How could Tang Ning possibly just wait there?
She ran like hell.
While Jiang Linye was still getting up, she yanked the blanket off, flipped like a carp leaping from water, shoved her feet into slippers, and bolted. She barely made it two steps before a powerful force seized her wrist and hurled her back onto the bed.
North City had just entered autumn; the bedding had been switched to thicker fall sets—quilt and pillows all plush and heavy.
Her head landed on the pillow. In the split second he dragged her back, Jiang Linye seemed to remember her head injury wasn’t fully healed—he reached out at the last moment to cushion the impact.
Her vision blurred for half a second, then settled safely onto the pillow.
In the darkness, the two stared at each other: “…”
He was still gripping her wrist, half-kneeling in that position, eyes slightly darkened, lips pressed thin—not looking pleased at all.
Tang Ning blinked slowly. When she lifted her head, she met that familiar glint in his eyes.
—The same look from that night in the hospital. He’d stared at her without moving, like he’d locked onto prey.
She jerked her gaze away as if shocked, forced a smile, and tried to change the subject: “President Jiang, I really didn’t mean it just now. I dreamed there was this owl that looked exactly like you, chasing me and pecking my head… Could you maybe not appear out of nowhere like a ghost? You don’t even make a sound when you walk—”
She didn’t finish.
Jiang Linye suddenly leaned down and kissed her hard.
The position gave him perfect leverage. His other hand clamped her chin, trapping her completely in his arms.
Tang Ning’s mind went blank.
He moved slowly, deliberately, body pressing closer inch by inch.
Only when she started feeling the chill did she snap back to reality.
With all her strength, she fought the hand pinning her down. She writhed like a fish dying on dry land, but she couldn’t budge him at all.
His kiss deepened. Tang Ning had never felt their physical difference so starkly. She bit him hard; tears welled up in her eyes without warning. Her words came out broken: “What the… what are you doing!”
Jiang Linye’s lip stung. He frowned slightly but pressed her down even tighter: “Fulfilling marital duties.”
“But I don’t want to…” She couldn’t move at all. She’d forgotten about the injury on her forehead—panicking, she tried to headbutt him, but she couldn’t even lift her shoulders.
Suddenly Tang Ning felt wronged. She simply looked up at him.
The bedroom was dim; only the night light cast a soft, ambiguous warm orange glow, enveloping them both.
“I… I’ve told you so many times—I don’t remember getting married to you at all.”
He buried his face against her cheek, kissing and nuzzling. He heard her voice.
Her tone was actually very clear and bright—back in school she sang beautifully. When she occasionally cried, it turned soft like this.
Jiang Linye’s movements gradually slowed.
“And I just got discharged… my whole brain is…” She whimpered softly while inwardly cursing: What kind of fucking man is this—can’t he wait two more days?! “…not clear at all…”
“Why do you have to do this right now… just…” Only when she spoke did she realize how truly wronged she felt—money couldn’t make up for this emotional damage. “…I don’t want to sleep with a stranger.”
A stranger?
“We’ve shared the same bed for five years.”
Jiang Linye almost laughed from anger, but he couldn’t laugh.
He looked down at her, silent for a long time, then rasped: “You said you liked me.”
That was already from high school.
“Yes, I did say that.” Tang Ning had been trying to cry for ages but couldn’t squeeze out a single tear. She sniffed hard; her eyes really did redden. “Can’t I regret it?”
Jiang Linye immediately frowned, voice low and heavy: “Don’t even think about divorce!”
Tang Ning: “…”
He was overthinking. She hadn’t even considered divorce.
Dividing assets would be way too troublesome. She’d done a quick check on their current property split—if she was going to leave, she’d at least spend a bit more of his money first.
To cover up her inner Scrooge nature, Tang Ning deliberately lowered her eyes, looking aggrieved.
The night light’s warm glow shimmered, laying a layer of mist over her long lashes.
She didn’t speak.
