“Still busy? Want to grab a meal together?”
With the interesting girl already whisked away by her brother—and with no desire whatsoever to deal with Jiang Zhixing—Jiang Shuyi had no choice but to seek out Jiang Sheng instead.
Well… half out of boredom.
And half out of curiosity.
After all, Song Chutong had painted quite the vivid picture downstairs—going on and on about how she supposedly liked Jiang Sheng. Jiang Shuyi hadn’t intended to believe it.
But the more she thought about it… the more it made sense.
Jiang Sheng was leagues above Jiang Zhixing. And the Jiang and Wei families had always been close—there had been plenty of contact growing up.
So… maybe it wasn’t entirely impossible.
Jiang Sheng didn’t even lift his eyes from the documents in front of him. “No time. If you want something good, take my ID and go to the canteen yourself.”
Meals in the military were tiered. The higher your rank, the better your food. Commanders had their own private dishes, and below them, the standards gradually dropped.
Jiang Sheng, though officially holding a high-ranking position, enjoyed treatment even better than most. With his ID, one could order stir-fried dishes from the canteen—something of a luxury.
Of course, it wasn’t unlimited.
If Jiang Shuyi remembered correctly, the daily allowance included roughly one and a half jin of vegetables, a small portion of meat, fish or eggs, along with oil and soy products. Staples like rice were unrestricted.
Even so—it was already indulgent by military standards.
“I’ll take the ID, then. Not like you need it—you can get by with just your face.”
She accepted it without hesitation. As a regular performing arts soldier, she was lucky just to eat her fill most days. Meat and eggs were rare treats.
Jiang Sheng waited, expecting her to leave.
Instead, she sat down across from him, arms folded, studying him with undisguised interest.
He closed the file with a soft snap and finally looked up. “Is there something else?”
Most people would have been intimidated by that tone—but Jiang Shuyi knew better. Her cousin had always been like this: indifferent, as if nothing in the world could stir him.
“You really are more handsome than Jiang Zhixing.”
It was a blunt assessment.
If she had to describe it simply, Jiang Sheng was like a refined version of Jiang Zhixing. Same family blood—similar features—but everything about him felt elevated. Sharper. Stronger. More composed.
In the art troupe, Jiang Zhixing already had countless admirers.
But compared to Jiang Sheng?
He was on an entirely different level.
Which made Song Chutong’s supposed crush on him… strangely plausible.
Jiang Sheng nearly choked on his own breath at that remark.
His mind, however, worked quickly. Without missing a beat, he responded:
“Don’t believe rumors you shouldn’t believe. And don’t repeat them at home. I’ll handle it.”
Jiang Shuyi let out a soft laugh. “Handle it? How exactly do you plan to do that?”
Jiang Sheng didn’t hesitate.
“That girl from the Wei family is young. She probably had a fight with Jiang Zhixing and used me as a shield—I can understand that.”
He spoke calmly, as if the conclusion were obvious. “Don’t worry. I’ll make Jiang Zhixing apologize to her in person. They’ll be back on good terms in no time.”
In Jiang Sheng’s eyes, the idea that Song Chutong liked him was utterly impossible.
Leaving aside what he personally knew about the two youngsters, even Wei Ying had complained to him more than once—lamenting his niece’s situation, scolding Jiang Zhixing for his behavior.
Jiang Sheng didn’t particularly care—he wasn’t close to that nephew of his.
But from what he had pieced together, the situation was clear enough.
There was no need to overthink it.
This whole mess?
It was Jiang Zhixing’s fault.
Jiang Sheng was, at his core, a traditional man.
In his view, if a girl had treated you well for years—and you had accepted it all—then even if your feelings changed, you still owed her responsibility for her future.
Otherwise, you should never have accepted anything from the start.
The more he thought about it, the darker his expression grew.
How did the Jiang family produce someone like that? Living off a woman’s feelings?
His sour mood, however, only amused Jiang Shuyi.
Recalling what he had just said, she let out a mocking laugh. “Are all men this self-righteous? What makes you think Song Chutong would still want a man who abandoned her in public like that?”
She leaned back slightly, her tone sharpening. “You’d better hope this doesn’t reach Granduncle before the family banquet. Otherwise, neither you nor Jiang Zhixing will get off easy.”
Jiang Sheng frowned, sticking stubbornly to his logic. “If she doesn’t like Jiang Zhixing, then why use me to provoke him?”
Jiang Shuyi slipped the ID into her pocket and shot him a disdainful look. “That doesn’t mean she wants to be with him either. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Jiang Sheng tapped his fingers lightly against the desk, brows furrowed in thought. Then, as if something clicked, he looked up again.
“You suddenly came to talk to me about this… You know Song Chutong?”
Sharp as ever—he caught onto even the smallest details.
Jiang Shuyi didn’t bother denying it. “Mm. The little girl played the hero for me today. I was planning to treat her to a meal during my break, but she’s busy.”
She patted the ID in her pocket with a light tap-tap. “Perfect timing. I’ll borrow your name to return the favor tomorrow.”
“Keep a low profile,” Jiang Sheng warned. “If you get caught, it’ll be hard to explain.”
Jiang Shuyi scoffed. “Relax. She won’t notice. I won’t overdo it either—just a regiment-level portion, for form’s sake.”
Jiang Sheng glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Then why not use your real name? Jiang Xiaohua?”
Jiang Shuyi’s eyes narrowed instantly.
Of course he’d retaliate—he was never one to take a loss. Calculating, sharp, and just a little bit sinister.
The only times Jiang Sheng ever backed down were when he felt guilty—or when he valued the other person more than his pride.
The latter? Impossible.
She had personally seen him argue even with the old master of the Jiang family without blinking.
Grinding her teeth, she snapped, “Say that again if you dare.”
“Jiang Xiaohua. Xiaohua?” Jiang Sheng raised a brow, amber eyes gleaming with amusement.
And yet, for some reason, Jiang Shuyi suddenly thought of Song Chutong’s bright voice calling her “Xiao Yi.”
That girl—radiant, lively, with rosy skin and a smile that made people feel lighter just looking at her.
Nothing like these annoying men.
With a dramatic sigh, Jiang Shuyi crossed her arms and leaned lazily against the doorframe, putting on a look of exaggerated regret.
“You have no idea—Song Chutong really isn’t like the rumors say. Pretty, likable… honestly, how does Jiang Zhixing not know how to appreciate her?”
Jiang Sheng narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing trouble. Just as he was wondering what this cunning little fox was plotting—
She grinned.
“Oh, come on, don’t play innocent. What if a lifelong bachelor like you—who’s never even dealt with women—meets her and can’t look away?”
She tilted her head, voice dripping with mischief.
“Then the rumors will have to change… ‘The commanding uncle and his regiment-commander nephew, both hopelessly in love with the same woman.’”
The air shifted.
Danger flickered across Jiang Sheng’s face.
Jiang Shuyi reacted instantly—she flung the door open and slipped out. “Since you’re not eating, I won’t disturb you. Thanks for the ID! I’ll make sure to treat the little girl well!”
The door shut behind her.
Silence fell.
Jiang Sheng sat there, a breath caught in his chest, irritation simmering just beneath the surface.
He picked up the document again.
Read the same English passage once.
Twice.
Three times.
Not a single word sank in.
Finally, in the empty office, a low scoff escaped him.
“Hopelessly in love… with a girl whose head is full of nothing but romance?” he muttered. “Jiang Shuyi, you dare mock me like this?”
A moment later, he crumpled the paper in his hand.
“Jiang Xiaohua… just you wait.”