Class was over.
Jiang Ningchu glanced at her phone again. The screen was still empty.
She frowned faintly, switched her phone to silent, and began slowly gathering her books.
A dozen seconds later, she picked up her phone again with an expressionless face and switched it back to vibrate.
Tang Xiao nudged her with an elbow. “You passed your thesis defense without a hitch. So why do you still look so listless these past couple of days? Are you okay?”
Jiang Ningchu paused, her fingers tightening around the book in her hands.
Tang Xiao glanced at her. There was little emotion to be read in her delicate profile.
Jiang Ningchu’s beauty was universally acknowledged.
Soft, graceful contours framed a perfectly proportioned hint of baby fat, giving her a naturally youthful appearance.
Her skin was so fair it was almost translucent, carrying an untouched, almost innocent purity.
She was already beautiful enough, but it was her temperament that was even more captivating.
There was something inherently quiet and endearing about her, like a prized rose carefully sheltered in a greenhouse—tender and full, immaculate, untouched by dust.
When she first enrolled, everyone had assumed the legendary youngest daughter of the Jiang family would be aloof and difficult to approach. No one expected Jiang Ningchu to be so gentle and unassuming. Being around her was effortless, and her classmates all liked her.
After accepting the courtship of the medical school’s most handsome senior in her sophomore year, Jiang Ningchu had become everyone’s ideal example of having won the lottery at birth: rich, beautiful, blessed with an easy life, and lucky in love.
A bona fide winner at life.
Tang Xiao had only asked out of courtesy anyway. Before Jiang Ningchu could answer, she smoothly steered the conversation toward the latest thing that had been bothering her.
Around them, the other students hurried out of the classroom amid a clamor of voices.
Through it all, Jiang Ningchu clearly felt her phone vibrating inside her bag.
She immediately pulled it out, her heart beating faster.
The notification came from a contact she hadn’t wanted to see.
[A Good Deed a Day: Come home for dinner.]
“A Good Deed a Day” was the note she’d saved for Jiang Heng, the Jiang family’s heir.
There was no other reason for it. It was simply a reminder to herself:
He isn’t kind. I am.
The fleeting spark of hope vanished instantly.
Jiang Ningchu pressed her lips together and quickly typed back:
Okay.
Then, almost automatically, she swiped the conversation to the side and hid it.
A week had passed, and Zhou Yichi’s WeChat profile still sat quietly at the top of her pinned chats.
That night, after tossing and turning for hours and thinking it through again and again, Jiang Ningchu had finally sent him a message.
But the only reply she’d received was the one he’d sent before entering a closed-door meeting:
Need to turn off my phone. Talk later.
Something had lodged in her chest from that moment onward, and she couldn’t seem to swallow it down.
She didn’t understand.
Didn’t know why.
They had already discussed it. Shouldn’t things simply move forward as planned, one step at a time?
Why did asking one more question always have to become the spark that set everything off?
Her gaze lingered on the screen for a moment.
In the end, she locked her phone and buried it deep inside her canvas bag.
Oddly enough, the conversation that had abruptly ended a week ago offered her a sliver of comfort now: the long reply she’d painstakingly composed that night had, by some strange twist of fate, never been sent.
At least the silence hadn’t begun because she’d pressed him for answers.
She wanted to.
But she wouldn’t.
She didn’t want things to turn into a one-woman performance in which she was the hysterical, unreasonable one.
That inexplicable sense of grievance wound around her again, fine and relentless, tightening until her chest ached.
Her brows twitched faintly as she stood and walked out of the classroom.
It was a late-May evening, the sunset rich and golden.
“Wow!”
Tang Xiao suddenly jabbed her with an elbow and jerked her chin toward the distance.
“Your handsome senior came to wait for you again. You two are seriously adorable.”
Jiang Ningchu followed her gaze.
Beneath a towering plane tree at the intersection, Zhou Yichi stood tall and straight.
A simple white shirt. Well-pressed khaki trousers. An impeccable posture.
Flecks of golden sunlight slipped through the leaves and danced across his handsome profile, even gilding his gold-rimmed glasses with a warm glow.
He was looking down at his phone, his expression focused and gentle. There was a quiet, scholarly air about him.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. No wonder he’s the medical school’s heartthrob. Just standing there, he looks like a movie star.”
Tang Xiao lowered her voice, her tone full of envy.
“Handsome, brilliant, and thoughtful enough to come pick you up after class. Ahhh, what direction am I supposed to bow toward to pray for a boyfriend like that?”
