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Chapter 22 Twilight

◎ The Back of Her Head Held Firm ◎

After returning to the room, not long later Lu Shiyin faintly heard Cheng Jinghe’s voice on the phone from the other side. She pulled the curtains shut, collapsed onto the bed, and hid under the blanket to sleep.

That sleep lasted until afternoon. When she woke up and looked around the suite again, Cheng Jinghe was gone.

Even after sleeping well, her mood was far from good. Was she here on a honeymoon or just to suffer? Why was he never around? Why was she always angry since coming here?

She sat on the sofa sulking, and when she still couldn’t get over it, she called Cheng Jingzhi to complain about Cheng Jinghe’s behavior.

After listening, Cheng Jingzhi was silent for two seconds, then asked:
“Why do I feel like from your description, he hasn’t actually done anything wrong?”

Lu Shiyin was at a loss for words. After a while she finally said:
“Your brother doesn’t know how to coax people.”

Cheng Jingzhi laughed over the phone.
“Miss Lu, are you in love?”

“Huh?” Lu Shiyin gave an incredulous little scoff. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

“If you’re not, then why do you need him to coax you? According to your own words, you have no feelings for him, and your relationship is purely cooperative. If that’s the case, you shouldn’t care at all. But you do care!”

“My caring?” Lu Shiyin’s voice went up an octave.

“Obviously you’re angry, yet you want Cheng Jinghe to coax you. When he didn’t, you got even angrier. So what does that tell you?”

Lu Shiyin froze, her cheeks warming. She pulled her legs up onto the sofa, hugged one knee with her arm, and stared at the azure sky outside, unable to utter a word.

“Does it have to be this awkward?” Cheng Jingzhi asked. “If you’re unhappy, just tell him directly. With his brain full of mechanical knowledge, he probably wouldn’t think of it otherwise.”

Lu Shiyin pursed her lips. “Let me ask you something—didn’t you say he had some unresolved regret?”

Cheng Jingzhi thought a moment. “Yes, something like that. Why? Does it bother you?”

“Of course not!” Lu Shiyin said loudly, sniffing. “It’s just that I happened to bring it up with him that day, and he said it wasn’t true, just made-up nonsense.”

Cheng Jingzhi nodded. “If he says it’s not true, then it’s not.”

“You don’t question the truth of it?” Lu Shiyin asked.

“If you go chasing after the ‘truth,’ aren’t you just making yourself miserable?” Cheng Jingzhi countered. “Besides, even if it’s real, it was just some little adolescent crush. Who lives on that for a lifetime? Would you? Come on—you’re his wife, legally married. Why care about some memory?”

But… Lu Shiyin didn’t voice it aloud. In her heart, she thought memories were the deadliest, and regrets the hardest to forget.

“You can’t even argue back now, can you? Stop overthinking. If he ever really wronged you, my grandma would be the first not to let him off. And you—your position in my family is so high, with so many people backing you up.”

Lu Shiyin laughed faintly, then heard commotion on Cheng Jingzhi’s end, someone knocking at the door.

“You’re busy, I’ll hang up first.”

After the call ended, Lu Shiyin sat quietly for a while. It was already past five. She thought to go eat something first, then when they both returned that evening, have a proper talk.

Just then, the hotel manager knocked. When she opened the door, the manager’s face was flustered, words tumbling out:
“Mr. Cheng… by the sea… tide came in… he hit the rocks… can’t come back…”

Piecing the jumbled words together, Lu Shiyin formed a conclusion. Alarmed, she shut the door and followed the manager running out of the hotel.

If she hadn’t misunderstood, what he actually meant was:
“Mr. Cheng went to the seaside, but went too far out and got caught by the rising tide, couldn’t return. When we went to find him, he had hit the rocks and was injured.”

Though the logic was shaky, her heart panicked anyway. She followed the manager to the beach—no sign of Cheng Jinghe.

The manager led her around to the other side of the beach, and before she knew it, she was ushered onto a yacht.

As soon as she boarded, the yacht started up. Only then did she realize she’d been tricked. She turned to confront the manager, but saw him smiling at her, saying:
“Have a nice dinner.”

She didn’t quite hear clearly, only catching “Have a nice…” and assumed it was provocation.

Furious, she was about to jump off the yacht, determined to pummel the manager to vent her anger.

Just as she climbed up the rail, someone pulled her back. She stumbled into a solid chest.

