MPH - 8

Chapter 8: The Beloved Barbie Doll of Lao Er

Jiazhuo didn’t actually confine me to the house. That morning, as I was seeing him off to work and tying his tie for him, he gently touched my cheek. “I’ll have Xu Feng drive you to the hospital to change your dressing.”  

“No need,” I shook my head. “You’ve been working too hard; let him drive you instead.”  

“Then I’ll come back at noon to take you?” he asked tenderly.  

“Jiazhuo,” I teased him lightly. “I’ve got hands and legs. I can go by myself.”  

He smiled faintly and took the suit jacket from my hand. “Be careful, then.”  

When I left the hospital, I received a call from Huihui.  

We agreed to meet at an outdoor café in the city center. She returned my phone to me.  

Two days had passed, but when we looked at each other, we both still appeared disheartened.  

Huihui glanced at my right hand, wrapped in gauze. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.”  

I shook my head. “Forget it, Huihui. Just focus on earning a steady salary, alright?”  

We ordered some drinks. Huihui had to return to work in the afternoon, so after sitting for a while, she got up to leave.  

Before departing, Huihui gave me an apologetic look and said again, “Yingying, I’m really sorry.”  

“I heard you the first time,” I teased, tugging her hand in an attempt to comfort her. “What’s done is done. I’ve been looking at a few companies. When you’re free, come with me for interviews.”  

She nodded. “Sure, just call me.”  

Both of us were dispirited. After Huihui left, I sat alone, feeling down. I ended up drinking several cups of coffee.  

I pulled out my phone, checked the time, mentally calculated the time difference, and dialed my mother’s number.  

“Yingying?” My mother’s voice came through, low and warm, with a touch of irresistible charm.  

Unable to help myself, I smiled softly and called out, “Mom, Mom…”  

It was only a little past seven in the morning in Venice. I heard her whisper something to her husband, and after a brief pause, she responded, “My dear, what’s wrong?”  

“I’ve made a mess,” I replied, lowering my head.  

“Hmm, what happened?” My mother sounded unsurprised. “Didn’t Young Master Lao clean up your mess?”  

“That’s exactly why I feel terrible,” I muttered.  

“To have such a valiant knight by your side, you should feel honored,” my mother said with a soft laugh.  

“Mom!” I couldn’t help but scold her playfully.  

“Yingying,” she suddenly said, “you love him too much.”  

I froze, unsure how to respond.  

On her end, my mother continued slowly. “I originally hoped you’d find a boy your age, someone simple and clean-cut, to have a sweet romance with. Even if you two were to part ways someday, you’d still have beautiful memories of each other.”  

“But who could have predicted that you’d insist on marrying Jiazhuo, barely having met him a few times before the wedding? The Lao family has deep, complex ties, and their world is far beyond anything you could imagine. Not to mention marrying a man whose mind runs as deep as the ocean. Yingying, you’ve lost yourself.”  

I spoke softly. “Mom, what’s the point of saying this now? You didn’t tell me any of this back then.”  

“Would you have listened if I had?” my mother countered. “Of course, his character and family background are excellent. I only want you to be happy.”  

“Mom,” I stirred my coffee absentmindedly. “I love him, but I often don’t understand him.”  

“Yingying, no one can ever fully understand another person. If everyone were like a blank sheet of watercolor paper, where would the fun be?”  

“Yingying, you are first and foremost an independent person, and only then a lover to a man.”  

“If being together brings joy, then cherish him. But if it truly doesn’t work out, perhaps it’s better to part ways.”  

The mere mention of separation made me uneasy, so I changed the subject. “Hmm, have you set a date for the wedding?”  

“Yes, early March,” she replied.  

“Getting married is exhausting. And you’re doing it twice!” I teased, half-serious.  

“You were so single-minded back then. Even your aunt, who dislikes me so much, called to ask me to talk some sense into you—” My mother wasn’t about to let me get away with my teasing. “Who would have thought you’d be so determined, so blindly devoted, it almost surpasses Polyxena.”  

“Auntie is just straightforward,” I tried to smooth things over.  

“Yes, I know,” my mother dropped the subject of my aunt. “Old Simon likes you. Book your ticket to come over.”  

“Mom,” I groaned. “Are you trying to scheme your way into his will?”  

“Wicked woman,” I joked.  

She burst into laughter.  

Simon’s voice came from the side. “Yingying, darling, what’s making your mom so happy?”  

After finishing the call with my mother, I paid the bill and left.  

Carrying my bag, I walked slowly, from Chaoyang South Road in the city, across three thousand kilometers of Shijing Avenue. Alone, I thought about many things along the way—about Jiazhuo, and about my own future.  

After walking for more than three hours, I finally returned home.  

That night, I confessed to Jiazhuo about the mistake I had made in his study.  

He was sitting by the coffee table, carefully slicing an orange. Without pausing his movements, he simply said in a calm tone, “I thought you’d never dare to tell me.”  

I lowered my head, unable to meet his gaze. “Aren’t you angry with me?”  

“Are you afraid I’ll release it to the media and embarrass the Lao family?” he said indifferently.  

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about this earlier.”  

He pushed a plate of neatly peeled fruit toward me, stood up, and spoke in a relaxed tone. “It’s fine that you gave it to her. Anyway, if something like this gets out, it’s the Lao family’s reputation that suffers.”  

I looked up at him. Jiazhuo’s expression was as calm as ever, without a trace of displeasure.  

I had expected him to at least show some irritation or even scold me, but his complete indifference made us feel strangely distant.  

That night, I lay in bed, unmoving.  

The room was warm with the heating on, but I felt as though I were falling into an icy abyss.  

Jiazhuo tossed and turned beside me; he couldn’t sleep either.  

After a long while, he reached out and gently took my hand.  

I trembled slightly, startled.  

“Yingying?” he called my name softly, his voice low and muffled. Then he pulled me into his arms. My body trembled uncontrollably all night.  

“What’s wrong? Are you cold? Does your hand hurt?” His warm chin rested against my hair.  

Fear gripped my heart. “Jiazhuo, are you… planning to leave me?”  

He flinched slightly. “Why would you think that?”  

I buried my face in his chest, all strength drained from my body. I clung tightly to him, unable to speak further.  

Neither of us could fall asleep. We simply held each other in the darkness.  

“Yingying,” after a long while, Jiazhuo suddenly spoke. His slightly hoarse voice in the quiet room sounded like a heavy sigh. “If… if one day we really separate, will you fall in love with someone else?”  

My blood ran cold, my bones stiffened, and my heart plummeted into an endless abyss.  

Silence stretched between us.  

It felt as though an eternity had passed. Finally, I forced a light tone, biting my lip. “Maybe.”  

Jiazhuo was speechless.  

Tears slid down my cheeks. I shifted slightly, afraid they might stain his clothes.  

Jiazhuo held me helplessly. “Yingying, what am I supposed to do with you?”  

Suddenly, my emotions completely collapsed. I clung tightly to him. “Jiazhuo, I won’t love anyone else. I won’t love anyone. If you don’t want me anymore, give me a child. I’ll have him and spend my whole life with him.”  

“Foolish girl,” he sighed.  

We embraced silently, each lost in our own troubled thoughts, drawing a little warmth from each other’s bodies in the long night.  

As dawn approached, I managed to doze off for a short while.  

But I woke up soon after, sensing the light filtering through the window. The spot beside me was empty, and the sound of running water came from the distant bathroom.  

I lay in bed, my head pounding. Dazed, I got up and wandered into the adjacent walk-in closet.  

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo entered after a while. “Why are you up?”  

He took the shirt and tie I had picked out for him and, without hesitation, pulled me back onto the bed. “I’ll handle it myself.”  

“Jiazhuo,” I reminded him. “Isn’t there a quarterly financial meeting today? And you’ll have to go out for dinner later. Dress warmly.”  

He murmured softly, “Mm, don’t worry. Go back to sleep.”  

Outside, the night was thick. The spacious house was silent except for the music playing on the radio.  

A woman’s voice floated through the air: “Don’t wait for what doesn’t need waiting. A life of mediocrity holds no regrets. Love without effort, kisses without strain. Forget love, and everything falls into place…”  

I rested my chin on my knees, momentarily lost in thought.  

That evening, Jiazhuo had an engagement and had already informed me he’d be returning late.  

Barefoot, I curled up in the large chair, revising design drafts on my computer.  

In the past few days, I had sent out some job applications and, during the lull while waiting for replies, taken on a few scattered freelance projects online. Though they didn’t pay much, I couldn’t let my skills grow rusty.  

After working at the computer for several hours straight, my eyes ached terribly. I shut down the computer and stood up.  

I soaked in the bathtub, then came out and sat on the bed. For some reason, I felt restless.  

I checked the time on my phone—it was nearly midnight.  

Leaning against the headboard, I read for a while before unknowingly dozing off against the pillow.  

I had only been asleep for about ten minutes when my heart suddenly contracted violently, jolting me awake.  

Instinctively, I reached for my phone.  

At that exact moment, the phone beside me rang loudly.  

I grabbed it and saw Jiazhuo’s number flashing on the screen.  

I pressed the answer button and spoke softly. “Jiazhuo?”  

There was silence on the other end.  

“Jiazhuo, is that you…?” I called out again, my voice tinged with worry.  

Still, there was nothing but silence from the other side.

A deep anxiety began to rise within me, and for a moment, I even doubted whether my ears had gone deaf, unable to hear any sound from the other end.  

After what felt like an eternity, I finally heard Jiazhuo’s faint, barely audible whisper: “Ying…”  

I strained to focus, listening intently. Through the receiver came his weak, labored breathing—like the last rays of light at dusk, slowly retreating like the tide.  

Tired, faint, fragile, and on the verge of being swallowed by the darkness—his breaths were like threads unraveling into nothingness.  

My mind exploded with a thunderous crash. All the blood in my body seemed to plummet downward.  

I fought hard to suppress the panic in my voice, speaking softly. “Jiazhuo, what’s wrong?”  

As I spoke, I jumped out of bed and rushed into the walk-in closet, hastily pulling on a coat.  

Jiazhuo struggled to catch his breath for a while, and I pressed the phone tightly against my ear, desperate to hear him.  

Finally, after straining to listen, I could make out his faint, feeble voice: “Yingying… are you at home?”  

“Yes, I’m at home,” I replied, standing in the room, gripping the cold edge of the window frame to steady myself.  

He coughed weakly, forcing out his words. “Listen… in the third drawer of the nightstand…”  

I could almost hear the tearing, labored gasps coming from deep within his chest.  

“The white bottle with the blue label… I’m downstairs…”  

I sprang up, yanking open the nightstand drawer. It was filled with Jiazhuo’s medications. I rummaged through several compartments and found several white bottles with blue labels—plastic and glass, big and small. Without hesitation, I grabbed them all, stuffing them into my coat pocket, and rushed downstairs.  

I didn’t even bother changing my slippers as I sprinted toward the elevator.  

