The next second, Tang Ning jolted awake from the dream.
The eye mask slipped off. The room still held only her. Midday sunlight fell quietly, drifting across the windowsill.
Her heart was pounding wildly, thumping so hard it felt like it might jump out. She glanced up at the clock—only fifteen minutes had passed.
“…Was it just a dream?”
She slowly steadied her breathing, instinctively reaching up to touch her buzzing head. A strange, hollow feeling rose in her chest. She wasn’t sure if that scene had really happened or if it was just her brain’s wild YY about Jiang Linye.
But if it was a dream… it was way too…
“…way too real…”
The way Jiang Linye had lifted his head in the darkness, the instant their eyes met—her racing heartbeat, the sudden disillusionment—it all felt like something that had genuinely played out before.
No one had ever dared humiliate her like that growing up. She wanted to rush over, slam his face to the ground, and stomp on it. But the very moment that thought flared up, in the dream it felt like a pair of hands reached out and forcefully yanked her away.
Even such a short memory, it refused to let her face.
Tang Ning blinked hard, feeling a little lost.
Back when she first met Jiang Linye, he really hadn’t been like this.
The teacher had deliberately seated them together, hoping he could save her utterly hopeless math grades. But his scores were so ridiculously good that Tang Ning didn’t want to stay near him. In the throes of puberty, her secret feelings showed plainly: every time test results came out, she’d rather take a long detour to ask the class monitor than let him see her paper covered in red X’s.
Then one time the class monitor was sick and absent. Stupid Tang Ning hadn’t even finished correcting her fill-in-the-blanks. The teacher called her to the board to solve a problem. She stood there clutching the chalk, staring blankly at the blackboard for three full minutes without writing a single word, then slunk back to her seat with her tail between her legs.
She lay face-down on her desk, back to Jiang Linye, eyes open, completely still.
Like a dejected little fox.
The weather was bad that day—dark clouds gathered outside the window, classroom lights blazing bright.
The room was dead quiet except for the teacher still explaining problems. Tang Ning wilted, her mind full of “this is so embarrassing” and “weather really does mirror mood, the ancients weren’t lying”…
The next second, she felt her ponytail, dangling off the desk, being gently tugged.
“Do you think I explain things badly?”
Jiang Linye’s voice was very soft—still that teenage timbre, cautious, polite, gentle.
He asked quietly, “Why do you always go the long way around and ask someone else?”
Maybe he thought patting her head would be too intimate, so he didn’t touch her hair. Instead he reached out and symbolically pinched the hair tie holding her ponytail.
It was a mint-green elastic band, cotton fabric with a thin metal wire inside for shape. His fingers were long; head slightly lowered, he pinched both sides of the bow upward like he was tying a decorative knot.
Like rabbit ears.
Like her.
Tang Ning froze, too scared to move.
Eyes wide open, heart thundering.
When you fall for someone in puberty, it’s always because they have some quality that draws you in.
In that second, she understood.
This feeling had nothing to do with money or desire—just a pure, instantaneous heartbeat.
Knock knock knock—
Tang Ning sat on the bed hugging a pillow, lost in thought. The more she thought, the sadder she felt. With a melancholic expression, she was just about to drag Jiang Linye out of her blacklist to curse him out before blocking him again when the knock came.
Her thoughts snapped back. She called out: “Come in.”
Jian Wei opened the door cautiously. Seeing her boss already awake, she let out a relieved breath: “Sorry to disturb your rest, but President Jiang just called. He said he sent some things over…”
Tang Ning sighed and held out her hand.
Jian Wei passed her the phone.
“Hm?” Saying “hello” right away felt too polite. Tang Ning gave a vague, meaningful hum.
Jiang Linye immediately picked up on it: “Were you sleeping?”
“Mmm…”
Right after waking up, her voice was always soft—her whole person felt soft too.
Jiang Linye used to enjoy tormenting her. He couldn’t even remember when it started, but these days he rarely even saw her curled up in his arms, sleeping so soundly she wouldn’t wake.
Clearly, this phone call had come at the wrong time.
“What’s up?” Tang Ning obviously had zero interest in chitchat. “Something wrong?”
His voice stayed cool and detached: “I ordered lunch for you.”
“Huh?” Tang Ning was genuinely confused—why was this guy suddenly being nice? “Did you get me hotpot? Did you add rice cakes?”
Jiang Linye: “…?”
When had he ever said anything about hotpot?
“I’m in charge of your diet for the next three weeks.” He didn’t sound particularly concerned—just stating facts. “Jian Wei will watch you finish every meal and make sure you follow the restrictions.”
His tone was steady, not asking for permission—just informing her.
“On what grounds?” Tang Ning snapped fully awake. “I want red-oil hotpot!”
“Tang Ning.” Jiang Linye glanced at the clock. “Lunch break is short. I don’t have time to indulge your tantrum.”
She muttered under her breath: “But I’ve always accommodated you…”
She remembered high school—sometimes he’d miss dinner because of basketball or helping teachers, so she’d casually grab an extra portion for him.
