In the afternoon, Qiao Shu left home early.
As it was nearing the peak time for students to get out of school, the roads were congested. Qiao Shu didn’t arrive until nearly 4:40 p.m.
She looked around the bookstore area for a while but couldn’t find the extremely conspicuous Rolls-Royce.
Just as she was about to call Jiang Tu, a notification popped up on her screen. She opened WeChat.
【JT:】License plate ending in 8799
Qiao Shu was taken aback. Did he change cars again?
She searched for the car with the license plate ending in 8799. There weren’t many cars parked in the lot, but a black Maybach stood out quite a bit. She guessed it was that one.
Sure enough, she was right.
Qiao Shu scanned her surroundings, making sure nothing seemed unusual, before walking toward the Maybach.
She opened the car door, got in, fastened her seatbelt, and turned her head to look at the man in the driver’s seat.
“Sorry, the traffic was bad. I kept you waiting.”
“It’s fine.” Jiang Tu glanced at the girl in the passenger seat before starting the engine.
The girl’s petite face was still half-hidden behind a mask, and she wore a knitted cap on her head—an outfit quite similar to last time, though this time she wasn’t wearing a skirt.
With the car’s heater on, Qiao Shu took off her down jacket, revealing a light-colored, soft wool sweater and a pair of fleece-lined jeans. She prioritized warmth over style.
Zhang Qian often teased her, saying that aside from her delicate, innocent-looking face, she didn’t resemble a celebrity at all.
The drive was quiet.
When the two arrived home, Jiang Guanqing and Su Xi hadn’t returned from work yet. Aunt Zhong and the chef were in the kitchen preparing ingredients.
Suddenly, Aunt Zhong emerged from the kitchen.
“Young Madam, do you have any dietary restrictions? What dishes do you like? Do you prefer light or strong flavors? The Madam specifically asked me to ask you.”
A ripple of emotion stirred in Qiao Shu’s heart. She hadn’t expected Su Xi to still remember this after half a month.
“Aunt Zhong, I don’t eat onions or carrots. I prefer lighter flavors, but I’m fine with everything else.”
Aunt Zhong’s eyes curved into a smile. “Oh, the Young Master doesn’t like carrots either. He’s even pickier than you—he doesn’t eat scallions or garlic, and he’s allergic to seafood.”
Qiao Shu was stunned. Allergic to seafood? That meant he couldn’t enjoy delicious seafood? How pitiful.
Neither of the young couple spoke. Aunt Zhong chuckled and said, “When you two have a baby, the baby probably won’t like carrots either. Carrots contain a lot of dietary fiber…”
“Aunt Zhong, the kitchen needs you.” Jiang Tu’s expression remained calm as he interrupted Aunt Zhong’s rambling.
Aunt Zhong snapped back to reality. “Look at me, once I start talking, I lose track of time. I need to go prepare the Madam’s favorite stir-fried clams.”
In an instant, the living room fell silent.
The atmosphere grew somewhat awkward. Just as Qiao Shu was wondering how to break the silence, Jiang Guanqing and his wife returned.
“Qiao Qiao, are you two back?” Su Xi’s distinctive voice rang out before she appeared.
Seeing Jiang Guanqing and his wife, Qiao Shu quickly stood up. “Mom, Dad, you’re back.”
“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Su Xi said, pulling Qiao Shu back down to sit, her eyes smiling. “Sit, sit.”
Su Xi took Qiao Shu’s cold hands in hers. “Qiao Qiao, why are your hands so cold?”
Qiao Shu was momentarily stunned before shaking her head. “It’s fine. This happens to me every winter.”
“What a hardship. Many girls have this problem—their hands and feet turn cold as soon as winter comes.”
Qiao Shu smiled awkwardly.
Everyone chatted in the living room. Su Xi kept the conversation going, Qiao Shu responded with smiles, and Jiang Tu chimed in occasionally.
When Aunt Zhong came out to announce that dinner was ready, everyone moved to the living room, and Jiang Yan happened to return just then.
