Jiang Yan had no idea, but in Sang Zhi’s eyes, he had already become a human doll without a manual, just waiting to be “developed.” Even lying in bed, the feather-light, almost imperceptible kiss from earlier flashed through her mind, along with a vague memory that tugged at him. His fingers unconsciously touched his lips. That day at the train station, the scent he had smelled was exactly the same as Sang Zhi’s—yet for some reason, when he woke, the person had turned into Sang Yun. Not to mention the sisters’ lifelong rivalry. Sang Zhi also wasn’t the type to give away credit. It seemed that if he wanted answers, he’d have to make another trip to the station.
He had just opened the door when he bumped into Sang Zhi, who was knocking at it. Her clothes had conveniently fallen to his feet. She bent to pick them up while explaining:
“I collected the clothes you washed a few days ago. I brought them over while you were here so I wouldn’t forget in a couple of days.”
“Okay.”
So soon after the earlier incident, she was acting completely nonchalant. He, as a man, felt awkward and self-conscious. Jiang Yan shook his head and helped pick up the clothes. As he bent down, she casually lifted her head, and their faces ended up nose-to-nose.
This angle had been carefully rehearsed by her many times. There was no kiss—just a slight brush of noses to create a sense of intimacy. From this perspective, Jiang Yan could see the fine fuzz on her delicate face and her extraordinarily bright, lively eyes. Even like this, the impact on him was significant; he forgot about the clothes and instinctively took a few steps back to avoid being too close.
Sang Zhi pretended to be shy, waiting for the system to register merit points. She squatted there so long her legs went numb, yet the system remained silent. She didn’t understand—same person, same place, same atmosphere. Why did it work before but not now?
Sang Yun came out and saw the two of them so close; her face darkened. At first, Sang Zhi had avoided him, so she hadn’t had to intervene. But now, he dared to touch someone she liked! Strongly, she pushed into the space between them, putting on a pitiful act:
“Brother Jiang, could you come to the hospital with me?”
Jiang Yan refused outright.
Sang Yun whimpered, showing her marred face without shame:
“My face is stained with shoe polish. I want to go to the hospital to check it out, but I’m afraid to go alone. Brother Jiang, please accompany me. Plus, my dad works at the pharmacy. He knows you gave me a watch and said he wants to invite you home. I can’t refuse.”
Sang Zhi, angry at her scheming to use favors for gain, rolled her eyes and went downstairs. According to Jiang Yan’s personality, he disliked getting involved in such troublesome matters. But refusing someone who presented themselves as a “life-saving benefactor” would be impolite.
Seeing him agree, Sang Yun blushed, thinking of her father and uncle’s instructions at home, her eyes glinting with determination. If she accomplished her plan today, her family would quickly rise in status, and she could successfully kick Sang Zhi out.
Though her aunt wasn’t on the Revolutionary Committee, her husband and father-in-law had been in influential positions for years. They had inside information: a batch of overseas Chinese was arriving from Nanyang in the next few days. Since this first group was meant to attract investment, the city and provincial authorities were paying close attention. A successful collaboration could set a model for other provinces.
They planned meticulously: who was coming, their status, where they would stay, which locations they would visit, and what welcome ceremonies to hold—all arranged two weeks in advance. Her uncle was quick-witted, aiming to use this opportunity to establish connections for his future career. A strong backing never hurts. Otherwise, if the old persecutors ever regained power, he’d be in trouble.
Among the visitors were an older couple in the rubber business, with only one son. The child was mischievous and had sneaked onto the plane with the delegation, unbeknownst to the parents until boarding. A mischievous child in an unfamiliar place might get lost, creating situations where someone needed to “save” them. In this plan, Sang Zhi was the perfect “cannon fodder”—a two-birds-one-stone scenario. She would “die a worthy death.”
After Sang Yun and Jiang Yan left, her uncle went to the retirement home, but before leaving, he lingered near Sang Zhi, saying he wanted to eat a meal she cooked that evening. Whatever she made would do.
Sang Zhi had been living with him for a while. With her current funds, she could easily manage her future life, and even support herself if she found her younger brother. But after spending time with her uncle, she knew the old man was cold on the outside but warm inside—gruff but kind-hearted, like her previous master. She genuinely wanted to take care of him.
“All right, I’ll make it for you. My soy-marinated meat is ready. Tonight I’ll stir-fry it with garlic sprouts. Remember to pick up a few steamed buns from the cafeteria after chess.”
The guard immediately offered to help: “Comrade Sang, I’ll handle the food.”
Her uncle waved him off, face wrinkled: “This is a small matter. Xiao Zhang, bring the lunchbox.”
Once they left, Sang Zhi quickly changed clothes and followed him out of the compound.
That morning, the sentry had told her a letter had been delivered specifically for her. Inside was a photo: a thin, scholarly-looking young man participating in labor. She had seen a family photo of the three siblings in the original owner’s belongings. Though the person in the photo had aged considerably, she immediately recognized him as the original owner’s elder brother, Sang Nan.
The envelope included an address, with instructions: if she wanted to know Sang Nan’s whereabouts, meet there in the afternoon—no exceptions. They knew her connection to Sang Bei and Sang Nan, and also knew her address. No one else could be behind this.
Of course, she wasn’t naive enough to fall for it blindly. The sentry at the gate—Wu Guan—was the same one who had helped her on her first day at the compound, guiding her and protecting her interests. A long-time duty officer with a slight leg issue, she had delivered medicinal wine and plasters to him before, so they were on good terms.
Before leaving, she told him that someone from her hometown had sent her something but she couldn’t carry it herself, and asked to go pick it up when the shift changed. The young, enthusiastic soldier grinned broadly: “Leave it to me.”
“No rush. I’ll come for it later. Oh, here’s the address.” Sang Zhi smiled and handed it over. She sensed that this matter might be connected to the overseas Chinese, and that the family intended to use her for some scheme. She was more than eager to get involved.