◎New grudges, old hatreds—clashing in the air.◎

Yue Jincheng stood there like the eye of a storm.

The gentle rustling of the bead curtain swayed in the breeze, serving as the last faint plea to rein in his composure and maintain reason.

“Big Brother,” Yue Mingxin whispered, her voice trembling with unease.

She regretted it now—how careless she had been to waste so much time on this stubborn fool, practically courting disaster.

Yue Jincheng raised his gaze, sharp as an arrow aimed true.

Yue Shaoheng’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t budge an inch.

One seethed with unresolved resentment; the other teetered on the brink of losing control.

A silent battle raged between them—new wounds mingling with old scars.

Zhou Xiaojun had painstakingly managed to calm Yue Jincheng’s turbulent mind during their time in the prayer hall. But every intimate “Jiaxi” that fell from Yue Shaoheng’s lips shattered that fragile peace, boiling over into raw fury.

“Daddy!” A crisp, childlike voice suddenly pierced through the tension—Yue Jiayi’s call broke the deadlock.

Yue Jincheng’s latent rage instantly dissipated, replaced by an ocean of boundless tenderness as he turned toward the doorway.

Little Yue Jiayi leaned against the doorframe, holding a large pear in his tiny hands.

“Daddy, Mommy is up in the tree picking pears, and she can’t get down. Can you help her?” he asked innocently.

Yue Jincheng smoothed the furrow in his brow, his emotions softening. “Alright, lead Daddy there.”

Jiayi eagerly stretched out his arms, bouncing up and down for a hug.

Without hesitation, Yue Jincheng quickened his pace and scooped his son into his arms.

The warmth of the small, soft body against him—the faint scent of fruity shampoo—soothed every jagged edge within.

Cradling Jiayi, Yue Jincheng strode out of the living room.

Perched on his shoulder, Jiayi waved adorably. “Uncle Third, Auntie Mingxin, bye-bye!”

Childhood innocence effortlessly steered the situation back on track.

Yue Mingxin exhaled deeply, whispering softly to Yue Shaoheng, “See? Sister Jiaxi has raised Jiayi so well. Even at such a young age, he understands the wisdom of harmony and gentleness.”

Outside, a cool breeze greeted them. Jiayi twisted his body toward the right. “Mommy!”

Fu Jiaxi, who had been hiding behind the vermilion pillar, could no longer conceal herself. She stepped forward, hands on her hips, exasperated. “I told you to deliver the pear to your dad. How did this turn into me being stuck in a tree?”

Jiayi scratched his nose mischievously. “Mommy, I transformed just now—I became a fish.”

“What?”

“Fish only have seven-second memories!”

“...”

Fu Jiaxi was stunned, raising her thumb in amused admiration.

Yue Jincheng burst into hearty laughter, his entire demeanor softening completely.

Jiayi swung his legs playfully. “The pear is so big—I can’t finish it. Daddy, will you eat half for me?”

Fu Jiaxi instinctively replied, “Your dad never eats pears.”

Yue Jincheng’s eyes flickered slightly—he was surprised she still remembered.

“Then Mommy can join too! Let’s split the pear into three parts, and we’ll all finish it!” Jiayi suggested brightly.

Fu Jiaxi teased with a smile, “Splitting a pear… Who are you trying to separate from?”

Before the child could think further, the emerald crown pear was swiftly snatched away.

Yue Jincheng moved faster than the wind.

He took a bite, the crisp flesh bursting with juice, then said expressionlessly, “I’ll eat it.”

________________________________________

The birthday banquet began.

Grand, prosperous, elegant, and filial.

Every perfect word could be embodied in this day.

The Yue family, vast and thriving, presented their gifts one by one—a dazzling array. The younger generation added flair, inviting a live band to perform carefully rehearsed Huangmei opera pieces, blending Eastern and Western elements for a lively celebration.

Zhou Xiaojun’s joyous smile never left her face. Dressed in a custom-made ink-green cheongsam, she exuded grace and dignity, adorned with an expensive jade necklace.

Red envelopes were handed out generously, carried in large bamboo baskets. Zhou Xiaojun smiled warmly, distributing them freely among the younger generations.

In the evening, the spectacle grew even grander. Brilliant fireworks lit up the sky, accompanied by the soothing strains of a saxophone. Cakes rolled out on trolleys—one after another—an overwhelming display.

Fu Jiaxi stayed hidden in the inner chambers, deliberately avoiding involvement in someone else’s affairs. Rationally, she felt she shouldn’t meddle.

Zhou Xiaojun radiated happiness, though much of this joy and filial piety stemmed from the belief in feng shui—to ward off calamities and invite blessings. Her frail body, like a candle in the wind, bore the weight of forced warmth and familial affection.

