Manlin Jiang leaned back in her seat, glancing sideways at Shen Qingyu. She knew exactly how her daughter looked when she was nervous.
“Nervous?” Manlin Jiang asked softly.
“No…” Shen Qingyu replied, a little stubbornly.
Manlin Jiang smiled. “No need to be nervous. Your Aunt Lin is a wonderful person, very gentle. And although your Uncle Pei may seem stern, he’s actually quite easy to get along with. As for Huaijin—”
“You’ll understand when you see him,” she said with a smile, leaving it at that.
Shen Qingyu gave a soft “Mm” in response, her gaze drifting to the passing cityscape outside the car window.
The car weaved through traffic, passing brightly lit streets before turning onto a quiet, tree-lined avenue. Tall plane trees stood on either side, their bare winter branches casting intricate, crisscrossing shadows under the streetlights.
Ahead appeared a dark wrought-iron gate, unmarked except for a small bronze plaque embedded in one of the gateposts, engraved with two characters: “Pei Garden.” A security guard in a black uniform stood at the entrance, the wire of his earpiece disappearing into his collar.
Lao Zhang brought the car to a smooth stop at the gate. The security guard stepped forward to confirm their identity, then raised his hand to signal entry. The iron gate slid open silently to both sides, revealing a straight driveway inside. Neatly trimmed holly bushes lined both sides of the driveway, with low garden lights placed every few meters, casting a soft glow on the dark gray pavement.
The car slowly made its way along the driveway, turning a slight curve before the view suddenly opened up. The main building came into sight—a three-story structure in a modern minimalist style, featuring expansive floor-to-ceiling windows and light gray stone walls. Its lines were clean and sharp, with no unnecessary decoration. The building’s eaves were designed with an overhang, appearing both light and substantial under the illumination of the lights.
A server stepped forward to open the car door. Shen Qingyu took a deep breath and stepped out.
Her high heels clicked crisply against the dark gray stone ground. A cold wind swept over her, and she tightened her coat slightly before looking up to take in the building before her. It gave off a feeling of simplicity, calmness, and restraint.
Manlin Jiang got out from the other side, adjusting her beige coat as she walked over to her daughter. “Pei Garden was renovated a few years ago. I heard it was done after Huaijin took over the Pei Group.”
Shen Qingyu said nothing, her gaze shifting to the entrance—a massive revolving door made of ultra-clear glass, so transparent it was almost invisible, with only a thin brass frame embedded around the edges.
“Let’s go,” Manlin Jiang said, linking arms with her daughter. “They should already be here.”
Shen Huaiting walked ahead, his steps steady. The three of them passed through the revolving door and entered indoors.
Warmth instantly enveloped them.
The lobby had an exceptionally high ceiling, with light evenly distributed throughout. Directly opposite the entrance was a floor-to-ceiling wall of greenery—real moss and ferns growing quietly under the lights, injecting a touch of vitality into the otherwise calm space.
A young woman in a black suit, noticing their arrival, gave a slight bow.
“Good evening, Mr. Shen, Mrs. Shen, Miss Shen. The Pei family has already arrived. Please follow me.”
She led them through the lobby and into a corridor.
The lighting in the corridor was slightly dimmer than in the main hall, with warm gray artisanal paint on both walls that felt smooth to the touch. Every few steps, there was a painting—abstract works by contemporary artists, featuring large color blocks and bold lines, surprisingly harmonious with the overall ambiance of the space. The floor transitioned from marble to dark oak wood, offering a warm and textured feel underfoot.
Every detail in the corridor was meticulously designed, yet it never felt contrived.
At the end of the corridor stood a dark walnut door with a brass handle, its lines clean and simple. The woman leading the way gently knocked twice before pushing the door open and stepping aside.
As the door opened, warm yellow light spilled out.
The room was not particularly large. Near the window stood a round table covered with a dark gray tablecloth, already set with bone china plates, crystal wine glasses, and silver cutlery that gleamed softly under the light.
The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the courtyard outside, where moonlight bathed everything in a silvery glow. The courtyard was small but thoughtfully arranged—a winding path paved with blue bricks, flanked by neatly trimmed holly bushes and several Taihu stones of varying shapes, their surfaces adorned with delicate vines that cast dappled shadows in the moonlight.
At the end of the path lay a small pond, its dark waters shimmering faintly in the night. A few withered lotus leaves floated on the surface, their edges curled and browned, yet retaining a desolate beauty.
Beside the pond grew a cluster of emerald bamboo, its slender stems and densely layered leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Behind the bamboo grove, the silhouette of an old plum tree was faintly visible, its gnarled and sturdy branches stretching bare under the moonlight. Though it was not yet in bloom, one could easily imagine the sight of red plum blossoms against the snow in the depths of winter.
Pei Huaijin’s mother wore a smoky purple knit dress, draped with a cashmere shawl, her hair loosely tied into a bun, exuding a gentle and graceful demeanor. Upon seeing Manlin Jiang, she immediately smiled, her eyes crinkling warmly, radiating a comforting and approachable charm.
“Manlin!” she greeted, stepping forward to embrace her. “It’s been so long, and you look exactly the same—unchanged.”
“Wanru, you’re the one who looks radiant,” Manlin Jiang replied with a smile, patting her back. “Your complexion is glowing—have you been focusing on skincare lately?”
While the two mothers exchanged pleasantries, Shen Qingyu’s gaze shifted to another person in the room.
It was Pei Huaijin’s father, who appeared exceptionally well-preserved, looking five or six years younger than his actual age. Tall and upright, with broad shoulders, he carried an imposing presence that commanded respect without effort.
He wore a dark gray double-breasted suit with peaked lapels. The tailoring followed a classic British style, with slightly padded shoulders and a cinched waist that accentuated his tall and straight posture.
Beneath the suit was a black shirt, paired with a retro paisley-patterned tie tied in a full and precise Windsor knot.
Standing there, he exuded an air of steadiness, solemnity, and meticulousness, every inch of him radiating the undeniable weight of a business magnate.
Shen Qingyu noticed an old-fashioned gold watch on his wrist, its dial carrying a subtle vintage charm, much like the jade ring on Pei’s mother’s hand—both were fine pieces with years of history.
Pei Cheng’an was shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with Shen Huaiting.
“Brother Cheng’an, it’s been a long time,” Shen Huaiting said, holding the other’s hand with the familiarity of old friends reuniting.
“Huaiting, the last time we met was back in spring,” Pei Cheng’an patted his shoulder, his voice deep and resonant. He spoke with a smile on his face, but his eyes were sharp and shrewd, as if sizing something up when he looked at people. “Have you been busy with many cases lately?”
“Ah, don’t even mention it. I’ve been swamped,” Shen Huaiting said with a laugh.
“Dad, let the guest come and sit first.”
A voice came, unhurried and carrying a hint of a reminder. It was Pei Huaijin.