The next day, the weather cleared.
At 7:30 in the morning, Fu Jingshen returned from his run, wiping sweat from his forehead before heading into the bathroom. Cold water poured over his head; he closed his eyes as droplets traced his sharp jawline, flowing down his chest and across his defined abs. After showering, he dried his hair and walked to the desk, noticing his phone screen flashing.
Seeing the caller ID, Fu Jingshen answered: “Grandfather.”
Old Master Fu, well past seventy, still spoke with a strong voice, wasting no words. He went straight to the point: “Come back to the old residence for lunch today.”
Fu Jingshen: “Understood.”
The old man gave a short grunt and ended the brief call.
Fu Jingshen was used to it. The Fu family tradition was never to say two sentences when one would suffice.
After handling his morning business, Fu Jingshen drove to the Fu residence near noon. Located in Nankang, southern Beijing, the Fu estate was one of the earliest villa districts developed in the capital—home only to the wealthy and powerful.
The Fu residence remained quiet. His grandmother had passed away years ago, leaving only Old Master Fu and a staff of housekeepers.
Old Master Fu had only one son and one daughter. The daughter, Fu Pei, married far away in Shanghai. The son, Fu Yuan—Fu Jingshen’s father—preferred his own private home and rarely returned to the old estate.
Thus, in Fu Jingshen’s generation, the old master had only one direct grandson: Fu Jingshen himself. Counting Fu Pei’s twin sons, Fu Jingshen ranked third.
As the Fu family’s legitimate heir, wherever he went, people called him “Third Master Fu.”
The estate was vast. After passing through the iron gates, one had to walk a long stretch of pavilions and waterside corridors before reaching the wooden doors.
Turning the corner, Fu Jingshen saw his grandfather feeding parrots by the doorway. “Grandfather.”
Old Master Fu glanced at him. “Come in.”
The Fu family was wealthy but not ostentatious. Lunch was simple, with only one extra dish—steamed bass, Fu Jingshen’s favorite. Yet Old Master Fu, as always, ate in silence. Even with his face clearly saying, “I have something to discuss,” he waited until after the meal.
Fu Jingshen ate unhurriedly. Grandfather and grandson sat in silence, as if competing to see who could endure longer.
Knowing his grandson was like a block of ice, Old Master Fu finally set down his chopsticks. “Walk with me after lunch.”
Fu Jingshen nodded.
Afterward, they strolled into the back garden. Early spring sunlight was bright.
“These cherry blossoms are blooming beautifully,” Old Master Fu remarked, watching petals drift in the breeze.
Fu Jingshen glanced at the tree. If he remembered correctly, his grandfather had arranged for it to be transplanted when he was six. Twenty years later, the sapling had grown tall and graceful.
“If you like, I’ll have more transplanted here.”
Old Master Fu glared at him, shaking his head, walking faster—helpless against his grandson’s wooden nature.
They walked a few more steps to the rockery. Fu Jingshen looked toward the pond beyond, following his grandfather.
“Yesterday I had dinner with your Uncle Ji,” Old Master Fu said, scattering feed into the pond.
Fu Jingshen frowned at the carp scrambling for food. “Is there a problem with cooperation with the Ji family?”
Old Master Fu sighed, no longer expecting his grandson to grasp the deeper meaning. “Can’t you hope for something good?”
“Ji Chen tricked me two years ago,” Fu Jingshen said coolly. “I haven’t settled that account yet.”
Talking past each other! He spoke east, his grandfather dragged him west.
Old Master Fu’s blood pressure nearly spiked. After holding back all day, he finally burst out: “That account is easy to settle! If you have the ability to marry his beloved little sister and cherish her, I guarantee he’ll remember you for life!” His booming voice echoed across the back garden, startling the koi in the pond into scattering like frightened birds.
For a long moment, Fu Jingshen’s fingers hidden in his sleeve twitched slightly. He stared at the rippling pond, feeling a tickle in his throat, suddenly realizing the truth of the saying: ‘One word from a wise man is worth ten years of study.’
“Next week is Xiao Ying’s twentieth birthday,” Old Master Fu continued. “She was too young before, so I didn’t bring this up. But now she’s of age, and you’re no longer young yourself—it’s time to settle down.” He studied his grandson’s expression, pressing the point. “As long as your grandfather Ji and I are alive, this engagement still stands. You must marry her.”
