HGG - 45

“Vice President Zhan disappeared as soon as he left, and his messages are all unread,” Song Yi said, scrolling through her phone while spearing her creamy seafood pasta with a fork.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jenny replied casually, expertly twirling her tomato meat sauce pasta. After sipping some green juice through a straw, she added, “Sometimes, my brother can be surprisingly reliable.”

Song Yi glanced at Jenny skeptically, unsure how to interpret her words.

“Let me put it this way,” Jenny continued. “If you were stranded on a deserted island and could choose only one person to accompany you, who would you pick?”

Song Yi paused for half a second before answering, “Why would anyone be there if it’s a deserted island—”

“Forget that part,” Jenny interrupted decisively. “Here’s the question: between my brother and Chi Zhao, who would you choose?”

Song Yi struggled to untangle herself from the logical flaws in the question.

“What if it’s Chi Zhao? Don’t you think, given his personality, there’s a good chance he’d suddenly attack you and eat you?” Jenny suddenly grew indignant for no apparent reason. “But my brother is different. When food runs out, you can easily—”

Is “reliable” really the word to describe this situation?

Without batting an eye, Jenny finished her sentence: “…easily use him as a punching bag. That’s just the kind of person he is. He’s dumb and would never hurt anyone. Even when you’ve given up hope, he’ll keep encouraging you. In short, he’s actually pretty reliable.”

It was by chance that Song Yi ended up sharing lunch with Jenny in the cafeteria, and she hadn’t expected such an enlightening conversation.

She realized that although Jenny often acted dismissive of Zhan Heqing, their sibling bond was actually quite strong.

As for Zhan Heqing being reliable…

Song Yi suddenly recalled the eerie expression on his face when he had said, “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Miss Jenny,” she began hesitantly, “do you know someone named Gao Jie?”

At the mention of the name, Jenny’s reaction was much calmer than her brother’s, though there was still a brief pause.

“What about her?” Jenny asked, her tone carrying a deeper implication. The word “again” subtly yet clearly conveyed her attitude toward the person.

Song Yi briefly summarized how she had come to learn the name. In turn, Jenny explained the identity of this individual.

Gao Jie was the daughter of one of Chongming Culture’s founding members.

Her father, Gao Feng, had been a college classmate of Chi Shuren in England and the first to enthusiastically support Chi Shuren in establishing Chongming. He was one of Chongming’s indispensable directors.

Gao Feng and Chi Shuren had once been close enough to joke about entrusting their children to each other—”My daughter will be your son’s responsibility.”

But that was in the past.

Gao Feng was a kind-hearted man. Later, he fell victim to a fraudulent investment scheme, losing everything and even landing himself in jail, which brought significant negative repercussions to Chongming at the time.

Gao Feng resigned in disgrace, a decision personally endorsed by Chi Shuren. Although the Chi family privately extended substantial assistance to the Gao family, there was no denying that the Gaos had fallen from grace.

However, Gao Feng’s only daughter, Gao Jie, was fiercely determined.

She refused to accept defeat.

At the time of the incident, she was likely still in middle school, but from then on, she worked tirelessly, day and night. Now, she was the executive editor-in-chief of one of the country’s top fashion magazines.

She was like a revenant warrior, coexisting peacefully with the elites who had once watched her family’s downfall. But—

“When the U.S. edition of the magazine held exchange events with our domestic version, they invited many celebrities and artists to a banquet. Both Chi Zhao and I attended,” Jenny said, examining her perfectly manicured nails. “Gao Jie had just been promoted and was invited by the U.S. chief editor for a photo. I don’t know what she was thinking—maybe she thought the timing was right…”

She went to confess to Chi Zhao.

The unfolding of events left not only Song Yi, the listener, astonished, but even Jenny, who knew the full story, shocked.

“Can we trust what the elders said? Uncle Chi probably doesn’t even remember anymore. Besides, even though Chi Chong later got a girlfriend and Chi Yu got married, why did she think she was destined for Chi Zhao based on a joke from over a decade ago?” Jenny sneered. “There are plenty of people who like Chi Zhao. What number is she?”

