◎Too much unspoken affection, too many words left unsaid.◎

At Man Yuan, Aunt Yuan brought a bowl of freshly brewed soup, its temperature perfectly cooled.

Seeing Yue Jincheng drink it slowly, Zhou Xiaojun remarked, “You’re drinking this like a cat nibbling on food—is the soup not tasty?”

Yue Jincheng didn’t defend himself but instead glanced at Fu Jiaxi beside him.

Her bowl still had more soup left.

Zhou Xiaojun was quick to point out the obvious double standard. “Why are you looking at her? Girls are supposed to eat slowly and delicately.”

Yue Jincheng was speechless.

Aunt Yuan took Yue Jiayi’s hand. “How about I take you to pick some loquats?”

The small orchard behind Man Yuan was neatly maintained and abundant with fruit. The loquats were ripe and ready for picking, and Yue Jiayi happily tagged along.

“Did you scold Jiayi again?” Zhou Xiaojun asked pointedly, immediately sensing that something was off with these three individuals.

Adults knew how to mask their emotions for the sake of stability, but children didn’t. Yue Jiayi wore his unhappiness openly on his face.

Yue Jincheng sighed helplessly. “Grandma, I didn’t.”

“Not you—then is it Jiaxi?”

“She didn’t either.”

“Then it must be you who made them unhappy.”

Yue Jincheng conceded. “Alright, it’s my fault.”

Before Fu Jiaxi could say anything, Zhou Xiaojun cut in, “Don’t cover for him. You’re always too soft-hearted.”

A heavy brick seemed to drop into Yue Jincheng’s heart.

Soft-hearted?

Wasn’t she the one who had insisted so firmly on divorcing him?

The sound of her cane thudded against the floor as Zhou Xiaojun raised her voice. “What’s with that look? Your expression is very unfriendly.”

Every time they visited Man Yuan, Yue Jincheng was the one who bore the brunt of his grandmother’s complaints—it had become routine.

After finishing the soup, Fu Jiaxi went to the orchard to join her son in picking loquats.

Yue Jincheng was left behind.

Zhou Xiaojun said, “Come with me to the Buddha hall.”

A spacious room facing south had been set aside as the Buddha hall. It was bright and tidy, with minimal decoration—a set of yellow pearwood furniture exuded a faint fragrance. Above the incense burner stood a statue of Guanyin.

Over thirty years had passed, and Man Yuan had undergone numerous renovations, but this Buddha hall remained unchanged.

Zhou Xiaojun knelt on a meditation cushion, turning a string of small-leaf sandalwood prayer beads between her fingers.

She recited the Kṣitigarbha Sutra . When Yue Jincheng was young and often neglected by his father, he would come here whenever he felt hurt or wronged.

Years of accumulated grievances weighed heavily on him.

That’s why Zhou Xiaojun always invited him into the Buddha hall—to listen to the sutras, breathe in the sandalwood scent, calm his mind, and reduce his anger.

But today, after only a short while, Zhou Xiaojun waved her hand dismissively. “You’re too preoccupied to focus. Forget it, forget it. Go light an incense stick for the Bodhisattva.”

Yue Jincheng helped her up and responded, “Alright.”

“Did you have a fight with Jiaxi?”

“A few days ago. Sort of.”

It was the day she had been harassed by Director Lin. Yue Jincheng had rushed to her rescue, pulling her from the fire, but she hadn’t appreciated it.

After hearing the details, Zhou Xiaojun sighed. “Jiaxi has suffered a lot.”

“I know she’s struggled,” Yue Jincheng said. “I’ve never mistreated her or made her suffer.”

Zhou Xiaojun carefully coiled her prayer beads and slipped them back onto her wrist. “She carries a lot of pain inside.”

Yue Jincheng couldn’t help but feel resentful. “I work hard too, staying late every night without a moment’s rest. Let alone attending dinners or blind dates—those kinds of perks.”

Zhou Xiaojun was pleasantly surprised. “Jiaxi went on a blind date? What was the boy like? How old was he? What kind of personality did he have? Did he wear glasses and look refined?”

Fu Jiaxi had once mentioned that she liked refined men.

Whether it was serious or just a joke, Zhou Xiaojun had remembered it.

But Yue Jincheng felt suffocated. “Who she goes on blind dates with has nothing to do with me.”

