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Psst! We're moving!
When Jiang Yan Zhou spoke those words, the surrounding atmosphere fell into a deathly silence.
Even Qin He, who was always calm and composed, showed a look of astonishment.
He shifted his gaze toward Song Zhi, as if seeking confirmation.
The latter had her long legs crossed, lazily leaning against the back of the sofa. She casually admitted: “We were together, but we’ve already broken up.”
Zhang Yiming looked at Song Zhi, then at Jiang Yan Zhou.
They made a handsome couple; on the surface, they seemed perfectly matched. However, their personalities were worlds apart—one cold and taciturn, the other spoiled and talkative.
“This...” he forced a laugh, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness. “I never imagined you two would be together.”
Every school had its share of popular figures.
Back in the day, Song Zhi wasn’t just famous at Yi High School; even students from other schools formed groups to come and see her every day.
They said there was a beauty at Yi High with a slender waist and long legs, delicate and pitiable like Lin Daiyu.
Even the big brothers from other schools would wait outside at dismissal time just to confess their love to Song Zhi.
A group of intimidating men blocked the entrance. Song Zhi was chatting with her friends about buying the new backpack released by Chanel that day.
The leader got off his black motorcycle, stopping in front of her.
He touched his multi-colored hair, thinking he looked cool as he licked the corner of his lip: “Little sister, my gang is short a boss lady. Are you interested?”
Summer uniforms consisted of shirts paired with plaid skirts, the hems reaching below the knees.
Song Zhi looked like a little white flower, especially next to these burly men, making her appear even more petite.
It was dismissal time, and students were coming out one after another. Seeing the spectacle before them, they all stopped.
With their goddess in trouble, many boys rolled up their sleeves, wanting to play the hero. But seeing the crowd of underlings behind him, they shrank back in fear.
After all, they were just students; how could they dare to confront schoolyard thugs?
Seeing no response from Song Zhi, he asked again without annoyance: “So, do you want to be their boss lady?”
Song Zhi blinked, sweetly refusing with an innocent smile: “Sorry, I’m not interested in people whose hair has more than two colors.”
Her voice was pleasant, like honey—sweet and coquettish: “Too low-class, and old-fashioned.”
Unfortunately, her words hit like sharp swords, piercing the heart.
Yet she still maintained that innocent and cute expression: “You’re probably not even five feet seven. Your height-increasing insoles are showing.”
Those street thugs valued face highly. Being humiliated in front of so many people, he laughed angrily: “Sometimes when I get angry, I also hit girls.”
He clenched his fists and came over, but before he could get close to Song Zhi, someone kicked him hard in the stomach.
The force was so great that he fell directly to the ground, sliding quite a distance.
In pain, his face distorted as he clutched his stomach and cursed: “Shit!”
Song Zhi turned around curiously. Jiang Yan Zhou stood behind her, lazily pulling back the right leg he had used to kick the man away.
His backpack hung on his left shoulder, wearing a male version of the uniform shirt, indistinguishable from the female version except for the tie instead of a bow.
He loosened his tie, tilting his head slightly: “I heard you need a boss lady?”
The young man smirked, grabbing the collar of his shirt and punching him: “Need a dad? I don’t mind having one more son.”
Zhang Yiming would always remember that scene. The police cars arrived, taking everyone away.
Jiang Yan Zhou beat the man so badly that he ended up in the hospital. Later, it was said that his father paid some money to shut the man’s mouth.
The next day, he came to class as usual, as if nothing had happened.
In Zhang Yiming’s eyes, it might have been this act of heroism that led Song Zhi and Jiang Yan Zhou to secretly promise their future together.
After all, aside from Song Luo, they had no other interactions.
Jiang Yan Zhou was famously aloof, always exuding an aura that said, “Don’t bother me.”
The few words he exchanged with Song Zhi were rare.
As people grew older, they often liked to reminisce about the past. Zhang Yiming asked Song Zhi: “Do you remember that thug who chased you?”
Song Zhi was eating a small piece of watermelon, her tone arrogant: “So many people chase me; how could I possibly remember each one?”
“The one with the colorful hair,” Zhang Yiming said, gesturing on his head with his hands, “the one Jiang Yan Zhou beat up and sent to the hospital.”
Song Zhi recalled vaguely, remembering that incident because it caused such a commotion that the police came.
“I remember, what about it?”
Zhang Yiming was curious: “That guy was the top dog in the neighborhood and pretty handsome. Did you feel anything for him at that time?”
After finishing her watermelon, Song Zhi threw the rind into the trash: “Looking like the Olympic rings come to life, unless I’m blind, why would I feel anything for him?”
Zhang Yiming inwardly sighed, impressed by her unchanged ability to insult others.
Qin He took a wet wipe to clean her hands, smiling: “How did I not know about this? You kept it very quiet.”
He was referring to her relationship with Jiang Yan Zhou.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed, Song Zhi lowered her eyelashes. She had thought about telling him, but felt that this strange relationship was somewhat shameful.
Qin He’s words and Song Zhi’s current expression took on another meaning in Jiang Yan Zhou’s eyes.
Over the years, they had been in contact, and she had hidden her relationship with him from Qin He.
His eyes darkened slightly as he watched Song Zhi’s docile smile. A strange restlessness rose in his chest.
Something was breaking through, growing wildly. Dark vines tightly wrapped around all his senses.
Knowing she didn’t want to talk about it, Qin He just smiled and didn’t press her: “It’s getting late. Didn’t you say you have to wake up early tomorrow? Let me take you home first.”