According to Jenny, Gao Jie’s pride was immense, and her personality was obsessive. In her eyes, Chi Zhao was her destined partner. Her confession carried the tone of commanding him to fulfill an obligation.

That night, aboard a yacht with a cool breeze, Chi Zhao stood dressed in formal attire, holding a glass of champagne and gazing into the distance. Gao Jie approached him gracefully in a custom-made nude gown.

He turned around, listened to her with a detached expression, and then asked a single question.

“Who are you?” Chi Zhao said, his face adorned with a gentle smile.

Song Yi knew that Chi Zhao was simply asking who she was, but to Gao Jie, this was undoubtedly an act of disdain and insult.

“The most disgusting part comes now,” Jenny continued bitterly. “This woman hasn’t given up. She doesn’t approach Chi Zhao directly anymore, but tells her friends in the circle that ‘the time isn’t right yet.’ And every year, almost without fail, she visits the Chi family during Lunar New Year and sends gifts to Chi Zhao’s mother, acting like she has delusions of grandeur.

“And my father insists that I maintain a good relationship with her.”

Song Yi understood the gist.

In this light, Gao Feng had been a pitiable figure back then. As an old friend of Gao Jie’s father, both Chi Shuren and Zhan Luo felt obligated to show her some consideration.

“My brother didn’t want you involved in this matter, likely for your own sake,” Jenny said. “Her issues are complicated and involve the older generation at Chongming…”

Jenny had intended to follow up with something along the lines of, “If you just marry Chi Zhao, you won’t have to worry about anything,” but before she could, Song Yi abruptly checked the time and stood up.

“I have another appointment. Excuse me,” Song Yi said politely with a nod. “Thank you for your help today, Miss Jenny. You’re truly a trustworthy friend.”

She even took Jenny’s tray with her as she left.

Jenny sat there, wanting to say something more, but found herself at a loss for words.

“What…” Jenny puffed up her cheeks, stirring her drink with her straw, feeling inexplicably cheerful. “Of course I’m a trustworthy friend!”

The arrangement Song Yi mentioned wasn’t work-related but a personal one.

She pulled out her phone, opened the chat window with the username “tennis,” and was about to type when she saw that the other party was typing.

Luo Jiaming had been intermittently typing for nearly half a minute, but in the end, he sent nothing.

Song Yi found it strange.

She called him directly.

After the Grand Prix, Cor emerged victorious, as promised, and Luo Jiaming promptly contacted Song Yi.

They visited his mother, and afterward, they still had some time left.

Song Yi thought for a moment. She hadn’t gone out to play in a long time. After careful consideration, she responded calmly, “How about an amusement park?”

“Huh?” Luo Jiaming was startled. Under Song Yi’s puzzled gaze, he confessed, “No reason. It just doesn’t seem like you.”

The Song Yi in his memory was always quiet, calm, and composed in every situation.

An amusement park seemed too out of character.

“I’m sorry,” Song Yi said gently. “I suddenly wanted to ride the Ferris wheel.”

Even more unlike her.

Luo Jiaming fell silent, overwhelmed by the sense of incongruity.

After turning 18, he had learned to drive, but rarely touched the steering wheel. The club discouraged driving casually due to potential risks. However, today, he had applied in advance, dressed carefully, and prepared meticulously.

Standing in front of the mirror, Luo Jiaming felt an indescribable sensation.

He felt as though he was trying to prove that he was a man.

Not just a child.

Even though her request was unusual, Song Yi was still Song Yi.

Upon arriving at the amusement park, Song Yi headed straight for the Ferris wheel.

Luo Jiaming had been to amusement parks before with friends, including his then-girlfriend. After entering, everyone usually took photos by the fountain at the entrance.

The girls would take selfies with various stickers, and ice cream and popcorn were essential. Beyond that, people naturally followed a route based on proximity or a pre-planned itinerary.

In short, few people behaved like Song Yi.

“Excuse me, may I ask where the Ferris wheel is?” she asked a balloon vendor near the entrance as soon as they walked in.

