jiazhuo, I love you so much.” 

He sighed, stopping in his tracks, and returned to sit with me, pinching my nose playfully. 

“Ow, stop! You’ll make it crooked,” I whined. “I’ll get ugly—” 

“If you get uglier, it doesn’t matter. I won’t mind,” he said. 

I snuggled into his arms and laughed. 

Jiazhuo relaxed against the sofa, coughing lightly. He reached for the glass of water on the table. 

Even now, his body was still cold. I wondered how long he had waited for me downstairs in the chilly wind. 

“Jiazhuo,” I climbed over to him as he lay in bed reading that night. 

“Hmm?” He lifted his gaze slightly. 

“Back in London, when you were sick, did it take a toll on your health?” I couldn’t help but ask. 

Su Jian had privately reminded me to keep an eye on his health.

He paused: “No.” 

I felt a pang of sadness. Throughout this winter, his health hadn’t been good—he caught colds easily and often ran fevers. Even now, with spring warming up, he still coughed heavily whenever he got chilled. 

The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminated his pale, weary face. 

My heart ached: “Jiazhuo, don’t overwork yourself.” 

“It’s fine,” he replied. “Things will settle down soon.” 

After a brief pause, he added thoughtfully: “It’s almost been a year.” 

“Mm,” I smiled. “Time flies.” 

With that, I took the book from his hands: “Go to sleep early.” 

---

April was my birthday season. Walking along Shijing Avenue, the warm spring breeze gently caressed me. Suddenly, I remembered that fairy-tale-like wedding in the Netherlands—it felt like another lifetime. 

Though only a year had passed, reflecting on all the changes and growth along the way stirred some emotions within me. 

On the weekend, I went home for dinner. My father asked me: “Yingying, there’s been a lot of personnel movement at Lao Tong recently. Has Jiazhuo mentioned anything to you?” 

I wasn’t oblivious to financial news—there had been hints of the old master considering retirement, and rumors about a changing of the guard at Lao Tong were growing louder. Jiajun had always been prominent, but seasoned commentators openly favored Jiazhuo, praising his investment analysis as sharp and precise. The situation was murky, making it a hot topic in financial circles. However, Jiazhuo never discussed these matters with me, likely to shield me from trouble. 

I answered honestly: “Dad, I don’t know.” 

My father said: “Yingying, you need to be more mindful. Our Jiang family is closely tied to the second young master now. You’re not a child anymore—don’t be too naive about your own affairs.” 

Thinking about the complicated situation made me uneasy. 

Aunt Yun came out holding my younger brother: “Yingying, your father has been so worried lately that his hair is turning white. Almost all of Jiang Corporation’s major funds are tied up in Lao Tong. Whoever takes charge there will have a significant impact on our family.” 

“I understand,” I murmured hesitantly. 

Fortunately, Aunt Yun just smiled: “You’re still young. Your father is putting too much pressure on you.” 

She turned to call Grandpa and Grandma for dinner. 

At home, after waking from an afternoon nap, I got up and went downstairs. The house was quiet. A maid approached: “Miss, would you like some tea?” 

“No, where is everyone?” 

“The driver took them out. Fourth Madam invited them to play mahjong.” 

I nodded and stepped outside. The sunlight was perfect, and I strolled along the shaded paths of the villa district. The weather was cool, the surroundings vast and open. I walked for quite a while, eventually finding myself outside the Lao family’s ancestral estate without realizing it. 

Old Wu, the caretaker, recognized me and hurried over to unlock the ornate iron gate: “Miss Yingying, why did you come alone?” 

Old Wu led me into the main hall, explaining as we walked: “There aren’t many servants left here. An elderly woman usually tends to the garden, but she’s off duty today. Miss Yingying, if you’d like—” 

I simply said: “I’ll just look around. No need to bother with me.” 

Old Wu smiled: “Alright, take your time.” 

I walked through the flower-lined path at the front of the house and entered the garden behind it. Standing on the veranda, I looked out at the garden. The rose trellises were long gone, replaced by lush jasmine bushes that nearly covered the entire lawn. 

Gazing at the silent courtyard, I recalled the past—fragrant dresses, laughter-filled banquets, white chiffon skirts, and purple ribbons. A wave of nostalgia and melancholy washed over me. 

I sat in the garden for a while when my phone rang. Picking it up, I heard Jiazhuo’s voice: “Yingying, are you still at home?” 

“I’m at your place,” I said. 

“What?” He didn’t understand. 

“I’m at the Lao family ancestral estate.” 

Jiazhuo’s tone grew strange: “Why did you go there?” 

“Wait a moment—I’ll come pick you up.” 

He drove quickly, arriving from the city in about twenty minutes. The car stopped at the courtyard entrance, and I waved to him from the second-floor balcony. 

Jiazhuo accompanied me as we wandered around the mansion. 

Servants regularly cleaned the house; aside from some valuable furniture being covered to protect against dust, the entire mansion remained clean and tidy. On the third door of the second-floor corridor, Jiazhuo opened the door to his bedroom. 

As expected, the room was spacious, with a small study attached. It was impeccably organized, filled with professional books, classical texts, and foreign novels. 

After leaving his room, Jiazhuo led me up the grand spiral staircase to the third floor. I casually opened one beautifully crafted door after another, revealing a luxurious living room, an elegant guest room, even a small banquet hall. In the corner stood a grand piano. 

As we passed through the corridor, I noticed a locked door. 

I asked: “What’s this?” 

Jiazhuo’s expression stiffened: “This is my mother’s room.” 

“Oh…” I drew out the word softly. 

His mood darkened: “I’ve been busy all day. Let’s go home first. If you like it here, I’ll bring you back another time.” 

We returned home and quietly watched a movie together on the couch. Jiazhuo held me in his arms, as gentle and considerate as ever. 

Perhaps I was overly sensitive, but I noticed that whenever the topic of his mother came up, no matter how well he tried to hide it, I could always sense a faint, inexplicable sorrow in him. 

Losing a parent at a young age might leave a wound that never fully heals. There were depths to him that I couldn’t reach, and I could only console myself with the thought that time would help us move forward. 

---

The night before my birthday at the end of April, Jiazhuo came home late. I hadn’t slept either, sitting in my old room flipping through old photo albums. Before leaving the Jiang family, my mother had left me several large and small photo books—they were my most treasured possessions. 

I spread out various photos across the bed and sat in the middle, reminiscing about the fragments of my mother’s life, as if doing so could bring me closer to her. 

When Jiazhuo returned, he called out to me from the living room. 

I ran out and sat beside him. He was watching the evening financial news on TV, and I leaned against his lap. Jiazhuo stroked my hair: “Yingying, I have an important client meeting tomorrow. I’ll try to make time to come back and have dinner with you.” 

I turned to kiss his cheek: “Mm, it’s fine. Your work comes first.” 

