Early the next morning, when Pei Shuyi woke up, she found two unread messages on her phone.
They were from Rong Xu: “The physical exam report is out. All indicators are good, better than expected. But there’s one thing to note: your current physical condition isn’t suitable for strenuous exercise. Take it easy with that Mr. Jiang. Alright, I’m off. I’ll come see you next time I’m back in the country.”
Pei Shuyi stared at the words “strenuous exercise,” feeling there was a huge misunderstanding here.
Last night, she had stayed in Jiang Congli’s room until dinnertime before coming out. Moreover, at Aunt He’s invitation, Rong Xu had joined them for dinner. Throughout the meal, Jiang Congli had been up to all sorts of little antics, so it was no wonder Rong Xu had misunderstood.
She had thought Jiang Congli was just in a good mood last night, hence his playful behavior at the dinner table. But she hadn’t expected that even the next day, when they went to Old Madam’s quarters, he showed no sign of restraint whatsoever.
At noon, Jiang Congli came to take Pei Shuyi to Old Mrs. Jiang’s east wing for lunch.
The vegetarian cuisine at Qingtan Temple was excellent. Having been here for several days, Old Madam had grown accustomed to the temple’s light flavors and found them more comfortable than lavish delicacies.
When Pei Shuyi entered, hand in hand with Jiang Congli, Old Madam was sitting at the table. She glanced up at them, her gaze lingering for half a second on their intertwined hands before shifting away as if nothing were amiss.
“You’re here? Have a seat.”
Pei Shuyi tried to pull her hand from Jiang Congli’s grasp, but he simply led her to the table, pressed her into a chair, and then sat down beside her.
Old Madam didn’t look at them the entire time, but there was a faint curve at the corner of her mouth.
Four dishes and a soup, all vegetarian, but exquisitely prepared.
Jiang Congli sat to her left. When he reached for food, his arm would brush against hers. The first time might have been accidental, but the second and third times certainly weren’t.
Pei Shuyi glanced at him sideways, hinting that Old Madam was present.
Jiang Congli remained expressionless as usual and placed a piece of shiitake mushroom into her bowl.
Unbeknownst to her, beneath the tablecloth, Jiang Congli’s hand had already covered hers resting on her knee—palm against the back of her hand, fingers interlacing with hers.
Fortunately, Old Madam was lowering her head to drink soup and didn’t look their way.
Unable to break free and mindful of Old Madam’s presence, Pei Shuyi had no choice but to let him hold her hand while continuing to eat with her other hand.
Pei Shuyi took advantage of Old Madam looking down at her meal to glare at him again.
Jiang Congli met her glare and released her hand, his fingers sliding out from between hers with a lingering, reluctant rhythm.
Thinking he had finally settled down, Pei Shuyi picked up her teacup and took a sip.
But the next moment, his hand landed on her waist.
His palm pressed against her side, his thumb gently rubbing against the fabric of her clothes.
Pei Shuyi nearly choked on her tea, coughing twice. Old Madam looked up at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just choked a little,” Pei Shuyi replied, setting down her teacup.
Once again, Pei Shuyi gave up struggling and let him keep his arm around her waist. She calmly lifted her bowl to drink soup, her expression as composed as if nothing had happened.
A few minutes later, Old Mrs. Jiang ladled a bowl of soup and placed it in front of Pei Shuyi. “Shu girl, drink more soup.”
“Thank you, Grandma.” Pei Shuyi reached out with her other hand to take the soup bowl, a slight smile curving her lips.
Old Mrs. Jiang looked at her smile, then glanced at her grandson’s serious, handsome face, speaking in a casual, conversational tone: “Some people, even though winter is almost here, act like it’s spring—all restless and agitated.”
Jiang Congli’s hand, holding his chopsticks, paused.
The old madam’s gaze fell on the vegetables on the table. She picked up a portion and placed it in her own bowl, not looking at her grandson again.
Pei Shuyi’s ears began to flush red. She lowered her head to drink her soup, wishing she could bury her entire face in the bowl.
That fiend, Jiang Congli.
Half an hour later, the difficult meal finally came to an end.
The old madam asked Jiang Congli to see Pei Shuyi home: “Congli, take Shu girl back.”
Even if the old madam hadn’t said it, Jiang Congli would have done so. He nodded toward her.
“Grandmother, I’ll head back now. I’ll come again to have a meal with you next time.”
“Good, good, good. Shu girl is so thoughtful. Go on, go on.” Old Mrs. Jiang waved her hand, smiling warmly.
Jiang Congli took Pei Shuyi’s hand and walked out of the east wing.
About fifteen minutes later, footsteps sounded again in the east wing.
Jiang Congli lifted the door curtain and walked in, sitting down opposite the old madam.
“Did you see her home?”
“Yes.”
Old Mrs. Jiang looked at her grandson.
Jiang Congli sat there, his back straight, his expression calm—completely different from the man who had held the girl’s waist at the dinner table.
“Truly shameless,” the old madam said.
Jiang Congli didn’t speak. He picked up the teapot on the table, poured a cup for the old madam, then poured one for himself.
The sound of tea pouring into the porcelain cups was especially clear in the quiet room. He set down the teapot, holding his own cup without drinking, simply turning it in his hands.
Old Mrs. Jiang watched his unhurried demeanor, picked up the cup he had poured for her, and took a sip. “When did it happen?”
“Last night,” Jiang Congli said.
The old madam’s eyebrows twitched slightly. “I was originally thinking of playing matchmaker to help you.”
“It seems, after all, I couldn’t outmatch your cunning schemes.”
“Grandmother, the fact that I could meet her at all is thanks to you.”
If the old madam hadn’t insisted on forcing him to come to Qingtan Mountain recently, he wouldn’t have met Pei Shuyi.
Old Mrs. Jiang set down her teacup and stared at him for a long while.
Jiang Congli had grown up under her care.
Now, he was still the same person—sitting upright, expression calm—but something about him seemed different.
Looking closely, it was probably his eyes.
Those eyes, which had rarely shown much emotion since childhood, now seemed lit up by something, like a candle flame glowing warmly and vibrantly inside a lantern.
“Truly shameless,” the old madam said again.
“Yes,” Jiang Congli responded.
The old madam was both amused and exasperated by his “whatever you say is right” attitude.
After a moment, the old madam picked up her teacup and took another sip, then set it down. “We’re going back in a couple of days. What are your plans?”
Jiang Congli turned his teacup slightly. “Take her back to Hong Kong.”
“Have you asked Shu girl?” the old madam inquired.