Jiang Linye suddenly felt dazed. A tough girl like her—who wouldn’t shed a tear even if a dog bit her leg bloody, who’d fought him tooth and nail for years after marriage without ever showing weakness—did she really have moments when she cried?
Maybe she did.
That was many years ago—before the unified exams. They’d been on cleaning duty with a group in an old classroom. A metal teaching tool on the bookshelf wasn’t secure; when she brushed it, it fell. He reacted fast, pulling her out of the way—and took the full hit himself.
It was summer; he was only wearing a T-shirt. The sharp edge struck, and his fragile shoulder blade made a crisp cracking sound.
Tang Ning was terrified. She rushed him to the hospital. While the doctor set the bone, he unconsciously frowned. When he looked up, he saw the little girl’s eyes red.
For no reason, he suddenly felt happy. He asked softly: “Why are you crying?”
Tang Ning’s eyes flew wide: “I’m not crying!”
Back then she wasn’t just a little fox—she was a guilty tabby cat.
“Oh.” Jiang Linye found it funny but didn’t expose her. “Your eyes are a little red. Don’t stay up so late anymore.”
This time Tang Ning didn’t reply. She blinked slowly.
After a long pause, she suddenly said: “Will this affect your handwriting later?”
The question actually caught Jiang Linye off guard. His mom had beaten him plenty growing up; he didn’t think this was a big injury.
But she asked so seriously. Almost on impulse, he answered: “I don’t know.”
Tang Ning suddenly tensed: “Then… then if it really is because of me, and you can’t write properly later, you…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
But Jiang Linye felt an inexplicable anticipation. Without thinking, he added: “Then let me first help Believer Tang Ning fulfill her grand, magnificent wish.”
Now her grand wish had long been fulfilled, yet not only had she forgotten it—she was starting to regret it.
Jiang Linye looked at her face so close to his and called softly: “Ningning…”
Ningning what?
He had so many moments of speechlessness.
The familiar scent of roses drifted between them. Jiang Linye released her, got off her body, and lay down beside her: “…Go to sleep.”
He clearly felt her entire body relax in an instant.
Like a plush little animal, she quickly turned her back and curled into a tight ball.
Jiang Linye lay motionless, staring at the ceiling.
That’s why he never reminisced about the past.
The moment he did, he wanted to stay forever at eighteen.
If he could dream, he’d only want to sleep eternally here and never wake up.
“Tomorrow is the weekend. Remember to go home and visit Dad,” he said unhurriedly, reminding her. “He heard about your car accident and is very worried.”
The room was very quiet. He waited a long time.
Tang Ning never spoke again.
Jiang Linye didn’t sleep well that night.
In his memory, he was always the satisfied one. This kind of situation was rare.
But work still waited.
He opened his eyes exactly at six. The sky had just begun to show pale dawn light. He instinctively rolled over to hug the person beside him—only to find the sheets already cold.
Jiang Linye sat up abruptly, eyes wide. His first instinct was to reach for the nightstand drawer.
Tang Ning’s ID card and passport were still there.
“…”
He let out a long breath of relief.
He changed clothes, got up, and went downstairs. The moment he reached the staircase, a familiar aroma hit him.
Jiang Linye paused for a brief second, almost in disbelief. The walk down the stairs felt longer than usual. When he turned the corner, he saw Tang Ning really standing in the kitchen, wearing a SpongeBob apron, cooking together with the private chef.
She didn’t seem very skilled—occasionally looking up to ask about the heat level.
Jiang Linye walked over, voice inexplicably hoarse: “Morning.”
Tang Ning looked up at him, a little awkward too: “Morning.”
She touched her nose and explained proactively: “It’ll be ready soon. I’m preparing your lunch.”
In the pot simmered a fragrant potato beef stew. Jiang Linye glanced down—on the counter, three bento boxes were already portioned out. Standard rice, side dishes of stir-fried bean curd skin with shredded carrots, blanched asparagus, tomato-egg soup, and four plump, round little kumquats.