Jiazhuo reached for his wallet on the coffee table and handed me an LTB bank card: “Go shopping with your classmates. Buy whatever you like.” 

“Haven’t you already given me a card?” I asked, examining the card in my hand. Its design was exceptionally beautiful—pure white with a golden edge, shimmering faintly like flowing water. 

“This one’s different,” Jiazhuo said gently, steadying me with his hand. 

In my confusion, I blurted out: “Whose supplementary card is this?” 

His gaze still on the TV screen, he smiled: “Other than mine, whose could it be?” 

I teased him: “Does this mean you’ll keep working hard to earn money for me to spend?” 

Jiazhuo turned his gaze back to me, lightly flicking my forehead with his slender fingers: “I’ll do my best, Miss.” 

Looking at his face, I suddenly buried my face in his chest and mumbled: “Jiazhuo, we don’t need a lot of money. I just want to be with you.” 

He wrapped his arms tightly around me. 

After finishing the news with him, I went to take a bath. When I came out, Jiazhuo wasn’t in the bedroom or the study. 

Puzzled, I walked into the living room and saw him standing rigidly by the bed, his back straight, his body tense. 

“Jiazhuo…” I walked over and softly called his name. 

He snapped out of his thoughts, lifting his head. His eyes were unreadable, like storm clouds churning and shifting across a gloomy sky. 

For a moment, I felt as though he was looking at me like a stranger. 

“What’s wrong?” My voice trembled involuntarily. 

“Nothing,” he said calmly, his hands in his pockets, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mother was very beautiful.” 

I said: “Am I not surpassing her?” 

Jiazhuo quickly agreed: “Yes, yes, yes.” 

He came over to me, and the tense, strange atmosphere in the room dissipated in an instant, as if it had never existed.

Jiazhuo’s gentle voice broke the silence: “I’ll go to the study and look over some documents for a while.” 

I nodded. 

I walked through the room, pacing it step by step, then stood where Jiazhuo had been moments ago. Following his gaze, I carefully examined the scattered photos on the bed, finally stopping at a group photo. 

I picked it up. In the picture, two young women stood on the deck of a cruise ship, their arms around each other’s shoulders, heads tilted together as they smiled at the camera under the sunlight. The intimacy in the photo was typical of my mother’s wide social circle—there were many such pictures, and this one wasn’t particularly remarkable. 

I flipped it over. On the back was a simple inscription: Lan Dan and Xinxin, 1986, Victoria Harbour. 

It must have been one of her friends from her youth—both women were strikingly beautiful. 

I secretly tucked the photo away. 

---

When summer arrived on the wings of a gentle breeze, I took a trip to Venice. Fresh out of university and having resigned from my assistant position at Goldsmiths, I was fully focused on preparing for my interior design license exam when I received a call from Simone, a man with a thick southern Italian accent who had been my mother’s boyfriend for five years. He insisted fervently: “Dear, you must come.” 

When I arrived at Marco Polo Airport, a chubby, brown-haired man greeted me: “Buon pomeriggio, Miss Yingying. I’m Mr. Simone’s butler.” 

After catching up on sleep and adjusting to the time difference, my mother, Simone, and I went to a restaurant in the city for dinner. Candlelight and flowers framed the rippling waters outside the window. As my mother elegantly cut her steak, she scolded me: “You’ve just graduated and instead of finding work, you’re here on vacation? Truly living the life of a pampered young lady.” 

Though her words were sharp, her expression betrayed her delight. 

I just grinned and nodded. 

Simone, who didn’t understand Chinese, listened attentively with a warm smile. His temples were slightly gray, and he carried himself with great charm, clearly adoring my mother deeply. 

Midway through the meal, my mother excused herself to use the restroom. Simone leaned in conspiratorially: “Yingying, thank you so much for coming. Your mother and I are about to share an important moment. She loves you dearly, and I want you to be here.” 

It didn’t take long for me to understand Simone’s intentions. The next day, after my mother’s speech at an art center, he appeared on stage with a large bouquet of flowers and knelt down before her. 

My mother glanced at me smiling from the audience, then at Simone. Finally, with Chinese-style restraint, she extended her hand and gave a graceful, dignified nod. 

Overjoyed, Simone kissed the back of her hand and, amidst enthusiastic applause, slipped a ring onto her finger. 

My eyes welled with tears. My mother, who had wandered the world for half her life, had finally decided to settle down. 

I was deeply happy for her. 

---

The next evening, my mother called me: “Yingying, go upstairs and change your dress. I’m taking you to dance at St. Mark’s.” 

I teased her: “Madam, you’re now a married woman. Please behave accordingly.” 

She shot me a playful glare: “Times have changed—it’s your turn to lecture your mother now?” 

I quickly flattered her: “How could you ever grow old? You’ll still be captivating at a hundred.” 

“Flattery—” My mother looked at me. “Such mischievous behavior—where’s the grace of a proper young lady?” 

“Yes, yes, I’ll remember,” I replied with a laugh. “May I ask when the two of you will hold the wedding?” 

My mother picked up her handbag and linked arms with Simone: “By the end of the year or early next spring—” 

Simone drove us, laughing and chatting happily as we headed out. 

After spending the last stretch of summer joyfully with my mother, I returned to Italy. When I exited the airport, I was surprised to see Lin Baorong waiting for me. 

“Big Sister, what are you doing here?” I asked, astonished. 

She opened the trunk to stow my luggage and smiled: “Did you enjoy your trip?” 

I nodded with a smile. 

Lin Baorong drove a white Mini Cooper, her hand resting casually on the steering wheel: “Second Young Master entrusted me with your care. How could I dare be negligent?” 

“What’s going on?” I asked, puzzled. 

“The family wanted you to catch this flight back urgently. Tonight is the baby’s full moon banquet.” 

“Ah…” Even I was surprised. Time had flown by so quickly. 

Before I left for Italy, Qi Xuan had given birth via cesarean section to a boy. Jiazhuo and I had visited her—the baby was incredibly adorable, already laughing heartily within a week of being born. 

His rosy cheeks melted my heart. I gently kissed him and called out: “Little Lao Ha.” 

The baby laughed even more, waving his tiny hands and opening his mouth wide in delight. 

Jiajun protested: “Yingying, don’t tease my son—” 

Jiazhuo defended me: “Brother, until the fortune-teller determines his name, giving him a nickname won’t hurt.” 

Qi Xuan chimed in with a laugh: “Yes, it’s very cute—” 

The arrival of this lively little soul brought immense joy and prosperity to the Lao family. 

---

Lin Baorong drove through the city, heading straight to a renowned stylist’s studio. 

“Yingying,” Lin Baorong said to me, “Grandmother wants you to start attending formal family gatherings. Don’t dress too casually.” 

I nodded: “Thank you for the reminder, Big Sister.” 

