"…"
Jiang Ningchu picked up the candy in disbelief as childhood memories came flooding back.
There had been a brief period when she had felt genuinely, deeply proud of having an "older brother."
Back then, she had only recently arrived at the Jiang family.
An elder had brought back several boxes of exquisitely packaged candies from Europe, and her cousin Jiang Yao had teased her with the sourest kind, saying that any child who could finish eating them would grow up to be the most amazing person in the world.
Little Jiang Ningchu had believed it completely, and the sourness had been so overwhelming that tears and saliva came pouring out together. Without a second thought, she spat it out.
But not only had she not thrown a tantrum, she had picked up the remaining candies and gone straight to find Jiang Heng.
Jiang Heng had been only seven at the time, yet he already wore that expressionless look that revealed nothing of his emotions.
Jiang Ningchu had eagerly held the candy out to him, watching as he put it in his mouth.
The veins on the side of his neck had faintly surfaced, but his face had remained calm—he hadn't even furrowed his brow.
It was a good while before he gave his verdict, his voice devoid of emotion: "Not bad."
Just those two words made little Jiang Ningchu happy for an entire winter.
That winter break, she handed out sour devil candies to everyone she met.
And after watching them grimace from the sourness, she would triumphantly declare:
"You can't eat them, can you? But my big brother can~"
"My big brother is the most amazing person in the world!"
At this thought, Jiang Ningchu suddenly remembered the cool silver candy tin buried deep in her bedside drawer.
The words slipped out of her almost involuntarily. "The candy in the tin…"
As if he had guessed what she was about to say, Jiang Heng answered with only a quiet "Mm."
"That's the one."
Jiang Ningchu's fingers tightened slightly, and the purple little devil baring its fangs on the wrapper twisted and warped under her grip.
So all these years…
Which meant all that indifference and loathing she had been so certain of was just… what she had assumed?
Perhaps Jiang Heng had always still seen her as that little sister who needed a piece of candy to prove that "big brother is amazing"?
An indescribable emotion slowly welled up within her, warmth and bitterness intertwined.
Yet her deeply ingrained beliefs kept her from daring—or knowing how—to take another step forward.
She lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the candy in her hand.
After a long moment, she finally mustered a scrap of courage and said softly, "Today at Shen's… thank you for the Lotus Pastry."
The air in the car fell silent for a moment.
Jiang Heng's fingers resting on the steering wheel didn't move at all, as if he hadn't heard.
Just as Jiang Ningchu decided he wasn't going to answer and turned awkwardly toward the window, his gaze lifted from the road ahead and swept over her indifferently.
"Thank me for what?"
Jiang Heng's thin lips parted slightly, his tone calm and unruffled. "I ordered one too many, so I had the waiter deal with it."
As his words fell, only the steady rhythmic squeak of the windshield wipers remained in the car.
Every word Jiang Ningchu had prepared stuck in her throat.
She had imagined him denying it, imagined him mocking her—never had she imagined she would receive such a… "Jiang Heng" answer.
In the end, she said nothing more, silently turning her head to look out the window.
More than half an hour later, they finally arrived at the hillside villa.
The rain hadn't let up, and the damp, cold evening wind rushed eagerly in the moment the car door opened.
Jiang Ningchu had just unbuckled her seatbelt when the blast of cold air made her flinch backward.
The soft cashmere blanket still lay snugly across her lap, retaining the dry, fluffy warmth of the car's interior.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself and was just about to take it off and put it away when the car door beside her was suddenly pulled open.
Jiang Heng stood outside the passenger door, holding a black long-handled umbrella, having appeared there at some point without her noticing.
The umbrella tilted slightly forward, keeping out the rain, while most of his shoulders and back were exposed beyond its edge, dark fabric rapidly blooming with water stains.
"Wrap yourself up." His tone was flat, giving only a brief order.
The cold wind that rushed in made Jiang Ningchu shudder.