The engagement had been arranged long ago, when both families’ wives were pregnant at the same time. The two old men agreed to a betrothal. But Fu Jingshen was born first, then Ji Chen, then Yu Wanqing gave birth to Ji Huai. Six years later, Ji Ying was finally born, so the engagement fell upon her, six years younger than Fu Jingshen.
When Ji Ying was born, not only was the Ji family overjoyed, but the Fu family also celebrated by planting a cherry blossom tree.
Fu Jingshen was silent for a moment. Then he said: “Even if I’m willing to marry, she may not be willing to wed. After all these years, we’ve only met a handful of times. I don’t believe she would want to follow this engagement.”
Old Master Fu raised his brows. He knew his grandson’s temperament—if Fu Jingshen didn’t want something, there was no room for compromise. Yet today, after only a little probing, he had actually yielded?
“You won’t know unless you try,” Old Master Fu said, giving him a sharp look. Then he added with a nod, “Besides, with your personality, it’s a miracle if any girl likes you.”
Fu Jingshen pressed his lips together. After a few seconds of silence: “So, Grandfather, do you have a way?”
Ji Ying lay at home for three days. By Wednesday, her fever finally broke, and she returned to school. She was studying Chinese Language and Literature at Beijing University. Since her classes weren’t heavy, the Ji family arranged for her to commute.
After class that afternoon, Ji Ying got into the car. Lowering her head, she saw a new WeChat message—it was from Xiao Yang. He had sent her several photos. In them, she stood on the bridge of West Street, holding a white umbrella as she walked slowly across. Taken from the side, with the umbrella’s edge partly obscuring her face, the photos captured only a faint outline—like seeing flowers in mist, or the moon reflected in water.
It had to be said: Xiao Yang’s photography was excellent. Even without showing her full face, the atmosphere was unmatched.
Ji Ying didn’t hold back her praise and thanks and saved the photos.
Xiao Yang replied instantly with several playful emojis, writing: [This is my most, most, most satisfying work!]
Ji Ying smiled and sent back an emoji, only to see Xiao Yang’s new message:
[Miss Ji, I have a photography competition coming up. May I submit your photos as my entry?]
[It’s fine if not.]
[I know this request is presumptuous.]
Ji Ying carefully reviewed the set of photos again, confirming that her full face was not visible. Then she replied: [It’s alright, you can.]
Xiao Yang happily sent over several fireworks emojis in response.
To Ji Ying, these photos were like outdoor portraits. Soon, she put the matter out of her mind.
Since her illness, Yu Wanqing had tightened her supervision over Ji Ying, watching her closely in every detail. The plan to go to Huizhou was completely shelved.
The former supplier had lost credibility, and the teahouse urgently needed new merchants. With this weighing on her mind, days passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it was the eve of Ji Ying’s twentieth birthday.
Friday.
Ji Ying stepped out from the back seat of the car. Her gaze swept around, then suddenly paused in front of a Maybach. The car was entirely black, understated to the extreme.
A few seconds later, Ji Ying moved, like a little oriole, running lightly into the house. The breeze lifted the pale yellow hem of her qipao.
Pushing the door open, Ji Ying stood in the entryway, clutching the pearls on her bag chain, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the man in formal attire seated on the sofa. “Big Brother!”
The man lifted his eyes slightly, revealing gentle brows and eyes much like hers. His jade-white fingertips tapped the sofa beside him, signaling her to sit. “Yingying.”
For the past two years, Ji Chen had been abroad, and Ji Ying had only seen him a handful of times. Now, sitting beside him, hearing his clear voice as he spoke with their mother, she finally felt the reality of her brother’s return.
“The gift has already been placed in your dressing room,” Ji Chen said. “See if you like it.”
Ji Ying sipped her tea. “I’ll look later.” She smiled at him, looping her arm through his. “I want to spend time with Big Brother first.”
Ji Chen’s lips curved. He always carried a polite smile for others, but only now did his eyes hold genuine warmth.
Ji Ying chattered happily with Ji Chen, while Yu Wanqing sat opposite them, her red lips curved, silently watching without interruption.
In the midst of their conversation, Ji Ying’s phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, her brows lifted in delight. She answered: “Second Brother!”
On the other end, though noisy, Ji Huai’s voice came through clearly, casual and roguish. “Yingying, come out tonight. I’ll take you for a walk.” Then he lowered his voice, adding: “Quietly—don’t let Mom and Dad know it’s me.”