I clutched the phone tightly. “Jiazhuo, I’ve got them. I’m coming down now. Hold on—”  

“Jiazhuo, just hold on for a few more seconds—”  

In my haste, I tripped over the edge of the elevator, stumbling forward and slamming hard into the metal doors.  

The loud bang startled Jiazhuo, and his breathing quickened slightly as he raised his voice. “Yingying, don’t rush…”  

The next second, his voice abruptly cut off in my ear.  

“Jiazhuo? Jiazhuo?” I was terrified, my soul scattering in every direction.  

Though it was only a few seconds of descent, it felt like an eternity.  

The elevator doors opened just a crack, and I squeezed through, dashing down the corridor and leaping down several steps. I saw the black Cayenne parked diagonally in the garden driveway below.  

I rushed to the car door and saw his familiar figure slumped over the steering wheel, his right hand holding the phone dangling limply by his side. His entire body seemed lifeless.  

I took a deep breath to steady myself, but my trembling hands couldn’t control the shaking as I opened the car door.  

I gently reached out to lift his face. “Jiazhuo?”  

Even though I had braced myself, the sight of his pale complexion made me gasp sharply.  

The car’s heater was on high, but his face was as white as paper, his lips tinged with a faint bluish-purple. Cold sweat soaked his temples.  

His tie was undone and tossed onto the passenger seat, and the top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened, the fabric crumpled and disheveled across his chest.  

Fearing he might have lost consciousness, I called out to him urgently. “Jiazhuo, how are you feeling?”  

His fingers twitched slightly, and I immediately grasped his hand. Jiazhuo, his eyes closed, murmured faintly, “Mm.”  

He was still conscious but too weak to speak.  

I helped him sit up, but as soon as he moved slightly, he raised his hand to press against his chest, his brows furrowed in pain.  

“What’s wrong? Is your chest hurting?” I reached out to check his pulse.  

Jiazhuo didn’t seem to hear me. He was gasping for breath, collapsing weakly against me, his gaze unfocused, likely enduring dizziness and tinnitus.  

I quickly pulled out the bottles of medication from my coat pocket. “Jiazhuo, which one?”  

With great effort, Jiazhuo opened his eyes slightly and glanced at the bottles. His lips parted, and he managed to utter a few words: “The middle one… three pills.”  

I unscrewed the cap, poured out the tablets, and placed them in his mouth. Then I searched the car for a bottle of mineral water.  

Holding his head with one hand and gently rubbing his chest with the other, I encouraged him softly. “Jiazhuo, try to swallow them with a little effort.”  

He struggled to swallow, finally managing to get the water and pills down.  

The next moment, he suddenly coughed. Jiazhuo quickly raised his hand to cover his mouth, leaning into my shoulder for several minutes as he fought to keep the medicine down.  

When his erratic breathing finally calmed slightly, I helped him lie back down on the seat and covered him with a blanket I found in the back.  

After lying there for a while, the medication seemed to take effect. His complexion improved somewhat, though he was still deathly pale, at least not as ghastly as before.  

He rested with his eyes closed for a moment, regaining some strength. He shifted slightly, attempting to sit up.  

I supported his back as he sat up, leaning against me for a rest. Opening his eyes, he looked at me and managed a faint smile. “It’s okay now.”  

I asked gently, “Should I take you to the hospital?”  

He shook his head slightly.  

“Then should I call a doctor to come see you?” I asked again.  

This time, his expression clearly showed irritation, and he cut me off impatiently. “No.”  

His temper was truly terrible when he was sick.  

Before I could say anything else, Jiazhuo murmured softly, “Let’s go home.”  

With that, he pushed open the car door. I hurriedly took his hand, supporting him as we slowly made our way to the elevator.  

It was only a few steps, but it took him nearly ten minutes to walk.  

I held his arm with one hand and swiped open the elevator doors with the other.  

As the elevator ascended, I saw him instinctively press his hand against his chest again.  

I was so tense I forgot to breathe, unconsciously reaching out to gently rub his chest along with him.  

Fortunately, after just a few seconds, the elevator doors dinged open.  

I opened the door, and Jiazhuo mustered the strength to walk up the stairs. By the time we reached the living room on the second floor, he could no longer stand. Half his body leaned heavily on my shoulder. He was much taller than me, and carrying him was incredibly difficult. With great effort, I carefully half-carried, half-dragged him into the bedroom and laid him on the bed.  

But as soon as his body hit the mattress, his brows furrowed tightly once more.  

I propped him up with two soft pillows, helping him recline halfway.  

After all this exertion, he began to break out in a cold sweat again, his expression filled with immense pain.  

I fetched a towel to wipe away the cold sweat covering his body, carefully tucking him in with the blanket. Then I sat by the bedside, slipping my hand under the covers to hold his, hardly daring to breathe as I watched his every subtle expression.  

After lying there for a while, the bluish tint on his lips gradually faded, leaving behind a pale, bloodless whiteness. But his brows remained tightly knitted.  

Jiazhuo either drifted into unconsciousness or fell asleep for a while. When he woke up, feeling slightly better, I turned to pour him a glass of warm water.  

He took a sip from my hand, then shook his head.  

I set the glass aside.  

Jiazhuo leaned against the headboard, gazing at me quietly. His eyes were still gentle and clear, but—looking deeper into his gaze, the once-familiar reflection of green lakes and white clouds had grown increasingly faint and shadowed, replaced by an overwhelming sense of sadness and exhaustion I couldn’t quite put into words.  

I leaned closer. “Do you need anything else?”  

Jiazhuo didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.  

I gave him a faint, shallow smile in return.  

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo said softly, “I’ve worried you.”  

I shook my head, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “No, you haven’t.”  

The episode had drained him completely, both physically and mentally. He stopped speaking, resting his head in my palm as he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.  

His usual composed and self-assured demeanor had softened, revealing a deep sense of affection and dependence in the lines of his sharp features.  

The room was silent, save for the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing.  

Thinking he had fallen asleep, I was about to quietly rise when—  

“Yingying,” the man on the bed suddenly spoke. Half his face was buried in the silk pillow, leaving only his pale, angular jaw visible.  

His voice was still weak, tinged with a heavy melancholy. “I don’t deserve such kindness from you.”  

I clenched my fists tightly around my clothes, my expression blank.  

After saying that, he fell silent. I sat motionless by the bed, waiting until he drifted into a deep sleep before carefully extracting my numb arm.  

Jiazhuo was such a light sleeper that I feared waking him. I quietly stepped out onto the terrace, closing the door behind me, and called his private doctor.  

Yang Zongwen’s phone was surrounded by loud music and the clinking of bottles. His tone was far from pleasant. “Hello?—”  

“Dr. Yang, hello,” I said politely, picturing the man behind those scholarly glasses with narrow, captivating phoenix eyes. Was it normal for doctors to be so energetic, partying late into the night?  

“What is it?” His tone softened slightly upon hearing a woman’s voice. “Who is this?”  

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to ask you a few questions about Jiazhuo’s health,” I said courteously.  

The noise around him instantly quieted, though his tone remained lazy. “You’re his wife, Yingying?”  

“Mm,” I replied softly.  

He chuckled mockingly. “Ah, the famous Barbie doll of Lao Er. Did he have an episode? What were the symptoms?”  

I didn’t have the energy to dwell on his attitude, instead focusing on recalling the terrifying moment that had nearly shattered my heart. “Chest pain, difficulty breathing, cold extremities, and likely accompanied by dizziness and tinnitus.”  

Yang Zongwen responded quickly. “His heart palpitations aren’t a new issue. If managed well, he won’t die.”  

I explained, “He nearly collapsed in the car downstairs. Luckily, he called me in time.”  

The man on the other end showed no sympathy. “Let him suffer the consequences of his stubbornness. It’ll teach him a lesson.”  

But he immediately followed up with, “How is he now?”  

“He’s taken his medication and fallen asleep.”  

“Let him rest in bed. If there’s no further episode, there shouldn’t be any major issues.” His dismissive tone was eerily similar to Jiazhuo’s.  

“Dr. Yang,” I asked softly, almost pleading, “how is Jiazhuo’s condition, really?”  

Yang Zongwen paused for a few seconds before replying slowly, “Average.”  

Damn it.  

I wanted to curse.  

Everyone around Jiazhuo seemed to be guarding against me.  

I gripped the phone, unable to speak, utterly powerless. I felt the warm trickle of tears sliding down my cheeks.  

Finally, Yang Zongwen sighed. “Yingying, you should understand that his constitution isn’t very strong. That incident in England undoubtedly worsened things. The damage to his lungs has left lasting scars. He needs to stay warm and take care of himself. His congenital heart weakness is hereditary. Overexertion, excessive worry, or extreme emotional fluctuations can trigger his palpitations. If episodes become too frequent or prolonged, they could lead to more serious heart conditions.”  

I bit my lower lip, recalling the look of concern and anger on his face that night because of my reckless behavior.  

“Yingying? Hello?” Yang Zongwen called out. “Hey, Lao Er’s beloved Barbie doll, you didn’t faint, did you?”  

“Dr. Yang,” I snapped back to attention, ignoring his mocking tone, “if I want to take good care of him, what should I pay attention to in daily life?”  

Yang Zongwen adopted a more serious tone. “A light diet, less coffee, absolutely no alcohol, emotional regulation, avoiding anger, especially extreme emotions. Also, try to prevent him from catching colds.”  

I committed his advice to memory.  

“If you’re still worried,” Yang Zongwen added, unusually comforting, “persuade him to come in for a detailed electrocardiogram.”  

At 7 p.m., the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. I was already standing under the hallway light at the entrance.  

Jiazhuo walked in and saw me. A faint smile appeared on his pale, weary face. “Yingying.”  

I smiled and tugged at his hand, opening the shoe cabinet for him as he bent down to change his shoes.  

Jiazhuo hung up his coat, and we walked upstairs together. Once inside the living room, I reached up to untie his tie.  

“Was work tiring today?” I asked, tilting my head to look at him.  

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, lowering his head to kiss my cheek.  

I smiled silently, unwilling to speak. If he collapsed in front of me again like last time, I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

Jiazhuo reassured me with a light tone. “After being intimidated by you, Su Jian has called meetings with all the assistants and secretaries on the 25th floor for several days. Bi Chan has been punctually reminding me to leave work at six in the afternoon these past few days.”  

I finally smiled. “Su Jian is reliable and very much to my liking.”  

“Hmm, Yingying—” his smile deepened as he looked at me, enunciating each word clearly: “What did you say?”  

“Ah, nothing,” I quickly understood, hugging his waist flatteringly. “I said that Young Master Lao comes home early every day, which makes me very happy.”  

He was amused by me, patting my hair as he went upstairs to change clothes.  

I went into the kitchen.  

As soon as I finished washing my hands and took out the dishes, Jiazhuo appeared at the dining room door, wearing dark trousers, a linen shirt, and a loose sweater. He looked both refined and clean.  