Lin Baorong sat on the sofa flipping through fashion magazines: “No need to thank me. Second Young Master specifically told me to inform you that he’s tied up with company matters this afternoon, or he would’ve come personally.” 

She smiled: “Yingying, prepare yourself—he’s the kind of man whose deep affection can be hard to see. Truly a devoted lover.” 

Her words moved me deeply. I looked up at Lin Baorong, my eyes misty. 

She smirked: “For the Lao family to produce such a loving couple—it’s truly a family honor.” 

I smiled faintly at her, long accustomed to her blunt honesty. 

A wardrobe assistant led me into the dressing room. Lin Baorong had chosen an elegant outfit for me—a classic white blouse paired with a fitted waist and a round, voluminous skirt. In front of the mirror, I applied light makeup, accentuating my large, slanted eyes and delicate nose. My gaze was especially clear and bright. 

Lin Baorong looked at me, her usually sharp and capable face softening with admiration: “What a beauty.” 

“It’s all thanks to your excellent taste in clothing, Big Sister,” I replied with a smile, secretly envying how effortlessly stylish she always looked in simple black outfits. 

I turned side to side in front of the mirror. 

Lin Baorong asked: “What’s wrong? Is there something you’re not satisfied with?” 

I pouted playfully: “My face looks so chubby.” 

Lin Baorong burst into laughter: “Your baby cheeks are adorable! So eager to grow up already?” 

The makeup artist joined in the laughter. Lin Baorong instructed her: “Add just a touch more contour.” 

The stylist bent down to retouch my makeup. 

I blushed, embarrassed that Lin Baorong had seen through my insecurities. 

After giving me a few more pointers, Lin Baorong excused herself to change. That evening, the driver came to pick us up. When we arrived at the luxurious hotel in the city, the banquet hall was already filled with guests. 

The Lao family had enjoyed generations of wealth and prestige in the city, maintaining their traditional family honor. Naturally, the banquet was grand and formal. That night, the city’s elite and influential figures gathered, dressed to the nines, for another extravagant social event. 

Outside the hotel, the media had gathered, their flashes lighting up continuously. 

As the waiter opened the car door, Jiazhuo was already waiting at the steps. 

I smoothed the wrinkles in my skirt and stepped out of the car. He approached, his eyes lighting up slightly. 

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, offering me his arm. 

I glanced at him sideways, revealing a subtle smile. 

Jiazhuo escorted me into the hotel. Many eyes followed us, and people greeted him warmly, casting polite glances at me. Their gazes were familiar—they were subtly assessing the woman accompanying Second Young Master tonight. 

Jiazhuo introduced me simply: “Miss Jiang Yiying.” 

His tone was formal and respectful. 

Naturally, some acquaintances recognized me: “Isn’t that Jiang Lao’s eldest granddaughter? She’s grown into a stunning beauty—” 

I just smiled. 

Jiazhuo and I walked ahead first. Qi Xuan embraced me warmly: “Yingying! You’re so adorable!” 

She pouted and complained: “My waist has expanded by four and a half inches.” 

I reassured her: “You’ll recover soon. Don’t worry—you’ll be the most beautiful mother in the city.” 

Jiajun stood nearby, speaking with Jiazhuo. 

After greeting our grandparents and seating the elders, I sat with my father and Aunt Yun. Soon, Guo Shu, who was attending to Grandmother Lao, came over to call me: “Miss Yingying, Grandmother wants you to sit with her.” 

Aunt Yun beamed: “Go ahead.”

I walked over with a smile, and the elderly lady waved me over: “Yingying, come here.” 

Jiajun and Qi Xuan looked up at me, exchanging pleasantries once again. 

A waiter pulled out my chair, and I sat down. Unable to resist, I glanced to my side. The person beside me sat quietly, his crisp black-and-white fine-checkered shirt collar framing his lean, handsome profile. Sensing my gaze, he turned his gentle eyes toward me, and my breath caught momentarily. 

Jiazhuo lightly squeezed my hand. 

Soon after, the nanny helped Qi Xuan bring out the baby, and the guests flocked around, showering them with compliments and congratulations. The atmosphere was lively and bustling. 

Midway through the banquet, I took the opportunity to step outside for some fresh air while heading to the restroom. The evening breeze gently brushed against me on the terrace. As I walked further, my arm was suddenly yanked hard in the dim light. 

I turned around to see a familiar face. 

“How are you here?” we both exclaimed simultaneously. 

Tang Lechang’s expression was even more astonished than mine. 

He continued: “What’s your relationship with the Lao family?” 

He glanced back at the banquet hall, then scrutinized me carefully. Seemingly understanding something, his face turned pale. 

I was also taken aback: “Tang Lechang, whose son are you?” 

I understood that those who could enter this banquet with an invitation were no ordinary people. Running through my mind, if he were a descendant of the Lao family’s social circle, why had I never seen him before? 

His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a somber expression: “Don’t guess anymore. I don’t have much of a background.” 

“Mm,” I nodded lightly, respecting his wish not to elaborate further. 

“Let’s talk another time,” he waved at me and walked away. 

---

After a flawless banquet and professional PR coordination, the Lao family once again became the media’s focus. Jiajun’s warm photo cradling the baby even made the cover of that week’s financial magazine. 

In bold red letters on the front page: The Legacy of the Lao Dynasty. 

Huihui and I were flipping through gossip magazines at a café in the afternoon. 

Suddenly, Huihui asked me: “Yingying, is your boyfriend Lao Jiazhuo?” 

My heart skipped a beat. I looked up at her but didn’t respond immediately—I wasn’t used to lying. 

After carefully observing my expression, she said: “So it’s true.” 

“How did you know?” I licked my lips and decided to admit it. 

“Later, Yang Ruiyi mentioned it,” Huihui explained. “He wasn’t entirely sure, just thought it might be him.” 

“Yingying, I knew your family background was good, but I didn’t expect it to be this good.” After her initial shock, she quickly composed herself and didn’t seem overly surprised. 

She grinned and hugged me: “From what I’ve seen, he’s no less handsome than the eldest brother. Someday, let our magazine interview him—he’ll surely shine even brighter.” 

Ever the opportunist, I smacked her head: “You’re not running an entertainment magazine. Stick to your own business.” 

“Those little celebrities—” Huihui’s excitement spiked as she gossiped enthusiastically. “How can they compare to a real-life billionaire heir, especially one who’s such a devastatingly handsome man?” 

After letting her ramble on for a while, I seriously told her: “Huihui, please don’t spread anything about me and him.” 

Huihui paused, then nodded understandingly: “Mm, there are rules, right?” 

“There are always things to consider,” I said. 

“Yingying,” Huihui tilted her head. “Remember when you were in high school, you said you wanted to marry early and have six kids? Will Mr. Lao fulfill that wish for you?” 

