I swallowed my retort and looked down, idly playing with my fingers.
Fu Jin, however, acted as if nothing were amiss. He walked briskly toward Zhou Qing, saying with practiced concern, “It’s a bit chilly out here. You should get back inside before you catch a cold.”
He was always gentle and attentive toward her. Zhou Qing beamed, clearly enjoying the devotion. She opened her arms, and Fu Jin moved in to embrace her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, clinging to his arm like a delicate bird as they walked back into the house. As they left, Fu Jin glanced back over his shoulder at me.
Immersed in her own happiness, Zhou Qing failed to notice her fiancé’s wandering mind.
Soon after, Jiang Jun walked out. He watched Zhou Qing pass by, hesitated, and finally spoke to me. “Zhou Li, it’s getting dark. We should probably head back.”
I nodded, signaling my agreement.
…
On the way home, Jiang Jun broke our usual silence. He actually began praising Zhou Qing.
“Zhou Li, I didn’t expect your sister to be so warm and welcoming,” he said.
“No wonder you two were chatting so fervently,” I replied flatly.
Oblivious to my coldness, he continued enthusiastically, “I even added her on WeChat. We’ll definitely have to stay in touch.”
I let out a cold laugh and turned to stare out the window, refusing to say another word. Heaven knows I don’t even have a single member of the Zhou family on WeChat, let alone Zhou Qing. My name isn’t even in their family group chat; we only communicate via phone calls.
It didn’t matter. But hearing Jiang Jun say it felt like a cruel joke.
When we arrived back at the Jiang residence, we ran into Jiang Shitian. He was heading out to handle some business—still working late into the night. As we passed, perhaps sensing my dejection, he stopped.
“The home visit today—were you happy?” he asked with genuine concern.
I lowered my eyes, a sense of gloom washing over me. He didn’t wait for an answer; he was in a hurry. However, I could feel his gaze following me as I walked away.
…
Before I could even sit down to rest inside, Jiang Jun grabbed his phone and made an excuse to go out. He didn’t really need an excuse. With Jiang Shitian gone, who was he performing for? I knew he was going to see Mianmian.
Since when did seeing her make him feel guilty?
“You don’t have to be so secretive,” I said coldly, my back to him. I turned to catch his reaction.
Jiang Jun froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Today is a significant day,” I said. “The media has been following this home visit closely. There are likely reporters staked out outside right now. The more you try to hide, the more you pique their interest. They’ll follow you. They might even report the absurdity of you making two ‘home visits’ in a single day.”
I turned away. I had given my warning. The rest was up to him. He was truly a busy man—accompanying his legal wife by day and his mistress by night. It was beyond ridiculous.
Jiang Jun hesitated. He couldn’t ignore the risks. Aside from the fear of his father finding out, doing anything under the watchful eyes of the public was a disaster waiting to happen. It would harm the family reputation. Jiang Jun wasn’t a total fool; when it came to major matters of face, he knew where the line was.
For once, he stayed focused. He sat back down.
However, a moment later, his phone rang several times. Each time, I said generously, “Go ahead and handle your business. Don’t feel like you have to sit here with me.”
Because I said that, Jiang Jun—who was about to get up—sat back down and declined the calls. He didn’t have any “real business” to handle! My words made him nervous; he felt guilty.
After several declined calls, Mianmian apparently lost her mind. His phone rang incessantly. When one phone stopped, another started. It was only then that I realized he had two phones.
Sensing my inquisitive gaze, he finally switched them off. It was a decisive move, but his eyes remained shifty. What a coward. He felt guilty toward me and lacked the backbone to handle Mianmian.
Part of me hoped she would show up at the door. I had nothing to fear.
…
Mianmian did not disappoint. Before long, she was at the gates, pounding on them. She relied entirely on Jiang Jun’s doting affection. But how could I allow her to come to my home and slap my face time and time again?
I wanted to show her that her “affection,” when weighed against family interests, was worthless.
When the inner housekeeper, Aunt Lan, reported the disturbance, Jiang Jun scrambled to go out and see her. But as his hand gripped the doorknob, I said casually:
“If you open that door, tomorrow’s headline will be: ‘On Day of Home Visit, Jiang Family Bride Publicly Humiliated by Mistress.'”
I stared at him, waiting for his choice. I bet he wouldn’t dare.
As expected, he agonized for a moment before turning back to the sofa.
Outside the mansion walls, Mianmian became even more hysterical when Jiang Jun didn’t appear. Her muffled shouts drifted over the garden wall:
“Jiang Jun! Come out! Come see me! Or are you with that vixen right now?” “Are you in bed? Don’t let that vixen bewitch you!”
Her insults grew cruder. I knew the media was watching. I let her rave. I let her go mad. I wanted more exposure for this. It was her face that was being lost, after all. She was a celebrity; a scandal like this would destroy her career.
It wasn’t time to go out yet. I remembered Jiang Shitian introducing me to the staff and confirming my status. He told me I could rely on Uncle Zhong and Aunt Lan. They were veterans; they knew what to do.
I calmly summoned them. “Someone is causing a disturbance at the Jiang residence,” I told Aunt Lan. “How should we handle it?”
“We call the police, of course,” she replied.
I nodded. She went to make the call. Jiang Jun tried to stop her, but she ignored him.
“I will notify Mr. Jiang,” Uncle Zhong added.
“Good,” I said.
As the daughter-in-law of the Jiang family, I didn’t have to fight this battle alone.
“Should I have the security guards forcibly remove the woman?” Uncle Zhong asked.
“No!” Jiang Jun shouted, standing up. “I’ll go out quietly and take her away. Mianmian is usually well-behaved. She’ll stop once she sees me.”
I didn’t even look at him. I told Uncle Zhong, “We wait for the police.”
To kill a ghost, one doesn’t always need a knife. I was prepared to burn my bridges and turn this “home visit” day into a blood sacrifice.
Jiang Jun was frantic. He reached for the door again.
“Do you really think you can protect her and get her away unnoticed?” I asked softly. “Her tantrum has already drawn the press. Her insults to me don’t just affect my reputation—they affect the interests of both our families. If you protect her, you are endorsing her actions. If you step out for her, you are standing against your family. These two families are not to be trifled with or insulted by just anyone.”
His hand froze on the handle again. My logic was undeniable. He dared not be reckless.
“Then what should I do?” he cried out in frustration.
A moment later, the police arrived. A disturbance at the Jiang house was a high priority for them.
“Who called the police?” an officer asked.
Uncle Zhong and Aunt Lan stood by my side, awaiting my lead.
I threw the door open with a resounding bang, facing Mianmian directly.