His face showed satisfaction. “Did you cook dinner?”  

“I went out this morning and bought groceries along the way,” I replied. “Come help me bring the plates.”  

Jiazhuo wrinkled his nose, a somewhat childlike expression on his face. “It smells good.”  

My cooking skills were entirely makeshift. Huihui was an excellent cook, and after a few crash courses from her, I carefully copied down the recipes she taught me and stuck them on the fridge to follow. Though the variety was limited, fortunately, I had mastered making soups quite well.  

Jiazhuo didn’t often have time to eat at home, but whenever he did, he always ate everything I made with appreciation.  

After dinner, Jiazhuo wanted to wash the dishes, but I pushed him out of the kitchen. He then sat at the dining table chatting with me idly.  

For days, cold fronts had hit Hong Kong, bringing continuous freezing rain. We felt utterly content just staying cozy and warm at home.  

In the evening, Jiazhuo went into the study to look over some documents. When he came out, I was already curled up in bed, watching intently at the huge screen on the wall.  

Jiazhuo sat beside me, and I couldn’t help but warm his slightly cold hands in my palms.  

He wore the glasses he used to read documents, his eyes hidden behind the lenses with a faint smile. After letting me rub his hands for a while, he gently pulled them away.  

He went into the adjoining room to fetch some clothes, and I turned back to continue watching the movie.  

After a while, Jiazhuo walked into the bedroom with a towel drying his hair. I sat on the bed holding a box of seaweed crackers, eating joyfully.  

He just smiled warmly.  

Such a clean person as him tolerated my bad temper.  

“Jiazhuo,” I gestured for him to come closer. Jiazhuo leaned over, and I playfully stuffed a cracker into his mouth. “Low sugar, high vitamins.”  

He chewed it reluctantly and wiped the crumbs from the corner of my mouth with a tissue.  

I climbed off the bed, slipped into my slippers, and went to wash my hands.  

While I was blow-drying Jiazhuo’s hair, my phone, which was on the living room sofa, suddenly rang.  

The simple and pleasant ringtone echoed through the house. Jiazhuo got up and brought it to me.  

The name Tang Lechang flashed on the screen.  

Jiazhuo’s expression remained unchanged. He casually dried his half-wet hair and sat in the armchair to continue watching the movie.  

After coming out of the shower, he was dressed lightly, so I got up and covered him with a thin blanket before going out to answer the call.  

As soon as I pressed the answer button, loud music came through. Tang Lechang’s voice was somewhat muffled amidst the noise. “Jiang Yiyin?”  

“Mm, what do you want?” I asked.  

“Are you free?” His mood was inexplicably low. “I’m at Langqiao, come out and drink with me.”  

Langqiao was a small, artsy bar we frequented during our school days.  

I secretly wondered what had upset him, but I didn’t hold back in my response. “It’s very late. What nonsense are you spouting now?”  

Tang Lechang shouted again, “Hey, come out!”  

I glanced at Jiazhuo in the bedroom and whispered, “I can’t go out right now.”  

Tang Lechang’s voice was loud enough to hurt my eardrums. “Hey, how can you be so heartless? I’m not asking you to do anything. Just come out and keep me company for a bit.”  

Remembering all the times he had accompanied me when I was feeling down, I felt a little guilty and softened my tone. “Tang Lechang, how about tomorrow? Really, right now—”  

Before I could finish, the call disconnected.  

I looked at the darkened screen helplessly and turned back. Jiazhuo looked at me questioningly.  

I smiled at him. “It’s Tang Lechang. He must be drunk somewhere.”  

Jiazhuo didn’t say anything, just nodded. “Hmm.”  

I felt uneasy and softly said, “I’ll call him back to check.”  

I dialed again, but the call connected and rang repeatedly without anyone answering.  

Finally, someone picked up. First, there was the crisp sound of glass clinking, then a voice spoke. “Hello, this guy is drunk.”  

I frowned. The Tang Lechang I knew was always arrogantly triumphant; I never expected him to drown his sorrows in alcohol.  

Perhaps it was the bartender. Hearing a young woman calling a man who was drunk in the middle of the night, their tone became flirtatious. “Are you his family or girlfriend?”  

“Neither,” I replied. “What happened to him?”  

“He’s so drunk he can’t tell men from women, but he keeps calling you.”  

“I don’t have time to deal with him. Call him a taxi.”  

“Miss, please don’t be stingy with a little sympathy,” the bartender teased half-seriously. “He’s dead drunk. If no one takes care of him, we’re going to throw him out onto the street.”  

“Hey, hey—” I hurriedly called out.  

They had already hung up.  

I tried calling back, but no one answered.  

Jiazhuo had been watching me the whole time.  

“Jiazhuo…” I looked at him, biting my lip and calling softly.  

“It’s so late. Do you really have to go out?” He spoke first.  

I lowered my head. I was indeed worried. I didn’t know any of Tang Lechang’s other friends, and if no one took care of him, I would feel a bit guilty.  

I stood up decisively. “I’ll go check on him, call him a cab, and come right back.”  

Jiazhuo was silent for a moment, pressing his brows and coughing softly.  

Afraid that he might be angry, I cautiously smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”  

Jiazhuo sighed and got up to find my coat for me.  

After putting on my clothes, I leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Go to bed early.”  

Jiazhuo walked to the right side of the walk-in closet, pulling open the wardrobe as he asked, “Should I drive you over?”  

“No,” I quickly declined. He had worked hard all day, and if he went out in the cold wind at night and caught a chill, wouldn’t I be to blame?  

He didn’t insist, accompanying me downstairs. “Be careful.”  

I didn’t dare to look back at him, but I could feel his faint gaze following me as I opened the door and entered the stairwell.  

I went downstairs, hailed a taxi, and headed straight to Langqiao.  

Walking through the green vines at the entrance, the bar was dimly lit, and a small band played nostalgic songs on stage.  

Tang Lechang was slumped over the bar counter, still holding a glass in his hand.  

I strode over, climbed onto a high stool, and nudged him. “Hey, Tang Lechang.”  

The man beside me stirred, turned his head to look at me, a flicker of joy flashing in his eyes, though his lips curved into a cynical smile. “Why did you come? Didn’t you say you weren’t coming?”  

“I thought you’d been stripped naked and thrown into the street, so I came to watch,” I retorted impatiently. I was puzzled as I noticed some bruises on his cheeks and around his mouth.  

Tang Lechang still managed a carefree smile. “You really want to see me stripped?”  

I smacked him on the head.  

“Ow—” Tang Lechang suddenly winced. “Gently.”  

Under the dim light, his expression seemed somewhat desolate.  

“What happened to you?” I asked.  

“Nothing,” he lazily leaned on the bar. “Since you’re here, have a drink.”  

He turned his head and ordered, “A Paul, get this lady a drink.”  

I looked at him. “Still drinking? Aren’t you drunk?”  

Tang Lechang laughed. “What kind of tolerance do you think I have?”  

I was annoyed. “Then who was it earlier who told me you were dead drunk?”  

“Just now, I went to the restroom. How should I know who answered the phone?” Tang Lechang seemed genuinely unaware.  

The next moment, we both turned to glare at the bartender together. The handsome man with blue-dyed hair gave us an innocent yet flirtatious smile.  

After drinking a few more rounds with Tang Lechang, seeing that he was fine, I decided to leave. He didn’t object, and we settled the bill and walked out of the bar together.  

Outside, the cold wind howled—it was already past midnight.  

Under the bright streetlights, I noticed how disheveled he looked, with a swollen eye.  

“What happened to your face?” I felt something was off about him tonight.  

“Bumped into something,” he said nonchalantly with a smile.  

“You’ve ruined your looks,” I teased.  

“It doesn’t matter,” perhaps the alcohol was affecting him, his tone became more casual. “Anyway, you don’t like me.”  

I glanced at him. “You have too many girlfriends. How could I ever take the lead?”  

He gave a bitter smile.  

We walked down the steps slowly. Tang Lechang moved very slowly. With only two steps left, he suddenly stumbled, and I hurriedly reached out to grab his arm.  

He momentarily lost control and cried out in pain.  

I looked down and saw traces of blood seeping from the cuffs of his cotton coat.  

I was shocked. “Where are you injured?”  

“It’s nothing.”  

“Should we go to a clinic to get it bandaged?”  

“No need.”  

I grew impatient. “Then let’s go home. Where do you live?”  

“Home?” He sneered, a trace of sadness crossing his face. “I don’t have a home here.”  

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

Tang Lechang turned his head and stubbornly walked into the deserted, cold street.  

I followed behind him, walking across two streets until my feet ached. “Tang Lechang, if you plan to walk until dawn, you can do it yourself. I’m not joining you.”  

“Keep me company for a little longer,” his tone revealed a hint of pleading.  

I couldn’t bear to refuse him in such a sorry state, so I hurried to catch up with him.  

“Jiang Yiyin,” Tang Lechang and I walked silently for a while before reluctantly telling me, “I might be leaving the country soon.”  

“So soon?” I had known early on that he planned to go abroad, but hearing it confirmed still surprised me. “Have you applied to schools?”  

“Mm, maybe Georgetown,” he leaned over. “Consider this our last night together.”  

“I’m freezing to death,” I couldn’t help but complain.  

“Let’s find a place to have a hot drink,” Tang Lechang replied, then walked ahead without waiting for me to follow.  

I stamped my feet and gritted my teeth, reluctantly following him into a taxi.  

When we got out, Jiazhuo called. “Yingying, are you still outside?”  

“Mm,” I vaguely replied. “I might be a bit late.”  

“I see.” Jiazhuo didn’t say anything.  

I softly said, “Can you sleep first? I’ll be back a bit later.”  

Jiazhuo hummed in acknowledgment and ended the call.  

Tang Lechang beside me kept looking at me.  

We sat down in a 24-hour coffee shop by the roadside. Looking out the window, I realized we were in the center of Xinze District. Across the street was the headquarters of Laotong Bank, its towering building shimmering faintly in the night.

The waiter, seeing Tang Lechang drift in with a swollen face and an expressionless demeanor, flinched slightly and immediately became wary, eyeing him closely.  

We found a corner seat, and once I sat down, I didn’t want to move anymore. I simply told Tang Lechang, “An Americano, please.”  

Tang Lechang nodded and walked over to the counter.  

“Good evening,” the barista greeted mechanically, with polite enthusiasm.  

Then I heard Tang Lechang begin speaking English.  

It was only after getting to know him that I learned he spent most of his vacations abroad every year.  

The girl behind the counter smiled sweetly. “Sure, what can I do for you?”  

This girl was likely a part-time college student from a nearby university, and her English was quite good.  

“Grande Caffe Americano and Duppio Espresso.”  

“For here or to go?”  

“Here.”  

Tang Lechang leaned on the counter, one hand propped up, smiling charmingly. “I just thought you should know that you have a really nice smile.”  