Warmth surged in my heart. I knew what she meant—she cared about my happiness and worried about the challenges of marrying into a wealthy family. 

I smiled at her: “Come here, I have some gossip to show you.” 

Huihui immediately abandoned her coffee cup and squeezed onto the sofa next to me. I pulled out my phone and held it up to her. She took one look, then snatched the phone from me, staring at the screen before glancing back at me—her jaw practically dropped in astonishment. 

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “You… you…” 

“When did this happen?” 

I blushed slightly: “It’s been a while.” 

Huihui kept tapping on my phone, marveling at the images with sparkling eyes. 

Hidden in my phone was a folder containing a few photos from our wedding. 

Huihui flipped through them several times, then shouted at me: “Sister, sister! Why are you still slaving away drawing plans late into the night only to get scolded by your professor? Go, go—go home and slam the table and quit!” 

I laughed: “Sister, we’ve graduated.” 

Huihui puffed out her cheeks: “I’m so mad! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You should’ve strutted around proudly and let me bask in your glory.” 

“Huihui,” I leaned on her and slowly said, “Sometimes I feel a bit uneasy.” 

“What’s wrong?” Huihui asked. 

“I don’t know,” I lowered my head and thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s a bit of insecurity.” 

“It’s okay,” Huihui consoled me. “Yingying, you still need to work for yourself. Times are different now.” 

I nodded in agreement. 

---

Comfortable days always passed quickly. The last traces of summer heat gradually faded as autumn approached. I began to get used to wearing a cardigan over my dresses in the mornings and evenings. Finally, Jiazhuo decided to take a week off during a slightly lighter workload. 

“Yingying,” he called me upstairs after work, his voice filled with joy. 

I came out of the room, loosened his tie for him, and teased with a sidelong glance: “Second Young Master, what has you so happy?” 

“Mm, I’m thirsty…” He unfastened his cufflinks and sank onto the sofa, exhaling deeply. 

I turned to pour him a glass of water. 

Jiazhuo took the glass, drank, and then looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with faint amusement. 

I gazed at him, and he smiled silently, meeting my gaze. Watching the light dancing in his eyes, I felt a small, restless creature stirring uneasily in my heart. Suddenly, I leapt up from the carpet and lunged toward the sofa. Jiazhuo quickly extended his arms and pulled me securely into his embrace. 

“Yingying, I’ll be taking a vacation in a couple of days,” his voice softened with subtle delight. “I didn’t celebrate your university graduation, so how about making up for it now?” 

“Really? Is your work okay?” 

“It’s fine. I do have vacations.” 

I happily nuzzled his chin: “Where are we going on vacation?” 

He sat with me on the sofa: “Hmm, where would you like to go?” 

I pondered: “Let me think about it.” 

“Alright.” He patted my cheek, stood up, and headed to the bathroom. 

I ran into the study. 

“Jiazhuo—Jiazhuo—” Hearing noises outside, I called for him from inside. 

He entered with damp hair, and I pulled him to a chair, taking the towel from his hands to dry his hair for him. 

I handed him a dart with one hand: “What’s this for?” 

“See that?” I pointed to the bookshelf. 

“Mm.” Following my finger, he saw the shelf filled with issues of National Geographic. 

“Throw it. Wherever it lands, that’s where we’ll go.” 

Jiazhuo chuckled, amused by my idea: “Are you serious? What if it’s Tanzania? Would you go?” 

“Brother, yes! As long as you hit it, I’d even go feed the lions—” I declared confidently. 

“You throw it,” he handed the dart back to me. 

“Fine.” I stood up on the sofa, gripped the dart tightly, and threw it forcefully toward the bookshelf. 

The red dart landed firmly in the stack of magazines. 

Jiazhuo walked over, pulled out the magazine, and flipped to the page pierced by the dart. He burst into laughter after glancing at it. 

“What is it?” I jumped down and snatched the magazine from his hands. 

A large image greeted my eyes—a dense crowd of people, with bold white text: Polygamous Patriarchs—An Exclusive In-Depth Exploration of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. 

I read on: 

Joe Joseph, 88 years old, is an elder of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS), a controversial sect that split from the Mormon Church after polygamy was banned. In Hildale, Utah, he strives to fulfill his mission of building a “Celestial Family”—five wives, 46 children, and 239 grandchildren. “I’ve been very blessed in my life,” he says. “I wouldn’t trade places with anyone.”

I flipped through the worn-out magazine, completely dumbfounded. What on earth was all this nonsense? 

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo wrapped his arms around me from behind and whispered into my ear: “It suits me just fine.” 

I shoved the book back into his hands: “You and your wicked thoughts.” 

Jiazhuo feigned innocence: “Hey, hey, hey, it was your choice.” 

“No way,” I glared at him fiercely. 

Jiazhuo laughed even more heartily. 

Fuming, I stomped off to the bedroom. 

“Yingying—” Jiazhuo called out softly. 

A pillow flew toward him, but he caught it swiftly. 

“Alright…” He reached out and hugged me, pressing his forehead against my nose, then kissed me gently. 

---

For the next two days, Jiazhuo was busy at work. I overheard him say that Su Jian had gone on a business trip to Macau, and the urgent matters on his desk needed to be resolved ahead of time. He carefully delegated tasks to several assistants and secretaries. 

In the evenings, I sat at home watching TV or spacing out. The current situation wasn’t ideal. The old master, preoccupied with doting on his grandchildren, had largely withdrawn from business affairs. Jiajun frequently traveled between the U.S. and our city. Once, while working at headquarters, he and Jiazhuo had an argument in the office over differing opinions. Perhaps some employees leaked the news, and soon tabloids exaggeratedly reported on the discord between the two brothers. 

But such reports were quickly suppressed. 

During this time, Su Jian, along with several assistants and senior executives, often came to the house. The guest room at the end of the second floor had been converted into a small meeting room. Occasionally, when I returned home, I’d encounter them. Jiazhuo never avoided me and sometimes even asked me to bring drinks in, but I had no desire to pry into his work. 

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of an impending storm beneath the calm surface. 

That day, Jiazhuo came home early from work. I was in the kitchen making soup when he walked in: “Yingying, our flight is tomorrow.” 

After dinner, I asked him again: “If you leave now, will the company be alright?” 

“Do you have so little faith in my abilities?” He slightly furrowed his brow as he reassured me, exuding quiet confidence. 

“Alright, alright, Second Young Master, what clothes should I pack for you?” I went to prepare his luggage. 

I woke up early the next morning. Jiazhuo was always a light sleeper, and my slight movements quickly woke him too. 

“Yingying,” he murmured groggily: “Awake already?” 

“I can’t sleep,” I kissed his cheek: “I’ll go downstairs. You rest a little longer.” 

Soon after, Jiazhuo came downstairs wearing a shirt, talking on the phone as he walked. 