Fu Jiaxi pitied the elderly woman deeply.

By nine o’clock in the evening, the guests finally dispersed.

Like everyone else, Fu Jiaxi politely bid farewell and prepared to leave.

As soon as she and Jiayi reached the car, Zhou Xiaojun’s call came through. Her cheerful yet slightly weary voice rang out, “Come quickly! Help me blow out the candles—I haven’t made my wish yet!”

The comedy of laughter and celebration finally drew to a close. Only now did Zhou Xiaojun’s real birthday truly begin.

Uncle Li brought out a small cake topped with a beautiful pink Barbie doll.

It was something Fu Jiaxi and Jiayi had lovingly crafted at home.

Little Jiayi had said, “No matter how old you are, girls will always love pink dolls.”

“Oh my goodness!” Zhou Xiaojun laughed until her wrinkles seemed to bloom like flowers.

Yue Jincheng’s gift was an intricately designed embroidered fan with a jade handle—both delicate and practical. He had taken notice of it six months ago, flying to London specifically to bid on it at Christie’s auction house.

This aligned perfectly with Zhou Xiaojun’s devout Buddhist nature.

“Come, come, Jiaxi, try it out—see if it fans well and if the breeze is strong enough,” Zhou Xiaojun said with a warm smile, gesturing for her to take the fan.

Yue Jincheng handed the fan to Fu Jiaxi, who accepted it and gave it a few experimental swings. With a straight face, she replied, “It smells like money.”

Zhou Xiaojun burst into delighted laughter.

Yue Jincheng coughed lightly twice. “I really put a lot of effort into finding this.”

Fu Jiaxi leaned closer and whispered softly, “Of course you did. If you hadn’t put in the effort, there’s no way you’d have spent such a hefty sum on it.”

As their eyes met, the curves of their brows bent in unison. Under the warm yellow light, an undeniable tenderness lingered—as if their默契 (mutual understanding) and memories from the past had never faded or been lost.

Yue Jiayi came bouncing over, tugging at Yue Jincheng’s hand and pulling him toward the door. “Daddy, come treasure hunting with me!”

Yue Jincheng naturally obliged, relishing these moments of pure familial warmth.

Once father and son were gone, Zhou Xiaojun eagerly turned to Fu Jiaxi. “Xi Xi Xi Xi, what about those boys I sent you last time? Did any catch your eye?”

Fu Jiaxi frowned slightly. “The ones you sent last week? Aren’t those the new streamers you started following?”

“Oh no, they’re real people! I went through great lengths to search, screen, and vet them—all eligible young men.” Zhou Xiaojun sighed dramatically. “How could those male streamers compare? Their character, personality, education—all carefully selected by me.”

Fu Jiaxi smiled. “Grandma, you don’t need to go to such lengths for me.”

Zhou Xiaojun pouted. “I’ve been working on this for you for so long!”

Seeing the elderly woman on the verge of being upset, Fu Jiaxi quickly added, “Thank you! I’ve looked them over carefully—none of them are my type.”

“Really none?”

“Really none.”

Zhou Xiaojun immediately beamed with pride. “No rush, no rush. Just wait for me!”

She hurried off to the inner room. Left alone, Fu Jiaxi waited in confusion. During this pause, Yue Jincheng happened to return.

“Hmm?” Fu Jiaxi glanced past him but didn’t see Jiayi.

“The boy is picking up balloons outside—it’s getting windy, so I’m bringing him a jacket.” Yue Jincheng picked up the coat from the sofa and casually asked, “Where’s Grandma?”

“Here I am!” Zhou Xiaojun returned briskly, showing no signs of frailty despite her advanced age. In her hands, she held a stack of items. “Take a look at these—anyone you like?”

Yue Jincheng realized what they were—photos.

Of men.

He slowly lowered his hand holding the jacket and turned to look at Fu Jiaxi.

“Grandma, I really don’t like any of them,” Fu Jiaxi said helplessly, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“You’re just brushing me off—you haven’t even looked properly!”

“I have, truly.” To prove her point, Fu Jiaxi took the stack and began flipping through them haphazardly. “This one with short hair, this one with two eyes, this one wearing clothes...”

Her dismissive sarcasm was clear—who doesn’t have two eyes or wear clothes?

Yue Jincheng wasn’t too upset; he set the jacket down and reached for it again.

“Alright then, tell me,” Zhou Xiaojun reclaimed the photos and countered cleverly. “What do you like? Appearance, temperament, education, major, job, personality—one by one, tell me now.”

Fu Jiaxi felt a headache coming on. The refusal was already on the tip of her tongue.

“Ai, it’s my birthday today,” Zhou Xiaojun sighed gently.

