“You should pick something for yourself, too. Your clothes are wet. Change into something dry quickly so you don’t catch a cold,” I said to Jiang Shitian.
“At least you know enough to worry about catching a cold!” Jiang Shitian replied with a trace of irritation. He pulled me toward a nearby clothing store.
I hadn’t expected him to be so overbearing, pulling and dragging me along in public, completely disregarding his status. Once inside the shop, I lowered my head, feeling increasingly embarrassed.
“Just pick anything and put it on,” he commanded.
Recognizing a high-value customer, the shop assistant cleverly began making recommendations. It was only then that I clearly saw the brand of the store: it was LV! How could I possibly afford this? Everyone knows LV bags are expensive, but their clothing is certainly no bargain either.
Seeing my hesitation, Jiang Shitian grew impatient.
He turned directly to the assistant and said, “Bring out every suitable item in the store. I’ll take them all.” Then, he looked at me almost pleadingly. “Be good. Just pick one to wear now so you can get warm and won’t get sick.”
His tone was like someone coaxing a child. My eyes went wide. Jiang Shitian was a literal tycoon! Who shops like this? Buying out an entire LV boutique?
“I don’t want them. I’m afraid my wardrobe won’t fit it all,” I said, offering a random excuse to decline.
Without even blinking, Jiang Shitian replied, “Do you not realize there’s a 300-square-meter walk-in closet right next to your room? I noticed you rarely go in there.”
I was stunned. I hadn’t been married into the Jiang family for long, and being someone who follows the rules, I hadn’t explored the contents of every room. My bedroom already had a massive built-in wardrobe that I couldn’t even fill with my meager belongings. I had no idea he had made other arrangements.
“Every season, specialists come to the house to take your measurements for custom pieces,” Jiang Shitian continued. “We usually wear our own brand, but this label is decent enough. It’ll do for now.”
Of course! I suddenly remembered that the world-renowned bespoke brand, JST, belonged to Jiang Shitian. JST only accepts private commissions, releasing no more than a hundred pieces a year, yet its market value exceeds a billion. It is the Lamborghini of the fashion world; ordinary people can’t even dream of wearing it.
I watched as Jiang Shitian paid without a change in expression. He held a top-tier Diamond Card from the East City Bank. I had seen my stepmother show off a card like that once. She said that in all of East City, fewer than ten people owned one, and it carried a credit limit of a billion.
To my shock, after paying, Jiang Shitian pressed the card into my hand!
I was catatonic. My hand shook, and the Diamond Card fell straight to the floor. The quick-witted clerk rushed over to pick it up for me. To them, a customer with a Diamond Card was essentially a god.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” Jiang Shitian asked.
I shook my head.
“If you don’t like it, we can swap it for another. After all, this card can’t even buy a year’s worth of JST collections.”
I was speechless. My stepmother used to guard her Diamond Card with a look of pure suspicion if I even glanced at it too long. Now, Jiang Shitian pulled another, even more exquisite card from his wallet.
It was a card I had never even heard of.
“Take it,” Jiang Shitian said. “This is an International S-Card. It has no credit limit. You likely haven’t seen one in the Zhou house because only ten people in the world own one. As far as I know, this is the only one in East City.”
“I… I can’t…” I stammered, afraid to touch it. This wasn’t just a credit card; it was a symbol of ultimate status. It was too heavy.
“What I give to you is yours. I can use other forms of identification; I don’t need this physical card,” he insisted.
I shrank back, shaking my head. He reached out and forced the S-Card into my hand. Holding it, I felt as if my palm was burning.
With my head down, I asked weakly, “Why did you have Jiang Jun marry me if the Jiang family is so much wealthier than the Zhou family?”
Jiang Shitian laughed. He probably hadn’t expected me to be so blunt.
“Perhaps,” he said, “it’s because when your stepmother pushed you forward, her shrewd, calculating expression looked too much like my ex-wife. I wanted to get you away from her as quickly as possible.”
“Just for that? You were willing to sacrifice your own son’s happiness?” I asked, panicked.
The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a cold sternness. “I don’t believe in love. That boy is a hopeless romantic; he’ll be ruined by a woman sooner or later. This situation is exactly what he needs to wake up.”
“And what about me? Why are you being so good to me now? Aren’t you afraid I’ll be the one to ruin you?”
Jiang Shitian smiled but didn’t answer. His gaze was deeply enigmatic. A chill ran down my spine as I realized the potential implications. I looked away immediately, suddenly afraid of him. The goodwill I had built up for him over the course of the day vanished in an instant.
I was wide awake now. I didn’t dare get close to him.
On the drive back to the Jiang estate, the car was silent—a sharp contrast to the laughter on the way to the mall.
When we arrived, Auntie Lan opened the door. As soon as I walked in, I saw Jiang Jun. He had brought Mianmian with him and was packing his bags in a display of defiance. I expected Jiang Shitian to explode.
Instead, he spoke with chilling indifference. “If you have the guts, don’t come back. And don’t bother packing. Not a single thing on your body, including those bags, belongs to you.”
Mianmian immediately clung to Jiang Jun like a frightened bird, seeking comfort. I thought Jiang Jun would snap, that he would leave with his dignity intact like last time.
However, Jiang Jun merely clenched his fists and said to his father with calculated coldness, “Once you and Grandmother are dead, everything here will be mine. Because I am your only heir.”
Mianmian’s head shot up, her face filled with arrogance. She looked at me with pure provocation.
Jiang Jun was a coward at heart. That he could think so rationally about inheritance in this situation meant Yao Ye must have coached him. With Yao Ye’s analysis, Jiang Jun felt he finally had the leverage to stand up to his father. He didn’t realize that things already in hand can fly away—let alone things he hadn’t even touched yet.
Sure enough, Jiang Shitian didn’t get angry; he laughed. He looked at Jiang Jun with that same enigmatic gaze he had given me at the mall.
“Then you just wait and see,” Jiang Shitian challenged. “See if everything here actually ends up belonging to you. And while you’re at it, tell your mother that I’m going to make her pay for everything she’s done.”
At this point, even someone as thick-skinned as Jiang Jun couldn’t stay. He grabbed Mianmian’s hand and stormed out. Mianmian, however, followed him reluctantly, casting longing glances at the grand estate.
I even heard her whispering to him in a panic as they left: “Brother Jun, what do we do? That old… I mean, Mr. Jiang said none of this will be yours. Maybe you should go back and beg him? You’re still his son! If you just ask…”
“That’s enough, Mianmian!” Jiang Jun snapped, his patience wearing thin.
But she kept rambling: “Then maybe we should go find your mother? She’ll have a way, right? If your mom has a plan, we won’t have to beg him at all.”