Ji Ying decided to start a one‑sided cold war with Fu Jingshen. He wasn’t just a little bad—he was bad beyond measure!
All the way to school, Ji Ying didn’t take the initiative to say a single word. She thought anyone with eyes should be able to tell she was angry. But her upbringing made it impossible for her to truly ignore him.
As they neared the campus, the man’s deep voice sounded beside her. “Yinghua.”
Ji Ying looked at him, lips pressed tight, long lashes lowered to hide her silent reproach.
“Five‑thirty tonight.” Fu Jingshen spoke softly. “I’ll pick you up at the school gate.”
“Mm.”
“What do you want to eat tonight?”
“Anything.”
“I can’t have dinner with you tonight. There’s a social engagement.”
“…Oh.”
The car fell silent.
Fu Jingshen set down his tablet, gaze dropping to her tightly pressed lips. “Don’t want to talk to me anymore?”
Ji Ying: “A little.” She lifted her chin, announcing softly: “So I’m going to have a cold war with you.”
Fu Jingshen turned his head, elbow resting on the window, long fingers covering the laugh threatening to escape his throat. “Because of the guest room?”
Ji Ying turned away, muttering gloomily: “As long as Third Brother knows.”
“You shouldn’t tease me like that.”
“How long will this cold war last?”
Ji Ying: “Three days.”
“Three days?” Fu Jingshen raised a brow.
Was that too long? They had just married—wasn’t a cold war that long a bit unsuitable?
Ji Ying frowned lightly, hesitating. “Then… one day?”
“You want me to sleep on the floor tonight?”
Ji Ying: “……” Was that really all he could think of?
“Or maybe separate rooms…”
Fu Jingshen interrupted: “Mm?”
“Then half a day.” Ji Ying pressed her lips together, holding up one finger.
“No less than that.”
Fu Jingshen glanced at his watch, speaking calmly: “It’s eight o’clock in the morning now.”
“I’ll wait for you until ten tonight.”
At the words “ten o’clock”, Ji Ying’s lashes fluttered. She glanced nervously at the driver in the front seat, trying to make herself invisible—afraid the man’s next words would be “wait for me in bed.”
Thankfully, they weren’t.
The car pulled up beside the school.
Ji Ying quickly opened the door and hurried out. She raised her hand to bid Fu Jingshen goodbye, but halfway through, she remembered they were still in a cold war. Awkwardly, she lowered her hand and turned to leave.
She didn’t realize that the moment she turned away, the man in the back seat curved his lips in quiet amusement—showing not the slightest hint of “reflection” one should have during a cold war.
“Let’s go,” he instructed the driver.
The driver, who had been invisible all this time, finally breathed a sigh of relief. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ji Ying’s light steps as she left. *Madam Ji really is too kindhearted. In the future, won’t Mr. Fu have her completely in the palm of his hand?*
As finals approached, coursework grew more intense. Ji Ying had classes all day today, even staying on campus for lunch. Before her afternoon class, she received a call from her mother.
“Nannan, how is it? Are you comfortable living there? Is there anything you’re missing?” As soon as the call connected, Yu Wanqing fired off a string of questions.
“Mom, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Still uneasy, Yu Wanqing pressed for details, which Ji Ying answered patiently one by one.
Just as Ji Ying was about to end the call—since class was about to start—her mother’s tone faltered, as if she had something difficult to say.
“Mom, is there something else?”
“Uh…” Yu Wanqing paused for a moment. “Maybe a little.”
Ji Ying glanced at the time, half amused, half helpless. “What is it?”
“This is something only I can ask you.” Yu Wanqing hesitated, then finally asked: “Last night… did you and Jingshen share a room?”
Ji Ying’s ears instantly burned red. Even with a parent—especially with a parent—talking about such matters was far more embarrassing than with her peers. Her pale fingers tightened around the phone. After a long pause, she murmured faintly: “…Mm.”
Silence fell on the other end. After several seconds, Yu Wanqing continued cautiously: “Did Jingshen… treat you too roughly at all?”
“No, he didn’t…”
But Yu Wanqing was already rambling on: “Nannan, listen to me. You can’t indulge a man too much in this area, or your body won’t be able to handle it. And did you take precautions? Before the wedding, we already told the Fu family—your body can’t have children for now…”
Ji Ying, cheeks burning scarlet, couldn’t even finish her words. “No… none of that…!”