He spoke into the phone: “What’s so urgent?” 

He gave brief instructions: “I’m at home. Come up directly.” 

After hanging up, he gently called to me: “Yingying, go upstairs and change. Su Jian has something urgent to discuss.” 

“Mm,” I nodded and headed upstairs. 

From the staircase, I heard Jiazhuo open the door and speak to someone outside: “You just got off the plane—why not rest first? Why call so early?” 

Then came Su Jian’s voice: “Sorry, did I disturb you?” 

“It’s fine—” Jiazhuo’s tone was calm: “Come in and talk.” 

I stayed in the bedroom for a while, checked the luggage, glanced at the time, and figured it was about time to leave, so I went downstairs. 

As soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard Su Jian’s voice: “Jiazhuo!” 

Su Jian looked agitated, speaking urgently: “Are you really going to leave it like this?” 

Jiazhuo remained composed, his steady voice unwavering: “Let’s set it aside for now. We’ll talk when I return.” 

Su Jian’s voice grew urgent: “The timing is unpredictable. If we don’t handle it now—” 

Jiazhuo interrupted: “Now might not be the right time. Let’s wait.” 

“How long do you plan to endure? With such a good hand, you’re not playing your cards. The eldest brother grows more aggressive by the day. What are you waiting for? All these years of hard work—leading administration and overseeing several asset management departments, handling everything personally to serve clients. Jiazhuo, you know our expectations of you. I’ve always believed you thought you could achieve greater things.” 

“Su Jian, calm down,” Jiazhuo said firmly: “I didn’t say I’m backing out.” 

Su Jian stared at him, disappointment evident on his face. 

“The situation isn’t clear yet,” Jiazhuo explained: “Su Jian, you know me. Unless absolutely necessary, I’ll always prioritize my family.” 

Su Jian nodded: “Alright, but do you really have to leave now?” 

“I promised Yingying—” Jiazhuo paused, then continued: “While I’m away, there’s no need for me to give instructions. You all know what to do in my absence.” 

“You can count on us,” Su Jian insisted, still wanting to say more: “But—” 

“Su Jian,” Jiazhuo called his name, his expression darkening slightly. 

Su Jian hesitated, opened his mouth, but ultimately fell silent. 

“This trip must have been exhausting for you. Go rest. Tell Zhu Bichan she can take a few more days off before returning to work,” Jiazhuo said gently. 

Su Jian wasn’t intimidated: “How can we afford to relax while you’re away?” 

“Alright,” Jiazhuo patted his shoulder: “We’re counting on you.” 

Su Jian nodded and took his leave. 

Jiazhuo turned to look at me: “Are you ready?” 

“Did something happen?” I asked, worried. 

Jiazhuo’s face betrayed no hint of abnormality, remaining as composed and elegant as ever. He calmly replied: “Nothing. We’ll leave on schedule.” 

---

Naturally, we didn’t end up visiting the polygamist sect. Instead, we decided on a destination that wasn’t particularly novel. During his university years in the U.S., Jiazhuo had purchased a house in Noe Valley, San Francisco. The environment there was serene and elegant. 

Jiazhuo suggested we stay there for a week. 

I was happy to oblige. He was already exhausted enough; during this rare vacation, I only hoped he could rest well. 

After landing, the driver picked us up, and as we drove through the foreign streets, the houses perched on hillsides looked like distinct, colorful blocks. The bright scenery instantly washed away the fatigue of the long flight. 

“You bought a house here, but isn’t it far from where you studied?” I asked, puzzled. 

He had attended GSB, which was thirty miles away from San Francisco. 

“Mm,” Jiazhuo leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, resting. He replied lightly: “Driving there isn’t too far.” 

“There are many Chinese people in San Francisco, so there are more Chinese restaurants, but I still miss the food back home the most.” 

I held his hand, my heart aching softly. 

I could imagine how difficult it must have been for him to endure the pain of losing his mother while studying alone in a foreign land. Even with material wealth, the loneliness and desolation in his heart couldn’t be alleviated by money. 

When the car stopped deep on the slope of 140 Linda Street, I immediately fell in love with the house. 

It was an ordinary bungalow, but its charm lay in being a standalone property. Behind it was a small, exquisite garden with lush green grass and shrubs on both sides that concealed the entire house, giving it a secluded, otherworldly tranquility. 

On the first day, the curtains were drawn, blocking out the swaying trees outside. I slept soundly. 

When I woke up, it was already noon the next day. 

I immediately looked for Jiazhuo. 

He walked in with a smile: “You’re awake. We need to go buy some things. The house has been vacant for too long—it’s empty.” 

I opened my eyes groggily and saw him standing in the room. Unable to help myself, I smiled. 

We drove to a nearby supermarket and bought fresh meat, vegetables, fruits, cod roe bread, Spanish ham, cheese, and nuts. 

Every day, I woke up to cook for him, experimenting with recipes for soups and making fruit salads in the afternoon. 

Each night, we slept embraced, waking up to kiss each other. We drank coffee in the courtyard. Jiazhuo liked to sit on the sofa reading, sometimes falling asleep slowly. When I came out of the room, I’d drape a light blanket over him. 

Time flowed so peacefully. 

In the cool, comfortable mornings, I wore jeans and a cotton shirt, rolled up my sleeves, and trimmed the branches in the garden. 

Jiazhuo lounged lazily in a recliner on the porch, watching me. 

We didn’t watch TV. In the dim evening light, we sat side by side watching movies. Sometimes, moved by the film, tears welled up in my eyes. Jiazhuo’s slender, pale fingers gently brushed my cheek, and he smiled, pulling me into his arms.

He occasionally contacted people back home online, but his messages were brief and to the point, no longer entangled in work as he had been in China. Jiazhuo slept well, and his entire demeanor radiated vitality and energy. 

In the evenings, we strolled along the sloping streets. Occasionally, he would relax, and the usually inscrutable aura that surrounded him would dissipate in the cool evening breeze, leaving behind a clean, youthful freshness. 

One day, as we sat at an outdoor café by the roadside, he suddenly looked at me with a sigh: “Young people are so pure and unblemished.” 

Hearing this, I raised my eyes to him: “What do you mean? You’re not old.” 

“I am,” he murmured softly. 

He took my hand and gazed at the patch of skin on my wrist exposed to the sunlight, glowing as if it had absorbed the light, translucent and radiant. Jiazhuo gently traced his fingers over it, as if caressing a rare and precious porcelain. 

I glanced at him sideways—his fine gray-striped shirt, noble features, and complexion as smooth and pale as jade. 

He was the only man in the world who could make my heart flutter. 

I simply smiled and lowered my head. 

Every crevice of my heart was filled with warm happiness, a profound sense of fulfillment and security. 

