Rong Anmin’s suspended heart relaxed for the most part—so it was about this matter after all.
“Your nephew-grandson will follow the family’s arrangements.” He paused, then added, “That Miss Xu of the Xu family is exceptionally beautiful. To be able to form this marriage alliance, I naturally have no objections.”
Though he had never seen her in person, he had seen photographs. The woman was indeed very good-looking, with striking features and an outstanding aura. Even through a screen, those peach-blossom eyes made one feel enticed. He had been mingling in Beicheng for so many years and prided himself on having seen countless women, but that face was truly one he could not forget after a single glance.
This was one of the reasons he was willing to obediently go along with the arranged marriage. It brought him prestige, and he would not be at a loss.
The prayer beads suddenly stopped.
In Rong Jingchen’s mind flashed the image of the young woman’s reddened eyes, her slender waist, and the way she had put on a brave front.
“You’re still young. You can play around for a few more years. This engagement is called off.”
The smile on Rong Anmin’s face froze instantly. His tone carried astonishment: “Called off? Fifth Granduncle, when… when was this decided?”
Rong Jingchen opened his eyes.
Those deep, bottomless black pupils did not look at him, but at the jade Guanyin before him with its lowered eyes and downcast gaze.
“I am notifying you.” His tone was cold and hard, the pressure assailing one’s face. “You’re finding out now—is that too late?”
Rong Anmin fell silent instantly, sensing the displeasure in those words.
He swallowed the words that had reached his lips. Of course he was dissatisfied—that eldest young lady of the Xu family, he truly did want to marry her—but he did not dare say so.
In the Rong family, what was he?
His surname was Rong, true enough, but he was a distant relative separated by several layers. Only by counting back several generations could one find a connection to the Rong family’s main line. And the man before him was the legitimate eldest grandson of Old Master Rong, the proper fourth-generation heir of the Rong family, and the current holder of power over the entire Rong Group.
The reason he could be addressed as “Young Master Rong” was not because he himself had any great ability, but because his surname was Rong, and he basked in Rong Jingchen’s glory.
He had that much self-awareness.
So even if he was unwilling in his heart, he could only say aloud: “Not too late. Fifth Granduncle is right.”
The next day at noon.
Xu Jingshuang curled up in light blue silk bedsheets, her black hair scattered across the pillow, her eyelashes thick and upturned, her lips slightly pouted—seductive yet carrying a touch of delicate charm and languid laziness.
The door was pushed open. Ding Ding walked in wearing slippers and raised a hand to pull open the heavy curtains.
“Eldest Young Miss, the sun is already shining on your bedside. Hurry and get up.”
Piercing light flooded in.
Xu Jingshuang wrinkled her nose, buried her face in the pillow, pulled the blanket over her head, and protested muffledly: “I’m jet-lagged… let me sleep a little longer.”
Ding Ding sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the bulging lump of blanket: “Stop sleeping. Last night you went to find Rong Anmin to discuss breaking off the engagement—how did it go? Did he agree?”
The blanket moved. Xu Jingshuang poked out half her face, her peach-blossom eyes drowsy, a hint of complacency between her brows.
“Is that even a question? With this eldest young miss personally taking action, is there anything I can’t handle?”
She turned over, her tone light: “I stood there, and with just a few words I left him dumbfounded.”
But Ding Ding’s brows furrowed.
“But how come I heard… that Rong Anmin didn’t go to Linyong Tower yesterday, but was at Beiyu Club instead?”
The smile on Xu Jingshuang’s face froze abruptly.
She sat up with a jolt, all trace of sleepiness gone: “What did you say?”
“My information shouldn’t be wrong.” Ding Ding looked at her. “Could Xu Jingwei have deliberately lied to you?”
Xu Jingshuang ran her fingers through her disheveled long hair, recalling the events of last night.
Not at Linyong Tower? Then who had she gone to see last night?
Linyong Tower had been fully booked, the attendant had led the way, and in the private room sat a man with an imposing presence… From beginning to end, she had called him Mr. Rong, and he had never admitted to being Rong Anmin.
Those cold, sharp brows and eyes, the jade thumb ring on his finger, and that crisp, woody fragrance when he drew near… Scene after scene surfaced vividly, and the belated panic swept over her. She shuddered involuntarily.
