Chapter 17.1

◎ Long-sleeved Pajamas in the Summer ◎

Feng Xueming stiffly watched the man standing under the headlights, straightening up after grabbing his suitcase. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, one hand resting on the suitcase’s handle, and the other holding a cardboard box, seemingly preparing to leave.

Fan Qi picked up her bag, pushed the car door open, and called, “Chen Zhiqian, wait for me to come upstairs.”

The man turned around and looked over. Feng Xueming saw an exceptionally handsome face. He considered himself quite good-looking among rich young men and had always been confident. After all, how many male celebrities could compare to him? This was his advantage in women’s circles. But in front of this man, his looks seemed insignificant.

The man frowned slightly as he looked at him, and Feng Xueming felt a sense of pressure, even a hint of disdain.

Fan Qi bent over to speak to Feng Xueming in the car. “Thanks, but my boyfriend is here. I’ll go upstairs with him.”

When Feng Xueming heard her mention her boyfriend again, he asked, “Boyfriend? I’ve never heard you mention that.”

“I was in the entertainment industry before—couldn’t go public with personal relationships. But now that I’m switching careers, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Fan Qi said, glancing at Chen Zhiqian, who was walking over with his suitcase.

Chen Zhiqian heard her words, and his frown deepened.

Feng Xueming, always confident, had previously dated an actress, whom he had taken from another rich young man. Technically, whether or not Fan Qi had a boyfriend shouldn’t matter to him. As long as he could take her from the boyfriend, it was fine. But this man in front of him made him unsure.

Feng Xueming stepped out of the car and walked over to Chen Zhiqian with a bit of provocation. “Hello, I’m Feng Xueming, Fan Qi’s… friend.”

Chen Zhiqian’s gaze shifted to Fan Qi’s face. She seemed to be signaling him with her eyes. He didn’t smile and replied coolly, “Chen Zhiqian.”

Fan Qi didn’t expect Chen Zhiqian to play along and call himself her boyfriend, but his current expression of keeping people at a distance was just right. She took the cardboard box from his hands and hooked her arm around his.

“Mr. Feng, I’m heading upstairs with my boyfriend. Thank you again!”

Fan Qi gave a gentle tug on Chen Zhiqian’s arm, pulling him along. After taking a couple of steps, she turned and waved goodbye to Feng Xueming.

Feng Xueming watched their backs as they walked away, then got into his car, his chest tight as if it were stuffed with lard. With a slam on the gas, the car roared forward at high speed.

As his car sped off, Fan Qi released Chen Zhiqian’s arm and exhaled with relief. “Good timing—you got back just in time.”

Fan Qi walked ahead, not noticing the look on Chen Zhiqian’s face, only hearing his voice behind her: “And what if I hadn’t come back in time?”

“Someone like Feng Xueming wouldn’t care even if I told him I had a boyfriend.”

Just like her father, who had an affair with a married female colleague. When the woman’s husband confronted him, her father shamelessly claimed it was just nature’s way—powerful males are entitled to more females.

“These people can be perfectly rational in business, but when it comes to relationships, comparing them to animals is an insult to animals. He’s the type who doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

Chen Zhiqian looked at the woman walking ahead, holding his suitcase while talking.

How could these words come from her mouth? Had she forgotten everything she did in her past life? Forgotten how he once caught her and Feng Xueming in a passionate kiss?

“Fan Qi,” Chen Zhiqian called out.

She turned back. He walked up to her and took the box from her hands, lowering his head to look her in the eyes as he asked, “Do you know Feng Xueming’s background?”

Fan Qi wasn’t sure why he was looking at her with such a penetrating gaze. What was he trying to say? Was this about Feng Xueming’s family?

“Isn’t he just some rich kid? Actually, the Feng family isn’t even that powerful among the wealthy. It’s his maternal side that’s impressive. I heard from Sister Xiang at our agency—she said his grandfather fled here during the war and met a wealthy young lady from Shanghai. They got married, but later she returned to the mainland. Then the Pacific War broke out, Hong Kong was occupied, and they lost contact. When she came back, his grandfather had already married someone else and had a daughter—Feng’s mother. His aunt and uncle later died in a car accident, leaving only one daughter, so his grandfather seems to favor him as the heir.” She tilted her head and asked, “Is that what you’re referring to?”

Chen Zhiqian listened to her explanation. Her gaze was steady, her eyes clear and innocent, as if she were talking about someone else entirely, not involved in any way.

When had her acting reached such a masterful level?

“Yes,” he replied.

They entered the elevator together. From the original host’s memories, Fan Qi knew that although Chen Zhiqian didn’t have romantic feelings for her, he did treat her like a sister. Even if he disapproved of some of her behavior, he had always looked out for her and tried to steer her in the right direction.

His cold expression now was probably because he was worried Feng Xueming would mess around with her.