Identical trays. He didn’t like ginger, so she quit eating it too.
But Jiang Linye clearly had no interest in reminiscing. He stayed businesslike, though his tone softened just a fraction: “Fine—no cabbage if you hate it, but no spicy food. None.”
“If there’s no hotpot…” Tang Ning licked her lips, testing the waters with fake sweetness, “…sashimi would be okay?”
“…”
Jiang Linye went silent for half a second, then hung up coldly.
Tang Ning was furious.
Her lunch really was just a single bowl of cabbage.
Jian Wei watched her boss sit at the desk like an angry little bird and couldn’t help reminding her: “This is ‘boiling-water cabbage.’”
Boiling-water cabbage—a famous Sichuan dish.
It sounded like plain boiled cabbage, but as an imperial dish passed down through generations, the ingredients and broth demanded perfection.
The stock used hen, duck, pork ribs, dried scallops, and ham hock, simmered until crystal-clear like boiling water. Only the tender, pale-yellow heart of a just-maturing cabbage was used. And it wasn’t boiled—it was repeatedly bathed in the hot broth until the leaves slowly unfurled in the bowl like a blooming flower bud.
Tang Ning understood the logic perfectly, but staring at the bowl of soup, she still felt small, pitiful, and helpless: “Imperial banquet cabbage isn’t still just cabbage?”
She was extremely unhappy.
Now she was convinced that dream had probably been real. Combined with Jiang Linye’s reaction after she woke up, it wasn’t impossible that he’d been tormenting her for five whole years.
How the hell had she married such a heartless, ungrateful scumbag?
After finishing the shockingly delicious cabbage, Tang Ning leaned back in her president’s chair, rubbing her pleasantly warm little belly while invisibly shedding tragic tears.
The next second, Finance walked in. She instantly perked up, swiping away nonexistent heroic tears: “Come come come, quick!”
The finance officer was also in the gossip group and had never seen President Tang this enthusiastic. Thinking it must be good news, she got excited too and cheerfully finished the asset evaluation.
Tang Ning listened with eyes sparkling like little stars: “So… I’m actually loaded?”
Her dad had made his fortune in real estate—developers usually had limited liquid cash. She’d been stuck in her father’s mindset and forgotten she wasn’t even in real estate anymore.
Finance showered her with rainbow compliments: “Yes, President Tang! You’re amazing!”
“Wah.” Tang Ning let out a short, delighted squeal. “I’m starting to order little dresses right now.”
“You’d look incredible in little dresses.”
“Then I’ll buy several!”
“Absolutely! Fill that closet!”
Jian Wei off to the side: “…?”
How did this suddenly turn into a cross-talk comedy routine?!
She felt her head splitting and hurriedly stopped her boss: “President Tang, maybe… maybe you should think about this again…”
Her boss was clearly the most sexually frigid type of career woman! Unless it was for a social event, she never bought colorful little dresses! How did one car accident turn her into someone possessed by a cross-talk comedian? Fuck!
“Jian Wei.” Tang Ning spoke earnestly, like she was imparting profound wisdom. “Let me ask you: what do people live for?”
“For money.” That was what the boss herself had taught her.
“No—for looking good.”
Finance: “Boss is right!”
Tang Ning guided patiently: “Let me ask you again: what do we make money for?”
“For even more money!” That was also what the boss had taught her!
“No—for looking even better.”
Finance: “Boss is right!”
Jian Wei: “…”
When she got back, she was disbanding that rainbow-fart group : )
Night fell. City neon lights flickered, traffic roared, lights spilled everywhere—near and far, blending into one glowing sea.
The darkness was like a vast, silent container. A cool wind slowly dispersed the clouds, revealing a sky full of stars.
Jiang Linye finished the last item on today’s schedule, took off his glasses, and tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose.
Five years ago, old Mr. Tang had fallen seriously ill. After his discharge and seeing Tang Ning married, he accepted it as inevitable and started traveling the world, rarely involving himself in business anymore. Now the entire company’s operations rested almost entirely on Jiang Linye’s shoulders.
He glanced at the clock—the hour hand had just clicked to the hour. Nine o’clock sharp.
Jiang Linye thought for half a second, loosened his tie, and stood up: “Let’s go.”
His assistant quickly wrapped up and followed.
Plenty of people were still working overtime in the company. Jiang Linye paid generous overtime rates, so everyone was highly motivated.
Yet the apex predator of the food chain stood by the glass wall, expressionless, thinking: These poor bastards definitely don’t have wives.
As he walked toward the elevator, he called Jian Wei.
Jian Wei reported everything in detail: “This afternoon President Tang called Finance in for an asset evaluation. After finding out how rich she really is, she’s been buying dresses nonstop.”
Jiang Linye went quiet for a moment, immediately understanding where those charges on his card this afternoon had gone.
He paused slightly: “Got it. Anything else?”
“She’s contacting designers to custom-make even more dresses.”
Jiang Linye: “…”
For a moment, his emotions were strangely complicated.
