When it came to Zheng Miaomiao, Qi Jin was beyond reproach.
He treated her very well.
And yet Zheng Miaomiao was afraid of him.
Even without being able to articulate a single reason, she was afraid of him. It was the natural instinct of a small herbivore in the presence of an apex predator.
Qi Jin treated her well, but Zheng Miaomiao had long since seen that his bones and blood ran cold. The Authority of Order, held in the hands of a man whose veins flowed with icy snow, frightened her all the more.
But even so, her relationship with Qi Jin was closer than her relationship with Shen Xu.
Because Qi Jin was too rational—he knew exactly what he wanted, what he craved. So although he had seen through the vain, timid Zheng Miaomiao of years past at a glance, he still chose to exploit her character weaknesses, wantonly extracting the value he desired from her.
For a long stretch of time, they had interacted almost like a couple, just without the official title.
Zheng Miaomiao’s feelings for Qi Jin were far too complicated, tangled up with timidity and obedience, love and anxiety over gains and losses. The longer they spent together, the more the latter emotions came to dominate.
Zheng Miaomiao admitted she had countless flaws. Compared to these favored sons of heaven, these people long accustomed to holding power over others, she was shallow, she was childish. She craved many things but lacked the ability to obtain them, and so she always fantasized about enjoying life’s pleasures without working for them.
But at the very least, at the very least, she had one virtue: she never placed her fate entirely in someone else’s hands.
After her long pursuit and long drowning in that world, she had finally grown weary of being fought over and passed around, adored and despised.
They probably never imagined it either—that Zheng Miaomiao, so weak and vain in their eyes, would so resolutely give up the wealth and status that had been within arm’s reach.
“Miaomiao, it really isn’t easy to see you these days.” Qi Jin smiled faintly, though there was little warmth of amusement in his eyes.
“Miaomiao-jiejie, who is this big brother?” The little girl beside her tugged at the hem of Zheng Miaomiao’s skirt.
Qi Jin was twenty-nine; the little girl was only four or five. Normally, when she saw an adult that age, she would call him “uncle.” But Qi Jin was so handsome that the little girl stared at his face in a daze, feeling that “big brother” was a better fit.
“He… he’s a friend of mine,” Zheng Miaomiao said hesitantly.
She watched Qi Jin nervously, half wanting to turn and leave, but a whole string of children still surrounded her.
“It’s getting late. Send the children home first,” Qi Jin said.
It was almost five o’clock—late, in truth, if you thought about it. In a little while, the children’s families would be sitting down to dinner.
As Qi Jin finished speaking, several figures appeared at the seemingly empty gate through which Zheng Miaomiao and the children had entered.
They all looked remarkably well put together, the very picture of modern elites. The man leading them was also an old acquaintance of Zheng Miaomiao’s.
“Wu Qi.” She called his name without thinking.
Wu Qi bowed his head respectfully toward Zheng Miaomiao, and for an instant, something complicated and nostalgic flickered in his eyes as he looked at her.
“Miss Miaomiao,” he said.
Qi Jin took in the entire scene, then said only, in a flat tone, “Wu Qi, take these children home first.”
“Ah, no need—I’ll walk them back myself,” Zheng Miaomiao blurted out, coming to her senses and hurrying to say it.
“Let them do it. There are more of them, so it’s more convenient.” Without giving Zheng Miaomiao a chance to object, Wu Qi and the others escorted the children away.
The children hesitated a little. They already felt somewhat guilty about “coming to someone else’s place without permission,” so they didn’t fuss when led away. But leaving Sister Miaomiao alone made them uneasy… Still, Sister Miaomiao had just said that she and that big brother were friends.
That big brother looked so handsome—he didn’t seem like a bad person at all.
Two good friends hadn’t seen each other in a long time, so they wanted to chat in private. Grown-ups apparently called this… catching up… yes, catching up.
So although the children hesitated, they obediently followed them out.
Leaving only Zheng Miaomiao and Qi Jin behind.
The sea breeze, still carrying the residual warmth of the sun, swept past, yet for some reason it made Zheng Miaomiao feel a little cold.
Seeing Zheng Miaomiao seemingly hunch her shoulders, Qi Jin naturally took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
The gray jacket hung on her frame, and beneath it was still that vivid blue-and-pink watercolor slip dress, making her look like an exquisite, adorable, and delicious little cake, tied with a ribbon that belonged to him alone.
The emotions in his eyes seemed to soften a little, but as his gaze traveled downward and landed on the engagement ring on her hand, they froze over again.
He had naturally already looked up all of Zheng Miaomiao’s records from this period, and learned that during the two years she had disappeared, she had been traveling around the world with a man. And soon, she was going to marry that man.
The light in his eyes abruptly darkened.
What was Qi Jin’s identity? Even the old Zheng Miaomiao had only glimpsed a fragment of it, knowing very little. All she knew was that the core of Qi Jin’s power was not in the country, but in Country M.
In truth, Qi Jin was Country M’s largest arms dealer, and at the same time he controlled its greatest capital. Blood, fire, and wealth always came and went hand in hand. The rise and fall of many nations was nothing more than a chess game on the table of these men at the top.
What he had been born with was too much—power and money alike, temperament and intelligence alike. Everything his eyes fell upon became his sacrifice, his blood offering.
Yet even such a man, even when he had hovered on the line between life and death several times, had never felt much emotional turbulence.
But now, it was this one small wedding ring that made him barely able to contain the violence and bitterness churning in his heart.
Still, he pressed all those emotions back down.
Taking Zheng Miaomiao’s hand, he led her deeper into the garden.
Led along by him, Zheng Miaomiao walked past hydrangea bushes half a person tall that sprawled at her feet—pale pink, powder blue, pinkish purple, tender blue, tender pink… The large blooms of endless summer lay like gemstone flowers scattered upon the ground, or like countless pink-purple butterflies fluttering together, so beautiful it was almost unreal.
Zheng Miaomiao walked up to the wooden cabin, stopping at its door, on the side of the garden facing the sea. Only then did she discover that the cabin was covered in swathes of bougainvillea, pale green and tender yellow blossoms echoing one another, cascading like a waterfall of flowers over the doorway, the whole roof, and the walls.
Zheng Miaomiao looked toward the other side. From this angle—which they hadn’t been able to see from the beach, blocked by the cabin and the hill—only by walking to this foremost point could one see the other stretch of hills, where slopes were covered in nearly a kilometer of pink muhly grass. As the waves rose and fell, the pink grass swayed gracefully with them.
Zheng Miaomiao finally remembered.
This was an idea she had once told Qi Jin about.
She said she was a child raised by the sea, and she couldn’t bear to leave the ocean. But she also loved flowers—especially the endlessly beautiful Endless Summer hydrangeas—and the boundless stretches of pink muhly grass. When she grew old, if she had saved up enough money, she would return to the seaside where she grew up. She would build a little courtyard of her own, plant it with Endless Summer hydrangeas, and set up a swing in the garden. In her free time, she would sway on the swing, breathing in the fragrance of the flowers while gazing at the sea. She also wanted to plant bougainvillea on the roof, so abundant it would cover the entire roof and cascade down its sides. Sadly, pink muhly grass required far too much space—she could never afford that much land, so she wouldn’t be able to grow it.