Ever since the family fallout years ago, Ji Huai had rarely returned home, only contacting Ji Ying in secret.
Ji Ying quickly obeyed and covered the phone, but Ji Huai’s voice had already carried clearly through the line.
Ji Chen raised a brow, half-smiling. Yu Wanqing crossed her arms, her fingertips tapping against her leg.
Ji Ying glanced at the two of them, seeking approval. Seeing no objection, she curved her lips and answered: “Alright.”
Ji Huai’s tone instantly relaxed. “I’ll be waiting just outside North Alley.”
After hanging up, Ji Ying checked the time—5:30. She looked at her mother, then at Ji Chen, who sat expressionless, sipping tea. “It was Second Brother…”
Yu Wanqing sighed, her heart aching at Ji Huai’s cautious, distant attitude. “Go on then.”
Ji Chen straightened his suit and stood. “Coincidentally, I have a dinner engagement tonight. I’ll drive you there.”
Ji Ying nodded. “Okay.”
In the garage, Ji Chen drove, and Ji Ying naturally took the passenger seat.
“Ji Huai still won’t come home?” Ji Chen asked quietly.
Ji Ying: “…Mm.” Her pale fingers shifted slightly, her conflicted profile reflected in the dark window. “Second Brother said he won’t come back unless he wins an award.”
Ji Chen turned the wheel calmly. “So he’s decided never to return home for life?”
Ji Ying: “…”
Leaving the Ji residence, it took ten minutes to reach North Alley.
From a distance, Ji Ying spotted a fiery red Ferrari at the gate, blazing under the sunset.
When Ji Chen parked, Ji Ying turned. “Big Brother, I’ll get out here.”
Ji Chen gave a soft “Mm,” lowering the window to glance toward the Ferrari. The car was wrapped in privacy film, hiding its occupants.
Sensing something, Ji Huai slowly rolled down the window. Wearing sunglasses, his ice-blue hair catching the light, he leaned his pale, refined face against his hand, drawling lazily: “Yingying, get in.”
Still unaware of Ji Chen’s presence, Ji Ying coughed lightly from inside the car.
“What, do you want me to come fetch you?” Ji Huai clicked his tongue, pulling open the door with long fingers, stepping out with long legs. “Yingying, it’s not that I don’t come down—it’s just, I’m too famous. One careless move and I’ll hit the trending searches again. I know I’m popular, but I can’t keep wasting social resources…” His words caught in his throat.
Ji Huai froze mid-motion, staring at Ji Chen in the Maybach driver’s seat, his expression shifting rapidly. After a long pause, he muttered one word— “Shit.”
“Brother, you’re back?!”
Ji Chen ignored him, stepping out to open Ji Ying’s door. He instructed firmly: “Take good care of Yingying.”
Ji Huai removed his sunglasses, turning his head, clearly dissatisfied.
“Do you think I can’t take care of her?”
Ji Chen’s gaze swept him up and down. “You’d better be able to.” Then he turned to Ji Ying with a gentle smile. “I’ll leave now. Call me if you need anything.”
Ji Ying nodded, waved, and said goodbye.
Ji Huai came over to carry her bag, watching Ji Chen’s car drive away. “When did he get back?”
“Today.”
Ji Huai raised his brows. Of course, he understood—Ji Chen had rushed home early just for Ji Ying’s birthday.
Ji Ying climbed into the Ferrari’s passenger seat, curious. “Second Brother, another new car?”
Ji Huai slipped his sunglasses back on. “Not mine.”
“Huh?” Ji Ying blinked.
“It’s yours.”
Ji Huai’s lips curled into a bold grin. “Your birthday gift from me. Tomorrow I’ll have someone deliver it home.”
Tomorrow would be Ji Ying’s twentieth birthday.
“Do you like it?”
Ji Ying’s eyes shimmered with a faint smile. She curved her lips and nodded firmly. “I like it.”
Ji Huai grinned, pleased. “Is your brother good to you?”
“Yes.”
“What about Big Brother?”
“He’s good too.”
“Between me and him, who’s better?”
“…Both are good.”
“Master of balancing cups.”
“…”
“Forget it.” Ji Huai sighed dramatically. “Your brother won’t fuss about it.” As long as no other man tried to steal his sister away, everything was fine.
Ji Huai automatically ignored that insignificant piece of paper—the childhood marriage contract.