In five years of marriage, he’d never fucking seen such a warm morning. The whole world felt unreal because of it: “Why the sudden urge to make this?”
“Just…” Tang Ning’s expression was a little unnatural. “Think of it as my return gift for your boiling-water cabbage.”
When Tang Ning felt guilty, her ear tips would turn red. Back when she liked him to the bone, just looking at each other would make her ears flush.
Jiang Linye interpreted her expression as shyness.
So that breakfast was eaten in unusual harmony.
Jiang Linye didn’t even try to multitask with his emails. He drank an extra half bowl of congee and asked proactively: “Do you want me to drop you at the company?”
She didn’t even look up: “No, I’m not going to the company today.”
Was she crazy? Only a lunatic would go to work on the weekend.
She’d already made plans with Sheng Xinglai to go shopping for little dresses—happily being a rich woman, happily emptying her husband’s wallet.
Jiang Linye nodded. Noticing she was wearing a very casual dress today, he asked casually: “Meeting someone?”
“Mhm.” To spend your money.
“Come back early.”
“Mhm.” I won’t come back.
For the last sentence, Jiang Linye hesitated for a split second before firmly reminding her: “No sneaking red-oil hotpot behind my back.”
“…”
But in reality, she didn’t even get the chance to sneak red-oil hotpot.
Girls’ shopping trips only involve a few things. Sheng Xinglai knew she hadn’t fully recovered from the car accident and had even suffered memory loss—she practically wanted to put her in a bubble and watch her every move:
“Get what hairstyle? What if it touches chemical agents? No no no.”
“Get what nails? Can’t you smell the formaldehyde in the salon? No no no.”
“Eat what seafood hotpot? You don’t know it’ll leave scars? Do you want us both doing square dancing in the future with you still sporting a Harry Potter lightning bolt on your head?”
…
In the end, after buying the little dresses, the two could only go watch a movie together.
Tang Ning: “If I’d known you’d nag this much, I wouldn’t have asked you out.”
Sheng Xinglai shot back without missing a beat: “Who else could you ask? You talk like you have other friends now.”
Tang Ning froze, genuinely surprised: “How could I not have friends?”
Come on, she’d been insanely popular in high school.
“With that shitty temper of yours, who besides me could stand you?”
The words slipped out. Tang Ning suddenly went quiet.
Sheng Xinglai didn’t hear her respond for a long moment. Realizing she’d forgotten about the amnesia, she quickly changed the subject: “Of course, other people might just be busy. I’ve been pretty swamped these past few months too—the hospital is getting a full renovation, and a lot of stuff I have to handle myself… But it’ll reopen soon. When it does, come visit, okay?”
Sheng Xinglai ran a fairly well-known pet hospital and occasionally did stray animal rescue.
Tang Ning loved fluffy little animals too, so she smoothly picked up the thread: “Sure, I’ll definitely show up.”
“Oh right.” Sheng Xinglai suddenly remembered something and opened her bag. “Here’s a little welfare for you. I just got a stack of coupons printed this morning—planning to use them for the reopening event.”
Tang Ning giggled: “You’re straight-up giving me insider perks?”
Sheng Xinglai shoved a handful into her hand.
Tang Ning took them and looked closely. Printed in bold red letters across the top:
“Free Neutering Coupon.”
Tang Ning: “…”
Tang Ning had the sudden urge to shove the coupon right back where it came from: “Who am I neutering? My husband?”
They chatted as they entered the theater. Sheng Xinglai put on her glasses like a classy lady, hands folded serenely in her lap: “Sorry, our clinic doesn’t offer human sterilization services at the moment.”
The movie was a recent artsy release. Tang Ning leaned back in her seat, watching but gradually zoning out. Sheng Xinglai’s earlier words kept replaying in her mind.
How could she have no friends…
She felt a little lost. She had no idea how much had happened in these five years.