Jiang Ningchu’s heart skipped a beat.
The gloom that had been weighing on her for an entire week seemed to lift, just a little, beneath the golden glow of the evening sun.
Without thinking, she quickened her pace, weaving through the crowd toward him.
But as she drew close to Zhou Yichi, her steps slowed involuntarily.
After so many days of coldness between them, there was suddenly a strange sense of unfamiliarity.
For a moment, she didn’t know how to greet him.
The moment he saw Jiang Ningchu, Zhou Yichi put away his phone, the corners of his lips curving into a warm, gentle smile.
She stopped in front of him and lowered her head, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
“Give me that.”
He naturally took the canvas bag from her shoulder.
“Heading back to the dorm, or do you want to go out for something to eat?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jiang Ningchu answered softly, “I need to go home. I haven’t been back in almost a week.”
“Okay.”
He opened the passenger door for her, as he always did, placing a hand along the edge of the roof to shield her head.
“I’ll take you home.”
Jiang Ningchu settled into the passenger seat, and the familiar scent of disinfectant immediately reached her nose.
Mixed with the immaculate cleanliness unique to a laboratory, it was unmistakably his scent—the scent that always made her feel safe.
Yet the moment the car door closed, it was as though it had shut out the warmth and noise of the outside world as well.
The cabin fell silent.
The faint warmth they’d shared moments ago quietly turned cold, and the happiness of their reunion disappeared without a trace.
They drove out of campus in silence.
Outside the window, the pale-red glow along the horizon was quickly swallowed by gathering gray clouds.
The sky darkened visibly by the minute.
The temperature seemed to drop with it, a chill settling all around her.
“It’s going to rain.”
Zhou Yichi pulled over and brought the car to a stop. His fingers rested on the unlock button, but he didn’t press it.
For a moment, the air seemed suspended.
Jiang Ningchu turned her face toward the deepening dusk in the distance.
She couldn’t remember when their once-endless conversations had turned into a silence they both understood without speaking.
Sharing had become arguing.
Arguing had escalated into cold wars.
When she didn’t speak, he pretended not to see.
She had thought she could wait until he took the initiative.
But perhaps she couldn’t.
That inexplicable stubbornness rose in her again.
There were some things she simply couldn’t bear to keep bottled up without asking.
“Um…”
Jiang Ningchu drew a deep breath and turned to meet his eyes.
“You promised we’d go home for dinner together after my thesis defense. What about today?”
Zhou Yichi froze for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly around the steering wheel.
“Xiaochu.”
He looked away from her, turning his gaze toward the window.
“I’m afraid I can’t today. There’s a problem with the experimental data. I need to go back to the lab and run it again.”
Of course.
The answer she’d expected.
There didn’t seem to be anything left to discuss.
Jiang Ningchu pressed her lips together and said nothing more. She lowered her head and reached for her seat belt.
She had barely lifted her leg when she stopped.
The passenger seat had somehow been pushed back a considerable distance.
She stretched out her lower leg. There was still a small gap between her toes and the dashboard.
Ever since Zhou Yichi had started driving this car, he’d adjusted the passenger seat to fit her build—and never touched it afterward.
Besides, this wasn’t the position she was accustomed to.
Zhou Yichi seemed completely unaware of the stiffness that had seized her.
He simply leaned over and fastened her seat belt for her.
Click.
When he straightened, that same gentle smile remained on his face.
“I noticed your neck was uncomfortable after you fell asleep last time, so I moved the seat back a little. If you get sleepy on the road from now on, just recline it all the way.”
Jiang Ningchu’s brows drew together slightly.
She hadn’t even asked…
Was he explaining it to her voluntarily?
“Oh.”
Her voice came out faint and airy. She forced a smile and quickly pushed open the car door.
“Got it. I’ll head home first. Good luck with your experiment.”
With that, Jiang Ningchu hurried out of the car with her canvas bag in her arms.
She even forgot to take the folding umbrella from the center console.
It wasn’t until Zhou Yichi’s car disappeared around the bend that she slowly turned and began walking up the winding mountain road, one step at a time.
Jiang Ningchu lived with the Jiang family in a villa community halfway up the mountain in Nancheng.
From the security booth at the foot of the mountain to the Jiang family’s villa was nearly two kilometers.
She always said she could take the property’s shuttle, but every time she got off, she ended up walking the rest of the way alone.
On a late-spring evening, the mountain wind carried the lush green scent of vegetation, damp and faintly cool.