Looking up, she saw Cheng Jinghe, dressed in fresh clothes. He barked:
“What are you doing! Do you want to die? Do you know what could happen if you hit the hull jumping from here?”

His shout snapped her back to reason. In her panic earlier she had lost her head.

But at this moment, he was yelling at her?

Two days of pent-up emotion erupted. She burst into loud sobs:
“I thought you were dead!”

The words struck Cheng Jinghe’s heart. He had only asked the manager to think of a way to bring his wife over so he could wait here. What exactly had the manager told her?

He stroked her back gently, comforting her.
“I’m fine, I’m fine…”

“What did he say to you?”

Lu Shiyin clutched his loose white cotton shirt, smearing her tears across it, and choked out:
“He said you hit the rocks and were hurt and couldn’t come back…”

Cheng Jinghe was speechless, quickly clarifying:
“I never told him to say that! I didn’t know he’d say that. I only asked him to bring you here.”

Even with his explanation, Lu Shiyin still felt wronged and angry. She pummeled him a few times with her fists, smearing more tears on his shirt.

It felt like a rollercoaster—losing him, then having him back.

Cheng Jinghe didn’t dodge, let her hit, then held her hand and guided her to the stern, helping her sit down.

“You left me alone in the room again. I was really angry. Why don’t you ever tell me anything first?”

Cheng Jinghe froze, heart softening. Sitting beside her, he said softly:
“Sorry. I knew you were sleeping, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You could’ve at least messaged me!”

“Sorry. I couldn’t send a message about this.”

Lu Shiyin blinked in confusion. What did he mean?

He looked at her for a long moment, then suddenly knelt on one knee. From his pocket he pulled a blue velvet box. Opening it revealed a radiant ruby necklace.

“Lu Shiyin, I sincerely apologize. I’m sorry. I can clearly feel you’ve been unhappy these past days, but I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it started that night when I made up that story—but I’m not sure.

I’m sorry. We came here to relax, but I kept busy with work. I left you alone several times, even letting others misunderstand that you were unhappy. That’s how the situation with Aman and Eric happened.

Sometimes I really don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m trying hard to understand. That’s why I secretly planned this yacht dinner, hoping the atmosphere would help. I admit—I cheated. I know our marriage didn’t start with love, but I want to try, to do more things that make you happy.

Clearly, I haven’t done well. I only made things worse. If you’re willing, will you accept this necklace—and forgive me?”

He spoke in a rush, cheeks faintly red as he knelt. In that moment, he looked no different from the boy in her memory.

The sea breeze blew her hair loose. She tucked it behind her ear, then suddenly laughed, gazing at the shimmering sunset-tinted waves.

Turning back, she asked with mock hauteur:
“And what if you make me angry again? Will you buy me another necklace like this?”

“I’d rather it not come to that again.”

She teased: “What, can’t bear to buy more?”

Cheng Jinghe chuckled. “How could I? I’d buy you as many as you want. I just… I just want you happy in the days ahead. I want our memories of this island to be joyful, not suffocating.”

Lu Shiyin couldn’t resist. He was too good at talking, too good at making her smile.

She looked at him silently, realizing he was still kneeling there, still holding the necklace up high. He looked a little silly.

“Isn’t your arm sore holding it like that? Put it on me.”

It took him a couple seconds, then he stood and fastened the necklace around her neck.

At some point, the yacht had stopped. Twilight darkened the sky, the orange sunset fading into pink and violet hues.

Inside, waiters brought dishes to the table. Fine food, a gorgeous sunset—Lu Shiyin gradually felt her mood ease. She snapped a picture with her phone and secretly sent it to Cheng Jingzhi:
[I take back what I said before.]

He replied soon after, first with a string of laughter, then:
[Some people just love to judge too quickly.]

Lu Shiyin knew he was talking about her. She pouted and didn’t reply.

Cheng Jinghe asked, “Feeling better now?”

“Not bad.”

Which, for her, meant she really was in a good mood. He smiled.

Then, unexpectedly, he brought up Yang Jiarou.

He said Yang Jiarou also held shares in Jinghuai, as one of the partners. For the nursing robot project, he’d spoken with her several times, hoping she could involve her university as well.

Lu Shiyin asked: “So both times you met with her, it was about the project?”

Cheng Jinghe smiled. “Not the first time—that was about Baozhen. But the next two times, yes. It’s all settled now. No more work interruptions from here on.”

