Chapter 18.2

“Weiwei takes after me on the surface—easygoing and warm. But deep down, she’s just like her mom: proud and headstrong. You know she was laid off, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“For days after she came home, her mom and I avoided bringing it up, afraid it’d upset her. Then her mom suggested she go on a blind date with you, just to distract her. We thought she’d take her time looking for a job after the New Year, but she secretly started searching right away. Her mom wanted her to take it easy, but she wouldn’t. What could we do? We had to give in. Parents can’t win against their kids.”

He continued with a chuckle, “And fate works in strange ways. Somehow, she ended up at your company.”

Song Gao Yi turned to Chen, his gaze sharp. “As her father, I don’t care about work or anything else. She’s your wife now, and you better not let her suffer.”

Chen nodded solemnly. “I won’t.”

Moments later, Song Wei returned with the oyster sauce, and the two men in the kitchen fell silent.

She eyed them suspiciously. “Were you talking bad about me?”

“No one was talking bad about you. Go set the table,” her father replied. “Is your mom coming back for dinner?”

“She is. She’s downstairs chatting with Aunt Wu.”

Song Wei had bumped into Yang Yingqiu after work and avoided the usual interrogation from Aunt Wu by using the oyster sauce as an excuse. She left Yang Yingqiu to fend for herself.

When Yang Yingqiu returned in time for dinner, she remarked while changing shoes, “That Old Wu is something else. She’s already talking about dragon^[1]born in the Chinese zodiac year of the Dragon babies and how auspicious they are. Her daughter-in-law hasn’t even conceived yet, and she’s stressing over it.”

From the kitchen, Song Gao Yi interjected, “The kids are still young. There’s no rush.”

“I’m not rushing them,” Yang Yingqiu retorted, though she added, “But they aren’t that young anymore. After her next birthday, she’ll be 27. It wouldn’t hurt to start planning. If they have kids earlier, I’ll be retired and can help take care of them.”

“You have to respect their decision.”

“Who said I wouldn’t respect it?”

At the dinner table, Song Wei marveled at how the two had shifted from cold wars to casual banter.

These past couple of days, her mother had been leaving work on time and even seemed cheerful at meals. Perhaps it was thanks to the new son-in-law.

In that case, Song Wei felt genuinely grateful to Chen Jubai.

The stir-fried shrimp, despite being an eight out of ten in quality, earned her highest praise. She nearly finished half the plate herself.

This drew a disapproving look from her father, whom she quickly placated. “Dad, it’s all thanks to your excellent teaching. Isn’t it, Mom?”

Yang Yingqiu gave her due credit. “Your dad’s been cooking for you all these years. Of course, his skills are good.”

Song Wei grinned slyly. “And not just for me.”

This silenced the couple, with Yang Yingqiu shooting her a warning glance.

Song Wei gleefully picked up another shrimp, beaming at her husband beside her. “So good.”

Chen Jubai’s eyes held a trace of a smile as he placed the last shrimp into her bowl.

After dinner, the two men took on the task of washing dishes and tidying up the kitchen.

At first, Song Wei felt a little guilty, but Yang Yingqiu teased her, “Feeling sorry for them?”

Song Wei spun around immediately. “Who’s feeling sorry?”

Yet, when she returned to the room and saw the bed, her scalp tingled.

The real challenge was just beginning.

Her relationship with Chen Jubai had developed in leaps and bounds—skipping stages entirely. From a blind date to marriage without even dating properly. They hadn’t held hands or kissed, and now they were expected to share the same bed.

After much deliberation, she decided to go to sleep first—falling asleep quickly could help her avoid 90% of potential awkwardness.

After taking a fast shower, she lay down on the bed.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door. A few seconds later, it opened.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, blocking the light from outside.

“Can I come in?”

“…Come in.” Song Wei’s eyes shifted slightly. “I didn’t touch your luggage. You’ll need to unpack it yourself.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t have much—just a few changes of clothes, some daily necessities, and a laptop.

Song Wei leaned against the headboard, watching as he took out his clothes and hung them in the wardrobe, placing them next to her dresses.

She bit her lower lip, a swirl of complicated emotions rising within her.

It felt so strange.

Was this what marriage was supposed to be?

Two completely separate lives suddenly converging, merging onto the same track.

From now on, the path ahead would be shared—just one road, together.

He suddenly turned his head, his dark eyes deep and intense.

Their gazes locked, and Song Wei wondered—did he have similar thoughts?

Would he regret marrying her?

After all, from the looks of it, marrying her didn’t seem to bring him any benefits.

Her parents were a handful. Yang Yingqiu often wore a sullen face, and Song Gaoyi pressured him into learning to cook. Wasn’t he annoyed by all of it?

Well, what was done was done. Even if he regretted it now, it wouldn’t change anything. She had no plans for a divorce anytime soon.

Summoning a burst of courage from who-knows-where, Song Wei met his gaze directly. “Why are you staring at me?”