“We just slept in the same bed, that’s all.”
Yu Wanqing froze. “What do you mean *nothing*—you didn’t…?” After a few seconds, her voice suddenly rose. “Fu Jingshen can’t do it?!”
Ji Ying: “……” How was she supposed to know if he could or couldn’t?
“That’s not right.” From the other end came the sound of anxious footsteps. Yu Wanqing muttered: “Didn’t the premarital health report say there were no problems?”
Ji Ying was forced to recall the morning’s embarrassment again.
She drew a quiet breath. “He… he should be fine.”
Yu Wanqing: “If there’s no problem, then how come you two…”
Before she could finish, Ji Ying raised her voice to cut her off: “Mom, I have class now. Let’s talk later, bye!”
Only after hanging up did Ji Ying exhale deeply, pausing to collect herself before heading back to the classroom.
Before the teacher arrived, her phone buzzed softly. Thinking it was her mother again, she glanced down—only to see a message from Fu Jingshen.
F: [Image]
[I think this suits you.]
Ji Ying looked up at the blackboard—still no teacher—then lowered her gaze again, unable to resist enlarging the picture.
It was a golden hairpin adorned with cherry blossoms, exquisitely designed and dazzlingly beautiful.
One glance, and Ji Ying’s heart stirred. Her pale fingers tapped the screen, ready to reply. But just as she sent the message, she suddenly remembered something. She quickly retracted it. Unfortunately, the screen still showed the trace of her withdrawal.
Ji Ying lowered her lashes, overcome with embarrassment. Deciding it was better not to see, she shoved the phone into her bag.
Earlier that noon, Fu Jingshen had met with the manager of a traditional jewelry brand under the Fu Group. By chance, he saw the design sketch of this hairpin, named “Sakura Whisper.”
Guessing Ji Ying might like it, he sent her the finished product image. When he returned to his work and checked his phone again, he noticed the silence in his chat. His brow arched slightly as he tapped in, seeing the line: [The other party withdrew a message and cast a forgetting spell on you.]
Fu Jingshen rested his chin on his hand, laughing softly.
Ji Ying never looked at her phone during class, even though Ancient Chinese was enough to make anyone drowsy. She forced herself to stay focused and sat through three lectures.
Finally, when class ended, Ji Ying hugged her books and followed the crowd out of the classroom. At this hour, many students were leaving, the hallway packed with people, shoulders linked, laughter echoing everywhere.
Ji Ying stopped at the doorway, waiting for the crowd to thin. She had never lived in a dorm. From the start of university, her family arranged for her to commute, even exempting her from military training. As a result, she still had no real friends, only acquaintances who nodded politely in passing. She had tried to get along with the girls in her class. They were friendly, but for some reason, there was always a distance she couldn’t cross.
Only when the hallway finally cleared did Ji Ying walk out slowly. As she walked, she picked up her phone to check messages. She hadn’t looked all afternoon, and the device buzzed nonstop. Suddenly, her fingers froze.
Fu Jingshen’s message had arrived two hours earlier, carefully phrased to preserve her dignity.
F: [Forgot you’re still giving me the cold shoulder.]
F: *I’ll wait until ten for your reply.]
Ji Ying: “……”
Expression blank, she turned off the screen. A moment later, she turned it back on. Her fingertip hovered over Fu Jingshen’s profile card, tapping lightly in the notes field. [ldx]
She was absorbed in this when a surprised male voice came from behind.
“Miss Ji?”
“Mm?” Ji Ying turned instinctively, blinking at the vaguely familiar young man before her.
“Don’t you remember me, Miss Ji?”
The boy was handsome, dressed in a clean white T‑shirt and jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder, a camera hanging from his neck.
Seeing her unfamiliar expression, his smile faded, and he lowered his head awkwardly. “I’m Xiao Yang. We met at the entrance of Yulinling.…” He pointed to the camera around his neck, speaking nervously. “I even took some photos of you.”
“It was you.” Ji Ying’s eyes lit with recognition, a small smile curving her lips. “I remember now.”