Lu Shiyin looked away, suddenly realizing it seemed like she had just been making a fuss all along. He had, in fact, been busy on her behalf.

She put down her knife and fork, and sincerely said:
“Thank you.”

Cheng Jinghe sighed a little helplessly.
“Lu Shiyin, you’re too polite. I’m also a partner in this project. You could think of it like this: I need to do my part too. If the project succeeds, everyone benefits, and our image becomes more positive as well.”

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At that moment, his demeanor shifted back into that of a businessman. His words were also about interests and gains—but his notion of “interests” was not the same as Lu Zhengguo and the others. When he spoke of it, it sounded more natural. Or perhaps, profit was just an excuse for him…

On the island near the equator, daylight stretched on endlessly. Even at seven in the evening, the sky was still bright, the setting sun painting the heavens in its glow.

Dinner was finished. They stood together at the stern of the yacht, looking at the view. The hem of Lu Shiyin’s long dress fluttered in the wind. Neither spoke, but both carried a smile at the corners of their lips.

Suddenly, Lu Shiyin asked him:
“If you happened to see the girl you liked before, walking on the street right now, what would you do? Would you even recognize her?”

Cheng Jinghe gazed at her intently for a long time before answering:
“That was so long ago. I probably wouldn’t recognize her. Her face in my memory has already blurred. Maybe if I really saw her again, I’d realize I didn’t even like her that much.”

Lu Shiyin realized she had been overthinking, but she was satisfied with his answer. She turned her gaze away and softly hummed in reply.

Her voice, carried by the sea breeze, drifted into Cheng Jinghe’s ears. He asked her:
“And you? Do you still remember any boy from your teenage years?”

Lu Shiyin thought carefully—she really didn’t. Her early years hadn’t been smooth or carefree.

Thinking it over, the faces of her classmates had already faded, even their names broken and scattered in her memory.

Looking at him, she said:
“If I really had to name someone, I think I remember you most clearly.”

Her answer surprised him. He asked why. She explained:
“Maybe because you’re Cheng Jingzhi’s younger brother. She would often talk to me about you—how you upset her, how you did something wrong, or refused to talk to her. She shared all of that with me. Before I ever saw you, I used to picture you in my mind. When I finally met you, you were almost exactly how I imagined. That’s probably why I remember you.”

Cheng Jinghe leaned his elbows on the railing, tilting his head to look at her.
“And what kind of impression did you have of me before we actually met?”

Lu Shiyin thought back and said:
“Probably a boy who hardly spoke, whose mind was full of mechanical parts, who was sensitive to numbers, but who would often say shocking things—always blurting out annoying remarks to spite the adults. The type of cocky kid who’s a bit of a handful.”

Cheng Jinghe coughed lightly, a smile tugging at his lips. He nodded.
“Was I really that annoying?”

“When I actually met you, you weren’t as bad as Cheng Jingzhi made you sound. On the contrary, I thought you were rather well-behaved. But when I told Cheng Jingzhi that, she said you were just pretending.”

Lu Shiyin suddenly covered her mouth, laughing.
“I still remember—the first time I stayed over at your house. That night, I went downstairs in the middle of the night to get some water, and I ran into you. I asked you for the jade pendant you wore around your neck, and you gave it to me just like that. Thinking about it now, I feel like I had such a twisted sense of humor—you were so young then.”

Cheng Jinghe inhaled, unable to hold back his smile.
“Mm… I thought it was just a jade pendant. If you wanted it, I could give it to you.”

“Boss indeed—generous from an early age,” she teased him.

“But you didn’t take it,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of regret.

“What, are you disappointed I didn’t steal away your jade pendant?”

“You should have taken it.”

“I wouldn’t! People would say I bullied a kid.” Lu Shiyin leaned against the railing, meeting his eyes.

At that moment, she was reminded of a classmate’s computer wallpaper she once saw—an anime girl standing by the sea, motionless, with only her hair and skirt hem fluttering in the wind.

She thought the scene now was exactly like that wallpaper.

The atmosphere turned strange—both of them could feel it. Cheng Jinghe felt it especially. He straightened up, went inside the cabin, poured himself a glass of liquor, and downed it in one gulp.

Lu Shiyin stayed outside watching the sea, but after standing a while her legs grew tired. She went inside too, pursed her lips, and instead of sitting beside him, chose a seat opposite.