Standing by the wardrobe, the man’s expression softened. “Weren’t you staring at me, too?”

“Am I not allowed to?” After all, she was his legal wife.

“You are.” A faint smile curved his lips. “I’ll take a shower first. I still have some work to do afterward. You can go to sleep.”

“Okay.” That was exactly what she wanted.

When Chen Jubai came out of the shower, she was already curled up under the blanket. A small lump with a stuffed bear peeking out of her arms was all that was visible.

Even the cat, Snowflake, was curled up at the foot of the bed, mimicking her posture.

He stood there for a moment, then walked over to the bedside and turned off the main light, leaving only a small, dim nightlight on.

Then, with careful steps, he left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

During dinner, he had mentioned working in the study.

The study was lined with bookshelves, and two desks were joined in the center. The desktops were cluttered with books, documents, a few potted plants, and water cups—signs of regular use.

Chen Jubai sat down at one of the desks but found himself at a loss for what to do.

After his mother’s departure, he had lived alone for a long time. In high school, he moved in with his aunt’s family, becoming an outsider in their home. His young cousin, Jiang Xiaoyu, didn’t know better, and his uncle occasionally expressed discontent behind closed doors.

Later, when he attended university and lived on campus, things calmed down. Once he started earning money, his uncle became more pleasant, and life returned to a semblance of normalcy.

Now, entering a new family once more felt completely different. The rapid change in relationships left him caught off guard.

The nervousness and unease buried inside him betrayed his calm exterior. He still struggled to say “Dad” and “Mom” without first rehearsing it in his mind.

Chen Jubai clenched his fists, then released them, grounding himself in the sensation.

His life had entered a new phase, bringing with it a whirlwind of changes.

He needed to adapt—and embrace it.

Taking a deep breath, Chen Jubai opened his laptop.

The “Navigator Program” at Changyan was another challenge for him. He was set to sign the contract next week, with plenty of work still ahead.

Bi Xunyao had been furious when Guangnian secured the Navigator Program, and their company’s position in Shenzhen was tenuous. If this collaboration didn’t deliver results, they might lose access to the massive Shenzhen market.

Occasionally, faint footsteps sounded outside the study door, gradually fading after 10 p.m.

Around 11 p.m., Yang Yingqiu knocked and entered, her brows slightly furrowed. “Still working?”

Chen Jubai looked up. “Just finishing up some work, Mom. You can go to bed first.”

“What kind of work can’t wait until tomorrow?” She recalled hearing from Song Wei’s aunt about how he sometimes worked so much he forgot to eat. Her frown deepened as her tone grew stern. “Clean up and get to bed. Staying up every night—what, do you want to leave before Wei Wei does? Go to sleep!”

Chen Jubai was caught off guard. His aunt had been kind to him, but she’d never raised her voice. Since his mother’s departure, no one had dared to discipline him.

After a brief pause, he stood up from his desk. “Alright, I’ll shut it down now.”

Yang Yingqiu cast him a glance before leaving the room.

After saving his work, he left the study. Yang Yingqiu emerged from the kitchen with a glass of warm milk, handing it to him. “Drink this before bed. If you can’t finish it, give it to Wei Wei.”

Chen Jubai took the glass, feeling the warmth against his palm.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Thank you, Mom.”

“Alright, off to bed with you.”

The small bedside lamp in the eastern bedroom was still on.

The little lump on the bed remained fast asleep.

Chen Jubai finished the milk, placed the glass on the bedside table, and slipped under the covers.

Her scent was everywhere—soft and faintly sweet.

It wasn’t from her body wash; he had noticed it earlier that evening.

The figure next to him stirred slightly, and he thought he had woken her, but then came a barely audible murmur: “You’re back.”

It was soft, like a kitten’s mewl, scratching at his heart in the still of the night.

He replied quietly, “Mm.”

“What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty.”

“My mom made you come back, didn’t she?” She sounded amused, almost smug. Her face, still half-asleep, dimpled with two deep dimples. “Serves you right for working overtime…”

A moment later, she murmured again, “Chen Jubai…”

“Mm?”

“Do you sleep well?”

“Well enough.”

“Do you steal blankets?”

The man stiffened, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before.”

“Me neither.” She squinted at him and warned, “Then you’re not allowed to steal mine…”

“I’ll try not to.”

“And don’t cross to my side.”

“Okay.”

Within minutes, her breathing grew steady as she fell soundly asleep. The stuffed bear she had been holding had somehow rolled to the floor.

Chen Jubai relaxed and closed his eyes.

Half an hour later, he reopened them to find her, now wrapped in his blanket, curled up against his chest.

Her breath tickled his neck, soft and warm, while her small hand rested securely on his waist, treating him like a life-sized stuffed toy.

He called her name softly, “Song Wei?”

“Mm…”

She only clung tighter in response.

Chen Jubai looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and sighed.