Life unfolded in a state of abundance and tranquility, slowly growing like bamboo under clear winds and gentle rains, flowing perfectly. 

It felt as though we were living in a secluded paradise, where time stood still. 

---

One night, Jiazhuo’s phone rang. He got up and went outside to take the call. 

I lay in bed, half-asleep. After a while, the low murmur of voices outside ceased, but he still hadn’t come back in. 

I went out and saw, in the deep darkness of night, a solitary figure lying in the recliner under the eaves—a quiet, lonely silhouette. 

I walked over quietly and touched his cheek from behind: “What’s wrong?” 

Jiazhuo slowly turned his head, resting it against my palm, gently rubbing it with a faint vulnerability in his expression. 

On this sleepless night, we sat on the wide sofa in the living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows open, facing the shadowy trees in the courtyard, sipping a little wine. 

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo suddenly spoke, his voice soft and drifting through the night: “If one day I’m no longer at Lao Tong…” 

“If I leave the Lao family and start supporting myself, and our financial situation isn’t as comfortable as it is now, would you mind?” 

My heart gave a subtle jolt. I knew he wouldn’t say such things without reason. 

“Jiazhuo, what’s wrong?” I asked softly, suppressing my unease. 

“Yingying, answer me. If that day ever comes, what will you do?” he persisted. 

I couldn’t fathom why he was asking this so suddenly and fell silent for a few seconds. 

As he watched my expression, a layer of desolation slowly spread across his brow. 

“Second Young Master,” I finally snapped out of it, casting a teasing glance at him: “I don’t drive luxury cars worth millions, nor do I wear custom-tailored suits or shirts. I’m not the kind of person who spends extravagantly yet can’t find anything worth eating.” 

Jiazhuo’s previously somber expression gradually softened. He leaned closer, squinting slightly with a faint smile: “Hmm, so it seems I’ve been overly extravagant?” 

There was a subtle, dangerous sharpness in his gaze. 

I quickly flattered him: “No, no! As the vice president, your position demands respect and hard work. It’s entirely justified, entirely justified.” 

He took a sip of his drink, ignoring my rambling, and gazed into the night thoughtfully. 

“Jiazhuo,” I said: “I won’t interfere with any of your decisions. As long as you’re willing, I’ll stay by your side.” 

Jiazhuo silently held my hand. 

Seeing the weight of his worries, I couldn’t bear it and said: “If working so hard makes you unhappy, why not just step aside and let Brother Jiajun take over?” 

“If I simply let go, Lao Tong might…” He paused, then squeezed my hand and said simply: “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” 

At that moment, I believed that we would face everything together, advancing and retreating as one. Even if we could only share a bowl of hot soup, it would be enough to withstand the coldness of the world. 

Only later did I realize how naive I had been. 

---

After spending a few lazy days indoors, the weather was so beautiful that it felt like a waste to stay inside. We changed clothes and went out, holding hands as we strolled through the streets. A melancholic blond man smoked alone on the steps, and in the distance, street performers in a small square drew whistles and applause from the crowd. That night, he drove me to dinner in the city, and we found a small bar where jazz and blues music swayed with charm. We danced gently in each other’s arms. 

One afternoon, the sky was overcast, and for some reason, I couldn’t sleep. I dozed off on the couch in the living room when I heard Jiazhuo’s phone ring. He walked over to answer it, and after just one sentence, his tone suddenly darkened: “When did this happen?” 

He followed up with: “How is it now?” 

I snapped out of my drowsiness and turned to see him pacing back and forth in the room, his brow furrowed, his expression troubled. 

After hanging up, he made several more calls, speaking intermittently for a long time before returning to the living room. 

“What happened?” I had already sat up and was looking at him. 

“Yingying, we need to go back. Grandfather suddenly had a hypertensive crisis and collapsed.” 

My hand trembled, and I shot up from the chair. 

He pressed down on me: “Don’t panic. He’s already been stabilized.” 

“I’ve instructed the secretary to book tickets,” he remained calm. “Let’s pack up and catch the earliest flight back.” 

It had started raining outside. It was already late autumn, early winter—the sudden chill of the rain made the air much colder. 

The driver came to pick us up. Despite wearing a wool coat, I still shivered. Jiazhuo held my hand: “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” 

At the airport late at night, travelers all wore weary expressions. We sat in the waiting area, and Jiazhuo contacted people back home to inquire about Grandfather’s condition. Just as he turned to speak to me, another call came in. 

He answered: “Bichan, it’s me.” 

I didn’t know what Zhu Bichan said on the other end, but a flicker of anger appeared and disappeared in Jiazhuo’s eyes: “Who signed the personnel transfer order?” 

“What excuse was given?” he asked, restraining himself. 

“Besides Peter, who else was demoted?” 

“Execute it for now. I’ll deal with it when I return.” 

“Mm, tell Su Jian to come. I’ll contact him after landing.” 

He ended the call with a frown, raising his hand to press hard on his temples. 

Turning his head, he saw me watching him and smiled faintly. 

I touched his hand; his body temperature was low. 

I grew worried: “Jiazhuo, are you cold?” 

He pointed to his coat: “It’s warm enough.” 

He opened his laptop and said gently: “Yingying, sorry, I need to work for a bit.” 

I nodded: “Mm.” 

He smiled, then focused on the screen. He opened a website, and the familiar diamond logo of LTB popped up. I glanced at it—his inbox was filled with pages of dense business messages. 

He only closed his laptop just before boarding. During the long flight, I fell asleep and woke up to find a blanket draped over me. Jiazhuo sat motionless, staring out the window. 

I held his hand: “Try to sleep a little.” 

His smile carried a hint of fatigue as he softly reassured me: “I can’t sleep. It’s fine. You rest.” 

We transferred in Seoul. Exhausted from traveling and feeling nauseous from airsickness, I went to the restroom and vomited until tears choked me. 

When Jiazhuo returned after completing the procedures, he found me slumped in a chair in the waiting area. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the cold water from my face, and cupped my cheek, letting me lean against him. 

In my daze, I heard his concerned voice: “Yingying, are you alright?” 

I shook my head and curled up in his arms. Behind us, the vast tarmac swirled with cold wind, and around us were unfamiliar countries and languages. The two of us clung tightly to each other, truly feeling as if we depended on each other for survival. 

---

When we landed, Su Jian was waiting at the exit. We hurried, exchanging only a few words before quickly stuffing our luggage into the trunk. The car sped toward the hospital. 

Upon arriving, we took the elevator from the garage straight to the fifth floor. As soon as we stepped out, Uncle Guo greeted us: “Second Young Master, Miss Yingying, you’ve finally returned.” 

Jiazhuo walked in while asking: “How’s Grandfather?” 

Uncle Guo replied: “The old master is still under observation in the ICU.” 

As they spoke, Uncle Guo stopped in front of a door. This was likely a large reception room in the hospital. Uncle Guo pushed the door open, and instantly, all eyes in the room turned to us. 

