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Song Zhi couldn’t help but laugh in anger.
After committing such a shameless act, he actually dared to admit it in front of her—did he really think she was that easy to bully?
Without wasting another word, she opened the calculator app on her phone and calculated everything clearly.
“Compensation for emotional distress plus medical expenses totals $25,000. Rounded up to $100,000, and I’ll give you a discount—make it $120,000.”
She had already paid this amount to He Hanyang, so Jiang Yan Zhou giving it back to her was only fair.
Xia Wanyue paused for a moment and quietly asked: “What kind of rounding and discount is this?”
Song Zhi held out her palm. Seeing that Jiang Yan Zhou remained unmoved, she raised an eyebrow: “What, you’re not paying?”
It seemed as though she was deliberately trying to provoke him.
Her delicate and beautiful face now radiated arrogance.
Jiang Yan Zhou calmly glanced at her, then took out his wallet and handed her a card: “The password is your birthday. No spending limit.”
Xu let out a soft “Wow” beside them. Even a simple gesture from a wealthy person looked effortlessly cool.
If this were Song Zhi five years ago, she might have been charmed by his words.
But now, she understood Jiang Yan Zhou better than anyone—he always used money to solve problems.
They had gone through cold wars and breakups before, but every time, it was initiated solely by Song Zhi.
She was like a spoiled child throwing tantrums, accustomed to being indulged by those around her and obsessing over trivial details.
On the other hand, Jiang Yan Zhou possessed a maturity far beyond his years.
Thus, these one-sided cold wars often ended with Song Zhi giving up because Jiang Yan Zhou had no interest in playing along with her childish games.
He was busy with work and rarely had time to accompany Song Zhi, but materially, he never shortchanged her.
Even when she spent five million on a flawed “rock,” he didn’t bat an eyelid.
Once the card was handed to her, what she did with it was her business.
This delicate young girl was spoiled beyond measure, prone to bouts of petulance. From childhood, everyone around her had pampered her.
But Jiang Yan Zhou was different from all of them.
He rarely showed much enthusiasm for anything—not even company affairs, which he treated merely as duties to fulfill.
Some people were born with cold blood running through their veins.
Every breakup Song Zhi had demanded from him ultimately resulted in Jiang Yan Zhou handing her another card with an ever-increasing balance.
The rich solved problems brutally and directly.
Song Zhi often mocked herself: Jiang Yan Zhou wasn’t her boyfriend—he was her sugar daddy.
He kept a pretty young girl locked away in an expensive castle, visiting periodically to satisfy his physical needs.
Given their history, perhaps Jiang Yan Zhou naturally assumed that this time too, Song Zhi was just throwing another tantrum.
It was just lasting slightly longer than usual.
Thinking about this, Song Zhi found it oddly amusing.
Each disappointment piled onto the next, solidifying her resolve to leave him for good.
Without hesitation, she accepted the card: “We’re even.”
No one would turn down money.
The owner soon brought out freshly grilled skewers, placing them in front of Jiang Yan Zhou with clear favoritism: “Our pork skewers are especially delicious. Try some.”
Xu frowned and checked the receipt: “I don’t think we ordered pork skewers.”
The owner smiled shyly while holding the tray: “Since this handsome young man is here for the first time, consider it my treat.”
Was there really such a thing as free lunch?
After the owner left, Xu turned to Song Zhi: “Sister Song Zhi, do you know any other handsome guys? I want to eat free barbecue for a few more days.”
Jiang Yan Zhou was unbuttoning his cuffs when he heard Xu’s comment. He lifted his gaze toward him.
His calm demeanor carried immense pressure.
After a second of eye contact, Xu quickly averted his gaze, too frightened to speak further.
Song Zhi readily nodded: “Sure.”
She indeed knew quite a few attractive men.
Jiang Yan Zhou took away the beer in front of her, but Song Zhi didn’t insist on getting it back.
She didn’t dare drink much anyway—it harmed her skin and made her gain weight.
She was currently in a working phase and needed to take care of herself.
She avoided the high-calorie skewers and only ate some of the vegetarian dishes Jiang Yan Zhou had ordered, all of which happened to be her favorites.
In contrast, Jiang Yan Zhou hadn’t touched his chopsticks at all.
Xu hesitated before mustering the courage to ask: “Aren’t you hungry?”
Song Zhi sneered: “How could someone from a prestigious family stoop to eating street food with us commoners?”
Her sarcasm was glaringly obvious. Even Xu felt uncomfortable and subtly tugged at her sleeve under the table, signaling her to stop.
Though Jiang Yan Zhou was indeed somewhat distant, taciturn, and seemingly moody, Xu didn’t dislike him.
Having followed Song Zhi for so many years, Xu had seen plenty of her suitors.
Those men, though wealthy, reeked of nouveau riche vulgarity.
But Jiang Yan Zhou was completely different.
He was like a tranquil lake, winter snow, or the chilling wind before a storm.
Even if bitterly cold, he was pure.
This was Xu’s first time meeting someone from an elite family’s second generation.