By then, the after‑school rush had passed, and the campus path was quiet. Ji Ying walked toward the school gate, Xiao Yang keeping pace beside her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the books in her arms.
“So Miss Ji… you’re a student here too?”
“How come I’ve never seen you?”
“Yes.” Ji Ying smiled. “But I’m not often on campus.”
“Are you in the Literature Department?”
“Just call me Ji Ying.” She answered. “Chinese Language and Literature, third year.”
“I’m in Photography, second year.” Xiao Yang fiddled nervously with his camera. “Maybe I should call you *senior*.”
“Either way is fine.” Ji Ying replied casually.
Ji Ying wasn’t someone who talked much, and Xiao Yang didn’t seem to be either. The two walked in silence. Nearing the school gate, Ji Ying turned her head and asked: “I’m heading out of campus. Where are you going?”
Of course, Xiao Yang was supposed to return to his dorm, but without realizing it, he had followed her this far. He rubbed the back of his head, stammering: “Uh… I—I’m going out too.”
Ji Ying smiled lightly and nodded. “That’s quite a coincidence.”
Xiao Yang let out a breath of relief and continued walking beside her. Suddenly remembering something, he spoke: “Senior, do you still remember the photos I took of you last time?”
“I do.” Ji Ying praised him: “They were very beautiful.”
Xiao Yang suddenly didn’t dare look at her. He lowered his head, staring at his toes, lips pressed tight. “They’re not even one‑ten‑thousandth as good as you in person.”
Ji Ying curved her lips into a smile. “Thank you.”
“Senior, did you know? Those photos have already made it into the finals of a photography competition.”
By now, they had reached the school gate, where cars and people bustled past. Ji Ying responded absent‑mindedly, her gaze already scanning the traffic for Fu Jingshen’s car.
“This is the first time I’ve ever produced such a successful piece.” Xiao Yang looked at her, face alight with excitement. “And it’s all thanks to you.”
A low‑key black business car pulled up under the shade of a tree. Ji Ying’s eyes locked on it as the rear window slowly lowered. A long, slender hand rested casually on the edge, a black watch gleaming on the wrist. Through the glass, she couldn’t see his expression—but she felt it. His gaze was on her, sharp and inescapable, like a net closing around prey. Her heartbeat instantly skipped.
Ji Ying could no longer hear what Xiao Yang was saying. She hurriedly cut in: “Xiao Yang, my family’s here to pick me up. I’ll go now.”
“Ah?” Xiao Yang froze. “So soon?” He hesitated, then said: “Then… goodbye, Senior.”
Ji Ying waved to him in farewell.
Watching her walk away, Xiao Yang suddenly called out again: “Senior.”
The setting sun cast a golden glow over Ji Ying’s head, her profile as beautiful as a painting.
Xiao Yang forgot to breathe for a moment, then stammered: “If I win the award, I’ll contact you again.”
Ji Ying smiled and nodded. “Then I’ll wait for your good news.”
She walked toward the car. Before she could open the door, Fu Jingshen stepped out.
Why did he get out? The tall man stood behind her, his presence enveloping her completely.
Ji Ying glanced at him once, but true to her principles, said nothing—just bent down and got into the car.
Xiao Yang lingered for a moment, watching the girl’s graceful figure fade into the distance, then walked toward the business car.
The next second— The rear door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped down. A man emerged, broad‑shouldered, narrow‑waisted, his tall frame completely blocking the slender girl from view.
Xiao Yang froze, his grip on the camera slackening. That man… who is he?
Not far away, Ji Ying bent down and got into the car, disappearing from sight. The man standing by the door seemed to sense something, turning his gaze across the distance. That look was strong, cold, and carried an undeniable possessiveness.
In an instant, Xiao Yang’s back went cold.
From the moment Ji Ying entered the car, she leaned against the seat, closing her eyes as if to nap.
When the man got in, he brought with him the heat from outside. The heavy *bang* of the door closing sounded louder than usual—perhaps just her imagination. Her lashes trembled, but she didn’t open her eyes.
Fu Jingshen seemed disinclined to speak. For a while, the only sound in the car was the rustle of papers as he flipped through documents.
Having skipped rest at noon, drowsiness quickly overtook her. But since the school wasn’t far from home, Ji Ying forced herself to stay awake until the car stopped downstairs. She opened the door and got out.
