Zhong Chu felt as though she had never seen this side of An Yanqing before. Between the two of them, there had always been a sharp, antagonistic intensity.
In front of others, An Yanqing was gentle, polite, calm, and composed. Only before Zhong Chu did she not hesitate to reveal more vivid emotions.
Though more often than not, this “special treatment” made Zhong Chu grit her teeth in resentment. Countless times, she couldn’t help but think that if time could flow backward to the day they first met in their youth, she would certainly never have let that damned curiosity drive her to initiate a conversation with An Yanqing.
The balcony lights were not on; the light from the main hall spilled out across An Yanqing’s feet. Darkness draped down at a slant, hiding half of An Yanqing’s silhouette within it, leaving her eyes and brows visible but unreadable in their emotion.
She stood still, turned off her phone, and watched Zhong Chu quietly and intently.
At this moment, in a similar setting, Zhong Chu didn’t think of anything else; instead, she suddenly recalled the fleeting sense of fragility and brokenness she had felt from An Yanqing earlier at the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau.
Zhong Chu pursed her lips slightly and pushed open the transparent balcony door. “…Was that a call from my grandfather?”
The wind rushed in instantly, a sharp chill slicing across her skin and sinking into her heart. Zhong Chu instinctively flinched, a slight itch rising in her throat, and she couldn’t help but cover her mouth and cough twice.
An Yanqing seemed to sense her involuntary shivering. She stepped inside of her own accord and carefully closed the door before resting her hand on the doorframe and answering, “It was his call. He asked about today’s situation and reminded us not to forget to go back tomorrow.”
Zhong Chu moved aside to make a path, but An Yanqing didn’t walk past immediately. Her gaze swept over the room as if searching for something.
As soon as Zhong Chu looked down, she saw the slender cigarette held in An Yanqing’s palm.
In an instant, countless questions flooded her heart. Action moved faster than thought; before An Yanqing could react, Zhong Chu frowned slightly and snatched the item from her hand. “An Yanqing, you’ve learned to be bad now? You actually smoke?”
Her movements were very fast. Caught off guard, An Yanqing felt her hand suddenly empty.
The lingering sensation of the object was still there. She instinctively curled her fingers and lifted her eyes to look at Zhong Chu, her red lips pressed thin. “I don’t.”
Zhong Chu snapped the cigarette and threw it into the trash can. The movements were fluid and practiced. She turned back to glare at her, clearly unconvinced. “After being away for a few years, you’ve picked up more and more bad habits.”
Her tone wasn’t exactly polite; it even carried a hint of inexplicable irritability.
Old Master Zhong placed great importance on health and touched neither tobacco nor alcohol. Having been influenced by him since childhood, Zhong Chu’s lifestyle habits mirrored her grandfather’s, and she fully subscribed to his health philosophy.
An Yanqing knew that Zhong Chu’s daily routine was extremely disciplined. Every meal was specially prepared by a nutritionist according to strict nutritional ratios. It was only logical that she would detest things like tobacco and alcohol that harmed the body.
An Yanqing rubbed her palm, thinking of the scene earlier that day where Zhong Chu was playing around with friends in a bar. She wanted to ask, Then why have you broken your own rules now?
The words reached the tip of her tongue but she held them back, choosing instead to explain: “I don’t smoke. Someone else gave it to me. At that moment, I just happened to want something to hold in my hand, so I took it out on a whim.”
She searched her pocket and found only a single opened cigarette pack, which she proactively handed to Zhong Chu. “I don’t even have a lighter here.”
Zhong Chu opened it and glanced inside. There was indeed only one empty slot; the remains of that cigarette had already been tossed into the trash by her.
She took all the cigarettes out, snapping them one by one, not forgetting to shoot An Yanqing a look. “Since you have no use for them, I’ll help you throw them away.”
She spoke with utter naturalness, acting first and reporting later, giving An Yanqing no room to refuse. An Yanqing crossed her arms and leaned against the cold wall, watching Zhong Chu’s crisp, decisive movements. Her thoughts drifted for a moment back to the buried memories of the past.