At the dinner table, Jiang Tu occasionally served Qiao Shu dishes. Jiang Guanqing and his wife exchanged glances, truly unable to grasp their youngest son’s thoughts.
After dinner, everyone returned to the living room.
After chatting for a while longer in the living room, Su Xi and Jiang Guanqing, having worked all day, retired to their room early.
Only Jiang Tu and Qiao Shu remained in the living room.
Jiang Tu’s slender, well-defined hand reached for the remote control nearby and asked her, “Going back to the room or watching TV?”
“Back to the room,” Qiao Shu replied. She didn’t enjoy watching dramas and wondered if other actors felt the same.
Compared to TV shows, she preferred reading novels.
“Alright,” Jiang Tu set the remote control aside.
Back in the room, Qiao Shu’s phone rang—it was that familiar string of numbers. She glanced at Jiang Tu.
Jiang Tu paused for a moment, his gaze shifting toward the balcony. “The balcony is over there.”
“Okay, thank you.” Qiao Shu’s fingers tightened around her phone as she walked toward the balcony.
Taking a deep breath, Qiao Shu swiped to answer. A voice she knew all too well came through the receiver.
“Shu’er, it’s Dad.”
Qiao Shu’s nose stung with emotion, and she hated herself for being so weak. She had promised herself she wouldn’t feel the slightest bit of grievance for him.
“Shu’er?”
“Are you doing well? Come home with Jiang Tu for a meal tomorrow. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”
“Shu’er?”
Qiao Shu clenched her teeth, suppressing her emotions. “I heard what you said. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.”
“Shu—”
After hanging up, Qiao Shu lowered her gaze. That father from before had long since died; this one wasn’t him!
This one was Han Lianmeng’s father.
The night grew darker, and the biting cold wind pierced through her. Not far away, the sturdy old tree branches swayed relentlessly in the wind, their sharp, piercing howls like the roar of a beast beside her ear.
Only then did Qiao Shu realize how cold it was. Standing in the chilly wind for a while, she calmed down considerably.
You can avoid it today, but not forever.
She would go back with Jiang Tu tomorrow.
“Qiao Shu?”
With a soft “shhh,” the glass door slid open.
Suddenly, Jiang Tu stepped out from inside. In the deep darkness of the night, Qiao Shu couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but she felt the cold intensify, as if it had grown even more biting.
“Let’s go back.” Jiang Tu took her hand.
His deep, magnetic voice held no warmth. Qiao Shu’s heart trembled as she glanced down at the large hand holding hers—it felt so warm.
Once inside the room, warmth enveloped her, soothing her chilled body. She looked down.
Jiang Tu hadn’t let go of her hand yet.
After a long moment, Jiang Tu released her hand and looked intently into her eyes. “I’ll draw a bath for you.”
“Jiang Tu, thank you.” Qiao Shu’s heart fluttered, a surge of emotion she refused to acknowledge.
Jiang Tu stiffened slightly, his affectionate peach-blossom eyes gazing at her with a hint of amusement. “Not calling me Teacher Jiang anymore?”
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Qiao Shu’s radiant face. It seemed this was only the second time she had called him by his name.
Jiang Tu chuckled softly and headed into the bathroom.
As his tall figure disappeared from view, Qiao Shu let out a sigh of relief. What an awkward situation.
Even after filming with Jiang Tu for half a month, their relationship remained this awkward—an indescribable kind of connection.
They weren’t like a married couple.
Nor were they like friends.
Their relationship felt more like that of distant colleagues, addressing each other as “Teacher” on set.
If they accidentally offended each other during filming, they would apologize first. The director even asked them to film behind-the-scenes clips, worried there wouldn’t be enough extras for the final edit.
They say their personalities are too similar, leaving them with nothing to talk about, but Qiao Shu feels she and Jiang Tu are not alike.
Perhaps it’s because of their marital relationship that things have become this way—interactions turn awkward, and they don’t know how to get along.