A suffocating feeling surged in Shen Zhili’s heart.
She didn’t know what she had done in her past life to offend Shen Yinluo so deeply. Even before her mother passed away from illness, he had already found a replacement outside.
Shen Zhili vaguely remembered that another woman’s perfume always lingered by her mother’s sickbed.
After her mother’s death, before the funeral guests had even fully dispersed, that woman had moved into what was once her home, holding a little boy by the hand.
And that boy was only two years younger than her.
That was Shen Zhiyu.
Ignoring her screams and her despair as she cried herself hoarse, Shen Yinluo gave that woman the title of Mrs. Shen and granted Shen Zhiyu the status of the Shen family’s second young master.
Now…
With just one phone call, this man was about to interrupt her rare time with Jiang Xianzhuo.
The light in Shen Zhili’s eyes gradually turned cold.
This was clearly her and her husband’s private time.
But there was nothing she could do.
At this point, she still didn’t have the ability to defy Shen Yinluo, and neither did Jiang Xianzhuo.
Shen Zhili’s eyes were dark and unreadable as she coldly replied into the phone, “Understood.”
She hung up and stood up from the chair.
“There’s an urgent matter at home. I have to go.”
Hearing this, Jiang Xianzhuo paused his motion of wiping the table but didn’t turn to look at her.
Shen Zhili couldn’t be bothered to explain further, as hearing Shen Yinluo’s voice alone made her unbearably irritable.
She grabbed her bag and hurried toward the door, stopping abruptly just as she reached it.
“Tomorrow…”
“Don’t come.”
Jiang Xianzhuo cut her off, his tone still as cold as ever, devoid of any warmth.
Like ice frozen on a window in the dead of winter—hard and chilling.
Instead of getting angry, Shen Zhili laughed after hearing this.
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”
With that, she pushed the door open and left.
Jiang Xianzhuo stood in place, staring at the tightly shut glass door for a long time.
After a while, he finally turned around, his gaze falling on the small table.
Shen Zhili’s new lunchbox was still sitting there with its lid open, the food inside barely half-eaten, and the pair of chopsticks she had used casually resting on the edge of the box.
Jiang Xianzhuo walked over, looking down silently at the traces she had left behind.
The next moment, he suddenly reached out and picked up the chopsticks.
His fingertips touched the spot she had just held, still carrying a faint warmth.
Instead of immediately tossing them into the sink, Jiang Xianzhuo picked up the still-warm lunchbox.
He stared at the remaining portion of green pepper and shredded pork inside, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.
Finally, Jiang Xianzhuo sat down at the table, picked up the chopsticks she had used, and began eating the leftover food, bite by bite.
He ate slowly and quietly.
Each mouthful seemed to chew on some unfamiliar emotion.
After finishing, he stood up and walked to the sink, washing both the lunchbox and chopspots thoroughly.
Then, silently drying them, he closed the lid and placed the lunchbox Shen Zhili had specifically bought into his own backpack.
…
When Shen Zhili returned home, the lights in the villa were glaringly bright.
That cold light spilled from the crystal chandelier, casting a chill over every expensive piece of furniture, making the vast space feel empty and lifeless.
In the living room, Shen Yinluo was sitting on the leather sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, the ice cubes clinking inside.
He wore a crisply ironed white shirt, the cuffs loosely rolled up to reveal an expensive wristwatch.
The entire man exuded the oppressive aura unique to successful men—steady, solid.
Seeing Shen Zhili enter, he lifted his eyelids and glanced at her.
“These past few days, you’ve been leaving early and returning late. What have you been doing outside?”
Shen Zhili paused briefly while changing her shoes.
She replied expressionlessly, “I had things to do.”
“Things to do?”
Shen Yinluo chuckled, placed his glass on the coffee table, and tapped his fingers twice on the armrest.
“Who were you with?”
Shen Zhili didn’t respond, nor did she feel the need to answer.
She took off her high heels, slipped into a pair of soft slippers, and headed upstairs.
“I’m asking you a question.”
Shen Yinluo’s voice deepened, clearly tinged with anger.
Shen Zhili stopped in her tracks.
Standing on the second step of the staircase, she turned to look at the man sitting on the sofa.
“With a friend.”
“What kind of friend?”
“A friend is just a friend. Do I need to report their ancestors’ ID numbers too?”
Shen Zhili’s tone was extremely impatient, like a cat whose fur had been ruffled.
The atmosphere froze for a few seconds.
Shen Yinluo simply watched his beautiful yet prickly eldest daughter in silence, finally unable to hold back a sigh.
That sigh carried a hint of barely noticeable weariness.
But more than that, it held the helplessness of someone in control facing a situation slipping out of their grasp.
“This Saturday evening, the Xie family has invited us for dinner. You’re coming along.”
At the mention of “Xie family,” Shen Zhili’s brows immediately furrowed.
“The Xie family?”
“Yes.”
Shen Yinluo nodded, settled back into the sofa, and picked up his glass of whiskey again.
He took a sip, the golden liquid glinting briefly at the corner of his lips.
“Old Master Xie personally called. He said he wants to take this opportunity for the two families to have a good chat.”
Hearing this, Shen Zhili’s expression instantly turned cold.
A chat? About what?
The dealings between their two families had always been stable, with all business conducted in meeting rooms. If there was anything to discuss, it wouldn’t be done privately.
The only thing that would make Old Master Xie personally arrange such a private family dinner to discuss was undoubtedly the matter between her and Xie Yuchi.
Shen Zhili sneered, “I see. No wonder you called me back without explaining what was going on. You were afraid I wouldn’t want to come back at all if I heard about this outside, weren’t you?”
After tossing out that sarcastic remark, she added another.
“I’m not going.”
Shen Yinluo’s brows knitted together. “What did you say?”
“I said I’m not going. If your hearing suddenly fails, Dad, I’ll buy you the latest hearing aid right away.”
Shen Zhiyu, who had been shrinking in the corner, trembled at these words.
Was Shen Zhili insane?
How dare she speak to Dad like that? Did she want all her financial support cut off?
But… to Shen Zhiyu’s surprise, Shen Yinluo didn’t even acknowledge Shen Zhili’s sarcasm. Instead, he looked at her calmly.
“This is a dinner between two families. It’s not something you can simply choose not to attend.”
“Then I’ll go but not eat. I’ll put on a sour face as soon as I arrive. If that’s not enough, I’ll stand in the middle of the dining table and take a shit.”
With that, Shen Zhili turned and started up the stairs.
“Shen Zhili!”
Shen Yinluo finally lost his temper.
His voice suddenly rose, nearly loud enough to lift the ceiling.
The entire first floor fell silent from the shock.
All the servants dared not speak, silently lowering their heads, wishing they could shrink themselves into a mere speck to lessen their presence.