Hua Jiale beside her called out, “Uncle.”
Song Junyan hummed in acknowledgment. Neither light nor heavy.
Song Man gripped her skirt tightly.
Hua Jiale asked, “Did Auntie call you over to fill in a seat at the card table?”
Song Junyan said, “No.”
It was only then that Hua Jiale noticed the several people following behind him.
Unfamiliar faces.
Not from their circle.
Shen Zhiyin chose that moment to explain, “The restaurant my brother reserved earlier had his table taken by someone else, so Junyan suggested they come here to discuss business.”
She made it sound simple.
But an ordinary restaurant and Peach Blossom Spring were worlds apart.
Stepping into Peach Blossom Spring was like setting half a foot into the circle of power and privilege. Even more so when it was Song Junyan who had brought them in.
Before the engagement was even official, he’d already let the Shen family reap such a significant advantage.
Clearly, Song Junyan truly cared for Shen Zhiyin.
Everyone’s thoughts churned in different directions.
Shen Zhiyin smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents, and tilted her head toward the people behind her. “Brother, you remember, right? This is Junyan’s niece, Song Man.”
Suddenly called out, Song Man instinctively raised her head and looked at the man standing behind Song Junyan.
He wore an ice-silk shirt with black dress trousers, features similar to Shen Zhiyin’s, but with high cheekbones that gave him a fierce look.
She’d caught a glimpse of him before when the Song and Shen families had gathered to discuss the marriage arrangement.
His name was something like—Shen Maoheng.
Shen Maoheng stepped forward, glib-tongued, “Of course I remember. With Man’er being so beautiful, how could I ever forget?”
That step seemed to lack a sense of measure—too large—and in an instant, he was only half a meter from Song Man.
Close enough that she could clearly smell his cologne.
Mixed with the scent of sweat, like something cheap, or perhaps expired, especially pungent.
Song Man furrowed her brows and was about to step back, but Hua Jiale moved faster. He grabbed her arm and pulled her, shielding her completely behind him.
“Hello, I’m Man’er’s…”
Hua Jiale paused, glanced at Song Man, and said, “Boyfriend.”
Song Man’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward Song Junyan.
But she saw his expression was extraordinarily calm, as if he were standing outside it all—a high-placed observer watching the game unfold.
Song Man’s throat tightened, as if she’d been struck by a blunt blow, frozen in place.
Shen Zhiyin feigned surprise. “Already boyfriend and girlfriend, just like that?”
“My fault! I only paid attention to Man’er and completely overlooked her significant other.” She smiled at Shen Maoheng. “This is the young master of the Hua family.”
Anyone who could get into this place was not someone the Shen family could afford to offend.
Even with the Shen family about to board the Song family’s great ship, they still had to tread carefully.
Moreover, the Hua family also seemed to be trending toward a connection with the Song family.
So Shen Maoheng immediately broke into an ingratiating smile and extended his hand. “Young Master Hua, how do you do. My surname is Shen, given name Maoheng, Zhiyin’s brother. I look forward to your guidance in the future.”
Hua Jiale’s gaze landed on his hand for a moment, but instead of responding, he took Song Man’s hand. “You all are busy. I’ll take Man’er out first.”
With that, he walked out.
As they brushed past Song Junyan, Song Man caught the scent emanating from him—a sweet, fruity floral fragrance meant for women.
Song Man’s heart stung.
Song Junyan suddenly stirred. “Don’t go too far.”
His tone and expression were perfectly calm, like an elder instructing a younger one.
Song Man lowered her eyes. “Understood.”
…
The moment they stepped outside, Hua Jiale released her hand.
“Sorry.”
Song Man looked up.
Perhaps the indoor lighting had been dim, but now standing in the light, Song Man could finally see the man before her clearly.
His features were clean and refined, with a mole beneath his eye—pale, leaning toward gray—that disrupted what should have been a wholly untroubled temperament, adding a touch of youthful boyishness.
Song Man thought about his words and realized he was explaining what had just happened:
Claiming to be her “boyfriend,” or perhaps taking her hand.
Song Man shook her head. “I know you were trying to help me out of a tight spot.”
Hua Jiale smiled. “Yes, and no.”
Song Man looked at him, puzzled.
Hua Jiale said, “I also wanted to take this opportunity to get closer to you.”
Song Man’s heart skipped a beat. “But we’ve only just met.”
“Have you ever played with matches?”
Song Man didn’t know what he meant, so she nodded hesitantly.
Hua Jiale said, “Some things are like matches. It only takes an instant to strike a flame.”
Song Man began to panic. “But I…”
“I’m not saying this to demand an answer from you. I just wanted you to know.”
Hua Jiale smiled. “It’s my personal habit—I say what’s on my mind, out in the open.”
A way of doing things completely opposite to Song Junyan’s.
It was also an attitude Song Man knew she could never hope to obtain from Song Junyan in this lifetime.
The atmosphere settled into silence.
Hua Jiale noticed her listless expression and guessed she was probably tired from the card game earlier, so he suggested, “How about we go sit at Lan Yu for a while?”
Lan Yu was a tea lounge set apart within Peach Blossom Spring, with privacy no less than the private room from before, and well-suited for conversation or a brief rest.
In any case, it was better than the two of them standing around here.
Song Man considered it briefly, then nodded in agreement.
The two walked side by side in that direction. After only a few steps, Hua Jiale suddenly remembered something and pulled out his phone. “Want to add each other on WeChat?”
Hua Jiale was, after all, the marriage candidate Ruan Wenhua had carefully selected.
Besides, he’d just helped her out of an awkward situation.
Song Man had no reason to refuse. She took out her phone from her bag.
“Should I scan yours, or you scan mine?”
“You scan mine.”
Hua Jiale pulled up her QR code. Song Man’s scan didn’t go through, so Hua Jiale took another step closer.
She carried a faint scent of oranges—some brand he couldn’t place, not overly sweet, just fresh and crisp. It was strangely intoxicating.
Hua Jiale couldn’t help but swallow.
On the second floor, a window was cracked open a sliver. Song Junyan leaned against the velvet curtain, looking down.
It was easy to spot the two standing across from each other on the lawn.
Whatever they were discussing, they kept drawing closer, nearly head to head.
A cigarette hung between his fingers, a long column of ash already formed.
On the other side, Ruan Wenhua, mid-game of cards, suddenly called out to him.
Song Junyan stirred, and the ash fell silently.
It landed on his pinky mid-fall, a searing sting.
Expressionless, he brushed it off, took one deep drag, then stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and walked inside.