As they drove past the teahouse they had just visited, Zheng Wanwan, feeling shy, casually glanced out the window—only to see the old man who had been playing the erhu getting into a Rolls-Royce.
“Lan-ge, look—isn’t that the blind old grandpa who was playing the erhu?” Zheng Wanwan said in disbelief.
Pei Lan glanced at the rearview mirror, his voice low: “Wife, I didn’t get a good look.” He pressed down on the accelerator.
Zheng Wanwan turned her head, but the Rolls-Royce door had already closed, and she could no longer see the man.
“Maybe… playing the erhu pays really well these days?” Zheng Wanwan pouted after speaking. “It’s just me who can’t make any money.”
Pei Lan rolled down the car window. “What does my wife want to do to make money?” He was having a nicotine craving but couldn’t smoke.
Zheng Wanwan didn’t answer. Actually, she was quite good at making money.
After returning home, Zheng Wanwan immediately kicked off her leather shoes and changed into a pair of extremely comfortable slippers. She removed the ornaments from her hair and changed into a loose-fitting set of pajamas.
Comfort above all else. In the past, when she ate in front of Pei Lan, she would try to take small bites. She remembered once during a date she wanted to sneeze and forcibly held it in—and somehow ended up with a sore throat for days afterward.
Pei Lan sat in the courtyard drinking tea, a book on history in his hands as he read attentively. He noticed Zheng Wanwan pick up a flowerpot and examine it closely.
“This really isn’t an antique? There’s even a seal mark on the bottom,” Zheng Wanwan said, turning her head to look at Pei Lan.
Pei Lan pushed up his glasses—he was genuinely nearsighted. “It’s a replica. The calligraphy on the bottom of the bowl is wrong. Generally, for Xing ware from the Tang Dynasty, the character ‘盈’ should have a ‘土’ radical beneath it, not a ‘又’. Also, the texture of the base is too smooth.”
Zheng Wanwan set the “flowerpot” down on the ground and poured nutrient soil into it. “Have you never made a misjudgment?”
“I have. Otherwise, where would Dad’s ashtray and Uncle Xu’s vase have come from?” Though Pei Lan spoke of it lightly now, back in his school days, he had stumbled more than a few times.
Zheng Wanwan pressed her lips together. Uncle Xu probably had no idea about that—he was still using that vase as an antique…
Zheng Wanwan was repotting her flowers when she finally noticed: “Huh? Why are two missing?” She held up the juice roses she had bought—miniature roses, that is.
Pei Lan crossed his legs and turned a page with his fingertip. “Go to my study and see which one fits.” He picked up his teacup and took a sip of hot tea.
Zheng Wanwan narrowed her eyes. His study was full of old, beat-up junk—who knew which ones were actual antiques? And he’d told her to use his priceless bowls and vases as flowerpots? What a waste of good fortune.
The two stayed in the courtyard until dusk. Pei Lan closed his book and went into the kitchen.
Zheng Wanwan sat in the seat Pei Lan had just occupied, her gaze drifting into the distance. The afterglow of the setting sun dyed half the sky crimson, casting a warm, gentle light upon her.
Tears fell onto her long dress. An inexplicable sense of oppression washed over her. Every day, she feared only two things: sunset and dawn.
When the sun set, it meant the next day was approaching. When she opened her eyes in the morning, she was still alive…
Pei Lan rolled up his sleeves: “Wife, is boiled pork slices in chili oil okay for dinner?”
Tears still streaked Zheng Wanwan’s face. She didn’t answer, only gave a slight nod.
After the sound of footsteps faded away, Zheng Wanwan covered her face with her hands.
Her parents would never survive her leaving, and everyone around her who loved her would be devastated—but her inner world had already crumbled beyond repair.
She had held on with lingering unwillingness, waiting for Pei Lan to return. Now that he was back, she felt like a deflated balloon.
“Honey, how about these two?” Pei Lan held two flower pots in his hands—ones he’d had his assistant purchase not long ago.
Zheng Wanwan turned around instinctively.
Pei Lan’s gaze dimmed. Her eyes were brimming with tears, filled with utter despair. The breeze stirred the loose strands of her hair. At this moment, she seemed like something fragile—even the lightest touch would cause irreversible damage.
“They’re beautiful.” Zheng Wanwan found her voice, then curved her lips into a gentle smile. “I’ll go plant them right now.” With that, she stood up.
Pei Lan walked over and set the pots on the tea table.
Zheng Wanwan didn’t want Pei Lan to know she was sick. She was already bad enough in front of him.
“I snagged these at the flower shop for five bucks—a real bargain. Pretty, right?” Zheng Wanwan crouched down and scooped up the nutrient soil from the ground.
Pei Lan slowly lowered himself into a crouch, his large hand settling on Zheng Wanwan’s fair cheek. Those three years he’d disappeared had destroyed everything about her.
Zheng Wanwan looked up. Suddenly, she couldn’t read him—why was Pei Lan wearing such an expression…
“Honey.” Pei Lan’s warm lips pressed against the corner of Zheng Wanwan’s eye. “Will you keep me company?”