Fine threads of rain began to fall soundlessly, drifting in like a veil of mist.
Jiang Ningchu stopped and looked up, spreading her palm absently.
Empty.
Her palm was empty.
So was her heart.
The dampness in the air was heavy, making her chest feel stifled.
And that indefinable weight hanging over her heart felt heavier still.
The rain thickened.
Tiny droplets gathered on her lashes, blurring the world before her eyes.
Mountain wind swept through the trees. Branches and leaves rustled, their sound indistinct.
She suddenly drew in a breath. The icy air mixed with rainwater, catching in her throat.
She couldn’t get it up.
Couldn’t swallow it down.
Holding her breath, she walked forward numbly.
That angle.
That distance.
There was absolutely no way that had been her position.
Then whose was it?
Once the thought surfaced, she couldn’t stop it.
A professor?
A classmate?
A relative or friend?
She went through every possibility in her mind.
No one.
Her thoughts stalled for a moment.
So…
What exactly was she suspecting?
Jiang Ningchu’s heart suddenly sank.
Was she seriously suspecting Zhou Yichi?
Zhou Yichi—the perfectionist academic who could stay up all night in the lab for the sake of getting his data right; the obsessive germaphobe who brought his own keyboard to the library; the model boyfriend who, in front of so many people, accompanied her to class as though no one else existed.
How could someone like that possibly let another woman sit in the passenger seat that was hers?
Countless tiny moments of warmth from the past three years surged through her mind.
Regret and shame churned violently together until she could barely breathe.
When had their relationship become this fragile?
They’d been in a cold war for a week, yet he still remembered her class schedule and had come to pick her up as they’d agreed.
Didn’t that count as him yielding?
Remembering the way he’d stood beneath the tree waiting for her, the tension at the corners of her mouth eased slightly.
As for dinner at home…
A cool breeze swept past, carrying rain with it.
That faint curve disappeared again.
They had been together for three years.
They’d promised to get married after graduation.
Her thesis defense was over.
It was time to meet each other’s parents.
Beep—
A sudden horn shattered the silence of the rain.
Jiang Ningchu shuddered and froze.
A formidable Maybach had pulled up beside her.
It was Jiang Heng’s car.
Jiang Heng—the Jiang family’s notorious heir.
The man she couldn’t afford to offend and couldn’t escape.
To avoid this particular “god of calamity,” she’d once seriously done her homework.
Jiang Heng had two regular cars: a Maybach and a flamboyant Aston Martin Vanquish, their license plates differing by only one digit.
If the Maybach was gone, chances were his driver had taken him to the office.
If the Vanquish disappeared, there was a very good chance he’d gone out to have fun himself.
If both were there, she’d immediately activate stealth mode. If that wasn’t possible, she’d simply turn around and sneak back to campus.
She glanced at the darkened window, her heart sinking, and pasted on a sweet, obedient smile.
“No need to trouble yourself. I can walk back—”
Before she could finish, the passenger-side window rolled halfway down.
Jiang Heng?!
The smile froze on Jiang Ningchu’s face.
Why was Jiang Heng driving?!
Where was the chauffeur?
“Like walking in the rain?”
Jiang Heng rested one hand casually on the steering wheel, his fingertips tapping against it at an unhurried rhythm.
His gaze swept carelessly over her rain-dampened shoulders.
A low, unreadable scoff escaped him.
“Quite poetic.”
“…”
Jiang Ningchu remembered the foolish way she’d just held out her hand to catch the rain, and the tips of her ears warmed.
Endure it.
She maintained the stiff little smile on her lips and stood there, waiting for him to drive away.
Jiang Heng didn’t move.
Instead, he gave her another chilly look.
Yes.
Chilly.
As though his eyes were saying: There’s a car right here and you’re still walking? Did the rain get into your brain?
Worse still, the person driving was the young master himself.
Jiang Ningchu took a breath, resigned herself to her fate, stepped forward twice, and opened the rear door.
“Do you think I’m your chauffeur?”
Jiang Heng raised his eyes and glanced at her through the rearview mirror.
“Come sit in the front.”
“…Sorry.”
She pressed her lips together, climbed into the passenger seat, and fastened her seat belt.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t you know how to address people?”
He stepped on the accelerator, and the car shot forward.
The sudden force pushed Jiang Ningchu back against the seat. She instinctively gripped the seat belt tighter.
An intensely assertive scent of cool cedar and ocean drifted from the driver’s seat, penetrating every inch of the cabin.