The girl stared at him wide-eyed.  

I burst out laughing, my head resting on the table.  

Even in such a sorry state, this man still managed to maintain his sense of humor at all times.  

I drank a few cups of coffee and ate a sandwich.  

It was already 3 a.m.  

I began to feel sleepy, but Tang Lechang, after drinking a cup of coffee, seemed energized and insisted I keep him company by chatting.  

I brushed him off with a few words and collapsed onto the table. “I’m sleepy. Let me rest for a bit.”  

Tang Lechang pushed me, dissatisfied. “Hey, life is short. Are you really going to brush me off like this?”  

“Don’t bother me!” I waved my hand to push him away, but Tang Lechang suddenly hissed in pain.  

I saw his brows furrowed and quickly asked, “Did I hit your wound? Is it serious?”  

He shook his head. “Just a flesh wound.”  

I asked, “Who did it?”  

He shrugged. “My dad.”  

I nodded. “Oh, so even law enforcers resort to private justice.”  

Tang Lechang asked, “Do you know who my dad is?”  

“I’ve heard occasionally,” I replied indifferently.  

“Hmm,” he wasn’t surprised either, casually echoing my tone. “You might not have heard this— I’m his illegitimate child.”  

My eyes flickered slightly. So that was it.  

I had suspected something before. The media portrayed the city’s Chief Justice as a model public servant: diligent, incorruptible, happily married, with a harmonious family life. His only daughter was studying abroad.  

Tang Lechang naturally took his mother’s surname. Mother and son were destined to remain hidden from public view.  

I tried to console him. “In the end, you’re still father and son. What could have led to such violence?”  

Tang Lechang said, “I argued with him. I called him immoral, corrupt, a lawbreaker, and accused him of womanizing.”  

Born into such a family, their father-son relationship was inevitably sensitive. I said, “So that earned you a beating?”  

“He cursed at me, calling me a bastard.” Tang Lechang replied. “Yes, thanks to him, I’m a bastard who can’t see the light of day.”  

He laughed nonchalantly, but tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.  

“Hey, you…” I felt at a loss, looking at him.  

“No need to comfort me,” he leaned over shamelessly. “Just let me hug you.”  

“No.” I pushed him away immediately.  

Tang Lechang let go of me, revealing a helpless smile.  

The phone on the table rang. I picked it up—it was a message from Jiazhuo: Yingying, I’m going to sleep first. Be safe, and call me if anything happens.  

Jiazhuo’s way of handling things was always concise and efficient. He rarely sent messages, so I could imagine how long he must have hesitated before sending this one. It was already past 4 a.m.  

My heart ached.  

Seeing my expression, Tang Lechang suddenly spoke. “Jiang Yiyin, do you know? Sometimes I really feel a bit regretful.”  

“Regretful about what?” Still lost in thought, I looked up at him, puzzled.  

“Regretting meeting you too late.” His gaze was silent. “By the time I met you, your heart was already full.”  

I lowered my head, unsure how to respond.  

Finally, at dawn, Tang Lechang said to me, “Yingying, yesterday I saw someone you know at my father’s place.”  

His tone was chilling, and I looked up, confused, staring at him.  

Tang Lechang’s voice came clearly: “My father received Mr. Lao Jiajun, your brother-in-law, at his private villa.”  

Unbeknownst to us, the sky had begun to lighten. I was exhausted, and Tang Lechang suggested having breakfast before taking me home.  

My phone had died sometime in the early morning, so I borrowed a compatible charger from the morning shift waiter and turned it on.  

A series of notifications sounded—several messages and missed calls. I glanced at them; they were all from Jiazhuo.  

Before I could look more closely, the phone rang almost immediately.  

Su Jian’s familiar, gentle voice came through. “Yingying, why couldn’t I reach you?”  

I replied, “Sorry, my phone died.”  

Su Jian said, “Mr. Lao is very worried about you. He even called you before the morning meeting. You know, after what happened at the bar last time, he…”  

“I’m fine,” I replied. “Where is he?”  

He politely responded, “He’s in the meeting room now. Call him later.”  

I agreed and hung up.  

Tang Lechang noticed my yawning. “Let me take you home.”  

“Mm.” I nodded lazily, unwilling to get up.  

A moment later, the phone rang again.  

I glanced at the number and answered. “Su Jian, what else?”  

Only a few minutes had passed, but Su Jian’s tone was unusually serious. “Miss Jiang, where are you?”  

“At a café outside.”  

“I’ll send a driver to pick you up right away. Please stay calm.”  

“What’s wrong?” A foreboding feeling rose in my chest.  

“It’s Mr. Lao—” He hesitated.  

I looked despairingly at Tang Lechang across from me and instantly realized it was already too late.  

Su Jian’s urgent tone left no room for hesitation. He simply said, “The High Court’s prosecution office just arrived, demanding Mr. Lao’s cooperation in investigating an economic case.”  

I bolted toward the exit.  

As I descended the steps, my knees went weak, and I nearly fell.  

Tang Lechang reached out to steady me. “Be careful.”  

My mind was blank. All I knew was to run along the road, weaving through traffic and crosswalks, heading straight for the headquarters of Laotong Bank across the street.  

I looked at the bustling scene in front of Laotong Bank, my unease growing. For some reason, a large crowd of reporters had gathered in front of the building, and news vans kept arriving.  

Far away, at the top of the high steps, security guards had been deployed to block the surging journalists.  

I heard voices around me:  

“Is it Lao Jiazhu? Is the news confirmed?”  

“How could it be fake? Someone from Oriental Finance already saw it with their own eyes. Too bad there are no pictures.”  

“Has anyone from Laotong come forward yet?”  

“Not yet. They seem caught off guard.”  

The female reporter on the scene spoke passionately: “Hello, everyone. I’m reporting live from in front of Laotong Tower. Today, Laotong Bank has been embroiled in a scandal. During the mortgage loan process for the Senhai Haoting project of Goldsmith Real Estate Development Co., Ltd., approximately 640 million yuan in funds were exposed as risky due to false documentation. Twelve senior executives are suspected of bribery, including Mr. Lao Jiazhu, President of Laotong Group’s Asia-Pacific region. Relevant departments have launched an investigation. It’s reported that Mr. Lao was taken away by the prosecution this morning. Given that Laotong Bank’s listing case with Yinjiang Company is entering a critical phase, this incident may impact the collaboration and potentially affect Laotong’s stock price when the market opens this morning. Stay tuned for further updates.”  

Amid this frenzied crowd, I felt as though the entire world had collapsed.  

Tang Lechang tugged firmly at my arm. “Calm down a little.”  

At that moment, the driver called. “Miss Yingying, where are you?”  

“I’m at the entrance of Laotong.”  

“Okay, I can’t drive Mr. Lao’s car right now. I’ll come pick you up. The license plate is SU202. Please wait.”  

Tang Lechang stayed by my side until the driver pulled up to the curb.  

I hastily said goodbye to him, opened the car door, and got in.  

“Xu Ge, what’s going on?” I asked anxiously.  

“I don’t know either. Su Jian urgently summoned me, and I just arrived.”  

I started dialing numbers in the car—Jiazhuo’s, Su Jian’s, Zhu Bichan’s—but none of them answered.  

In my panic, a sudden thought struck me: Lin Baorong.  

Lin Baorong’s line was busy.  

A moment later, she called back.  

“Sister…” Before I could say anything, my voice choked up.  

Lin Baorong’s voice remained as composed and steady as ever. “Yingying, I was just about to call you. Don’t worry. Grandpa is already at the company, and someone will handle Jiazhuo’s situation.”  

“What exactly is going on?”  

“Don’t worry too much. It’s nothing serious.”  

I forced myself to calm down. “Thank you, Sister.”  

Lin Baorong lowered her voice. “Su Jian can’t take your calls right now. After he finishes work, contact him at 83615106.”  

“Okay.” I replied softly.  

Lin Baorong ended the call.  

Late at night, I met Su Jian at an apartment. Several senior executives from Laotong were also present.  

“Yingying,” Su Jian ushered me in. “Come in and sit for a while.”  

“Where is he now?” My breathing was labored.  

Su Jian poured me a glass of water. “The lawyer is still at the prosecutor’s office. He’ll come over later.”  

I took the glass and sipped it, trying to calm my frantic emotions. “What is it about?”  

At that moment, the phone rang. Su Jian glanced at it, and Zhang Peter went to answer.  

“Yingying, the situation isn’t too bad. Don’t worry too much,” Su Jian reassured me. “It’s related to the Goldsmith Company’s Seaview Villa case. Last week, the board questioned Jiazhuo’s investments. Someone leaked our internal accounts. Jiazhuo has been closely following this real estate project, so it shouldn’t be a major issue. However, we didn’t expect the banking regulator to intervene. Since the beginning of the year, regulatory oversight of commercial banks’ risks has intensified, with strict controls on loan-to-deposit ratios and reserve requirements. The initial investment in this project was enormous, which is why the board raised questions. Coincidentally, the eldest son recently transferred a large amount of cash from the Asian headquarters under some pretext, leaving insufficient liquidity in Asia. If regulators seize on this point, the matter could escalate.”  

“What should we do?” I was frantic, barely understanding half of what he said.  

“Grandpa won’t abandon him, but if the eldest son interferes, there’s still a lot of uncertainty.” Su Jian’s usually gentle face showed signs of frustration. “Jiazhuo has always maintained a good image in the media and public eye. People generally support him taking over Laotong. If this isn’t handled well, his credibility could suffer.”  

At that moment, there was a knock on the door.  

“Attorney Zheng.” Su Jian stood up.  

A middle-aged man carrying a briefcase entered.  

He sat down on the sofa. “Su Jian, get me something to drink.”  

Su Jian acknowledged and stood up. Zhang Peter returned and patted the shoulders of the young men sitting nearby. “Xiao Jiang, you guys can go home. There’s nothing more to do here.”  

The people in the room stood up and left.  

When Su Jian returned, only Zhang Peter and I remained in the room.  

“Lao Zheng, how is he?” Zhang Peter asked.

The lawyer wiped his glistening forehead with a handkerchief and loosened his tie before speaking. “There won’t be any serious issues, but we’ve received notice that they plan to conduct an all-night investigation. It’s going to be mentally exhausting for him.”  

I could almost picture the cold, white walls, the blindingly bright lights overhead, and the psychological strain of enduring the ordeal throughout the night… He hadn’t slept well the previous night; how could his body possibly endure this? I lowered my head as tears began streaming uncontrollably down my face.  

Zhang Peter stood up. “Yingying, I’ll have the driver take you home to rest.”  

I wiped my tears with a tissue. “Wait a moment. If Jiang Corporation’s funds are involved, will there be any questions?”  

Su Jian’s expression brightened. “Jiang Corporation’s funds have always circulated through Laotong. Naturally, there won’t be any problems.”  

I swallowed my sobs and asked, “How much will we need?”  