Zheng Wanwan nodded blankly.
Pei Lan dropped one knee to the ground and pulled Zheng Wanwan into his arms with his large hands.
“I’m hungry.” Zheng Wanwan rested her chin on Pei Lan’s shoulder. The places where he held her were already burning hot, and every breath she took was filled with his scent.
Pei Lan released her and led Zheng Wanwan to the kitchen.
“Teach Tianming sometime, will you? His cooking is as bad as my dad’s.” Zheng Wanwan leaned against the counter as she spoke, making no move to help.
Pei Lan was rolling up his sleeves, slicing meat. “He told me yesterday to find a way to trick Xiaoyu into coming back.” He ran some water as he finished speaking.
“Let me tell you something—don’t tell anyone else. A long time ago, I caught Tianming and the big star kissing in a corner.” Even though no one else was home, Zheng Wanwan instinctively lowered her voice.
Xu Mengyu had gone abroad for university and didn’t come back for over a year during that time. Zheng Tianming had been set on joining the military back then, and the two had broken up—or something like that. No one really knew.
Of course, the elders probably didn’t even know when they’d started.
Pei Lan raised an eyebrow. When he’d gone up to the attic to look for something, he’d stumbled upon a condom tossed in the wastebasket—probably Tianming’s…
At that thought, Pei Lan glanced at Zheng Wanwan. He’d originally wanted to let her finish her studies, and later he’d decided to respect her and wait until marriage.
Until now.
Zheng Wanwan blinked. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Like a wolf that hadn’t eaten in days.
Pei Lan pushed up his glasses and continued cooking.
“I’ve always been curious—back in school, what did you, Tianming, and Brother Kai do holed up in that room that you wouldn’t let me in?” Zheng Wanwan suddenly remembered and asked offhandedly.
Pei Lan finished chopping the cabbage and set it aside. What could three men gathered around a computer be doing…
“Honey, grab me the sauce from the cabinet.” Pei Lan tried to change the subject.
Zheng Wanwan leaned over. “You’re a professor now—you have an image to maintain, don’t you?”
Pei Lan looked at Zheng Wanwan with gentle eyes. “In front of my wife, what proper image do I have left to maintain?” The way she said it, she had probably already guessed.
Zheng Wanwan lowered her gaze.
“Three years—if you were keeping someone on the outside, the kid would be starting kindergarten this year.” Zheng Wanwan felt that Pei Lan was hardly a proper man. If he refused to say it no matter what, then maybe there was something to it?
Pei Lan’s hand paused. “Believe it or not, I’ll spank you?”
“Try it, then.” Zheng Wanwan’s voice was soft, her chin slightly raised, her expression full of defiance.
Pei Lan leaned in, his fingertips landing on Zheng Wanwan’s dress…
Zheng Wanwan caught a whiff of danger and quickly dodged away. “Hurry up and cook—I’m hungry.” With that, she took her phone and headed to the dining room.
Over here, there was laughter and chatter. But in the upscale hotel at the city center, the atmosphere was especially oppressive. The painting Pei Lan had appraised was laid out on the conference table.
“How is this possible? This painting came from the old curator’s grandson. How could it have turned into a fake?”
Toro touched the painting. This was indeed not the one he had brought out.
The middle-aged man seated in the office chair had a grim expression. “At the time, besides Pei Lan and his wife, who else was present?”
“No one else. But there’s absolutely no way Pei Lan could have swapped the painting right under my nose.” Toro recalled the scene at the time.
When Pei Lan was appraising it, he said it was a forgery, and then he started handling it. Every move he and his wife made was right under their watch—there was no possibility or time for a swap.
The middle-aged man propped his forehead on his hand. This painting had been smuggled out of the museum, and over a dozen experts had verified it beyond doubt before it was taken abroad.
More than three years had passed since then. The man who originally brought the painting out was already behind bars, and they had planned to sell it off through underground channels.
Pei Lan had offered a sky-high price of one hundred million, but today’s transaction had not gone smoothly—and now the painting had turned out to be a problem…
“I remember now—the server at the teahouse came in with tea, but there’s no way he could have swapped the painting in front of us.” Toro simply couldn’t figure it out. What he brought was real; how did it become a fake on the way back?
The flood dragon had turned into a true dragon.
The middle-aged man gritted his teeth. “Keep close tabs on Pei Lan. If the painting is in his hands, he’ll definitely find a way to move it. After all, this is a museum artifact that was reported missing. A professor like him wouldn’t keep a hot potato in his own hands.”
Anyone in this line of work had heard of Pei Lan. Within ten years, he’d poured tens of billions into it. As long as you had something he wanted, you could name your price, and he wouldn’t even blink.
Of course, there were also certain items that couldn’t be brought to the open market for auction—he collected those too. As for what he ultimately did with them, no one knew.
“Pei Lan isn’t just a university professor—he’s also the second son of the Pei Group. His father and uncle are men who walk both sides of the line. My people, I’m afraid…” Toro trailed off and lowered his head.