I glanced around. The elderly lady sat in the middle of the sofa, Jiajun stood by the window, and among those seated were Jiajun’s parents, several of the Lao family’s uncles and elders, and senior executives from the company. 

Jiazhuo stepped forward: “Grandma, we’re back.”

I followed behind him and greeted the elders. 

The elderly lady spoke: “The doctor says Grandfather’s condition is stable, and he should wake up soon. Thank you all for your efforts. Let’s wait until Grandfather wakes up to discuss everything further. Everyone can go home for now.” 

With that, the more distant relatives and company subordinates took their leave. Soon, only a few people remained in the room. 

At this moment, Jiajun turned his head, casting a sly glance at Jiazhuo. 

The elderly lady beckoned me: “Yingying, come sit. You must be tired from the flight.” 

Jiazhuo said: “Let’s go see Grandfather first.” 

“Mm,” I nodded and asked her: “How’s Grandfather?” 

Jiajun’s mother looked at us, her well-maintained face breaking into a pale smile. She said: “Sit down first. Grandfather hasn’t woken up yet, so there’s no rush to show filial piety. Why are you in such a hurry? Even with Grandfather in this state, you were still busy vacationing.” 

Her words felt like a thorn piercing my heart. I felt uneasy, but Jiazhuo remained silent. He pulled me along and turned toward the ward. 

The family waited anxiously for a day and a night. Grandfather finally woke up the next afternoon. 

Everyone rushed forward to see him, but the nurse politely stopped them at the door: “The patient has just regained consciousness and cannot receive too many visitors.” 

Jiajun helped the elderly lady: “Grandma, I’ll accompany you inside.” 

The elderly lady nodded and entered the sterilization room accompanied by nurses and doctors. 

We waited outside for about half an hour before she emerged. The dignity she had been holding onto was now replaced by exhaustion. She discreetly wiped the corner of her eye. Feeling sympathy, I couldn’t help but approach and softly call out: “Grandma…” 

The elderly lady gratefully held my hand. 

I supported her—she was over seventy after all. Though usually energetic, the sudden crisis revealed her age. 

“Grandma, we’re here. Go back and rest,” I said. 

She nodded: “Alright. You two brothers take care.” 

Under the round-the-clock care of the city’s top cardiovascular experts and specialized nurses, Grandfather’s condition gradually stabilized. By the fourth day, the gastric tube was removed, and he could consume some liquid food. His spirits had also improved significantly. 

The hospital finally allowed family members to visit. Jiajun’s mother stood at the bedside with Jiajun, her tone filled with exaggerated concern and joy: “Father, thank heavens! You’ve worried us to death.” 

Grandfather, still weak from recent tests, couldn’t speak immediately and simply furrowed his brow. 

The elderly lady stepped forward: “Is there still any discomfort?” 

Jiajun’s mother continued: “Let the doctor come and check again.” 

The nurse reminded everyone that the patient had just woken up and shouldn’t be visited for too long. 

Jiajun’s mother hastily agreed: “Yes, yes, let Father rest. Everyone, let’s go out.” 

The elderly lady leaned down: “I’ll have Xiao Guo tell the kitchen to prepare some soup for you.” 

Jiajun and his father stood by the bed, offering a few careful words of inquiry before leaving the ward as well. 

Jiazhuo and I were left outside, about to follow the others out when suddenly, Grandfather’s hoarse voice called out: “Erzi (Second Son), stay.” 

The footsteps of those ahead froze. Jiajun’s mother immediately turned around, looking at Grandfather as if facing a great enemy, blurting out: “Father!” 

Grandfather repeated: “Erzi stays. Everyone else can leave for now. I’m fine.” 

Jiajun’s mother stopped at the ward entrance. Her husband tugged her arm, and she reluctantly walked out, clearly displeased. 

Jiazhuo sat down by the bedside, lowering his eyelashes, and softly called out: “Grandfather?” 

“How’s Lao Tong’s stock price?” Grandfather asked. 

Jiazhuo hesitated for a moment: “Grandfather, you’ve just woken up…” 

“Erzi,” Grandfather interrupted. 

Jiazhuo looked at him: “Yesterday, U.S. stocks closed nearly 30% lower, but today they opened slightly higher.” 

“Your grandfather is strong. Rest assured,” Jiazhuo reassured him. “Yesterday, the PR department informed the media of your recovery. It’s just a small fluctuation. The situation is improving.” 

“Mm,” Grandfather nodded. “Have you seen Minister Wang these past few days?” 

“Not yet. Things were urgent, so I spoke to him on the phone a few times,” Jiazhuo replied gently. 

Grandfather gazed at him, his sharp eyes softening slightly. Suddenly, he asked: “How old are you this year?” 

“Twenty-eight? Yes, twenty-eight,” Grandfather answered himself, his expression tinged with nostalgia. “At twenty-eight, I was just a department head at Lao Tong. But you’ve already become the administrative vice president and are doing exceptionally well.” 

“Our generation’s thinking is outdated. Times have changed. For Lao Tong to continue growing and thriving, it depends on your generation, Jiazhuo—” Grandfather slowly continued: “Lao Tong in your hands…” 

Suddenly, the ward door was pushed open with a bang. 

“Father!” Jiajun’s mother exclaimed passionately. 

A group of people flooded back into the ward. The spacious VIP room suddenly felt crowded. Jiazhuo stood up and moved aside. 

Jiajun’s mother blurted out: “Father, are you really going to give the family business to him?!” 

Grandfather frowned, visibly annoyed. 

The woman’s usually elegant face twisted with emotion: “Jiajun is your eldest grandson! He’s been so filial and capable all these years, even giving you a great-grandchild to hold. How can you be so biased? What is this Second Son to you?!” 

“What nonsense are you spouting?!” Grandfather glared, his presence commanding. “What’s wrong with Erzi? He’s also my descendant! As long as he’s capable of inheriting the Lao family business, why can’t Erzi take over?” 

Jiajun’s mother’s face turned pale and red. Her voice suddenly rose, sharp like shattered glass: “Father, have you thought this through? Are you really going to give it to him? To this unfilial son who killed his own father?!” 

“Mother!” Jiajun quickly interjected, but it was too late. 

The large room fell into a deathly silence. 

Jiazhuo’s body swayed slightly, then steadied. His face turned ashen white. 

Jiajun glanced around, gritting his teeth: “Mother, stop talking!” 

I stood there, feeling as though I hadn’t understood a word. My mind buzzed, and I could only stand frozen. 

Amid the awkward silence, the elderly lady’s hoarse voice carried undeniable authority: “Peiling, watch your words. You are the eldest daughter-in-law of the Lao family, and Jiazhuo is your junior. If you can’t care for and protect him, don’t slander him with reckless words. If Yingjie were here, he would be heartbroken to hear you speak this way about his only son.” 