Without time to think, she quickly spread the blanket over herself, wrapping it tightly from shoulders to hem, then hugging her bag, she ducked somewhat awkwardly under the umbrella.
The space under the umbrella felt cramped with the two of them standing so close.
Jiang Heng's crisp cedar scent, mixed with the damp moisture, became especially distinct.
Jiang Ningchu kept her head down, following at his side as they hurried across the front courtyard.
The moment they entered the entrance hall, warmth enveloped them.
Jiang Heng closed the umbrella and casually placed it in the stand by the entryway.
Water dripped down the umbrella ribs, pattering onto the thick carpet and blooming into dark round spots.
Without looking at her again, he walked straight toward the staircase, leaving behind only one emotionless sentence: "Get some rest soon."
"…Okay."
Jiang Ningchu answered softly toward the direction where he had disappeared, slowly letting out the breath she'd been holding.
She carefully folded the blanket in her arms, held it to her chest, and walked toward her room with weary steps.
It was already eleven thirty.
In her pinned WeChat conversation, there were two messages from Zhou Yichi, sent half an hour earlier:
[Yichi: Voice call]
[Yichi: Are you home yet?]
Jiang Ningchu stared blankly at the name on the screen.
A strange dizziness came over her, as if the dinner and conversation with Zhou Yichi at Shen's Restaurant a few hours ago had all been just a dream.
A notification reading "Review Contract" popped up at the top of the screen, pulling her back to reality.
She sighed softly, reopened the conversation, and casually sent back an "Okay."
The reply came almost instantly: [Yichi: Good. Get some rest, goodnight.]
Jiang Ningchu looked at this line of thoughtful concern but didn't reply.
She turned the phone face-down and set it lightly on the desk.
After a quick hot shower and changing into soft loungewear, she sat back down at her desk.
The room was warm, yet she still felt cold.
Her head grew heavier and heavier, her temples throbbing, the ache radiating faintly into her brow bones.
Jiang Ningchu dug out an even thicker coat to wrap around herself. Her nose felt blocked by something, and breathing became labored and burning.
She forced herself to stay alert and opened the contract file Lin Wei had sent.
The dense clauses and numbers on the screen seemed to come alive, swaying, drifting, and overlapping before her eyes.
She had to concentrate for a long while before she could barely grasp a sentence or two.
By the time she finally finished reviewing the last clause and sent off the email, it was already past one in the morning.
All was silent.
The rain outside had stopped at some point, and the whole world was left with nothing but an empty stillness, as if washed clean by the rain.
Deep weariness arrived wrapped in an even sharper chill.
Jiang Ningchu shivered.
She realized that a hot shower and willpower alone probably wouldn't be enough to suppress this ferocious cold.
But, in the middle of the night like this…
She suddenly remembered—there seemed to be a household medicine cabinet in the storage cupboard in the living room downstairs.
After a moment's hesitation, she forced her weak body to stand and quietly turned the doorknob, heading downstairs.
The vast mansion was dark, with only a few nightlights casting faint halos of glow.
Just as she was about to reach the living room, she caught sight of a figure sitting faintly in the single armchair by the window.
Jiang Ningchu froze in fright, her heart leaping to her throat in an instant.
The person seemed to have heard the movement too, slowly turning his head.
In the dim light, it was Jiang Heng's sharply contoured profile.
He wore a dark gray silk loungewear set, the collar slightly open, lounging lazily against the sofa.
A laptop rested on his lap, its cold screen light illuminating his expressionless profile, lending his entire presence an even deeper stillness.
Blending seamlessly with the night outside the window.
"…Brother?"
Jiang Ningchu's voice was already slightly hoarse from her stuffy nose, and now it carried an added note of panic. "You… haven't slept yet?"
Jiang Heng's gaze lingered for a moment on her face, which clearly showed weakness and unease. "Not sleeping yet? What are you doing downstairs?"
"N-nothing…"
Jiang Ningchu instinctively tried to cover it up, but couldn't help turning her head away, suppressing two muffled coughs.