Tomorrow, she had to be at the set by 5:30 AM for a sunrise scene.
She nodded, about to agree.
Jiang Yan Zhou, who had been silent, placed his glass back on the table. His voice was calm, showing no emotion: “When will you pick up your clothes?”
Song Zhi frowned: “Didn’t I ask Aunt He to donate them for me?”
He calmly replied: “The ones you’ve worn; probably no one wants them.”
Song Zhi was infuriated by his words: “Many of my clothes are brand new, still with tags.”
“I’m talking about your pajamas, and...”
He stopped mid-sentence, leaving room for imagination.
Zhang Yiming and the others went out for a smoke, leaving only the three of them.
The atmosphere became strangely tense.
Song Zhi’s temper wasn’t good either. Spoiled since childhood, she had developed a lot of quirks, with everyone around her catering to her every whim.
Qin He, worried she might get angry, was about to smooth things over.
After teetering on the edge of an outburst, the girl shrugged nonchalantly: “Who cares.”
There was a moment of silence from Qin He. Song Zhi’s reaction suggested she was already accustomed to Jiang Yan Zhou’s attitude.
Cold remarks with hidden meanings.
Back when Song Zhi often came to the high school section to find Song Luo, someone joked: “Your sister is the school flower, and Jiang Yan Zhou is the school grass. They make a perfect pair.”
Song Luo impatiently kicked him: “Shut up.”
He didn’t
want Song Zhi to be with Jiang Yan Zhou.
He told Qin He: “Jiang Yan Zhou is fine as a friend, but not as a boyfriend.”
He said, “He’s too cold-blooded, his thoughts deep, unable to trust anyone completely. And he doesn’t express himself. Once he starts giving the cold shoulder, my stupid sister wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
So for all these years, Song Zhi must have endured it.
Under his intermittent cold treatment.
Qin He was a nice guy, gentle-natured, and had never lost his temper in his life.
But this time, he also felt a rare surge of anger.
However, he kept it inside and didn’t let it show.
He held Song Zhi’s hand and stood up: “We’ll pick up your clothes next time I drive you over. Let me tell Yiming and the others that we’re leaving first.”
Jiang Yan Zhou’s eyes darkened as he watched the slender wrist Qin He held in his hand.
Until they left the lounge.
Song Zhi’s chatter blended with the soft music, drifting over.
She was probably coquettishly asking: “Can you give me the designer’s WeChat? I’m her loyal fan. Every piece she designs, if I can buy it, I do. If you give me her WeChat or arrange a meal sometime, maybe I can get that limited-edition brooch from last year. There’s supposedly one left, and I’ve wanted it for so long.”
After finishing his cigarette, Zhang Yiming returned to find the booth empty.
Confused, he looked around. The server helpfully informed him: “Those guests left earlier. A Mr. Jiang settled the bill and left as well.”
Zhang Yiming was stunned for a moment: “What the hell, they’re all gone.”
________________________________________
At the Jiang residence.
Li Shu was comforting Jiang Songyue, who was pale with fright.
Normally spoiled and unruly, shouting whenever things didn’t go his way, Jiang Songyue, upon returning from school, saw a strange woman wearing his mother’s dress and jewelry.
He ran over and kicked her: “Who are you? Don’t touch my mother’s things.”
A child, his strength wasn’t great.
But that woman dramatically fell to the ground, maintaining her elegance as she did so.
Just then, Jiang Yue came down the stairs and saw it.
Frowning, he sternly scolded: “Songyue, don’t cause trouble!”
As he spoke, he helped the woman up: “Are you alright?”
She shook her head: “I’m fine.”
Jiang Yue walked over to reprimand Jiang Songyue: “Show some respect.”
Jiang Songyue pouted: “Why is she wearing my mother’s clothes?”
Upon hearing this, Jiang Yue turned to look at her.
Usually, he hadn’t paid attention to Ji Weimin’s clothing, so he didn’t realize these clothes belonged to her.
The woman lowered her eyelashes, her voice full of委屈 (grievance): “I just... thought Sister’s clothes were beautiful and admired them so much...”
Jiang Yue’s expression softened a bit, and he took out his wallet, extracting a card: “There’s a limit of 500,000 in this card. If it’s not enough, let me know.”
She shyly nodded, accepting the bank card.
Meanwhile, Li Shu heard movement outside and went to open the door.
Seeing Jiang Yan Zhou, she smiled warmly and called out to the living room: “Yanzhou is here.”
Jiang Yan Zhou handed his freshly removed coat to Li Shu, changed his shoes, and came in.
He just happened to see Jiang Yue handing over the card.
Without any change in expression, he shifted his gaze, as if he was already used to it.
“Is there something you needed me for?”
Jiang Yue coughed lightly, regaining his usual seriousness: “Next week is your grandfather’s eightieth birthday. I have something to attend to, so I won’t be going. You should go with Song Zhi. That girl has a sweet tongue, and she’s more likable to the elderly than you.”
Jiang Yan Zhou gave a low hum: “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave first.”
Jiang Songyue ran crying to Jiang Yan Zhou: “Brother, is Daddy abandoning my mom?”
His appearance, full of sorrow and grief, as if the sky had collapsed.
It seemed impossible to believe that the strict and great father he admired would have such a side.
In front of him, with another woman...
Jiang Yan Zhou lowered his eyelashes, rarely focusing his gaze on this younger brother whose age he barely knew.
The surprise, confusion, incomprehension, sadness, and something collapsing in his eyes—
Too familiar.
After a long hesitation, he softly said: “You’ll get used to it after a few times.”
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