The next second, Sheng Xinglai gave her a light pat: “Your husband’s calling.”
Tang Ning hadn’t brought her bag out; while shopping earlier, she’d stuffed her phone into her best friend’s purse.
Looking at the phone being handed over, Tang Ning paused slightly: “It’s not Jiang Linye.”
She’d blocked him ages ago. There was no way he could call.
“Oh.” Sheng Xinglai glanced at the screen—“Lin”—and didn’t dwell on it. She casually hung up.
A moment later, the phone buzzed again.
Tang Ning felt a little embarrassed. She took the phone and held it herself. Still the same caller. She had no idea who it was, so she simply powered it off.
This time it stayed quiet until the movie ended.
When the film finished, Sheng Xinglai sat in the theater, stretching lazily while waiting for the post-credits scene: “Your husband calling to check up on you?”
“Check up on what?” Tang Ning’s mouth twitched. “He’s the one who’s always out all night. What right does he have to check on me?”
“He doesn’t come home now?” Sheng Xinglai looked genuinely shocked. “Then he…”
“Misunderstanding, misunderstanding. He just purely sleeps at the company—makes overtime easier.”
“How do you know he’s really working overtime?” Sheng Xinglai had no ulterior motive; she just wanted to tease. “Don’t let your guard down and end up with a little one running around outside.”
“Impossible.” Tang Ning turned her phone back on with a sly grin. “I trust my husband.”
“Wow, so confident.”
“Of course.” President Tang stroked the “free neutering coupon” in her hand and let out a sinister laugh. “I trust he doesn’t have the ability in that department.”
Sheng Xinglai: “…”
Sheng Xinglai: “???”
The phone restarted. Tang Ning was about to search for nearby good drinks when that same “Lin” seized the opening and called again.
She answered casually—and heard a bright, cheerful female voice.
“Hello, Ms. Tang.” The tone was soft and gentle, like a spring breeze. “You didn’t come in for your psychological consultation this morning. Would you like to cancel this week’s session, or reschedule for another time?”
Tang Ning froze.
So the “Lin” in her contacts…
was her therapist’s name.
Chen Liangjun felt his boss was unusually distracted today.
After being Jiang Linye’s assistant for over five years, he’d always admired the man’s capitalist spirit—coming to work even if knives fell from the sky, ruthless to others and even more ruthless to himself.
But it wasn’t even noon yet, and his boss was already checking his watch repeatedly. The book in his hand had been stuck on page 189 for the past half hour. When Chen Liangjun sneaked a peek, it was still on page 189.
Conclusion: Boss was slacking off.
This was extremely rare. He was dying to know what happened. Three minutes later, he got his answer.
Jiang Linye looked like he’d finally reached his limit. He closed the book, lifted his head, expression as blank as ever: “I want lunch.”
Chen Liangjun: “…”
It was half an hour earlier than usual mealtime, but… sure, why not.
Today his boss had unusually brought a bento. Chen Liangjun heated it up and brought it back.
Jiang Linye visibly perked up.
He had never looked forward to any part of the day like this before.
He opened the lid. The aroma quickly spread through the room.
He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the scent was so distantly familiar it tugged at his heart—back in middle school, when Tang Ning was home alone, she often cooked for herself.
Her cooking was actually very good. It was just that later… she stopped entirely.
Jiang Linye picked up his chopsticks and started with the vegetables, tasting each dish one by one.
Finally he reached the potato beef stew.
The dish looked like it had been braised for a long time—the carrots and potatoes were soft, the sauce thick and glossy, the beef fully submerged.
He picked up a piece of potato and put it in his mouth.
After two unsuspecting chews, a sour, numbing sensation shot straight from the top of his head through his entire body. The flavor circulated through him like twenty-four full micro-cycles before he slowly set the chopsticks down and—expressionless—spat the piece out.
That wasn’t potato.
That was the food he hated most in his entire life.
—It was a fucking huge chunk of ginger disguised as potato : )