She lowered her eyes.
“…Thanks, Brother.”
“Mm.”
He said nothing more.
Jiang Ningchu held her breath, carefully controlling the rise and fall of her chest.
Don’t be scared.
There was nothing to be nervous about.
She attributed the inescapable sense of oppression to the three extra years of life experience he had on her.
It was only three years.
Then again, Zhou Yichi was exactly three years older than her too.
The difference…
Jiang Ningchu silently drew an equal sign in her mind, then promptly slashed a huge X through it.
Zhou Yichi was warm.
He could never radiate this kind of bone-chilling coldness.
Just as she managed to drag her thoughts back, the oppressive air inside the car crushed them again.
Cold, crisp traces of his scent seeped into her nose, making her temples throb.
It was as though cold air were constantly pouring from every pore of him.
She stubbornly resisted the urge to rub her chilled nose.
Two kilometers wasn’t far.
At full throttle, it took only a few minutes.
The car came to a stop.
Jiang Ningchu pushed open the door and stepped out.
The moment her feet touched the damp ground, she experienced the surreal feeling of someone who had narrowly escaped death.
Jiang Heng stood quietly beside the hood.
He waited patiently while she slowly closed the door.
Only then did he lock the car and turn toward the entrance.
Jiang Ningchu was still hesitating over whether she should go inside with him when her legs had already followed him on their own.
The intricately carved front door stood ajar, spilling warm yellow light and the faint murmur of voices outside.
Jiang Heng raised a hand and pushed the door open.
A slender figure happened to stumble out from inside, brushing past him.
It was their cousin, Jiang Yao.
Her eyes were red, her lashes still damp and clumped together. She had clearly been crying moments before.
The instant Jiang Yao saw Jiang Heng, she stopped dead.
Her lips moved slightly.
Jiang Heng’s reputation in Nancheng was hardly a good one.
After returning from abroad, he had taken over the Jiang Corporation with an iron hand, ruthlessly cutting away its entrenched corruption and deadwood. Within two years, he’d completed the transfer of power; by the third, he’d firmly established himself as its head.
Her father, Jiang Zhenzhou, had been one of those swept away mercilessly in the storm.
The older generation said Jiang Heng was ruthless, leaving no room for mercy.
But she knew perfectly well that if her father hadn’t given someone leverage against him in the first place…
In the end, all Jiang Yao managed was a quick nod.
She lowered her head and stepped down past him.
The sole of her shoe slipped against the marble.
Her body pitched forward.
Jiang Heng expressionlessly shifted half a step to the side, precisely moving out of her way.
He didn’t reach for her.
Didn’t say a word.
His indifference was absolute, as though he were simply avoiding an inconvenient object.
Jiang Yao braced both hands against the cold wall and steadied herself.
She didn’t dare look back.
She hurried through the entrance and disappeared into the night beyond the porch.
Jiang Heng walked inside and casually tossed his car keys onto the stone console by the entryway.
Clack.
The crisp sound of metal striking stone rang unusually clearly through the otherwise quiet room.
“You’re home so soon?”
Su Wanqing’s gentle voice floated from inside.
“Xiaochu is coming home for dinner too. She should be here any minute. I’ll give her a call.”
“Godmother~”
Jiang Ningchu had entered a few steps behind Jiang Heng after greeting Jiang Yao. She was bending down to change her shoes when she heard that and hurriedly poked her head out.
“I’m already ho—”
“You actually have the nerve to come back!”
The furious shout came together with the explosive crash of porcelain.
A white porcelain teapot flew straight toward her.
Bang!
Pieces of porcelain scattered across the floor as scalding tea burst across the marble.
Jiang Ningchu’s vision flashed white.
Before she could react, her wrist was suddenly seized.
Cold, powerful fingers clamped around her and yanked her sharply backward.
The world spun.
She fell into a patch of shadow.
A clean ocean scent mingled with cedar and wrapped around her, crisp and fresh, yet somehow solid and reassuring.
Jiang Heng was still leaning lazily against the doorframe.
The top button of his black shirt was undone, revealing a sliver of cool, pale skin at his throat.
Through the thin fabric between them, she could almost feel the steady beat of his heart.
Still shaken, she looked up and met his indifferent eyes.
The word thank you caught in her throat.
But he released her first.
The skin around her wrist had reddened slightly, the lingering chill of his touch still there.
He lowered his eyes to her.
His voice was cold.
“You’re usually pretty good at avoiding me, aren’t you?”