Jiajun’s mother’s face flushed red and pale alternately. 

Grandfather coldly remarked: “I’m not dead yet, and you’re already fighting over the inheritance?” 

“Enough,” the elderly lady waved her hand. “Everyone, go home.” 

Jiajun was the first to push open the door, ignoring those behind him as he strode out. 

I walked to Jiazhuo’s side. His body was rigid, his lips tightly pressed together, his face devoid of color. 

“Jiazhuo…” Before I could say anything, he suddenly turned and grabbed my arm, his voice cold: “Let’s go.” 

He dragged me out of the door. I hesitated, turning back to look at Grandma: “Jiazhuo, but…” 

I hesitated, stopping in the hospital corridor. 

He didn’t stop, pulling me forward. I resisted, dragging my feet. He applied a little more force, but I didn’t move. 

Jiazhuo turned his head, his temple twitching faintly as he suppressed his anger and snapped at me: “Jiang Yiying!” 

My heart pounded violently. I had never seen him look at me with such disdain. 

Jiazhuo strode out of the hospital, pressing the key in his hand. With a beep, the car lights lit up in the distance. 

He walked to the car, yanked open the door, and I climbed in before I was fully seated. He quickly started the engine, which hummed softly beneath us. Turning out of the hospital gates, he floored the accelerator, and the car shot forward like an arrow on the wide road. 

His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched, his entire body tense. A deep crease formed between his brows, whether from suppressing anger or pain, I couldn’t tell. 

By the time we pushed open the front door, his face was a horrifying shade of pale. 

He crossed the living room and headed straight for the stairs, his steps quick but unsteady. Just as he placed one foot on the first step, he suddenly clutched the railing and erupted into a violent cough. Yet he didn’t stop, gritting his teeth and staggering up the stairs. 

I followed behind him, closing the door, taking off my coat, and quickly washing my hands. Then I ran upstairs. 

The room was pitch black. Jiazhuo sat silently on the sofa. 

His back was to me, and I couldn’t see the expression on his face.

I walked over and sat down, softly calling out: “Jiazhuo...” 

He didn’t respond. 

I sat with him for a while. Jiazhuo leaned back on the sofa, his complexion growing worse—pale with a faint bluish tint. 

“Jiazhuo,” I couldn’t help but say, “Are you feeling unwell? Should we lie down and rest?” 

At the sound of my voice, his body trembled slightly. He suddenly looked up at me, a flicker of despair flashing in his shadowed eyes. 

“You’re not going to ask?” he suddenly spoke, his icy voice slicing through the darkness, carrying an eerie coldness. 

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. 

“You don’t want to hear how I killed my own father?” A chilling smile spread across his face. 

My teeth began to chatter. If what I heard earlier in the ward felt like a hallucination, this time it was unmistakably real. 

“Jiazhuo, no…” My voice came out weakly, though I wasn’t sure what I was denying—I knew nothing. 

The despair in his furrowed brow deepened, but his voice remained as hard as steel: “I made him so angry that he had a heart attack. I stood there, watching him struggle in pain right in front of me, and I didn’t call for help.” 

His tone was detached, as if speaking of someone else: “And then he died right before my eyes.” 

Jiazhuo gripped the armrest of the sofa, as if unable to bear the emotional turmoil any longer. He forced himself to stand and tried to leave, but his legs gave way almost immediately. After taking a few shaky steps, he suddenly clenched his chest, his knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the floor. 

Still in shock, I scrambled to reach out but couldn’t catch him in time. Panicking, I dropped to the floor and hugged him: “Jiazhuo, Jiazhuo, are you alright?” 

Jiazhuo instinctively pressed his fist against his chest, but a moment later, he forced himself to stop. He buried his head against the edge of the sofa, kneeling helplessly on the floor, his breathing erratic and labored. 

I was overwhelmed with panic: “Jiazhuo, should I call a doctor?” 

He couldn’t speak, only gripping my wrist tightly to stop me from moving. 

I tried to lift him from behind, my voice trembling with tears: “Go lie down and rest for a bit…” 

Jiazhuo pushed my hand away, struggling to sit up and lean against the sofa. He turned his face away, his back to me. 

I was trembling all over, both frightened and shocked, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out loud. 

After sitting there for a long while, he finally caught his breath. His face was pale, his lips tinged with blue, and with every ounce of strength he had, he gritted his teeth and stood up. Leaning against the wall, he staggered back into the bedroom. 

---

Late at night, I sat on the sofa. A dim ray of light spilled through the crack of the bedroom door. 

The bedroom was silent; Jiazhuo must have fallen asleep. 

I curled my knees up, hugging myself tightly, waves of panic washing over me. How many sides of him were there that I didn’t know about? 

The Jiazhuo I was familiar with—the calm, gentle Jiazhuo who had never spoken a harsh word to me—was gone. 

I had never seen this side of him before. The hostility radiating from him felt like a hatred ready to destroy the entire world. 

Tears streamed down my face, but I dared not cry out loud. I grabbed a tissue, covering my mouth and nose, choking back sobs as large tears rolled down endlessly. 

I sat there for what felt like hours, eventually drifting off into a restless sleep. 

Exhausted, I felt cold but didn’t want to wake up, tossing and turning on the sofa. In the middle of the night, I felt familiar arms wrap around me, and then a gentle motion lifting me up. His chest was cool, but it carried the scent I adored so much. I nestled closer, reassured, and closed my eyes. 

Jiazhuo placed me on the bed, and I finally woke up. 

I sat up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his complexion still pale. 

Suddenly, I felt a little afraid of him and stared silently without speaking. 

“Yingying, I was in a bad mood and took it out on you,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret. 

That unsettling fear surged through me again, and tears began to flow once more. 

He leaned over and pulled a tissue from the bedside table, trying to wipe away my tears. 

For some reason, I couldn’t stop crying. I buried my face in my knees, sobbing uncontrollably, my body trembling with muffled whimpers. 

Jiazhuo panicked, forcing himself to sit up and pull me into his arms: “Yingying, Yingying, don’t cry. I’m sorry…” 

He gently kissed away my tears, repeating softly: “Yingying, don’t cry…” 

Gradually, my sobs subsided, and I calmed down. 

Finally, Jiazhuo stopped, holding me close and resting his head lightly on my shoulder. 

I heard his shallow, intermittent coughs. 

His shoulders trembled slightly against me, each cough breaking my heart. 

I helped him lie down on the bed. After a night of unrest, his exhaustion was evident, yet he insisted on pulling me into his arms: “Yingying, try to sleep for a bit.” 

My vision blurred, and I nodded obediently. 

I nestled closer to his chest, closing my eyes and listening to his faint breathing. After what felt like an eternity, we both drifted off to sleep.