Even with his naturally aloof demeanor, he treated everyone with basic courtesy and didn’t discriminate.
Moreover, despite Song Zhi’s biting sarcasm, he remained unfazed.
As the owner gradually served all the dishes, Jiang Yan Zhou gave them a cursory glance.
They were mostly things he disliked—even the vegetarian dishes he ordered were based on Song Zhi’s usual preferences.
Xu handed him a skewer: “The food here isn’t dirty; it’s actually quite tasty.”
Jiang Yan Zhou thanked him and reluctantly accepted it.
Song Zhi was strict about her diet during work periods—no oil, no sugar.
She ate very little.
After only two bites, she set her chopsticks down.
After a long pause, Jiang Yan Zhou gently spoke: “Why don’t you move back in? With Aunt He taking care of you, I’d feel more at ease.”
Song Zhi was exasperated: “We’ve already broken up. Why would I move back?”
“The property deed has your name on it. Even after breaking up, you don’t need to move out.”
His tone was calm, as if stating facts devoid of emotion.
Song Zhi hated his bureaucratic attitude—it made her feel like one of his subordinates.
Furious, she stood up and switched seats with Xu beside her.
The awkward tension between the two was palpable to anyone with eyes. Xu tried his best to minimize his presence, fearing collateral damage.
Suddenly, a bombshell dropped.
He was chewing on a spicy shrimp skewer when he heard Song Zhi’s words and nervously looked up: “Sister Song Zhi, why switch seats now? We were sitting fine.”
Song Zhi frowned: “Hurry up.”
Xu immediately caved, turning obedient: “Got it.”
The chair screeched as he stood.
Upon hearing “Sister Song Zhi” and recognizing Xu’s familiar voice, Jiang Yan Zhou’s brows imperceptibly furrowed.
He asked Xu in a flat tone: “What’s your surname?”
Xu had just sat down, unsure why he was being asked but answered honestly: “I’m surnamed Xu.”
Jiang Yan Zhou’s expression visibly darkened after hearing the surname “Xu.”
Xu didn’t understand what he had done wrong, but the oppressive aura emanating from the man intensified.
Terrified, Xu shrank into himself.
Wuwuwu, this guy was truly terrifying—his mood swings were faster than flipping pages.
________________________________________
That meal was excruciating for Xu.
In his twenty years of life, he had never felt so unable to eat.
There were four people at the table, two of whom barely touched their food. As the sole main eater, even he didn’t consume much.
When the owner came to settle the bill, she glanced at the nearly untouched dishes.
She asked Xu: “Was the food not to your liking? Why did you eat so little today?”
Xu wanted to cry: “The food was delicious. It’s just that I didn’t have much of an appetite.”
________________________________________
After leaving the barbecue stall, Song Zhi felt greasy from the smoke and just wanted to rush back to the hotel for a good shower.
Jiang Yan Zhou had driven here, and his car was parked quite far away, near the filming location.
Though Xu was a bit afraid of him, he inexplicably felt drawn to him.
He could tell that Jiang Yan Zhou genuinely cared for Song Zhi.
He simply wasn’t good at expressing it.
Just as Xu wanted to bid him farewell, he looked up and met Jiang Yan Zhou’s icy gaze.
…Immediately terrified, he turned and got into the car.
Sorry to bother.
As the car reversed out of the alley, Xu glanced through the windshield. Jiang Yan Zhou was still standing there.
The awning blocked the lamplight, leaving him in darkness.
But Xu could sense that his gaze never left them.
For some reason, he felt a twinge of pity for Jiang Yan Zhou, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.
________________________________________
In a few days, it would be Madam Cao Suyue’s birthday. Aunt He planned to make some pickled vegetables Song Zhi liked and send them over later.
She was chopping white radishes into chunks when she heard movement at the entrance.
Thinking Song Zhi had returned, she hurriedly stood up, untied her apron, and went out.
“Little Zhi, these past few days…”
Her words trailed off upon seeing the man. She fell silent and greeted: “Yan Zhou.”
Jiang Yan Zhou nodded and took off his coat.
Aunt He approached, took his coat, smoothed it, and hung it on the rack: “There’s soup simmering on the stove. I’ll go pour you a bowl.”
“Mm.”
As Aunt He brought out the soup, she remembered Cao Suyue’s upcoming birthday: “Bring Song Zhi over sometime soon so Madam can meet her.”
Cao Suyue often worried about Jiang Yan Zhou, her only remaining concern.
Having experienced a failed marriage herself, she understood the pain and didn’t want her son to endure the same.
But Jiang Yan Zhou’s reserved nature—who did he take after?
From childhood to adulthood, he kept everything bottled up inside. Even when misunderstood, he rarely bothered to defend himself.
Because he didn’t care.
Others’ opinions and criticisms meant nothing to him.
Still, every trait had its pros and cons. In a cold-blooded family like theirs, indifference often led to a freer life.
Upon hearing Aunt He’s words, Jiang Yan Zhou’s chopsticks paused momentarily.