Zhou Xiaojun said, “Exactly. Since it has nothing to do with you, stop acting like a child and tattling to me.”

Yue Jincheng: “….”

“You two are divorced. You don’t share the same household anymore, so there should be boundaries. It’s your responsibility to ensure she has food and clothing because she gave birth to your child, which is a great sacrifice. But you shouldn’t interfere in her life. Who she meets and gets to know is her right—it has nothing to do with you.”

The elder’s words were blunt, unfiltered, harsh yet undeniably true.

Yue Jincheng felt as if a hammer had struck him deep inside. Though wounded, he made one last attempt to argue. “We may not live under the same roof, but we just walked through the same door together, didn’t we?”

Zhou Xiaojun shot him a look that said, “I can’t be bothered with you,” and headed to the orchard to find Fu Jiaxi.

“Let me see this—why can’t it be paid for?”

“Grandma, are you gifting another luxury yacht to someone again?”

“A handsome boy like that deserves a few rockets as thanks.”

Fu Jiaxi chuckled. “Thanks for what?”

“For making me happy just by looking at him,” Zhou Xiaojun said, urging her on. “Hurry up and fix my phone.”

Zhou Xiaojun was an extraordinary grandmother—she could devoutly chant Buddhist scriptures while also embracing new trends. Recently, she had become addicted to short videos, especially those featuring handsome young men. Whenever they went live, she wouldn’t feel satisfied unless she sent them a few big rockets.

After Fu Jiaxi helped her adjust the settings, Zhou Xiaojun was delighted.

“You should drink another bowl of ginseng soup later. You look so exhausted—is work really that tough?” Zhou Xiaojun asked. “Are you struggling? Have you been wronged?”

Fu Jiaxi replied, “No, everything’s fine.”

Zhou Xiaojun nodded. “You always report good news but hide the bad. I worry about you, but I won’t stop you. If you compare the pain of being wronged at work with the regret of giving it up, which would you choose?”

Fu Jiaxi thought carefully and quickly answered, “Work.”

Zhou Xiaojun nodded. “Then the委屈 (hardship) isn’t really hardship.”

A sudden sense of clarity washed over Fu Jiaxi. She gently supported Zhou Xiaojun. “Grandma, thank you.”

As they strolled slowly through the orchard, Zhou Xiaojun said, “You need to know what you truly want. Once you do, no one and nothing can sway you. There’s no need to get angry or argue.”

Fu Jiaxi understood.

Her grandmother’s words were heartfelt, aimed at mending the rift between her and Yue Jincheng from the other night.

Later, Zhou Xiaojun played with Yue Jiayi, while Fu Jiaxi sat on a hammock chair reviewing her work.

Regarding the incident with Director Lin, Fu Jiaxi had mentally prepared herself to be fired at any moment. Unexpectedly, not only was Lin Yiming dismissed, but the company also entrusted her with an important bidding project.

Fu Jiaxi silently encouraged herself, determined to complete the task perfectly.

The orchard was filled with the light fragrance of fruits and flowers, accompanied by a gentle breeze and birdsong—a perfect setting for contemplation.

Fu Jiaxi typed away on her laptop, drafting an outline and organizing her thoughts.

Suddenly, Yue Jincheng’s voice interrupted her. “Jinyun Silver Industry is a benchmark in southern Guizhou. Eighty percent of the mining mountains there are monopolized by them. Limiting your research to southern Guizhou alone is meaningless.”

Startled, Fu Jiaxi turned her head. When did he come over?

His words were blunt but made sense, prompting Fu Jiaxi to think deeply.

“If Jinyun wants to pursue securitization, they must have a complete system to mitigate market risks. You should focus on this angle—they’re not after profits; they need the system as support.”

Instinctively, Fu Jiaxi shifted to make space.

Yue Jincheng, who had been waiting for an invitation, gladly took the seat and gestured for her to bring the laptop closer.

Fu Jiaxi handed the laptop over, enlarging the screen to better understand his advice. “I should focus less on specifics and more on building the system.”

Yue Jincheng nodded. “That’s the proposal. The essence lies in the core. What you need to provide is proof of its feasibility and completeness.”

Fu Jiaxi felt enlightened and fell into deep thought.

Yue Jincheng suddenly asked, “What’s this?”

“Where?”

“Bring it closer.”

Fu Jiaxi simply lifted the laptop and brought it close to his eyes.