Unable to bear making the elderly woman both worried and unhappy, Fu Jiaxi softened. She decided to humor her as if indulging a child celebrating their birthday.

“I don’t have specific preferences when it comes to looks.”

Yue Jincheng’s hand froze mid-reach for the jacket.

Under the soft glow of light, Fu Jiaxi’s profile appeared gentle and sincere, her gaze earnest and devout.

She continued, “Average features, height similar to mine, dressed simply and cleanly. Someone who takes care of themselves.”

Yue Jincheng internally scoffed. Wasn’t that just basic self-respect for men?

For example, he fit that description perfectly—word for word.

But Zhou Xiaojun listened attentively, flipping through the photos. “What about glasses? Rimless ones—they can look very handsome.”

Yue Jincheng instinctively straightened his back.

Though he didn’t need glasses, he occasionally wore them while working. It fit.

“It’s fine either way—I don’t care whether someone wears glasses or not,” Fu Jiaxi said. “Not wearing glasses doesn’t mean good eyesight, and wearing them doesn’t imply anything.”

Yue Jincheng: “...”

Whether or not he was indirectly insulted remained unclear.

“I remember you once said that the boy you had a crush on in high school liked wearing white T-shirts. His eyes were the most beautiful, like the guiding stars of the night sky over the frontier grasslands. His aura was like Lake Sayram in autumn—the last tear of the Atlantic Ocean.”

Yue Jincheng: “...”

Fu Jiaxi blushed slightly. “You remember that so clearly—it was just something I said offhand.”

Yue Jincheng relaxed slightly. That’s right—he had never heard her mention it before.

“If you said it offhandedly, it must mean you liked him very much.” Zhou Xiaojun flipped through the photos. “Look at this one—does he match your description?”

“Where does he—” Fu Jiaxi’s gaze lazily landed on the photo, only to abruptly stop.

The man in the photo wore a minimalist business shirt, the cuffs casually rolled up. It was a candid half-profile shot. He leaned casually against a table, drinking coffee with a relaxed expression. Holding the white porcelain cup to his lips, his demeanor exuded a calming gentleness that transcended the photograph itself.

Zhou Xiaojun handed it to her.

Fu Jiaxi took it.

Yes, she took it.

Yue Jincheng gripped his son’s jacket tightly, the veins on the back of his hand visibly protruding under the warm lighting. Even then, he restrained himself from letting his emotions show openly.

Patience, restraint—he could manage that.

But his eyes betrayed him, urgently tracking Fu Jiaxi’s reaction. Subtle bitterness and heaviness weighed on him.

Fu Jiaxi held onto the photo without resistance.

Zhou Xiaojun coaxed gently, “Ah, it’s Xiao Yu. This boy is quite nice—same major as you, and he runs his own business. A good kid.”

Fu Jiaxi smiled faintly and returned the photo, feigning nonchalance. “Let’s see the rest—don’t waste them.”

Her carefree demeanor, even the subtle upward flicker of her eyes, flowed effortlessly.

“Eh? Why are you still here?” Zhou Xiaojun scolded Yue Jincheng. “Hurry up and bring Jiayi his jacket—don’t let my grandson catch a cold.”

Yue Jincheng felt as though a sour lemon had been shoved down his throat.

The bitterness rose in his throat.

“I’m going,” he forced out gruffly.

Yue Jiayi’s so-called “treasure hunt” involved collecting decorative balloons from earlier. Yue Jincheng couldn’t fathom why anyone would bother gathering trash.

Jiayi moved closer to his grandmother. “I think Daddy isn’t very happy.”

“Never mind him—he’s sulking,” Zhou Xiaojun patted the little head affectionately. “Help Grandma blow out the candles.”

“On birthdays, you make a wish, Grandma. What’s your wish?”

“The same as last year.”

“To watch me grow up and get married?”

Jiayi’s simple and straightforward answer made everyone laugh heartily.

In the midst of this joyful atmosphere, peace and happiness reigned supreme.

Suddenly, Jiayi turned to Fu Jiaxi. “Mommy, do you know what Daddy wished for on Grandma’s birthday?”

Fu Jiaxi: “...”

What convoluted thoughts ran through this child’s mind?

Unable to resist his innocent gaze, Fu Jiaxi struggled to recall, her brow furrowed in difficulty. Her blank expression conveyed two words—trouble.

With each second of hesitation, Yue Jincheng’s expression grew colder.

Colder than the guiding star of the frontier grasslands, icier than the last tear of the Atlantic Ocean.

He spoke coldly. “Someone like me—what noble or grand wishes could I possibly make? Every year, it’s always the same vulgar wish: prosperity and wealth.”

Fu Jiaxi nodded vaguely and then told Jiayi, “Yes, Daddy’s ambitions are very down-to-earth. You should learn from him.”