There weren’t many people in the shop, so the two set meals arrived quickly.
The braised pork sat submerged in a rich, fragrant sauce in the small pot, its color glossy and tempting, sizzling faintly. Tang Ning poked it with her chopsticks—the meat bounced back lightly, springy.
She picked up a piece and put it in her mouth. The texture was firm yet Q弹 (chewy and elastic), stewed until melt-in-your-mouth tender, almost like cotton candy.
“I haven’t eaten meat in over a week,” Tang Ning thought, tears streaming in her heart. “I finally climbed to the top of the food chain—life without meat is meaningless!”
“Wake up.” Jiang Linye mercilessly punctured her fantasy. “Last week, in the middle of the night, you were lying in the courtyard eating two lobsters, three scallops, and six skewers of lamb with zero chili.”
Tang Ning: “…”
There had to be a spy in her house. That black uncle (the security guard) had definitely been bribed 🙂
“Tang Ning.” Cold, ruthless Jiang Linye issued a cold, ruthless warning. “Don’t think just because your wound healed nicely that it’s fine. If you eat seafood and inflame the wound, you’ll be the one crying.”
Her stitches had only just come out; he couldn’t stop worrying no matter how he looked at it.
But right now his little pampered wife was deep in her rebellious teenage phase—everything he said went in one ear and out the other. Time really aged people fast. She had no idea what Jiang Linye had gone through these past years to turn from that once pure white-moonlight boy into this sharp-tongued, utterly annoying version of himself.
She happily chewed big mouthfuls of meat, mumbling through it: “Speaking of which, I already went back to see my dad. Should we make time to go see your parents too?”
Then something suddenly occurred to her. She swallowed the meat: “Come to think of it, I’ve never actually met your mom and dad.”
She hadn’t seen them in high school, and there was never a chance later. In her memory, Jiang Linye had always been a lone wolf—even parent-teacher meetings he handled himself.
Back then, combining his “poor student” label, Tang Ning had once imagined a whole dramatic backstory: maybe he lived in some remote mountain valley. But a person’s bearing and aura are so closely tied to their family background, and sometimes her desk-mate seemed almost… overly…
She frowned, remembering how she’d once described the feeling to Sheng Xinglai, unsure if it was accurate: “Noble? Aristocratic?”
At the time, Sheng Xinglai had ruthlessly smacked her awake with a rolled-up newspaper: “I know in your filter he’s a dust-covered pearl, a fallen immortal banished to earth, a crown prince whose family fell from grace—but seriously, sis, trust me: don’t ever ask him that kind of brain-dead question in front of him. It’s not just impolite; he’ll think you’re a complete idiot.”
So Tang Ning had truly held it in all this time and never asked.
But now that the thought had resurfaced, a tidal wave of curiosity surged back up.
Jiang Linye showed no particular reaction after hearing her question.
He didn’t even look up—just finished chewing what was in his mouth slowly and deliberately before finally speaking: “No need.”
“Why not?”
“They passed away many years ago. You won’t be able to see them.” His tone was even, almost casual. After a slight pause, he added in a way that carried unclear meaning: “Besides, they probably wouldn’t want to see you very much either.”
A big, slow “…?” slowly appeared above Tang Ning’s head.
The first half was whatever—who doesn’t eventually meet underground after they pass?
But “…what the hell does the second half mean?”
“Literal meaning.” Jiang Linye frowned slightly when he saw how much was still left in her bowl. “Why do you always waste so much time at lunch?”
Tang Ning felt a breath stuck in her chest, unable to go up or down.
She bowed her head and stuffed two more pieces of meat into her mouth in quick succession. Her cheeks puffed out fiercely like a squirrel’s as she mentally searched for the most vicious insults she could hurl at him.
“Tang Ning.” Jiang Linye suddenly called her name, his voice calm. “Do you really not remember anything at all?”
Tang Ning froze for a second, unable to stop herself from looking up.
He was sitting by the window, suit crisp and straight, posture as upright as ever. Outside, the sunlight was blazing, but the narrow alley only let half of it through. The fierce light fell right beside his hand, but couldn’t get any closer.
Half his face was hidden in the sunlight. His pupils looked almost washed out by the brightness, thin lips pressed lightly together, expression unreadable.
She blinked, dazed, almost hallucinating for a moment.
It felt like in the very next second, the suit on him would dissolve into the blue-and-white school uniform of a seventeen-year-old. He’d turn back into that radiant, clear-skied boy from back then, then prop his cheek on his hand, smile softly, and ask in a low voice: “You like the pork here that much? Want me to give you half of mine too?”
Seeing her zoning out, Jiang Linye grew a little impatient again: “Tang Ning.”
Tang Ning snapped back to reality in an instant: “Do you really think I’m bored enough to play the amnesia game with you? I’m dying to remember too, okay? The CEOs I’m meeting at the afternoon summit—I’ve fucking forgotten every single one of them. Now I have to memorize their names one by one from photos. Who could possibly be more miserable than me? I don’t even know if this is going to fuck up my money-making.”
Jiang Linye: “…”
Still obsessed with money even after losing your memory—you really are Scrooge McDuck reincarnated 🙂
The two of them finished lunch before the peak crowd of diners arrived.
On their way out, they ran into a young couple coming in to eat, both wearing Affiliated High School uniforms. The boy didn’t dare hold the girl’s hand; he just loosely tugged on her backpack strap.
Tang Ning had been about to sigh sentimentally about how high-school puppy love was way more interesting than adult relationships, while Jiang Linye’s mind was already filled with trash thoughts. But as she peered through the gap between the two high-schoolers’ arms, the words on the tip of her tongue turned into a shocked exclamation: “Holy shit, so big.”
Jiang Linye’s entire body stiffened subtly: “?”
He turned back with displeasure, expressionlessly glanced at the boy, then expressionlessly looked at her.
“No, no.” Tang Ning secretly pointed. “I mean that rabbit.”
Jiang Linye followed her gaze and saw a massive Jellycat Bashful Bunny dangling from the girl’s backpack—fluffy, soft, with two enormous ears flopping around.
Tang Ning’s eyes sparkled: “Isn’t it? So fucking huge.”
Jiang Linye turned his head back, his gaze drifting downward, staring at her… for a few seconds. Then, calmly: “Not as big as yours…”
After a slight pause, he kept his face completely blank and mimicked her tone for emphasis: “Can’t even grab it with one hand.”