Su Jian hesitated. “Yingying, Mr. Lao has always been reluctant to involve you in Laotong’s affairs…”  

Zhang Peter patted Su Jian’s shoulder. “These are extraordinary times.”  

After some consideration, Su Jian no longer objected.  

I nodded and stood up. “I’ll go home and ask Daddy.”  

The Jiang family mansion was still brightly lit.  

As soon as the car stopped, Father came out to greet me. “Yingying, I’ve been waiting for you. How are things now?”  

The entire family was still waiting in the living room. Grandmother anxiously pulled me to sit down. “How is it?”  

Feeling guilty for causing the elders worry, I spoke directly. “Dad, there’s insufficient liquidity. Jiazhuo needs to recall funds.”  

Father immediately instructed his subordinates: “Transfer all available Jiang Corporation funds into Laotong Asia.”  

I couldn’t help but cry. “Dad, thank you.”  

Father stroked my hair. “Your happiness is the most important thing.”  

Early the next morning, Lin Baorong personally addressed the media.  

In the luxurious banquet hall on the second floor of Laotong Tower, reporters from several major newspapers entered with special credentials. At the press conference, Lin Baorong appeared impeccably groomed and smiled warmly, prompting the photographers to snap extra close-ups.  

Lin Baorong said with a smile, “Regarding the Senhai Haoting project by Goldsmith Real Estate Development Co., Ltd., all mortgage and loan procedures handled by Laotong Asia were conducted properly, and there will be no unfinished projects. Later, Goldsmith Group will hold a press conference on this matter. We kindly ask our friends in the media to follow up.”  

“As for Mr. Lao Jiazhu, your reports seem overly sensitive. The prosecution office merely requested the vice president’s cooperation for an investigation. Of course, there is absolutely no bribery among Laotong Bank’s management. Thank you all for your concern.”  

“I believe that, for the stability and prosperity of the financial market, the government will provide a fair and equitable credit environment for commercial banks.”  

“After this press conference, we hope the media will report the facts accurately,” Lin Baorong continued, smiling graciously yet with a hint of frostiness. “We reserve the right to protect the company’s image through legal means.”  

The cameras panned over the scene—Laotong Bank headquarters remained orderly, employees calm. Their high-quality crisis response was admirable.  

The situation was improving.  

But my emotions were completely frayed. I spent the entire night unable to sleep, anxiously waiting at home.  

In the afternoon, outside the towering building of the prosecutor’s office.  

Director Jing personally escorted Jiazhuo to the entrance. The two shook hands gracefully, smiling for the cameras.  

The director smiled sincerely. “Thank you, Mr. Lao, for your full cooperation.”  

Jiazhuo smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”  

A swarm of reporters rushed forward for interviews, but Jiazhuo didn’t say a word. Surrounded by his lawyers and assistants, he quickly got into the car.  

By this time, reports about Goldsmith Company had already surfaced. The first phase of the villa project had successfully launched, presenting a scene of jubilation and prosperity.  

This battle had been executed brilliantly.  

Su Jian called me. “Yingying, he still has some business to handle.”  

“Mm,” I replied softly. “I understand.”  

Su Jian added, “He doesn’t have time to call you. Don’t worry too much.”  

At around eight in the evening, I saw a row of bright headlights flashing in the garden driveway from the floor-to-ceiling window. I immediately jumped off the sofa and rushed out.  

As I stepped out of the elevator, several cars had just pulled up downstairs.  

Su Jian was the first to step out.  

The driver approached the middle car, bowing slightly to open the door. Jiazhuo stepped out from the back seat. From a short distance away, I could see that aside from looking a bit tired, he seemed fine.  

However, as he got out of the car, he stumbled slightly. Zhang Peter reached out to steady him.  

My eyes welled up with tears, but I quickly took a deep breath and smiled at him.  

He gave a faint smile and called my name softly. “Yingying.”  

Jiazhuo gently pushed Peter’s hand away and steadied himself on the steps.  

It was only then that I noticed another car pulling in behind them.  

The driver respectfully opened the door, and the old master stepped out.  

I went forward to greet him.  

The old man’s silver hair was meticulously combed, and his stern demeanor was evident in the lines around his mouth. “Yingying, accompany Ershao upstairs.”  

His subordinates escorted the old master forward.  

I stood beside Jiazhuo, supporting his arm as he leaned lightly on me to relieve some of his weight.  

As we entered the living room, the old man didn’t sit down but instead asked directly, “It’s inconvenient to discuss at the company. What exactly happened?”  

Jiazhuo stood silently before him, offering no response.  

The old man frowned. “You’ve always been meticulous in your work. How could you get entangled in a bribery scandal?”  

Jiazhuo replied calmly, “I’ll be even more careful in the future.”  

The old man pressed further. “Did you offend someone?”  

Jiazhuo’s tone remained neutral. “I’m not sure. We should investigate.”  

A brown age spot on the old man’s temple twitched slightly. After studying Jiazhuo for a moment, he finally held back and simply asked, “You look very pale. Did they make things difficult for you inside?”  

Jiazhuo let out a soft cough and replied, “It was manageable.”  

The old man said, “After Jiajun signed the Yinjiang case, his wife and children moved here. He’ll take over my responsibilities, and I’ll transfer you to Hong Kong.”  

The room fell into sudden silence.  

Zhang Peter’s expression changed slightly, and he instinctively stepped forward, but Su Jian quickly pulled him back.  

Jiazhuo responded calmly, “I’ll comply with the company’s arrangements.”  

The old man nodded and turned to leave. “Rest well.”  

As the door closed, Jiazhuo exhaled softly, his body swaying slightly.  

I quickly reached out to support him, but he could barely stand.  

Su Jian urged, “Yingying, help him sit down.”  

Jiazhuo supported himself with one hand on my arm and the other on the sofa, collapsing weakly into a seated position.  

“Jiazhuo—” I exclaimed anxiously. “What’s wrong?”  

He gripped my hand and gave a faint smile, raising his hand to his forehead and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.  

After a while, he managed to open his eyes and glanced at the few people still standing in the living room. “Everyone, please sit down.”  

Su Jian and the others took their seats on the sofa.  

Yang Zongwen placed the medical kit he was carrying on the coffee table, checked Jiazhuo’s pulse, and said simply, “Lie down.”  

Jiazhuo raised his hand to stop him. “I’m just a bit tired, Zongwen. It’s nothing serious.”  

Unable to hold back, Su Jian asked, “Who issued the investigation order?”  

Jiazhuo’s voice was low, tinged with a trace of coldness. “Zhou Yuguo.”  

“Did they extract anything from you?”  

“No,” Jiazhuo leaned back into the sofa, exhausted. “They don’t have any substantial evidence.”  

I brought tea out and overheard them still discussing business matters. He had endured this entire day and night—how did he still have the energy?  

Jiazhuo stood up. “Let’s continue this in the study upstairs.”  

“Hold on,” Yang Zongwen stopped him. “Jiazhuo, you really should get an injection first.”  

“Zongwen, you’ve worked hard. Go home and rest,” Jiazhuo said.  

“I’m busy too. If you fall ill in the middle of the night, call an ambulance yourself,” Yang Zongwen replied bluntly.  

“There’s no need for that,” Jiazhuo said, his tone devoid of emotion.  

“Your pulse is slow, and your blood pressure is low. Are you also experiencing persistent chest tightness?” Yang Zongwen snapped impatiently. “If you want to collapse right now, keep pushing yourself.”  

Jiazhuo ignored him, his face cold as he headed upstairs.  

“Jiazhuo—” Su Jian tried to stop him, but to no avail.  

“You should let the doctor take a look,” Zhang Peter stepped in front of Jiazhuo. “Your wife cried her eyes out worrying about you yesterday…”  

Zhang Peter nudged me. “Little Yingying, cry a little more.”  

Jiazhuo turned to look at me, his expression softening as he took my hand. “I’m sorry.”  

“Everyone, please sit in the living room for a moment,” Yang Zongwen seized the opportunity. “Yingying, give him some warm water to drink.”  

When I returned from the kitchen, Jiazhuo was lying on the couch on the second floor, and Yang Zongwen was administering an IV drip.  

Jiazhuo took the cup from my hand, drank a few sips of water, and gently touched my cheek. “Yingying, go rest for a bit.”  

I set the cup down, looked at his face for a moment, carefully arranged his hand with the IV needle, then wrapped my arms tightly around his neck.  

“It’s okay,” Jiazhuo embraced me, patting my shoulder gently. “Everything’s fine now.”  

I kissed his face, then went into the bedroom to avoid disturbing them.  

A while later, I came out to check on him.  

Jiazhuo gestured for me to sit beside him. “Su Jian and the others acted on their own. Regardless, thank your father on my behalf.”  

I asked, “Jiazhuo, why would they suddenly investigate you? Who’s behind this?”  

He coughed. “Yingying, it’s over now.”  

I stared at him firmly. “Don’t hide it from me. Was it Brother Da?”  

He furrowed his brows. “How did you know?”  

I lowered my head, saying nothing.  

Jiazhuo turned to his subordinates, his voice soft. “Peter?”

Zhang Peter shrugged. “It wasn’t me who told her.”  

“It was Tang Lechang,” I confessed. “He said his father had hosted Brother Da.”  

Jiazhuo’s gaze turned icy and sharp. “Mr. Tang truly holds nothing back when it comes to you.”  

He stopped speaking to me and instead turned to instruct Su Jian, “Go to my study. The second drawer from the left on the top shelf.”  

Su Jian looked puzzled but nodded and went to the study.  

He returned quickly, holding an ordinary notebook with a cowhide cover.  

Jiazhuo nodded, signaling for Zhang Peter to take it. As Zhang Peter flipped through it, confusion crossed his face, and he glanced up at Su Jian.  

Su Jian leaned over to take a look, and his expression immediately changed.  

Zhang Peter’s eyes lit up. “Good heavens, how did you get your hands on such material?”  

Jiazhuo spoke slowly. “Zhou Yuguo’s wife, Li Zhu, has already had her immigration application approved. She’s preparing to settle overseas with their daughter. Her family background has always been prominent, but Zhou Yuguo has been cold toward his wife and daughter. It’s said that for nearly ten years, he’s been living with his mistress. Perhaps she’s reached her limit of tolerance.”  

“Lao Jiajun has pushed too far,” Jiazhuo glanced at me before turning his gaze to a glass of iced water on the coffee table. His low, chilling voice carried a trace of murderous intent. “There’s no need to show any more mercy.”  

I glanced at the notebook spread out on the table in front of Su Jian, and my legs gave way as I collapsed onto the floor.  

What was written inside were merely some ordinary Arabic numerals and scattered letters and symbols.  

Those were—evidence of transactions and bribes during Zhou Yuguo’s tenure.  

In the following week, there was significant upheaval among Laotong’s senior management. Jiazhuo removed the position of Chief Financial Advisor, leaving him responsible only for administrative work in the Asia-Pacific region. Several departments at headquarters also saw new managers appointed.  