Luo Jiaming didn’t bother challenging her decision. Instead, he suggested lightly, “Do you want to buy a balloon? They look cute.”

Song Yi looked up. “But can I bring it onto the Ferris wheel?”

The conversation stalled. Communication failed.

This was the largest amusement park in the city, home to the tallest Ferris wheel in the country. It was afternoon, and the promotional materials handed out by the staff featured nighttime photos of the Ferris wheel. Seeing them, Luo Jiaming couldn’t help but feel regretful. If only they had come at a different time.

But Song Yi didn’t notice.

She was genuinely happy. As they boarded, she clenched her fists—a subtle gesture she only displayed when truly delighted.

The Ferris wheel slowly ascended. Song Yi initiated conversation: “Is this your first time riding?”

“It’s my second,” Luo Jiaming replied.

Memories of his first ride suddenly flooded back. He had sat face-to-face with his then-girlfriend, just like this.

They had kissed.

After all, that’s what Ferris wheels were for.

Providing two people with a closed, narrow, private space—what else could they do besides get intimate?

At this thought, Luo Jiaming suddenly felt as though he’d been struck by lightning.

He knew Song Yi’s invitation didn’t carry that implication.

But—

“It’s my first time,” Song Yi suddenly spoke, gazing out the window. Her cool profile softened under the setting sun. “But I once drew a Ferris wheel.”

“Huh?”

Song Yi turned her head, a rare smile gracing her face, filled with warmth as she reminisced. “When I was twelve, I entered a drawing competition. I drew a Ferris wheel. But I’d never ridden one. Being here with you today reminded me of that time.”

“So you used to draw…” Luo Jiaming murmured.

Suddenly, something occurred to him, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

Twelve years old—that was when Song Yi’s family moved away. Despite how quiet and composed she appeared during those days when he secretly watched her, she was still just an ordinary girl who fantasized about Ferris wheels.

Luo Jiaming had never considered this possibility.

As the Ferris wheel reached its peak in silence, he suddenly asked, “Sister Song Yi, are you… married?”

“Hmm?” Song Yi shook her head, confused. “No.”

“Then do you have a boyfriend?”

Song Yi’s gaze lingered on the Ferris wheel’s window. “No,” she answered absentmindedly.

Words hovered on the tip of his tongue. Luo Jiaming swallowed slowly: “Why?”

Song Yi abruptly turned her head. She stared directly at Luo Jiaming, and in that moment, he felt a strange mix of relief and tension.

Why? Song Yi wondered.

In college, she had dated Liu Jun.

But their relationship had been superficial.

Still, it was normal for an ordinary young man to have certain expectations of his girlfriend. He had visited Song Yi’s home. In the modest room where Song Wei and Li Mei were absent, Song Yi had made him a pot of sour plum soup.

She hadn’t expected things to escalate so suddenly. Just as she brought the soup upstairs, Liu Jun pinned her down.

At that moment, Song Yi felt as though her soul had left her body. She floated in the air, watching her emotionless self lying there like a corpse.

But she quickly snapped back. Before Liu Jun could proceed further, she said, “Stop.”

Liu Jun didn’t force her. But looking back, their relationship grew increasingly distant after that.

Throughout her life, most men she encountered were like this. Liu Jun, Jiang Dacheng, the debt collectors, the male colleagues blindly backing her up around Zhou Shu Hua, and even Song Wei—they were all the same.

Without warning, they attacked, demanding something from her. Whether it was her body, explanations, or money.

She couldn’t possibly tell Luo Jiaming all of this.

So Song Yi simply smiled: “I want to be more cautious.”

A standard answer, but also true.

But at that moment, Luo Jiaming suddenly reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Before she could react, he leaned in.

Just as he was about to kiss her lips, Luo Jiaming felt a force clamp down on his face.

He didn’t manage to kiss her.

Song Yi had seized his throat.

Her expression instantly drained of color, exuding a chilling aura, like an ice sculpture slowly awakening in the frozen depths of Antarctica. “What are you doing?”