When she picked up her phone, she noticed the Cheng family group chat had over ninety-nine unread messages. Opening it, she saw Cheng Jinghe had sent a scenery photo to the group, and the family wasn’t satisfied—they demanded a photo of the two of them together.

Lu Shiyin was dumbfounded. A photo of the two of them? They didn’t have any. Looking up, she saw the culprit sipping his drink leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips.

Annoyed, she walked over, sat down beside him, and snatched away his glass.
“What are we going to do now?”

“Just ignore them. That’s how they are—once you give them something, they’ll only want more.”

“If you hadn’t posted a picture first, would they be like this?”

Cheng Jinghe accepted her scolding humbly and nodded. “My fault.”

Seeing him so earnest, her anger fizzled away. She said nothing, just kept scrolling through the group chat.

Cheng Jinghe took his phone and sent out several large red packets to the group, settling the matter.

But Cheng Jingzhi shouted the loudest in the chat:
[What is this? You think a bit of money is enough to brush us off? I want a couple’s photo!]

So Lu Shiyin had no choice but to open her camera, switch to the front lens, scoot closer to him, and quickly snap a photo. Checking it, she found his face completely blank.

She frowned and smacked him.
“What’s with that expression? Can’t you take a decent picture? Everyone’s waiting to see this!”

He froze for two seconds.
“You caught me off guard. I wasn’t ready.”

“Fine, let’s retake it.”

She lifted the phone again. This time, he sat stiff as a board.

“Do you not know how to take a photo? Weren’t you good at posing before?” she asked.

“Today isn’t the right day for photos. Forget it, no need to indulge them.”

“What do you mean ‘not the right day’? If we wait too long it’ll be dark, and the lighting will be terrible! Then we really won’t be able to send anything!”

Ignoring his excuses, she retook another picture. This one was better, but the two of them still looked like strangers. Determined, she grabbed his hand, looped it over her shoulder, and leaned closer. To prevent him from stiffening again, she snapped continuously from the moment she pulled his arm over.

Looking through the shots, she saw in the first few he looked startled, then gradually his expression softened. In the last photo—the one she liked most—her hand must have trembled, because the image was slightly unsteady. She was smiling at the camera, while he was turned toward her, gazing with such gentleness.

With the sunset glow in the background, it looked like an image straight off the internet.

“This one! Perfect!” she said excitedly, showing him.

Cheng Jinghe nodded. “Mm.”

Both agreed. She busied herself editing the photo, while his hand, still draped over her shoulder, subtly pulled her closer, easing her into his arms without her realizing.

He leaned in to look at the screen. They were so close, their shoulders almost touching. Once she finished editing, she sent the picture to the group.

The chat instantly exploded, especially Cheng Jingzhi:
[Aaaaah! You two look perfect together!!!]

Smiling at her phone, Lu Shiyin turned to tell Cheng Jinghe, only to realize how close he was. She froze, meeting his eyes—wet, glimmering, carrying depths she had never noticed before, like a lake hiding countless emotions.

For three long seconds, she watched him lean closer. She instinctively shrank back, forgetting his hand was still around her. There was nowhere to escape.

When his lips pressed against hers, her mind went blank. His kiss carried the warmth of wine and the faint scent of pine clinging to him, enveloping her senses.

Her shoulders felt like they were crumbling under his grip. When she tried to retreat, his palm pressed firmly against the back of her head.

She still clutched her phone, screen lit, notifications flooding in, the group chat lively as ever.

But she was frozen, mind sparking like a handful of pop rocks bursting inside her skull, every crackle jolting her nerves.

The kiss deepened—from a gentle brush, to grinding, to prying her lips open, his tongue teasing hers until she was breathless. She finally pushed weakly at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

The wine blurred her head, and the heat of his palm seared her skin.

Around them, the sea surged, the air damp, twilight already swallowed by night. The yacht, lit on the water, was just a single glowing point from afar.

And within that light, she was the most helpless and flustered person of all.

Her heart pounded violently, breath ragged, until at last the long kiss ended.

Looking at him, she deliberately asked:
“What are you doing?”

Cheng Jinghe’s throat bobbed twice. His hand slid from the back of her head to her lips, thumb brushing away the dampness.

He steadied himself, voice hoarse, still tinged with unsated longing:
“Lu Shiyin, I like you. Can you start trying to accept me—and see me as your husband?”