Pei Shuyi was now certain that the Mr. Jiang mentioned by Aunt He was Jiang Congli.
Seeing them, Pei Shuyi stood up.
Jiang Congli noticed her almost at the same moment.
Under the sunset, the woman wore a light cyan dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders as she walked toward him against the light.
She just recovered from a fever this morning, and now she’s out here catching the wind.
Pei Shuyi stopped in front of the old lady: “Grandma, do you still remember me?”
“Of course I remember.”
“It’s Shu Yi, the little girl.”
Old Mrs. Jiang smiled, her eyes crinkling as she took Pei Shuyi’s hand and patted it gently.
Pei Shuyi couldn’t help but smile back: “Are you tired, Grandma?”
“Not at all, not at all. Walking all day has actually made me feel more relaxed.”
For a moment, the old and the young chatted away, while Jiang Congli, the biological grandson, seemed like an out-of-place outsider.
Old Mrs. Jiang looked Pei Shuyi up and down, her gaze lingering on her pale face before shifting to her loose hair. Suddenly, she frowned: “Shu Yi, why do you still look so pale? Have you been eating properly?”
Pei Shuyi curved her lips slightly: “I have, Grandma. Don’t worry.”
Old Mrs. Jiang narrowed her eyes with a smile, then seemed to remember something: “Shu Yi, do you live here?”
Pei Shuyi nodded again and pointed to the wing room in front of her, indicating it was her residence.
Old Mrs. Jiang’s eyes shifted, and she turned to her grandson: “Congli, which room did you say you stayed in last night?”
Jiang Congli raised his hand and pointed forward—right next to Pei Shuyi’s room.
Suddenly.
“Ah, I just remembered, I left something in the east wing. I need to go back.”
“Oh, and Congli, you should stay here again tonight. I think this place is quiet, but it’s too far from the halls I want to visit. This old lady can’t walk that far, so I won’t switch with you.”
Jiang Congli: “.”
Who was it that dragged him all over Qingtan Mountain early this morning?
As soon as the old lady finished speaking, she vanished without a trace the next second.
Usually, only Aunt He and she lived in this courtyard, and Aunt He was nowhere to be found.
Now, the vast courtyard was left with only Jiang Congli and her.
Staring at each other.
Jiang Congli stood under the ginkgo tree, backlit, his expression unclear, but his gaze fixed on her, completely enveloping Pei Shuyi.
“Are you feeling unwell anywhere else?” he asked.
Pei Shuyi shook her head: “Much better, thank you.”
“Since your fever has subsided, don’t stay outside catching the wind.” Jiang Congli looked at her and spoke again, his voice low and deep. “Go back and rest.”
With that, the man began to step forward.
Pei Shuyi remained where she was, unmoving.
“Mr. Jiang,” she called him.
Jiang Congli turned his gaze back to her.
“I waited for you all afternoon.”
Jiang Congli’s brow twitched slightly.
Pei Shuyi tilted her head: “Don’t you want to know why I waited in the courtyard all afternoon?”
Jiang Congli looked at her.
Her face was still pale, her lips lacking color, but her eyes were too bright—bright like the stars atop Qingtan Mountain last night.
“I don’t want to know,” he said.
He then turned to leave.
But Pei Shuyi took a step directly toward him, blocking Jiang Congli’s path.
“Miss Shu,” he called her name, his voice deepening, as if reminding her of something.
Pei Shuyi had grown up under her father’s high expectations, so she easily accepted Jiang Congli’s deliberate pressure.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Jiang.”
“I won’t do anything to you. If you don’t want to know, then forget it.”
“I’m going back to rest now. Goodbye.”
Between adults, many things need not be spoken too plainly—just a hint is enough.
Pei Shuyi turned and walked away.
Clean and decisive, without a trace of hesitation.
The pale green hem of her skirt traced an arc in the twilight, her long hair lifted and fell with the evening breeze.
Jiang Congli stood where he was, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.
They had known each other for less than twenty-four hours, yet he felt an indescribable strangeness.
He stared at the pale green figure walking farther and farther away, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat—as if something was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t even have time to grasp it.
“Shu Yi.”
Jiang Congli’s voice came from behind, not loud, but particularly clear in the quiet dusk.
Pei Shuyi did not stop, nor did she look back.
She took two more steps.
Until footsteps hurried up from behind.
Steady, powerful, much faster than usual footsteps.
In a few strides, Jiang Congli stepped in front of her, blocking the path between her and the room.
He looked into her clear, frank, untainted eyes.
The warmth she had shown him earlier was gone, replaced entirely by a serious, distant expression.
“Excuse me,” Pei Shuyi looked up at him, her tone polite but distant.
Jiang Congli did not move.
“Mr. Jiang, I need to go back to my room.”
Pei Shuyi tilted her head slightly, waited two seconds, and when she saw he had no intention of moving aside, she turned to walk around him.
Jiang Congli reached out and stopped her.
The man extended his arm, directly blocking her path.
The distance of his arm was perfectly measured—close enough to touch, yet not quite touching.
The back of his hand brushed against the fabric of her shoulder, a faint, almost imperceptible touch, like a barrier he didn’t want to set but had to.
Pei Shuyi glanced down at the arm, then looked up at him.
“What do you mean by this, Mr. Jiang?”
Jiang Congli looked at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing once.
Jiang Congli lowered his arm, but he did not step back. Instead, he moved half a step closer to her.
The distance closed again, close enough for him to see the curve of her eyelashes and smell the faint scent of medicine on her.
“You’re angry,” he said.
Not a question, but a statement.
Pei Shuyi lifted her chin slightly, the corners of her lips curving upward—not quite a smile, more like a polite response.
“No,” she said, her tone flat.
“You just don’t want to know why I waited for you. That’s your freedom. I wouldn’t get angry over that.”
“And…”
“We’re not close.”
Jiang Congli’s brow furrowed slightly.
“You just said two minutes ago that you waited for me all afternoon,” he said, his voice lower.
Pei Shuyi blinked. “Yes, I waited.”
“Why did you wait?”
Pei Shuyi glanced at him, as if judging whether he was serious this time or just going through the motions.
“To thank you,” she said.
With that, she turned slightly, intending to walk around him.
Jiang Congli reached out again, this time accurately grasping her wrist.
The man’s thumb pressed against her pulse, his fingertips feeling her heartbeat—
Fast.
Jiang Congli’s tense expression suddenly relaxed.
“Shu Yi.”
The name Shu Yi shared the same pronunciation as the last two characters of Pei Shuyi’s name. Whenever Jiang Congli called her that, Pei Shuyi always felt as if he were calling her “Shuyi.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“We’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours.”
“It’s too fast.”
Jiang Congli naturally understood what Pei Shuyi had meant just now.
However, having been raised with traditional values, he believed that responding to her at this moment would be disrespectful.
Pei Shuyi waited for him to continue.
Jiang Congli lowered his gaze, looking at the hand that held her wrist.
His thumb pressed gently against her pulse, feeling its rapid rhythm. He remained silent for a long time.
“The education I received since childhood taught me that such matters should not be taken lightly.”
He finally spoke, his voice low and measured, as if carefully weighing every word.
Pei Shuyi listened quietly.
“If you are not serious, I cannot respond to you.”
“If you are serious, I must be even more cautious in my response.” He lifted his eyes to look at her.
“That would be disrespectful to you.”
Pei Shuyi’s heart skipped another beat.
As Jiang Congli spoke, there was an unprecedented solemnity in his deep, unfathomable eyes.
“I will be staying with my grandmother at Qingtan Mountain for about half a month this time,” he said.
“Still in the room next to yours.”