Her throat really did hurt.
She lowered her eyes in resignation, her voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible. "Came down to find the medicine box."
Jiang Heng closed the laptop and set it casually on the side table. "Medicine box?"
"Shh—!"
Jiang Ningchu pressed a finger to her lips, looking at him nervously, then anxiously glanced toward the dark staircase.
Only after confirming there was no movement did she relax slightly, explaining urgently in a hushed voice, "I feel like I might be coming down with a cold… thought I'd take some medicine as a precaution."
Afraid Jiang Heng might make a bigger noise the next second, she lowered her voice even further. "Keep it down… don't wake Auntie."
"Do you even know what your own constitution is like?"
Jiang Heng stood up and walked toward her. "Taking medicine randomly—that wouldn't just be a matter of waking someone up."
"…"
Jiang Ningchu was rendered speechless by the warning in his words.
In four years of college, she had hardly been sick at all, and she hadn't spent that many days living at home. The medicines stocked for her from childhood probably hadn't been updated in a long time.
Thinking of her long list of allergens and her extremely unstable history of drug reactions, she suddenly felt a wave of dread.
She lowered her lashes, not daring to argue, only feeling the dizziness grow heavier, her body chilling terribly.
"Go back up and lie down."
Jiang Heng stopped looking at her and picked up his phone. "I'll have Dr. Chen bring over some medicine you can take."
"…Sorry for the trouble."
Jiang Ningchu had no energy left to fuss or be polite. She simply agreed in a low voice, then turned to the kitchen to pour some hot water.
Cradling the glass that was slightly hot to the touch, she walked a few steps up the stairs, then stopped at the landing.
After a moment's hesitation, she turned around and headed back downstairs.
Jiang Heng was standing with his back to her in front of the living room's floor-to-ceiling window, on the phone, his voice kept very low as he gave some brief instructions.
The faint light from outside traced the outline of his tall, somewhat solitary figure.
"Brother."
She mustered a bit of strength and said softly, "Could you… not let Auntie know? She'd worry."
Jiang Heng seemed to pause mid-call.
He turned his head, said something else into the phone, then casually dipped his chin in her direction.
Only with this response, which barely counted as a promise, did the taut string in Jiang Ningchu's heart loosen slightly.
She dragged her heavy yet unsteady steps, slowly making her way back to her room.
Not long after, a very soft knock came from outside the door.
Jiang Ningchu struggled to open her heavy-lidded eyes and answered with a muffled sound.
The door pushed open, and Jiang Heng walked in carrying a household medicine box and an electronic thermometer.
He closed the door behind him and walked slowly to the bedside, his tall figure blocking most of the bedside lamp's glow, casting an oppressive shadow.
"Take your temperature."
He was concise, setting the medicine box on the nightstand and deftly unwrapping the thermometer.
Jiang Ningchu, muddled by fever, was slow to react. She simply tilted her face up, her unfocused gaze following him as he leaned in.
It wasn't until his slightly cool fingers covered her forehead that the abrupt chill jolted her into a moment of clarity.
Then the thermometer was aimed at her forehead. Beep—
39.1°C.
Jiang Heng's gaze lingered on the number for a few seconds, and his brow furrowed.
He turned to take a white medicine box from the medicine kit, pressed out a pill, and handed it to her along with the glass of water on the nightstand that had gone lukewarm.
"Take the medicine."
Jiang Ningchu struggled to prop herself up on her arm and took the pill and the water.
Her fingertips accidentally brushed against the fingers holding the glass—they felt far colder than her own feverish body temperature.
She quickly withdrew her hand, swallowed the pill, and buried her head back into the pillow.
Jiang Heng seemed to pay no attention to this small incident. He set the glass back in its place, then quite naturally reached out and pulled her slipped blanket back up.
He didn't leave. Instead, he turned and walked to the chaise longue by the window and sat down.