The middle-aged man tossed the painting into the trash bin. If Pei Lan wanted to make them swallow a loss in silence, then don’t blame him…
“Isn’t he married? Go after his wife.” With that, the middle-aged man turned to leave.
Toro’s expression turned even uglier. He followed behind the middle-aged man. “Boss, after I came back, I did some digging. His wife is the daughter of Zheng Lin—you know, that reckless hothead from twenty-some years ago who went in alone…”
The middle-aged man whirled around to face Toro, grabbing him by the collar. “I’m telling you, I don’t care who he is. If you don’t get that painting back, I’ll take your life.” With that, he opened the door of the presidential suite and walked out.
Zheng Lin—that name was a nightmare to them. Twenty years ago, his father had brought him to the border to make a deal.
Not only had Zheng Lin ruined the transaction, but his father had also lost the use of a leg. The blue-and-white porcelain vase they’d brought had been confiscated by him as well. In a fit of rage, his father suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and didn’t survive.
They wouldn’t have dared set foot in Country A—its laws didn’t allow them to run rampant as they pleased—but they had no choice. The prices here were high, and in their line of work, it was all about the money.
Toro found himself caught in a dilemma. He had to find a way to get the painting back, or the man before him would surely kill him—along with his wife and children…
After dinner, Pei Lan sat on the sofa, teacup in hand, watching an antique appraisal show. Zheng Wanwan sat nearby, munching on a carrot.
“I’m going to bed. I need to get up early tomorrow and go fishing with my dad,” Zheng Wanwan said, knowing she had trouble sleeping and wanted to prepare early.
Sometimes after taking her medication, her body would feel heavy and exhausted, but her mind would stay wide awake, tossing and turning without ever falling asleep.
Pei Lan turned off the TV, set down his teacup, and stood up.
“I don’t need you to coax me to sleep,” Zheng Wanwan protested. Ever since he’d gotten drunk that time, he’d been trying every trick in the book to cling to her.
He’d been camped out in her bedroom for a full week now.
Pei Lan walked over to Zheng Wanwan: “Wife, won’t you help your husband out too?” As he spoke, he lowered his head and sucked gently on her earlobe.
Zheng Wanwan clenched her teeth. He knew perfectly well that her ears were off-limits—he was doing it on purpose. “Help how? Does the great Professor Lan need someone to tuck him in too?”
Pei Lan wrapped his arms around Zheng Wanwan, his breathing unsteady: “Any way you help is fine.” His large hand came to rest on her abdomen.
“Pervert.” Zheng Wanwan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He’d been perfectly proper just a moment ago, and the instant he got up, he’d changed.
Pei Lan’s tall frame bent over her, greedy for everything about her: “If my wife says I am, then I am.”
Zheng Wanwan’s face flushed crimson as his low voice rumbled by her ear. She shoved her elbow back, trying to throw the man behind her off, but he was quick to react…
“Sleep together.” Pei Lan straightened up after saying it.
Zheng Wanwan turned around and shot Pei Lan a vicious glare: “How about you move out instead?” He certainly didn’t seem like someone who wanted a divorce.
Pei Lan caressed Zheng Wanwan’s cheek: “I refuse.” With that, he headed toward the bedroom.
“What right do you have to refuse!”
Zheng Wanwan followed behind Pei Lan, trying to grab him, but just then his phone rang.
Pei Lan stopped in his tracks and answered: “Hello, this is Pei Lan.”
Zheng Wanwan glared at him, fuming.
Ye Yuncheng lay in bed with a face mask on: “I just called your brother, and thought I’d ask you while I was at it—how are things between you and Wanwan?”
Pei Lan glanced at his blushing young wife: “Mom, don’t worry. Wanwan and I are doing great.”
Ye Yuncheng lowered her voice: “Mom’s advice to you—don’t go around all stiff and proper with that teacup of yours all day. Be a little more affectionate, sweet-talk Wanwan properly, and make sure your attitude when apologizing is sincere. Don’t get complacent.”
Pei Lan took off his glasses: “I understand, Mom. Get some rest.”
Ye Yuncheng shielded her phone with her hand. “Don’t rush into having a child. At least wait until I retire. Otherwise, you’ll just have to take over your father’s and my company, and the two of us will take care of the baby for you right away.”
Pei Lan glanced at Zheng Wanwan. “Mom, why did you bring that up again?” Normally speaking, she should absolutely hate any mention of children.
After all, when Ye Yuncheng was younger, she was constantly pressured by her mother-in-law to have kids, and the process was utterly miserable.
Ye Yuncheng patted the face mask on her cheeks. “Your mother-in-law came by this afternoon and bought a whole bunch of baby supplies, including bottles. It reminded me, so I mentioned it.”
Zheng Wanwan awkwardly shuffled toward the bedroom, wishing she could disappear. Her mother had always worried about her, and then she’d mentioned trying to conceive, saying it was “almost there”…
But what she hadn’t expected was that her “almost there” turned into “already pregnant” in her mother’s ears. That level of reading comprehension—she could cry.
QAQ Someone said yesterday that Old Lan wears training uniforms, so today I specially drew a design for one.