Mianmian’s words were pure self-destruction!
She was nothing but an empty vessel. I didn’t even consider her a worthy opponent. The naked ambition shown by those two violated the most sacred taboos of the great aristocratic families.
Predictably, once they left, Jiang Shitian flew into a towering rage. He smashed the teacup he was holding. It was only then I realized that his earlier composure had been nothing but a mask of forced restraint.
Suddenly, Jiang Shitian seemed to age years in an instant. He looked at me with a face full of exhaustion and said, “You should leave too.”
I didn’t move. Instead, I sat down, carefully reading his mood, to keep him company.
He took a breath to steady himself. “Why aren’t you leaving?”
“I don’t plan to,” I replied. “No matter where I go, it’s just jumping from one fiery pit into another.”
I knew in my heart that the Zhou family was no better than the Jiangs. If I left this house, I had nowhere to go.
“You really think my home is a fiery pit?” Jiang Shitian asked, surprised.
“Yes,” I answered bluntly.
He flinched.
I continued: “But this time, I’m choosing it for myself. I am jumping into this pit of my own free will.”
Rather than having my fate orchestrated by others, I preferred to hold it in my own hands. Even if the path was the same, the agency was mine.
Jiang Shitian watched me for a long time. Finally, he said, “Rest assured, I won’t let you regret it. If you are a phoenix, you shall rise from the ashes.”
I didn’t know if I was a phoenix. But I was certainly myself—I was Zhou Li. And I couldn’t let myself wither away.
That stubborn survival instinct, honed since childhood, meant that even if I feared Jiang Shitian, I would still find ways to stay close to him. Just as I had avoided offending Zhou Qing all those years to secure my place in the Zhou household, Jiang Shitian was now my lifebuoy. Why would I ever push my lifebuoy away?
…
Over the next few days, Jiang Shitian seemed to regain his spirit and went back to work. However, my biological mother, Li Ping, showed up at the door.
I don’t know where she found the audacity, but she used her status as my mother to knock on the Jiang family’s gates.
Auntie Lan said, “Young Madam, this lady says she is your mother and has come specifically to visit you.” (Auntie Lan’s incident with Mianmian had already been “handled” by Jiang Shitian’s people).
I gestured for Auntie Lan to leave. I checked my phone and saw three or four missed calls, all from Li Ping. I blamed myself for not checking my phone sooner; otherwise, she never would have made it inside.
Then again, I never had the habit of carrying a phone. I had no friends and no necessary contacts. After graduation, I had deleted WeChat entirely. My contact list consisted only of my father and Li Ping. But I never reached out to them. They could only find me when they put in the effort—like today.
I looked at Li Ping without a trace of warmth. “Why are you here?” I asked coldly.
I didn’t believe for a second that she was here just to check on me or nurture our “mother-daughter bond.” I noticed that ever since she entered, she looked like a peasant seeing a palace for the first time. Her eyes darted everywhere, touching the decor, sparkling with greed.
“Lili,” she sighed in awe, “this house must be worth a fortune. It’s so big, so beautiful, so many nice things…”
Then she added, “The wealthy really are different. Your father didn’t treat you poorly; he chose a good marriage for you.”
“My stepmother chose it,” I said, eyeing her coldly.
Li Ping sensed my hostility and gave a hollow laugh. “Well, your stepmother treated you okay then. That’s good. For a woman, marrying a good husband is everything. Not like me…”
She began to rub her eyes. I knew she was starting the “emotional act.” I had heard the story a thousand times: how she abandoned me, went south for work, got scammed by a man, and fell gravely ill.
I wasn’t buying it anymore. I wanted this over with.
“Speak plainly. Don’t waste time,” I said, remaining standing. I wanted her to know I had no intention of a long chat.
Li Ping looked up at me. Her face was aged and haggard. She was wearing a factory uniform and looked ten years older than her actual age. When she abandoned me, I was an infant in swaddling clothes; now, I stood a head taller than her.
She rubbed her hands together nervously. “Lili… in a few days, I have to go back to the hospital.”
“How much?” I asked, cutting to the chase.
Li Ping counted on her fingers, muttering to herself. Finally, looking embarrassed, she held up three fingers.
“Three thousand?” I asked.
She looked around at the opulent house, hesitated, and then extended two more fingers. “Five… five thousand…”
Li Ping’s surgery had been paid for with my dowry money. After the surgery, she wasn’t fully cured; she still needed regular medication and check-ups. I had helped her pay a few times and knew the costs. Usually, her medicine was about a thousand. When she said three, I already thought it was too much.
She still worked and earned a wage, while I, having married into the Jiang family, had no independent income of my own yet. Asking for five thousand was putting me in a difficult position.
Should I give it? If I didn’t, she would haunt me. If I did, would she become insatiable?
If I were to give it to her, I would have to use the S-Card Jiang Shitian gave me. I reached into my pocket and felt the card. Ever since I received it, I carried it with me daily. Right now, it felt warm against my palm.
Seeing my hesitation, Li Ping spoke up: “Lili, you wouldn’t want to refuse, would you? You’re a wealthy lady now. Just think of it as pity for your poor mother.”
Before I could even speak, she was already using moral blackmail. I frowned, clearly displeased.
At that moment, Jiang Shitian returned. He looked at me, then at Li Ping. “We have a guest?” he asked. He didn’t recognize her.
“This is Li Ping. My biological mother,” I said. I didn’t mention the “asking for money” part. I didn’t expose her true motive, but my tone was flat and distant.
Li Ping, sensing the shift, put on a polite smile and stepped forward to introduce herself. “This must be Mr. Jiang? Hello, hello. I am Zhou Li’s mother.”
As she spoke, she wiped her palms on her factory uniform. She reached out both hands to grasp Jiang Shitian’s, hoping to convey “sincerity” and “warmth.”
Jiang Shitian glanced at me, then chose to respond. He reached out with both hands, shedding his usual cold “CEO” aura, and shook her hands warmly.
“Any guest in our home is welcome,” he said to her. “Especially Zhou Li’s mother. Please, have a seat. Auntie Lan, bring some tea.”
He invited her to sit and ordered tea to be served.