Zhu Hong just held the child and kept apologizing, saying she was sorry.
But Ye Sheng noticed that Zhu Hong had clearly dressed up carefully—her hair was tied up in a small bunch on top of her head with a white ribbon dotted with black polka dots, and she wore a pure white dress. As she cried with tears streaming down her face, there was a certain pitiful charm about her.
Wang Ying frowned: “Alright, stop crying. Beibei is fine now—just be more careful next time. Crying like this so early in the morning is bad luck.”
Zhu Hong quickly wiped her tears and stood up holding the child’s hand, still sobbing: “Sister-in-law, I was just so scared and worried that I couldn’t help crying.”
Wang Ying suppressed a hint of irritation: “If you’re worried, then don’t leave the child home alone next time. By the way, you should get to know Ye Sheng too. You call Zhou Yanshen Third Brother, so you should call her Third Sister-in-law.”
Zhu Hong seemed to only then notice that there was someone else in the room. She slowly turned her head, looking at Ye Sheng with hostility in her eyes, pressing her lips together and refusing to speak. When she saw Ye Sheng wearing an oversized camouflage short-sleeve shirt and dark blue shorts, a flicker of surprise passed through her eyes, and the expression on her face stiffened.
Because of her professional habits, it was hard for subtle micro-expressions to escape Ye Sheng’s notice, let alone the intense hostility Zhu Hong was directing at her. A series of melodramatic plotlines involuntarily flashed through her mind.
Seeing that Zhu Hong remained silent, Wang Ying let out an “ah”: “Zhu Hong, why aren’t you greeting her? Alright, Zhou Yanshen and the others will be here soon, so I need to hurry and cook. You and your Third Sister-in-law sit for a while.”
With that, she bustled back into the kitchen.
Ye Sheng sensed that Wang Ying was somewhat avoiding the situation—she probably knew something, or simply couldn’t do anything about Zhu Hong, so she hurriedly escaped back to the kitchen. Ye Sheng looked at Zhu Hong with a calm gaze.
Zhu Hong’s eyes scanned Ye Sheng up and down, and she spoke in a very soft voice: “Third Brother and I grew up together. Our bond is something you can’t even imagine.”
Ye Sheng found it strange—why was she saying this to her? And she couldn’t stand Zhu Hong’s fake, scheming demeanor: “Unfortunately, in the end, he married me.”
Zhu Hong’s face turned pale, and a flush of red slowly crept into her eyes from anger and resentment: “You don’t understand anything. Do you think Third Brother was willing to marry you? He only did it for his dream! You don’t understand—you don’t understand anything at all.”
Ye Sheng shrugged nonchalantly: “I don’t need to understand. As long as the person sleeping beside his pillow is me, that’s enough.”
She really wasn’t the type to tolerate someone coming to her door to provoke her.
Zhu Hong’s tears welled up in anger as she glared at Ye Sheng.
“Squad Leader, why aren’t you going in?”
A sudden shout made both Ye Sheng and Zhu Hong turn to look at the same time. The living room door wasn’t closed, and Zhou Yanshen was standing there—no one knew how long he’d been there—leaning lazily against the doorframe.
Now he was pushed into the room by the person behind him.
Only then did Ye Sheng get a clear look at Zhou Yanshen. His brows were sharp, his nose bridge high and straight, carrying an air of fierce intensity while also concealing a hint of arrogance—like a mighty eagle soaring through the sky. He was far more imposing in person than in his photos.
It was hard to imagine that someone like him would yield for the sake of a dream and marry a woman he had no feelings for.
Ye Sheng forced herself to meet Zhou Yanshen’s gaze, but inwardly she was wailing in distress. Sure enough, the “truth is delicious” principle never changes no matter the era—he must have heard everything she’d just said.
Zhu Hong’s eyes lit up instantly: “Third Brother, you’re back!”
Zhou Yanshen merely gave a faint “mm” in response. He walked over and picked up Beibei, then glanced at Ye Sheng. “After we eat, I’ll take you out for a stroll and buy you a couple of suitable outfits.”