This familiar bossiness occasionally caused her to lose herself for a moment—as if the barriers between them had never existed, as if they were still the bickering yet inseparable “joyful enemies” of their youth. And Zhong Chu’s habit of managing her was still there.
She quickly cut off those thoughts and lowered her lashes, her gaze following the movement down to the wreckage in the trash can.
An Yanqing didn’t have a smoking habit, but perhaps due to the strange atmosphere today, she suddenly felt an impulse to light one.
Zhong Chu snapped every last piece until they were unrecognizable, then took a tissue and slowly wiped the tobacco debris from her hands. She looked up and asked again, “Isn’t your relationship with my grandfather quite close? Why did you sound so formal and distant just now?”
The Zhong and An families were long-time family friends; in their childhood, they frequently visited each other. The Zhong family was small, with Zhong Chu being the only child of her generation. She had always been the center of attention, pampered in the palms of everyone’s hands.
Yet whenever An Yanqing arrived, Old Master Zhong would always call her over for a chat. The elder, who usually didn’t show his emotions, would be beaming with joy when he saw her. Zhong Chu’s parents were also full of praise for An Yanqing, and after every visit, they would inevitably mention her.
The young Zhong Chu had been spoiled and frequently got jealous or threw tantrums over this.
Given the fact that her grandfather had forced her to marry An Yanqing, hearing the distant tone of their conversation naturally made her feel suspicious.
She stood up straight and stared at An Yanqing’s face, her gaze unintentionally carrying a hint of scrutiny.
Zhong Chu was a striking, flamboyant beauty. Although her personality was somewhat arrogant due to being pampered by her family, she had been brought to various social events since childhood. She was used to the clinking of glasses and the social dance; in social settings, she was always dignified, elegant, and poised.
Once she darkened her expression, she possessed an indescribable air of authority.
Her gaze was practically severe. An Yanqing tilted her head slightly, her eyes falling on the hem of Zhong Chu’s skirt. She said softly, “My relationship with Grandpa Zhong isn’t as close as you imagine.”
Zhong Chu frowned slightly. With her preconceived notions, she wasn’t about to believe such a dismissive answer. She wanted to press further, but An Yanqing finally found what she was looking for, walked over quickly, and picked it up.
The air conditioning remote had been tucked away in the furthest corner under the TV cabinet. The apartment’s decoration had been handled entirely by her manager, and the items had been arranged by her young assistant. She was no more familiar with this place than Zhong Chu was.
She turned on the air conditioner, adjusted the temperature, and said to Zhong Chu, “It is a bit cold at night.”
Zhong Chu’s train of thought hadn’t switched over yet, and she glanced subconsciously at the balcony door. “…It’s alright, it’s not that cold.”
Today she was wearing only a simple black short dress. It bore no brand logo, but the design and tailoring were impeccable, perfectly outlining her exquisite figure.
An Yanqing recognized at a glance that this was Zhong Chu’s own work. Designer Zhong’s name was known to everyone in the fashion world. she was exceptionally gifted in art, with bold and unique styling, always managing to integrate traditional Chinese elements into her designs.
Every time her designs debuted, they triggered a wave of popularity.
The fashion world and the entertainment industry intersected deeply. For a high-profile designer like Zhong Chu—who was proud, cold, and backed by the massive Zhong Group—her prized works were something that ordinary minor celebrities couldn’t wear even if they wanted to.
She was dressed even more thinly than An Yanqing. The late-night temperature was lower, and with the damp chill of the night, even An Yanqing could feel a slight coldness. How could this “delicate and physically weak” eldest miss—who prioritized image over warmth—possibly not be cold?
An Yanqing ignored her stubbornness and set down the remote.
“Zhong Chu, there is a minor problem between us that urgently needs to be solved,” her gaze lingered for a moment on the edge of Zhong Chu’s black skirt, her brows arching slightly. “I only have one bed here.”