The chair was neither too close nor too far from the bed—at a distance where he wouldn't disturb her, yet could still keep watch on her at any moment.
?
Jiang Ningchu's brain couldn't quite process it, but she still found it strange.
He had dimmed the room's lights somewhat. Sitting in the shadows, only the glow of his phone screen faintly illuminated his lowered brow and eyes.
"You…"
In the end, she couldn't help herself and poked her head out from the edge of the covers. "Aren't you going back to rest?"
Jiang Heng's gaze shifted from his phone screen to her cheeks, flushed with an abnormal redness.
"I could."
He finally spoke, his tone characteristically flat. "I go back to rest, and Mother comes up instead."
"…"
Jiang Ningchu choked.
Apparently thinking that wasn't enough, he added expressionlessly, "Or, I could contact the hospital directly and arrange for you to be admitted for observation."
"Your choice."
Jiang Ningchu immediately pressed her parched lips tightly shut and swallowed back all her questions and pleasantries.
She said nothing more, closed her eyes, and buried her burning half of her face into the blankets.
Her head still throbbed dully, and waves of cold passed through her body, but in some corner of her heart, a few unfeeling words gave rise to a thread of absurd sense of security.
The room returned to silence, broken only by Jiang Ningchu's slightly rapid breathing from the fever, rising and falling faintly.
As the sky was on the verge of dawn, Jiang Ningchu's high fever had receded considerably.
Though she still felt weak, the fog in her mind had cleared considerably.
Between sleep and waking, she seemed to have had a long, chaotic dream.
In the dream, she had been taken away by someone, and then, amid a kaleidoscope of bizarre scenes, returned to the Jiang family.
Many faces flashed through her mind: Jiang Zhenting, impatient and even disdainful; Su Wanqing, heartbroken to the point of collapse; and, Jiang Heng as a young boy.
He stood at the edge of the crowd, his face expressionless.
The expression in those eyes alone was what she couldn't make out—it looked like shock, yet also like the indifference and detachment of someone uninvolved.
Jiang Ningchu slowly opened her eyes, her gaze struggling to refocus.
The first thing that came into view was the figure who had kept watch by the chaise longue all night.
The faint morning light traced his silent profile with a pale bluish glow that was almost tender, forming a subtle contrast with his imposing presence.
She didn't remember much about the kidnapping from her childhood—many of the details had been pieced together later from other people's retellings:
"How heartless the old master is. He called the police without a moment's hesitation—wasn't he afraid they'd kill her?"
"What good would that do? They treated her like a daughter in everyday life, but when it came down to it, business mattered more."
"The poor young lady. The madam had it even worse—she fainted from crying several times. Thank goodness the young lady was lucky enough to survive…"
…
Once the storm settled, she was quickly transferred to a new school.
Little Jiang Ningchu, amid those whispers and the adults' unreadable, complicated gazes, came to two difficult conclusions:
First, an adopted daughter was only ever an adopted daughter. She needed to watch her words and actions—no willfulness, no mistakes, and above all, no causing trouble for the Jiang family;
Second, Jiang Heng hated her, truly hated her. So she needed to fade from his sight as much as possible—ideally, to stay far, far away.
Jiang Ningchu blinked and met those dark, deep pupils.
Memory seemed to shift in that moment.
The "brother" before her—which "brother" was he, exactly?
The brother from her childhood who silently followed behind her, letting her mock others as she pleased;
Or the brother who couldn't stand the sight of her and insisted she change schools?
"Awake?"
Jiang Heng's gaze remained sharp, without a trace of fatigue.
Watching her dazed expression, he asked in a low voice, "What were you dreaming about? All that 'no, no' in your sleep."
"…"
"I…"
Her inner scales swayed back and forth. In a hoarse voice, she said, "I always thought… you hated me."
"Hate?"
Jiang Heng rose and walked to the bedside, picking up the thermometer to take her temperature.
37.6°C.
He gave a low chuckle and replied, light and offhand, "No time for that."