“Ding Ding.” Her voice tightened slightly. “I think… I went to the wrong person.”
Ding Ding’s eyes went wide.
Xu Jingshuang recounted the whole story of last night, but automatically deleted the part where he had pulled her onto his lap.
After listening, Ding Ding was silent for a moment.
“So you cursed out a man you don’t even know for over ten minutes, telling him to call off the engagement?”
“It wasn’t quite ten minutes…”
“He never said he wasn’t Rong Anmin the whole time?”
“…No.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I called him Mr. Rong, and he didn’t deny it. I assumed he was.”
Ding Ding took a deep breath.
“Shuangbao, have you ever thought about it—in a place like Linyong Tower, how many people in all of Beicheng could sit in the prime seat of a second-floor private room listening to music? The man’s surname is Rong, everyone calls him Mr. Rong, and he booked the entire place. Tell me, who is he?”
Xu Jingshuang was puzzled. “Who?”
Ding Ding: “Rong Jingchen! The real head of the Rong family. And you told him to call off the engagement?”
“I didn’t know! I’ve never even met Rong Anmin. Xu Jingwei said he was at Linyong Tower, so I went. How was I supposed to know there’d be another Mr. Rong there!” Xu Jingshuang buried her head in the blanket with a wail.
Ding Ding sighed. “So what do we do now? That man… he probably won’t hold a grudge, right?”
Xu Jingshuang lifted her face from the blanket, remembering the harsh words she’d thrown down before leaving last night. Her temple throbbed.
“He didn’t say it was him, but he didn’t say it wasn’t, either. If he was going to hold a grudge, he would’ve done it right then last night.”
“True. Anyway, the engagement you want to break is with Rong Anmin—it has nothing to do with him. Just treat it as a misunderstanding. You won’t run into him again.”
Xu Jingshuang suppressed the unease in her heart and temporarily put the matter out of her mind.
She had real business in the afternoon.
This trip back to the country—breaking off the engagement was just a side matter. What truly mattered was her grandfather Elder Gu’s tea business.
Her grandfather had started from nothing when he was young, beginning with a small tea stall in Jiangcheng, and spent thirty years building the business into a national enterprise. But that was then. In recent years, business had been sluggish—several tea factories had closed, and the cash flow was barely holding on.
The old man had only one daughter, Xu Jingshuang’s mother, Gu Mingzhu. Gu Mingzhu had passed away from illness years ago, so the business naturally had to go to her granddaughter.
She had an appointment with a business partner in the afternoon—Ding Ding had made the connection.
She didn’t care for Xu Guoting’s family fortune. But her grandfather’s tea business was different. It was the life’s work of an old man, and she couldn’t let it end in her hands.
Xu Jingshuang changed her clothes, put on light makeup, and headed downstairs with her bag.
Her stepmother Chen Suyun happened to be coming out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of steaming fish fillet porridge, her smile gentle and proper.
“Shuangshuang’s awake? Auntie made porridge specially for you. Have a couple of bites while it’s hot to line your stomach.”
Xu Jingshuang didn’t pause, her tone distant. “No need. I’m in a hurry.”
Chen Suyun followed quickly with the bowl, her manner eager. “You can’t go out on an empty stomach. Just try a couple of bites—it won’t take long.”
Having spent years together, Xu Jingshuang had long seen through the schemes hidden beneath this woman’s gentle exterior. Before the seventh-day mourning period for her mother had even passed, she had already moved in and become Mrs. Xu. Every calculation from those days was etched clearly in her memory.
As the persistent pestering continued, irritation rose in her heart, and she raised a hand to lightly brush it aside.
“I said I don’t want it.”
The porcelain bowl slipped from her hand and shattered against the floor with a sharp crack, fragments scattering as congee splattered everywhere.
The atmosphere in the room instantly froze.
Chen Suyun crouched down to pick up the pieces, her tone still soft, not a trace of anger in it: “It’s fine, it’s fine. The bowl broke, no matter—Auntie will just get you another bowl.”
Watching her feign magnanimity, Xu Jingshuang felt a jumble of emotions, but the fleeting guilt was quickly overtaken by irritation.
“I already told you I didn’t want it. You’re the one who insisted on bringing it to me.”
She bent down to slip on her high heels and picked up her handbag.
“I’m leaving now. Don’t prepare these things for me anymore—I don’t like them.”