“Don’t worry! The moment he offered me an unreasonably high fee for that ad, I knew he had ulterior motives. I asked for what the market valued me at instead.” Fan Qi rolled her eyes. “Just the other day, he sent flowers and gifts to his fiancée’s agency—which, by the way, is right next to ours. Like I wouldn’t notice. Then today, he comes early to the shoot, sticks around all day, and insists on driving me home at night. I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone. But once he saw you, he should’ve backed off.”

“Why?” Chen Zhiqian pressed.

“Because you’re way more handsome than he is. With you around, why would I look at him?”

Fan Qi said it casually, without any hidden meaning, but Chen Zhiqian didn’t take it that way. She probably wasn’t just saying he looked better than Feng—more likely, she knew he was Liu Xiangnian’s grandson.

So, she must believe he’s the true heir to Tianhe Group. She’s aiming for him?

“Is that so?” Chen Zhiqian responded with a faint, noncommittal smile.

Fan Qi sensed something was off. That smile… didn’t quite feel right. The book said he was emotionally unpredictable due to certain past experiences—but it didn’t mention he was like this when he was younger too.

The elevator arrived at the sixteenth floor. Fan Qi stepped out first, with Chen Zhiqian following behind.

She pulled out her keys and opened the door. The apartment was so small that she immediately saw several English study guides on the table. She quickly walked over and scooped them up in her arms. “Sorry, I didn’t really tidy up while you were away.”

She took the books into the bedroom and stuffed them into a canvas bag. When she came out, Chen Zhiqian was at the stove boiling water. Fan Qi asked, “You haven’t eaten yet?”

“No.” He pointed at the box she had carried in earlier. “What you asked for is in there.”

“Huh?” Fan Qi was surprised. She opened the box to find several bottles wrapped in bubble wrap—three bottles each of fermented red bean curd and spicy bean paste.

Her face lit up with joy. Now she could finally make authentic twice-cooked pork.

Chen Zhiqian opened his suitcase and handed her a large bag. “Your mom asked me to bring this to you. There’s some pickled radish from Xiaoshan in there too.”

Fan Qi had already torn open the bag. Inside were White Rabbit milk candies, small walnuts, and five-spice broad beans from Chenghuang Temple. The pickled radish came in a one-jin (half-kilogram) bag.

Chen Zhiqian took out his dirty clothes and loaded them into the washing machine, then returned to the stove to cook instant noodles.

Fan Qi unwrapped a White Rabbit candy and popped it in her mouth. It was a taste she hadn’t had in years—by the time she reached her original timeline, it had become a nostalgic treat. But now, the creamy sweetness filled her mouth.

Sweetness lingered on her tongue as she looked at all the things spread across the table, a deep sense of contentment settling in. Seeing him preparing noodles, she said, “There’s some saltwater duck in the fridge, in the bowl wrapped with plastic wrap—go ahead and eat it.”

Chen Zhiqian served the noodles, opened the fridge, and saw the bowl she mentioned. He peeled off the plastic wrap and found unevenly chopped duck meat. Using his chopsticks, he poked around until he found a drumstick, then flipped it and picked out a piece of duck breast to place atop his noodles. He rewrapped the bowl and put it back in the fridge.

Carrying the bowl back, he noticed Fan Qi was sitting with the walnuts, sorting through them. He asked, “What are you picking out?”

“Pick the ones with bigger cracks—they’re easier to shell.” Fan Qi extracted a piece of walnut meat, placing it on a napkin spread out on the table.

“What about the ones that are hard to crack?”

“I’ll use a small hammer next time.” Fan Qi wore a smug, self-satisfied expression, like she was fishing for praise for her cleverness.

Seeing her childish and triumphant expression, Chen Zhiqian could only connect this version of Fan Qi to the one from the other night—who had kicked him repeatedly in her sleep and had the worst sleeping posture. He still couldn’t reconcile her with the Fan Qi from his previous life.

He looked down at the chunk of duck meat in his bowl—cut unevenly and without much care.

Chen Zhiqian picked up a piece and took a bite. The seasoning was just right, no gamey taste at all. “This duck is pretty good.”

Fan Qi brightened at that. “You like it too? I’ll make it again nex—”

Wait, no. The original Fan Qi barely knew how to cook rice, and her skills were definitely worse than Chen Zhiqian’s. She quickly corrected herself: “I mean, I’ll buy it again next time.”

“Where’d you get it? The pieces are huge.”

All the knives at home were Western-style, which made chopping hard. After she finished cooking yesterday, she just gave it a rough chop—it was just for her own meal, no need to be too particular.

Who knew he’d notice such a detail? She hurried to fill in the gaps: “There’s this little alley near the exchange. Hard to find. One of the uncles there showed me the way. That shop only sells whole ducks, no half portions, and they won’t cut it for you. Take it or leave it. So I had to bring it home and cut it myself.”