Fu Jingshen lifted his head from the papers, glanced at her once. “Wait for me at home.”
Ji Ying pressed her lips together and nodded. Turning, she walked into the building.
That evening, after dinner, Yu Wanqing called again.
Ji Ying was in the study working on coursework. Seeing the caller ID, her lashes flickered, and she answered helplessly. “Mom.”
Yu Wanqing’s voice was low. “Nannan, is Jingshen beside you?”
“No.” Ji Ying tapped lightly on the keyboard with her free hand, answering casually. “He went out for a social engagement.”
“Oh…” Yu Wanqing hesitated. “I’ve been thinking all afternoon, and I’m still not at ease.”
Ji Ying’s movements paused. *Not at ease about what?*
“Between husband and wife, these things are very important. You’re still young, you don’t realize it—but it can affect your happiness for a lifetime…”
In Ji Ying’s mind, a heavy question mark slowly formed.
“No…” She gave a wry smile. “Third Brother and I just started living together. We need time to adjust, don’t we?”
“So last night—it was you who didn’t want to?”
Ji Ying was tongue‑tied, suddenly unsure how to respond. But since she had asked for this marriage herself, she couldn’t let her mother worry. “I wasn’t unwilling.”
Beyond that, Ji Ying didn’t want to say more. She knew her mother was habitually concerned, but now that she was married, she had to step beyond those restraints.
“My relationship with Third Brother is very good. You don’t need to worry.” Ji Ying said. “I’m busy with assignments now. I’ll call you later.”
After hanging up, Ji Ying drew a deep breath. Suddenly, she lost all desire to continue her coursework. She turned, pulled a thick book from the shelf, and set it on the desk.
This was a rare Buddhist scripture gifted to her by Song Yun, which Ji Ying had specially brought from the Ji residence to the new home.
As a child, Ji Ying had poor health and couldn’t do many of the things she wanted. Song Yun gave her the scripture, hoping it would help her cultivate calmness and peace of mind.
Ji Ying had spent years reading and copying it; the Ji residence’s shelves were filled with stacks of handwritten Buddhist texts. She opened the heavy pages. From between the layers of paper, she pulled out a long slip of notes.
On it, the handwriting ranged from childish to mature, filled over the years with wishes yet to be fulfilled:
– Want to eat cotton candy
– Want to ride a roller coaster at the amusement park
– Want to eat from the food stalls at the school gate
– Want to eat Yun Su cakes from Jingyun Pavilion
– Want to go to the seaside
– Want to see the aurora
The dates moved from distant past to recent times—
– Want to get a driver’s license and drive a sports car
– Want to visit Huizhou
– …
Ji Ying’s fingertips held the wish list. With her other hand, she took a pen and gently ticked off “Yun Su cakes,” then marked half a tick beside “Huizhou.”
After a long pause, she placed the wish list back into the book. Tilting her head, she dipped a brush into ink, lowered it, and began copying the scripture again.
*Don’t rush. Take it slowly.*
Through marriage, she had already gained freedom. All her wishes would be fulfilled.
Time slipped by. Unnoticed, when Ji Ying lifted her eyes, it was already ten at night.
He’s not back yet? She set down her brush and picked up her phone to call Fu Jingshen. But the moment the call connected, the ringtone sounded from outside the door. Ji Ying looked up in surprise—there was Fu Jingshen, leaning against the study doorway, his tall figure framed in the light.
“Huh?” Ji Ying asked in astonishment. “When did you come back?”
“Just now.” Fu Jingshen loosened his tie and stepped into the study. He seemed to have drunk a little, though not much.
“Ten o’clock.” Fu Jingshen glanced at his watch, then looked at her with a faint, teasing smile. “Has the cold war ended, Mrs. Fu?”
Ji Ying had nearly forgotten about it. She stammered: “I think… it’s over.”
Fu Jingshen stepped closer, standing behind her. His broad, cool palm brushed her cheek. Leaning down, his breath was crisp yet commanding, his thin lips parting as they touched her ear.
“So Mrs. Fu is giving me the cold shoulder, yet with another man—” His deep voice stretched deliberately: “Chatting so happily?”