As he finished speaking, the man who had followed him into the house reached them. He also ignored Zhu Hong and greeted Ye Sheng warmly. “You’re the sister-in-law, right? I was just wondering why Captain Zhou was in such a hurry to get back today—turns out it was because of you. Hello, sister-in-law, my name is Qin Yuandong.”
Ye Sheng forced an awkward but polite smile. There was no way she could make her escape now.
Wang Ying heard the voices and came out of the kitchen. “Oh, perfect timing! The buns just came out of the steamer, and I’ll have a cold dish ready in no time. Oh, and I also made a pot of that milk tea you all like. Huh, where’s my Old Song?”
Qin Yuandong smiled, revealing two adorable dimples that added a touch of liveliness and boyish charm. “The captain’s still behind. He has to finish the meeting before he can come back.”
Wang Ying gestured for them to come in. “Alright then, forget about him. You all hurry up, wash your hands, and come eat. Zhou Yanshen, you take good care of your wife now. This is Ye Sheng’s first time here, and she’s still a bit shy, so you’d better look after her well.”
Zhu Hong stood off to the side, her face cycling through shades of red and white, looking absolutely dreadful. But Wang Ying acted as if she hadn’t noticed at all, ushering Ye Sheng over to take a seat at the table.
Zhou Yanshen was seated beside Ye Sheng with Beibei in his arms, and only then did Wang Ying call out to Zhu Hong to sit across from them. “Don’t be shy in my house today! There are plenty of buns—they’re the lamb filling you all love.”
Wu Xianglan came out carrying a large tea tray piled with buns and set it in the middle of the octagonal table. “Eat them while they’re hot! There’s another batch steaming in the pot, so if these aren’t enough, there’s more.”
Wang Ying busied herself bringing out bowls of milk tea, placing one in front of Ye Sheng first. “This is our local milk tea. I’m not sure if you’ll like it. If you can’t get used to it, I’ll make you some powdered milk instead.”
Ye Sheng thanked her profusely, cupped the bowl in her hands, blew on it, and took a small sip. She found it hard to swallow—it wasn’t the sweet taste she remembered, but rather a strange salty flavor. She swirled it around in her mouth and forced it down with some difficulty, then smiled at Wang Ying. “It’s pretty good.”
But Zhou Yanshen reached over and took the bowl away. “If you don’t like it, there’s no need to force yourself to pretend.”
Ye Sheng wanted nothing more than to snatch the milk tea back and dump it over Zhou Yanshen’s head. She was just being polite—did he have to call her out so bluntly?
She looked up at Wang Ying, utterly mortified. “I’ve never had salty milk tea before.”
Wang Ying laughed heartily. “That’s fine, that’s fine! Lots of people aren’t used to it when they first arrive. The milk tea here is all salty and has milk skin in it. Once you get used to it, you’ll find it really fragrant. Let me go make you a cup of powdered milk instead.”
With that, she headed briskly back to the kitchen.
Zhu Hong let out a light scoff. “So fake!”
The retort Ye Sheng had on the tip of her tongue rolled around for a moment before she swallowed it back down. Forget it. Zhou Yanshen was here, so she’d give him some face and not make his little childhood sweetheart look too bad.
Zhou Yanshen furrowed his brow. “Has Beibei’s condition gotten worse lately? Are you giving him his medication on time?”
Zhu Hong’s heart skipped a beat. “He’s taking it—every day, right on schedule.”
Zhou Yanshen said, “You should take Beibei back to the provincial capital.”
Zhu Hong panicked, tears welling up in her eyes. “Third Brother, I’m not leaving. I want to stay right here.”
Zhou Yanshen didn’t indulge her. “This place is remote and underdeveloped. You know the medical conditions here—how can it provide a good treatment environment for Beibei?”
Zhu Hong’s eyes reddened as she suddenly looked at Ye Sheng: “Third Brother, are you planning to assign her to the Art Troupe? Isn’t it just because she can sing and dance, just like Sister Xiaoying?”
Ye Sheng’s heart exclaimed in shock—how thrilling—could there be something even more melodramatic?