Some within the company had already begun congratulating Jiajun in advance.  

Perhaps due to the stress of work, Jiazhuo had been distracted and in a terrible mood these past few days. Sometimes, after coming home from work, he would sit alone on the sofa in his study until late at night. If I tried to disturb him—for instance, insisting that he eat or rest—he would sometimes grow irritated and respond with forced patience. “Yingying, let me be alone.”  

I had no choice but to retreat helplessly to the bedroom to look at design renderings. Recently, Father had asked me to return to work at Jiang Corporation, promising to listen to any of my opinions if I agreed to help. My two younger brothers were still young, and I couldn’t refuse my father’s earnest plea.  

I worked in a junior design department, and being new to the job, I had a lot to do. Perhaps I had neglected Jiazhuo somewhat.  

I tried to communicate with him, but he always brushed me off lightly.  

One night, he suddenly woke from a nightmare, startled.  

I woke up as well, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead and gently saying, “Jiazhuo, can we let go? Let’s move to Hong Kong.”  

He was silent, unable to respond.  

I placed my fingers in his palm. “Jiazhuo, as long as we’re together, can’t we live happily anywhere?”  

After a long silence, he finally murmured softly, “Yingying, I’m sorry.”  

I couldn’t tell if I felt disappointment or something else, but I simply held his hand. “Try to sleep a little more.”  

On the weekend, Jiazhuo went on a business trip to Beijing, and Su Jian came in the morning to send him to the airport.  

I was cooking breakfast in the kitchen downstairs when Su Jian walked in.  

“Do you want to eat something?” I asked.  

“I’ve already eaten,” Su Jian replied.  

I looked at him for a moment and then asked, “Do you have something to say to me?”  

“Mm,” he smiled faintly in admiration and sat down at the dining table.  

I placed the fried egg on the table and poured a glass of milk. “What time is the flight? He hasn’t come down for breakfast yet.”  

“Not urgent, there’s still time,” Su Jian suddenly said. “Yingying, has he been difficult to take care of recently?”  

“His appetite is terrible, and his temper is worse,” I said bluntly.  

Su Jian spoke slowly. “Yingying, you know, some people are like this. They dedicate their lives to a single goal, working tirelessly day and night. But when someone or something suddenly appears, causing them to doubt the very goal they’ve been striving for with unwavering conviction, wouldn’t they feel extremely lost?”  

“That wasn’t my intention,” I thought for a moment and then said softly.  

“But you’ve made him waver. To be honest, I don’t fully understand what’s troubling him, but recently, his mood has been very low.”  

“Yingying, these past few years, he’s been biding his time. There’s no reason for him to back down now.”  

I lowered my head and thought for a moment before saying softly, “I understand. I’m sorry.”  

Su Jian said sincerely, “Thank you.”  

When Jiazhuo returned from Beijing three days later, I went to pick him up at the airport.  

We drove to dinner, and from the revolving restaurant dozens of floors up, we could see the city lights glittering brilliantly. Midway through the meal, he received a call.  

“Mm, just got off the plane.”  

“I’m having dinner with Yingying.”  

“I’ll go straight home tonight. If there’s anything, we can talk over the phone.”  

On the other end, Su Jian asked, “How did things go in Beijing?”  

Jiazhuo replied calmly, “Everything went smoothly.”  

Su Jian asked, “And Zhou Yuguo…?”  

“There’s no need to concern ourselves with him anymore,” Jiazhuo said indifferently. “Mr. Zhou won’t be staying in that position for much longer.”  

My hand holding the spoon trembled slightly, and I looked up at Jiazhuo.  

Jiazhuo met my gaze, pushed aside his glass, and excused himself from the table.  

I lowered my head and focused on drinking my soup. In the quiet, I heard Su Jian’s voice: “Bichan submitted her resignation yesterday.”  

Jiazhuo was slightly surprised. “Her?”  

He stood up and walked to the glass window.  

“So, the accounts issue, and the previous incidents—was it all her?”  

“She’s always been careful in her work. If Brother Da hadn’t been careless this time, she wouldn’t have left any traces.”  

I stared blankly at his tall, slender figure—white shirt paired with black suit pants, set against the glittering city lights outside the glass window, like a striking chiaroscuro sketch.  

Jiazhuo was silent, thinking for a few seconds before saying, “I’ll sign her resignation. Let her go.”  

After listening quietly for a while, he said softly, “Ma is ambitious but ultimately harmless. What about the other executives?”  

After a few minutes, Jiazhuo said, “Mm, that’s all for now.”  

He returned to the table, gave me an apologetic smile, and elegantly unfolded his napkin.  

After dinner, we went home. He sat in the living room, working on his laptop.  

By the time I finished showering and came out, it was already late. I nestled close to him. “Jiazhuo…”  

He kissed my cheek. “Let’s sleep.”  

“Mm.” I kissed him and walked into the bedroom alone.  

Following Su Jian’s advice, I stopped asking about his work, clocked out on time every day, and only cared whether he was dressed warmly and eating well.  

But Jiazhuo came home late, rarely spoke to me, and spent entire nights in his study.  

One night, he opened the study door, and I happened to be sitting in the living room. “Jiazhuo, what’s wrong?”  

When he saw me, his gaze froze for a moment before he said, “Nothing.”  

Then he turned and walked back in.  

It was at that moment that I realized he was avoiding me.  

Perhaps, as Su Jian had said, I had become a burden to him, and he no longer wanted to deal with me.  

But I was powerless. All I could do was hide away and grieve in secret.  

One day, after finishing work, I went to wait for Jiazhuo at his office.  

He emerged from the meeting room and saw me waiting in his office. He glanced back at the assistant’s room, and Zhang Peter happened to walk out, shrugging helplessly.  

Jiazhuo came in, closed the door behind him, and showed no smile on his face.  

“Yingying, why are you here?”  

“I came to see the sample house today, and since I was nearby, I decided to wait for you. Are you done with work?”  

“Do you want to have dinner together?”  

“Wait a moment.” He bent over to sign a few documents, then pressed the phone. “Fengnian, please tell Mr. Cao to come tomorrow instead. Cancel tonight’s engagement.”  

I felt awkward and stood up. “Do you have something important to do tonight? If so, I can go home first…”  

“It’s fine,” his expression revealed nothing. “It’s not an important matter.”  

He stood up, took his coat, and said to me, “Let’s go.”  

Jiazhuo and I went downstairs together. The elevator led directly to the underground parking garage.  

He rested his hand on the steering wheel and asked indifferently, “Where do you want to eat?”  

I thought for a moment. “Anywhere. I’ve been working all day; I’m starving.”  

“How about seafood?” Jiazhuo said, his tone softening slightly.  

“Sure,” I replied.  

He turned his attention back to driving.  

Sitting in my seat, I suddenly noticed a shiny object wedged in the gap of the seat. Out of curiosity, I reached in and pulled it out.  

The moment I held it in my hand, I regretted it.  

I looked at it awkwardly—a metallic case shimmering with crystal-like luster, revealing a vivid pink hue. A tube of Dior Addict lipstick.  

Jiazhuo’s gaze shifted over, and without a word, he reached out, took it from me, and tossed it into the car’s glove compartment.  

I was still in shock.  

His hand had already returned to the steering wheel, his long fingers deftly turning it as the car smoothly made a right turn, gliding through the bustling streets.  

The rapidly retreating rows of shops and bustling pedestrians outside contrasted sharply with the silence inside the car, like a colorful silent film.  

I began to feel as though tiny insects were gnawing at my heart, and unconsciously, I clenched my hands tightly on my knees.  

Summoning my courage, I looked up at him.  

Jiazhuo kept his focus solely on the road ahead.  

Dinner was consumed amidst a whirlwind of emotions. I had no appetite and set down my spoon, standing up. “Let’s go home.”  

He followed me as I stood, signed the bill, and left without another word.  

When we entered the living room at home, I looked at his figure and suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of sorrow.

“Jiazhuo...” I called out to him, tears suddenly streaming down my face.  

Seeing my tears, Jiazhuo frowned impatiently. “It was just something a client accidentally left behind. What are you thinking?”  

I hurriedly apologized, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant...”  

I rushed into the walk-in closet, closed the door, grabbed a piece of clothing to cover my mouth, and cried uncontrollably.  

I knew I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but I couldn’t help the gray cloud of suspicion creeping in. I felt deeply hurt.  

The next day, I went out with the designer for work. Spring was gradually warming up, so I wore a thin knitted cardigan. But who would have thought that the early spring breeze would still be so chilly? By midday, it even started drizzling. After being exposed to the cold wind for hours, I returned to the office in the afternoon feeling dizzy and disoriented. Angie, who sat next to me, leaned over and said, “Yingying, why is your face so red?”  

She touched my forehead. “You’re burning up! Do you have a fever?”  

No wonder I felt so heavy-headed.  

I asked my supervisor for leave and went home. I took some fever-reducing medicine and lay down in bed, waiting until late at night, but Jiazhuo still hadn’t come back.  

After midnight, my consciousness began to blur. I had always been healthy, but this time the fever was severe. My head throbbed painfully as I tossed and turned in bed, my limbs feeling like lead, my whole body aching miserably. The vast, dark house was eerily silent. I thought I might die here. Unable to bear it anymore, I started crying and calling out Jiazhuo’s name, but no one answered. In the end, I buried my head in the pillow and sobbed quietly, calling for my mother in my delirium.  

I felt so helpless, crying and crying endlessly.  

I don’t know how much time passed before I felt someone press down on the back of my hand, a numbing pain piercing my skin.  

Then someone held me, cool kisses landing gently on my forehead, one after another.  

When I woke up, a sliver of light seeped through the gap in the door. The room was quiet.  

A young girl pushed the door open. “Miss Jiang, are you feeling any better?”  

“The fever has gone down,” she said as she changed my IV. “I’m a nurse from Dr. Yang’s hospital. If you’re still uncomfortable, I’ll call Dr. Yang.”  

I fell asleep again.  

When Jiazhuo came home late at night, he stroked my hair. “Are you feeling better?”  

“Mm,” I whispered. “I want to take a shower.”  

He gently coaxed me. “Let’s wait until you feel a bit better tomorrow.”  

He brought a towel, unbuttoned my pajamas, and began wiping my body.  

I quietly watched him as the soft towel moved across my forehead, neck, and then Jiazhuo reached around to support my body, his hand sliding under my damp back. The room suddenly grew warmer.  

I tugged off his shirt, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pulled him down, kissing him fiercely.  

A minute later, Jiazhuo threw down the towel and lifted me up tightly in his strong arms.  

I took two days off, followed by the weekend. Jiazhuo stayed home to accompany me every day.  