Aunt He sighed: “You know Little Zhi’s personality. Indulge her a bit more. If there’s a misunderstanding, resolve it early. Dragging things out won’t help.”
Jiang Yan Zhou nodded: “I’ll find a chance to talk to her properly.”
Hearing this, Aunt He finally felt a bit reassured.
Jiang Yan Zhou stayed overnight and went to bed early.
When not working, his routine was as disciplined as an elder’s.
He slept by 9:30 PM.
________________________________________
The weather forecast predicted rain in the morning. Sure enough, when they woke up the next day, it was raining.
And coincidentally, the car broke down right at this time.
Zhang Yi got out to inspect it but couldn’t fix it. They had to call a tow truck company.
Jiang Yan Zhou glanced at his watch and decided to take a taxi to the office.
From childhood, even going to school required a driver. The few times he took a taxi were because of Song Zhi.
She hated studying and always left her homework until the last minute. By the time the entire school emptied out, she would stumble out exhausted, clutching her limited-edition backpack.
Song Luo was always busy with something or another, disappearing all day. So he asked his good friend to look after his princess-like sister whenever possible.
Jiang Yan Zhou waited outside the school for a long time. The ashtray next to the trash bin was filled with freshly extinguished cigarette butts.
Song Zhi trudged over to him, complaining about how cruel her teacher was: “He said if I didn’t finish today, he’d multiply the assignment tenfold tomorrow. How is that even possible? Just looking at math symbols makes my head hurt. My hand feels like it’s going to fall off from copying.”
She babbled nonstop.
At the end, she didn’t forget to throw in a playful request: “My whole body aches. If only a cute masseuse could give me a full-body massage and then we could go eat hot pot, maybe I wouldn’t hurt anymore.”
Whether it was the bright streetlamp or her naturally clear eyes, they resembled an entire night sky captured within her gaze.
Jiang Yan Zhou’s craving for cigarettes was stirred again. He shifted his gaze and lightly nodded: “Mm.”
They took a taxi from the school to the massage parlor, then headed to a hot pot restaurant.
Later, Song Zhi reportedly got scolded at home because the teacher called, complaining that she hadn’t completed her homework on time and had stacks of fashion magazines in her desk.
That night, Song Zhi cried for a full hour, and Song Luo consoled her for just as long.
________________________________________
The breakdown location wasn’t far from the office—a fifteen-minute ride.
Since Jiang Yan Zhou hadn’t come to the office for a few days, the employees were slightly more relaxed than usual.
He Yong’s wife had returned to her parents’ home after an argument the day before. Their three-year-old child, left without care, forced He Yong to bring him to work.
Perhaps scared by the unfamiliar environment, the boy cried incessantly.
No matter how He Yong tried to soothe him, it was futile.
A colleague approached and suggested: “Boss Jiang is here. Why don’t you put the child in the pantry for now?”
Jiang Yan Zhou wasn’t harsh on his employees but valued professionalism above all. Most importantly, he didn’t easily soften his heart.
Bringing a child to the workplace already affected work quality, and the boy’s continuous crying wasn’t helping.
Hearing this, He Yong panicked: “The pantry is too close to the office area. Hiding him there won’t work, and he’s still crying.”
His family depended entirely on his salary. If he lost his job now, they’d be in dire straits.
Just as he was at a loss, a colleague muttered: “It’s over.”
Seemingly mourning for He Yong in their hearts.
The glass door pushed open from the outside. The moment Jiang Yan Zhou entered, he heard the tender cries.
He slightly lifted his gaze, easily locating the source of the sound.
A chubby little boy in a cartoon T-shirt sat on a chair, his short legs swinging in the air as he sobbed.
He Yong quickly explained: “His mother went back to her parents’ home today. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone at home, so I brought him here. He’s crying because he misses his mom. I’ll calm him down soon and ensure he doesn’t disturb everyone’s work.”
Nervous sweat pooled in his palms as he bowed his head, silently awaiting Jiang Yan Zhou’s reprimand.
Contrary to the expected cold and detached tone, Jiang Yan Zhou’s voice was gentle and calm: “How old is he?”
Caught off guard by the question, He Yong hesitated before answering honestly: “He just turned three last month.”
“Do boys usually resemble their mothers more?”
It sounded like a question directed at He Yong but also like a soft murmur to himself.
Seeing Jiang Yan Zhou’s demeanor, it seemed he wasn’t blaming him. He Yong instantly relaxed, his tone becoming lighter: “Everyone says he looks like his mom, which is good. If he looked like me, he’d be ugly.”
The child continued crying, his voice growing hoarse from exertion.
Jiang Yan Zhou walked over, pulling a pink-wrapped lollipop from his pocket and offering it to the boy.
He had bought it from the supermarket downstairs, though he didn’t even know why he’d purchased something only children would eat.
The boy gradually stopped crying upon seeing the candy. Looking at the handsome stranger, he cautiously reached out to take it.
Even his hands were chubby.
Jiang Yan Zhou, who lacked patience and disliked troublesome children who cried endlessly, found this scene unexpectedly adorable.
These tender, tiny lives—they were truly precious.
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