They were now close enough that the faint fragrance she wore since getting into the car finally reached his nose.

Yue Jincheng realized with both clarity and melancholy that she had changed her perfume.

“Oh, I was mistaken,” he muttered dismissively, his gaze lingering on her smooth nape.

Still immersed in her thoughts, Fu Jiaxi eventually noticed something amiss.

She turned abruptly, catching Yue Jincheng’s lingering gaze.

Their eyes met, and the silence cooled the warmth of the moment, letting the fleeting tenderness drift away like smoke.

Yue Jincheng stood up from the hammock. “You can refer to my suggestions. If you encounter difficulties, contact Secretary Jiao.”

Fu Jiaxi asked, “Does Secretary Jiao understand this field?”

“No,” Yue Jincheng replied. “But I do.”

With dual degrees in finance and law from MIT and as the decision-maker of Baifeng Group, of course he did.

“Then why can’t I ask you directly?”

Yue Jincheng averted his face, his tone distant. “You didn’t want to talk to ‘people like us,’ remember?”

Fu Jiaxi detected a hint of stubborn resentment and couldn’t help but smile faintly. “If you want to argue, just say so.”

“People like us aren’t worthy of arguing with you,” Yue Jincheng retorted, casually plucking an unripe tomato, clearly hoping for reconciliation.

A brief silence settled, broken only by the rustling leaves, the wind, and the cicadas’ rhythmic chirping.

Fu Jiaxi suddenly spoke softly, “I’m sorry for my tone that night.”

Yue Jincheng’s anger dissipated immediately. “Did the company give you any trouble?”

“No.”

“If anything urgent comes up in the future, call me directly. I’ll pick up Jiayi. You can focus on your work.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

After dinner at Man Yuan, they left at seven.

Before leaving, Zhou Xiaojun asked Fu Jiaxi to find some entertaining streamers for her evening amusement.

Yue Jiayi, tired from a day of play, fell asleep groggily.

The road ahead was illuminated by headlights, with the moon high above. They encountered green lights all the way, cruising smoothly.

Feeling thirsty, Fu Jiaxi reached for water, but the cap was too tight to open. Yue Jincheng took the bottle from her, unscrewed it with one hand, and handed it back.

It all felt so natural, no words needed.

This was the默契 (understanding) forged through years of shared hardships, joys, intimacy, and life together.

Such默契 could nurture fleeting warmth.

At this moment—

Yue Jincheng and Fu Jiaxi sat side by side in the car, surrounded by unspoken feelings and words left unsaid.

At the housing complex, they got out at the entrance.

Sleepy-eyed Yue Jiayi clung tightly to Yue Jincheng, unwilling to let go. He murmured drowsily, “Why does the weekend go by so fast? Can we start over?”

Yue Jincheng replied, “Nothing can be redone; there’s only the next time.”

Yue Jiayi suggested, “Next week, I want to go to the amusement park.”

“How about horseback riding again?” Yue Jincheng offered.

Finally pleased, Yue Jiayi waved goodbye reluctantly.

As Fu Jiaxi was about to leave with her son, a familiar yet strange voice called out from the side.

“President Yue, what a coincidence.”

The window of a red Ferrari rolled down, revealing a radiant face.

Guan Yeqin stepped out of the car, her white skirt perfectly matching the vehicle. “I’ve just returned from a business trip, and the first person I see is you.”

Yue Jincheng reached for a cigarette, replying indifferently, “The first person you saw was probably the flight attendant.”

Guan Yeqin laughed. “Your sense of humor is getting colder.”

The nights these days were indeed a little chilly.

“Ah, I only saw the back earlier—it looked familiar. Was that Jiaxi?”

Yue Jincheng lit his lighter, lowering his head to light the cigarette. The flame illuminated a shadow on his brow.

Guan Yeqin sighed with mock regret. “She walked away too quickly. Otherwise, I should have greeted her and caught up. Her figure hasn’t changed—still so fit and spirited. How has she been these past two years? Has she started a new life?”

Yue Jincheng paused, the cigarette held near his lips. Turning his head, his gaze burned like smoldering dry leaves—no visible flames, only suffocating smoke.

Yue Jincheng coldly warned, “How she’s doing has nothing to do with you.”

Guan Yeqin noticed his displeasure and took a step back, tilting her head with a teasing smile. “You can’t keep holding a grudge against me just because I made you face the truth, President Yue.”