He cooked congee in the kitchen downstairs and brought it upstairs for us to eat dinner together. I watched him roll up his sleeves, bustling in and out for me. Even when I complained slightly about the bruising on the back of my hand from the IV, he became so worried that he wanted to call Dr. Yang. For the first time, I realized that being sick could also be a kind of happiness.  

A week later, Jiazhuo replaced that car entirely.  

That day, he came to pick me up after work. I was startled. “Jiazhuo, why did you change cars?”  

“I got tired of the old one,” he said indifferently, leaning against the car door. “Get in.”  

I sat beside him, looking left and right at the new interior. “Mm, it’s so new and beautiful.”  

As we passed Jiangwan Bridge, Jiazhuo reached over and took my hand, placing it on the handbrake.  

The traffic was slow on the slope.  

His palm was slightly warm.  

“Hmm, while it’s still so new, let’s do this—” I muttered to myself.  

Jiazhuo glanced at me distractedly.  

I rummaged through my bag, pulled out a sticker, peeled off the adhesive, and stuck the pink cartoon character onto the back of the seat. I stared at it for a few seconds, then fished out a pen and boldly signed my name.  

Jiazhuo couldn’t hold back anymore, pinching my cheek and laughing.  

I pointed at the signature on the back of the seat. “Mine.”  

He held my hand and said, “Alright.”  

Our lives seemed to return to calm, but the number of times I saw him each day gradually decreased. He said he was busy with work, and he traveled two or three days a week. When I did see him, though, he treated me as tenderly as ever.  

The weather improved, and April brought warm breezes and light clouds. But he was drifting further and further away from me.  

I worked regular hours, 9 to 5, and things were going smoothly at work. Aside from the unease in my heart, everything was fine.  

I had already prepared myself to face whatever fate had in store.  

On Friday night, Huihui called me. She had an invitation to a fashion party and asked if I wanted to join. I happened to like the brand, so Huihui invited Tang Lechang and a classmate from our university days. She brought Yang Ruiyi along, and the four of us decided to go and enjoy the event.  

When we met up, Huihui quietly asked me, “Where’s your Mr. Lao?”  

I shook my head. “He’s busy.”  

Jiazhuo hadn’t been home for two days.  

Huihui nodded, saying nothing more, as we had already arrived at the red carpet entrance.  

The party was held at a five-star hotel. I looked up and saw dazzling lights illuminating the giant brand logo. At the end of the red carpet outside the venue was a large red shooting board, a designated area for media interviews and photos. It was still early when we passed by, so it was empty. Huihui led us through the press area, and as we entered the hotel, celebrities must have started arriving because cheers from fans echoed from downstairs. After entering the venue, Huihui went to work with her colleagues, while the rest of us wandered around aimlessly. The organizers were generous; elegant candelabras held dozens of flickering candles, and the main runway was breathtakingly beautiful. The post-show banquet featured deep-sea caviar arranged in flower shapes, organic roasted potatoes, and delicate bite-sized desserts. The atmosphere was lively, with guests drinking champagne like water.  

To fit the occasion, I wore a simple pleated chiffon dress, but I wasn’t used to wearing high heels for too long. Though I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic, I didn’t want to leave early since everyone else was having fun. By the time we finished, it was nearly midnight. Huihui, having finished her work, joined us. The crowd was bustling with stars big and small, and we lingered behind, chatting and slowly making our way downstairs. Suddenly, Huihui called out to me, “Yingying.”  

I was talking to Tang Lechang when I heard her voice. As I looked up, I saw Jiazhuo.  

He was accompanied by Su Jian, walking side by side with a middle-aged man in a suit down another staircase. A few people followed behind them, their faces flushed from drinking.  

Jiazhuo smiled politely, exchanging pleasantries with others. He glanced briefly in our direction, then turned away.  

The group of people beside me laughed and joked as they passed by him.  

We brushed past each other without a second glance.  

When we reached the lobby, I called him.  

Jiazhuo answered after a minute. The background noise on his end had quieted down.  

I asked, “Did you drink?”  

His voice was low and calm. “Not much.”  

“Are you about to finish?”  

“Mm.”  

“Then I’ll wait for you outside.”  

I hung up and smiled at them. “You all go ahead.”  

“Oh...” Huihui drew out the word, smiling suggestively.  

Tang Lechang, however, looked serious. “Are you sure you don’t need me to take you home?”  

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.”  

Huihui turned around and grabbed him. “Hey, Tang Lechang, let’s go.”  

I watched as Huihui hailed a cab, waved goodbye to them, and stood on the steps watching the taxi drive away.  

When I turned back, Jiazhuo and his group had already reached the entrance.  

The short, stout man laughed. “Mr. Lao, thank you for the hospitality.”  

Jiazhuo gave a slight bow. “It’s my honor if Minister Wang enjoyed himself. I hope you had a good time.”  

“Haha, Mr. Lao is too polite,” Minister Wang patted his shoulder. “Since we’ve gathered, why doesn’t Mr. Lao continue...”  

I stood awkwardly to the side.  

Su Jian whispered, “Vice President, Miss Jiang is waiting for you—”  

Without looking up, Jiazhuo said, “Have the driver take her home.”  

Su Jian walked past me, looking apologetic. “Yingying...”  

I smiled at him and walked away.  

He didn’t come home until after 2 a.m., reeking of alcohol.  

I sat on the sofa, but he didn’t even glance at me, heading straight to change and shower.  

After a while, he emerged from the bathroom, sitting in a chair drying his hair, still saying nothing.  

“Jiazhuo,” I said, “are you unhappy?”  

His hand paused for a moment, his tone indifferent. “Why would I be unhappy?”  

“Never mind.” I shook my head, got up to pour him a glass of milk, and then returned to the bedroom.  

He held the glass of milk and sat in the living room for a long time.  

I fell asleep in the bedroom, not even knowing when he came in.  

Late April.  

On my desk calendar, there was a date marked with a small red heart drawn in marker.  

I clocked out promptly at 5:30. My supervisor and colleagues were still working overtime, but I escaped quickly, rushing to Ivy Workshop to order a cake.  

Then I dragged Huihui along for some shopping. We wandered around the World Trade Plaza for a long time, but I couldn’t decide what to buy him. If it were something to wear, it certainly wouldn’t be within my budget. In the end, I gave up and bought a doll I liked—a fragile yet stubborn-looking figure that, when wound up, would rotate quietly and suddenly blurt out “I love you” in English.  

Huihui clutched her stomach laughing. “Chief Administrative Officer Lao Jiazhuo of Laotong Bank? Would Mr. Lao really play with such childish toys?”  

I glared at her. “I bought it for myself. Mind your own business.”  

Huihui chattered happily about the latest gossip, then teased me. “When are you announcing your engagement?”  

I replied, “Laotong is preparing for its anniversary celebration. Our news won’t come so soon.”  

Huihui whispered in my ear, “Oh, if you do decide, you’d better tell me first. Give us the exclusive!”

I said goodbye to Huihui, bought fresh groceries and fruits at the market, then took a taxi home. As I arrived, the cake from Ivy Workshop was just delivered downstairs, so I picked it up and went upstairs.  

After placing the cake in the fridge, I took a shower and changed clothes. By the time I came out, it was already 8:30 p.m., and Jiazhuo still hadn’t returned.  

I sat on the sofa, glanced at my phone—no messages or calls.  

Feeling hungry after waiting for a while, I went downstairs to the kitchen and ate something casually. By 9 p.m., I couldn’t hold back any longer and called him.  

It was quiet on his end, with only the occasional sound of keyboard clicks—he was probably still in the office. I asked, “Jiazhuo, when will you be back?”  

“Mm,” he replied, “a bit later.”  

“How much later?” I persisted.  

“Almost there. Go to bed first, don’t wait for me.” He hung up.  

I looked over—the dining room had one wall lamp on, its light casting a lonely flower standing on the table.  

I leaned back on the sofa and drifted off to sleep, exhausted.  

The next morning, I woke up to find myself curled up on the sofa, fully clothed, having spent the entire night there. The house was empty; Jiazhuo still hadn’t come home.  

I dragged myself up, changed clothes, and went to work. Before leaving, as I grabbed the milk, I noticed the cake in the fridge, picked it up, and angrily threw it into the trash.  

Jiazhuo came home late at night. “Yingying, why is there a doll in my study?”  

“Oh, nothing,” I lazily pressed the remote control while sitting in front of the TV. “I was shopping and liked it. There’s no space in the living room, so I borrowed your desk to put it.”  

He stared at me, his expression shifting several times, but finally, he said gently, “It’s cute.”  

This was, in fact, our second wedding anniversary.  

I went into the bathroom, filled the bathtub with water, sprinkled some aromatic oils, and sank deeply into it.  

Tears kept flowing, blending into the water.  

A few days later, while browsing the women’s section online at the office, I came across an article titled Nine Signs He Doesn’t Love You. The third point read: “If a man forgets your important or special anniversary, it means he doesn’t value your relationship.”  

My mood plummeted to rock bottom, and I immediately closed the page.  

Why are so many people obsessed with becoming relationship experts these days?  

I never used to read such things—it seems the older I get, the more foolish I become.  

At six o’clock, I trudged home, utterly dispirited.  

As usual, Jiazhuo wasn’t home.  

Late at night, I heard the sound of the door downstairs opening. Standing at the top of the stairs, I saw him push the door open.  

His steps were slow, and when he saw me standing on the staircase, he seemed momentarily dazed.  

As he approached, I realized he was somewhat drunk—his usually immaculate shirt collar slightly disheveled.  

He called my name and walked straight in, collapsing onto the sofa.  

I brought clean clothes to help him change. Just as my hand touched his shoulder, Jiazhuo suddenly raised his hand, pressing down on the back of my hand.  

Only a small lamp illuminated the living room, casting shadows across his face, making it unclear.  

After a moment of silence, Jiazhuo suddenly said, “That classmate of yours… does he truly love you?”  

My heart leapt inexplicably, but I still asked, confused, “Who?”  

“The young master of the Tang family,” his voice was hoarse and low. “His mother is the youngest daughter of the Tang conglomerate, and he is deeply loved by his grandfather. If he applies himself, he could have a bright future.”  

I dropped the clothes in my hand onto the sofa, stood up, and asked, “What do you mean?”  

Jiazhuo looked at me, his gaze steady and composed.  

Suddenly, I exploded. “What exactly do you mean? What do you think I am?”  

His inexplicable coldness over these days had almost driven me to the brink of collapse. Unable to hold back, I burst into tears. “If you don’t like me, then why force yourself to stay with me?”  

Jiazhuo let out a cold laugh, as if he had been waiting for this moment of my outburst. “You can’t take it anymore either? I’ve lived like this for twenty years.”  

He stared at me. “Ever since my mother died, I’ve lived in this kind of family for twenty years.”  

I was frightened by the oppressive sadness emanating from him.  

His lips tightened into deep lines, and through gritted teeth, he said, “If you can’t take it, I might as well give you your freedom.”  

I screamed, “Lao Jiazhuo!”  