These past two years, Tang Ning’s hobbies had dwindled. They had almost no common topics. Whenever she got sharp-tongued, she could effortlessly provoke his anger.
The outcomes were usually the same: if a conflict could be resolved in bed, neither wanted to waste words.
He hung up and entered the elevator with his assistant in silence.
The floor numbers ticked down rapidly. After a long pause, he suddenly spoke: “Do you know any good chefs?”
“Ah, President Jiang, are you thinking of changing private chefs?” The assistant knew the boss had one at home—exceptional at Huaiyang cuisine. “What style do you want? I’ll look into it.”
“Style isn’t the main thing.” Jiang Linye thought for a second. “Is there someone who can—”
Just running the sentence through his head once made him feel like an idiot for even asking.
But gritting his teeth, he still forced it out in a low voice: “Someone who can make boiled cabbage taste like red-oil hotpot?”
Assistant: “…”
Assistant: “?”
Tang Ning went to bed very early that night.
Their marital home was in Rose Half Mile, a well-known upscale neighborhood. The houses were spaced far apart for privacy, yet each property was still enormous. Their front yard had a pond full of colorful koi; the backyard featured a glass greenhouse blooming with iris flowers. Hot spring water was piped down from the mountain straight into the bathroom.
After dinner, Tang Ning soaked in the massive bathtub. Through the one-way glass, she could see the deep green pine trees swaying outside.
A faint sulfur scent drifted in the air. Her wounds hadn’t fully healed—her arms were still covered in unhealed scrapes and scratches—so she didn’t dare stay in the water too long. After zoning out for a bit, she hurriedly climbed out.
The bedroom design actually suited her taste perfectly—not cold tones. The sheets were a gentle mint color that made her want to lie there until the end of time.
Plus, during dinner, the housekeeper had accidentally let slip: “Sir is always busy with work and often stays late at the company. Sometimes he doesn’t come home at night, so we don’t need to prepare his meals.”
—Tang Ning was instantly thrilled.
“The whole bed is mine now…”
No—the whole house!
She knew Jiang Linye had a thing about cleanliness. If it weren’t for the fact that she wanted to sleep in this bed too, she’d be tempted to jump on it wearing shoes and dance.
So when Jiang Linye came home deep in the night, what he saw was one completely defenseless animal sprawled in a giant “big” shape on her back, monopolizing the entire bed.
President Jiang, who could only squeeze into the remaining cracks for survival: “…”
He turned the night light to its lowest setting, quietly washed up, changed clothes, and walked back to the bedside.
He was just about to lift the blanket and nudge her over when he suddenly noticed the ends of Tang Ning’s hair were still damp.
Jiang Linye felt a headache coming on.
“Tang…” He started to call her, but the words died on his lips.
He sighed, went back to the bathroom, found a dry towel, took the tips of her hair into his palm, and gently dried them bit by bit.
As he wiped, Jiang Linye’s mind began to wander.
Tang Ning had extremely beautiful long hair. She barely maintained it—probably just naturally perfect. Back in high school, she’d been very active in cultural events. At the freshman welcome party, she sang on stage—bright, radiant, like a beam of sunlight. Under the warm stage lights, her long hair gleamed like the finest silk.
“Even when high school was busiest, she still had time to take care of her hair…”
After starting work, she’d cut it to shoulder length.
Jiang Linye paused, silently watching the sleeping Tang Ning.
Her head was tilted to one side, lashes like delicate cicada wings. The straps of her linen sleep dress had slipped loosely; the blanket wasn’t covering her properly. Her skin was fair, exposing a large expanse of snowy white from her neck upward.
But she was so quiet.
It felt like only in moments like this was the world truly still and gentle.
A fleeting impulse.
His eyes darkened quietly. Suddenly, he wanted to kiss her.
But Tang Ning wasn’t sleeping peacefully. In her dream, an owl was chasing her through the sky, pecking at her head while yelling: “Why do you get to have so much hair? Why aren’t you balding? Why don’t you have any wage-slave worries?!”
She got so annoyed that she frowned and opened her eyes—only to come face-to-face with a tall, shadowy figure backlit in the darkness. Her heart nearly stopped: “Holy shit!”
Without thinking, she shoved.
Jiang Linye, completely unprepared, stumbled backward. At 187 cm tall, he crashed into the chair behind him. The chair slammed into the desk, knocking dictionaries and books off the cabinet in a clattering cascade.
In the darkness, a series of crashing sounds echoed one after another.
Tang Ning: “…”
She suddenly snapped fully awake.
But now the room was dead silent.
Only the man’s suppressed breathing could be heard.
She swallowed nervously, guiltily sitting up: “Jiang… Jiang Linye?”
Jiang Linye didn’t speak.
“I… I heard that sound.” She asked cautiously, “Is your head… still pretty hard?”
Jiang Linye: “…”
After a long pause.
From the darkness came a slow, gritted-teeth drawl:
“The part of me above the neck that can’t pass censorship is even harder.”
“Tang Ning, if you’ve got the guts, don’t move. Stay right there and wait for me.”