“You’re drunk,” I cried. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”  

“Escaping—is that the Jiang family’s usual style?” His tone was mocking.  

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about—” I ran downstairs.  

I couldn’t stay here any longer. If I did, who knows what else he might say…  

A few seconds later, Jiazhuo rushed down from upstairs. He grabbed my wrist tightly. “Where are you going?”  

“I’m going downstairs…” I said, my thoughts muddled. “I’ll take a walk…”  

“Come back.” He pulled me back. “I’ll go out.”  

He grabbed his coat and car keys, his steps unsteady but quick, stumbling as he walked out.  

The clock struck six. The office cubicles buzzed with excitement. Since the manager wasn’t around today, everyone was eager to leave early.  

I slowly turned off my computer, tidied up the papers on my desk, and even double-checked tomorrow’s workflow, ensuring every detail was in place. Still, I dragged my feet, reluctant to leave.  

I never imagined there would come a day when I’d be afraid to face him, and thus, I didn’t dare to go home.  

I called Huihui. “Huihui, come keep me company.”  

On her end, the office was still noisy. “Darling, I have to work overtime.”  

I sighed. “Then never mind.”  

“Wait,” Huihui called out. “Yingying, what’s wrong?”  

“I’m feeling down. If you don’t come, I’ll jump off a building.” I said gloomily.  

“Don’t!” Huihui shrieked.  

I hung up and wandered aimlessly on the streets. After walking for a while and feeling tired, I stopped at a dessert shop where Huihui and I often went for coffee. Half an hour later, Tang Lechang appeared at the entrance.  

“What are you doing here?” I snapped.  

“Hey, don’t be ungrateful,” Tang Lechang grinned carelessly. “Huihui called me.”  

I slumped, unwilling to acknowledge him.  

Tang Lechang sat down without invitation, flirted briefly with the waitress who came to take our order, then turned to ask me, “What would you like to drink?”  

“No thanks,” I said.  

Tang Lechang ordered drinks for me anyway, along with two large slices of cheesecake.  

Even after a day’s work, I was still hungry. I wasn’t some tragic heroine from a melodrama who could survive on love alone. When the cakes arrived, I dug in without hesitation.  

At this moment, Tang Lechang smiled. “Eat more. Who knows when we’ll meet again.”  

I looked up at him, puzzled.  

Tang Lechang said, “My flight is in two days.”  

I said gloomily, “I won’t see you off. I don’t like farewells.”  

Tang Lechang nodded. “I don’t like them either.”  

With mutual understanding, I managed a faint smile, but suddenly felt the cream I had eaten melting away, replaced by a wave of sadness in my heart.  

“Jiang Yiyin—” Tang Lechang studied my face carefully.  

“Mm, you’ve recently…” He hesitated, then said tactfully, “lost weight.”  

“I’ve been having insomnia, and my skin has gotten worse,” I tugged at the hair by my cheeks. “My hair is too long; it needs maintenance.”  

“What’s wrong?” Tang Lechang asked with concern.  

I closed my eyes and shook my head.  

Tang Lechang asked bluntly, “Is he treating you poorly?”  

For a long time, I’d felt that my life with Jiazhuo existed in some hidden space outside this world. Those moments of sweetness or sorrow seemed unreal, suspended in mid-air. The emotions I had silently endured and suppressed—I had no one to talk to except Tang Lechang.  

Tears streamed down my face. “We’re probably done.”  

Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. I covered my face and sobbed uncontrollably.  

Tang Lechang remained silent, handing me tissues.  

I cried so exaggeratedly, tears and snot flowing together, using up a mountain of tissues.  

Tang Lechang whispered in my ear, “Alright, alright. If you keep crying, people will think I’m the heartless one.”  

I sniffled, wiped my tears, and covered my eyes with a tissue as I said to Tang Lechang, “Sorry.”  

Tang Lechang chuckled. “Huihui missed out on a once-in-a-lifetime show.”  

I kicked him under the table.  

After letting it all out, I felt a bit better. I leaned back in my chair, covering my face. “I just want to find a corner to hide in.”  

“There’s no hiding from your own heart,” Tang Lechang shook his head.  

His philosophical tone left me speechless.  

“Yingying, there’s something I’ve always wanted to say. Why bind yourself to marriage so early?” Tang Lechang twirled the spoon in his condensed milk, speaking slowly. “If you’re happy, that’s fine. But if it’s like this…”  

I turned my head away and murmured, “But I love him. I love him so much.”  

Tang Lechang frowned slightly, looking at me.  

“Jiang Yiyin,” he suddenly became serious. “If you’re not happy, I’ll consider pursuing you.”  

I stared at him wide-eyed.  

He glared back. “I’m serious.”  

“I’m going home,” I pushed him aside and stood up.  

Helpless, he got up to settle the bill.  

Tang Lechang escorted me home. As the taxi pulled up downstairs, a car stopped right beside us, its headlights shining brightly.  

I glanced at the car parked next to ours, hurriedly opened the door, and got out. Jiazhuo was just stepping out of his car.  

He pressed the key fob as he walked, and upon looking up, he suddenly saw me.  

I froze, unable to speak. Before I could react, Tang Lechang’s voice came from behind me. “Mr. Lao, hello.”  

My mind went blank for a moment, and I turned to look at Tang Lechang.

“I’m a classmate of Jiang Yiyin. My surname is Tang.” Tang Lechang’s voice was very calm.  

Jiazhuo merely nodded at him politely.  

Tang Lechang didn’t acknowledge me, only looked at Jiazhuo with an unusually serious expression, as if he were a completely different person. “Yingying has been feeling down lately. Do you know about it?”  

Jiazhuo slightly furrowed his brows but said nothing.  

Tang Lechang’s clear voice rang out: “I just want to tell you that if you don’t cherish her, why ruin a young woman’s promising future?”  

“Tang Lechang!” I jumped up and yanked him. “Go back! You!”  

Tang Lechang raised his voice. “Hey, are you afraid of him? No matter how great he is, you don’t have to be so lowly—”  

He pulled my arm and pushed me forward. “Tell him! How can he treat you like this? Since you’re married, he should take some responsibility as a husband!”  

I dragged Tang Lechang. “Go!”  

Jiazhuo stood still, holding his car keys, maintaining the same cold demeanor as he watched us.  

I was so anxious that I started crying again, choking out, “Tang Lechang, please…”  

Tang Lechang finally stopped. “Sorry.”  

Jiazhuo gently took hold of my wrist. “This is between Yingying and me. Tang, please keep your concern in check.”  

Tang Lechang flushed red but still wanted to say something.  

I glared at him fiercely with my eyes.  

Tang Lechang opened his mouth but still managed to say one last thing. “Mr. Lao, please take good care of yourself.”  

“Thank you for your advice,” Jiazhuo nodded indifferently, then placed his right arm around my shoulder and walked toward the elevator.  

The living room on the second floor was as dark as the night sea, with only the distant skyscrapers flickering like lighthouses with scattered lights.  

Jiazhuo sat on the sofa, unconsciously pressing his temple. The ends of his eyebrows revealed a faint trace of exhaustion.  

I sat on the sofa beside him, feeling uneasy, only daring to occasionally glance at him.  

Jiazhuo pressed his forehead and remained silent for a long time. His voice sounded low and powerless in the darkness. “Have I not treated you well enough?”  

“No, that’s not what I meant…” I licked my dry lips. “I just feel that, Jiazhuo, why can’t you be honest with me?”  

“Mm, I’ve been insincere with you.” His eyes were lowered; I couldn’t tell what expression he wore.  

“You know perfectly well—” I couldn’t swallow the emotions that had been gnawing at me. “We’re already married! Why do you still let me go?”  

Tears welled up in my eyes. “You know how I feel! You told me—how could you tell me to find someone else! How could you do this? How could you even say it!”  

I could no longer control the volume of my voice.  

Jiazhuo just coldly watched me scream and shout.  

After a long while, he leaned on the cushion and said softly, “Hmm, from tonight’s events, it seems you’ve actually considered my suggestion?”  

I was so bitter I could hardly speak, but I forced myself to say, “That’s not what I meant. Tang Lechang spoke out of turn. Why bother arguing with him?”  

Jiazhuo still maintained that detached demeanor. “Hmm, perhaps I wasn’t magnanimous enough. But why are you so quick to smooth things over for him?”  

I collapsed onto the sofa in despair, realizing that anything I said would be wrong.  

Jiazhuo’s voice remained calm, but devoid of any emotional warmth. “I have to constantly coddle you, stay by your side 24/7. If I slack off even a little, you start overthinking. Yingying, I get tired too.”  

I had lost all ability to think clearly, numbly following his words. “Is this how you see me? Am I just a burden to you?”  

He said indifferently, “What do you think?”  

I desolately realized, “So it was all my wishful thinking. You never loved me.”  

His elbow moved on the sofa as he shifted his posture. “Who told you that? The young master of the Tang family?”  

My heart ached bitterly. “At least he treats me sincerely and generously.”  

“Is that so? It sounds pretty good.” Jiazhuo lifted his gaze to look at me. “The suggestion I made earlier—you might as well consider it.”  

I had already cried once, and now I only felt exhausted. “Jiazhuo, at this moment, I feel no love for you.”  

“Is that so? You should thank me for helping you see your own heart,” he said with a faintly mocking smile. “Your naive, idealistic notion of love was always fragile and easily shattered.”  

There was a sharp, piercing light in his gaze, mixed with an urgent intensity. “You’ll grow up eventually. Perhaps when you look back, you’ll realize I’m not the person you once hoped for.”  

His words stung me so deeply that I wanted to armor myself against them. I lifted my head, biting my lip, and forced a bitter laugh. “Maybe that’s true.”  

Jiazhuo suddenly looked up at me, anger blazing in his eyes. He grabbed a glass cup nearby and, in the next moment, smashed it onto the carpet.  

Then he abruptly stood up and turned to leave.  

“Jiazhuo!” My heart ached unbearably, and I hurriedly hugged him from behind.  

His back was as stiff as stone as he allowed me to hold him, then gently removed my hands, which were tangled around his chest.  

“You’ve always blamed me for that, haven’t you?” I shouted after his retreating figure. “You blame me for giving those documents to Brother Da, causing you to lose Laotong!”  

Jiazhuo turned around, his face involuntarily trembling slightly.  

“I know I was wrong, but it’s already happened! How can I make it up to you?” I cried hoarsely. “Please tell me, what can I do to make you happy?”  

“Jiang Yiyin!” His face hardened like iron, his fury barely contained as he tried to stop my ranting. “Stop being so unreasonable!”  

Startled by his sharp tone, my legs gave way, and I collapsed weakly onto the carpet.  

Jiazhuo stood there for a moment, then slowly walked over, picked me up, and placed me on the bed in the bedroom.  

I turned my face away and closed my eyes.  

He stayed by my bedside for a while but didn’t say a word.  

After about fifteen minutes, he got up and walked out.