Chapter 10

The redness on Qiehui’s face had not yet faded. She momentarily forgot to react, dazedly staring at the person before her.

In contrast, Shen Zongliang remained calm. He let out a soft “Mm” and continued holding her hand, instructing, “Focus and finish writing.”

With no other choice, she lowered her head, following his brush strokes. Her vision, thrown into chaos by her nerves, flitted aimlessly across the paper.

Yang Yumeng frowned and tugged at Shen Tangyin’s sleeve, unable to hold back her whisper. “Why is she here?”

Shen Tangyin pressed her lips together and shook her head, signaling Yang Yumeng to stay quiet.

When Shen Zongliang finally set down the brush, she smiled and lifted the box in her hands. “Uncle, Dad asked me to bring this over to you.”

Then, as if she had just noticed Qiehui, she greeted her with a polite, “Oh, you’re here too, Qiehui.”

Qiehui stood up, smoothing out her dress, and forced a smile. “Yeah, I live downstairs.”

Out of courtesy, she also gave a small wave to the person behind Tangyin. “It’s been a while, Mengmeng.”

Yang Yumeng failed to hide her disdain and, not even bothering to try, shot Qiehui a look full of contempt.

Qiehui knew her personality well and didn’t say anything more.

Since elementary school, they had never gotten along. A simple nod was enough.

But Shen Zongliang wasn’t as easygoing. Out of nowhere, he cleared his throat, startling Yang Yumeng.

She hesitated, stealing a glance at him.

Fearing she might anger him, Yang Yumeng reluctantly mumbled, “Yeah… it has been a while.”

With these two showing up so suddenly, Qiehui finally had an excuse to leave. She stood up and said, “Shen Zongliang, you have guests. I’ll head back first.”

Without waiting for a response, she quickly left.

It wasn’t because of Yang Yumeng’s hostility—Qiehui had seen far worse. This was nothing.

She was simply afraid of giving herself away.

What kind of slip-up?

Looking back later, Qiehui figured it was probably Shen Zongliang’s ink-stained fingers, tracing strokes like parting clouds and calling rain, seeping into the barren, parched fields of her heart.

She was afraid that this damp, growing feeling might spill out from her sweat-dampened palms—or escape through her eyes.

Shen Zongliang pulled out a wet wipe to clean his hands, giving the brown paper box a glance. “Just leave it here.”

Tangyin set the box down. She had a hundred questions in her mind, but since Yang Yumeng was present, she swallowed them all.

Matters concerning her uncle could be discussed privately, but not in front of outsiders.

Especially not with someone as loose-lipped and straightforward as Yang Yumeng.

After a brief silence, realizing Shen Zongliang had no intention of keeping them, Tangyin said, “Uncle, I’ll get going then.”

He gave a slight nod and asked, “Did you drive here yourself?”

“No, the driver’s waiting downstairs.”

He nodded again, reassured. “Alright. Go home early.”

Tangyin responded with an “Okay, got it.”

The moment the door closed, Yang Yumeng—who had been holding it in—couldn’t contain herself any longer. She burst out in the hallway, “Did you see that? Qiehui is living here now! She really doesn’t let a single opportunity slip by, does she? How can she be so shameless?”

Shen Tangyin hesitated for a moment. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence. The house downstairs belongs to Youyuan’s grandfather, so… it shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

Seeing that Shen Tangyin wasn’t convinced, Yang Yumeng exploded, bringing up old examples to prove her point.

As she linked arms with Shen Tangyin and walked down the steps, she said, “Did you forget what happened in elementary school? When we were in third grade, Old Chen accompanied some big shots to inspect the school. You were originally chosen as the flag-raiser, but in the end, Zhong Qiehui snatched it away. And look at her—she got on TV, gave interviews, and stole all the limelight!”

“You just said it yourself—that was a long time ago. We were all just kids back then,” Shen Tangyin said, patting her hand to signal her to lower her voice as they passed Qiehui’s door. “Besides, it might not have been entirely Qiehui’s decision. Maybe it was her parents.”

Yang Yumeng let out a heavy snort. “Yeah, right! I saw it with my own eyes—after class, she was practicing her interview script, enunciating every word so deliberately. It was painfully fake! If she wasn’t willing, would she have been so eager?”

Shen Tangyin had no interest in dwelling on the past—what was done was done, and she wasn’t particularly bothered by it.

What worried her was the present.

Her uncle was well-experienced and shrewd, but the saying a woman’s pursuit of a man is like a thin veil had stood the test of time.

Especially when that woman was Zhong Qiehui.

Just sitting there, she exuded a delicate, refined elegance.

Anyone who laid eyes on her didn’t need keen perception to recognize that kind of beauty—like a stream of water flowing gently by.

Shen Tangyin steadied her emotions and teased, “Mengmeng, don’t you think you’re a little too prejudiced against her?”

“This isn’t prejudice!” Yang Yumeng shouted from the car. “Tell me, how could it be such a coincidence? Your uncle just announced he was moving here, and she followed right after. If that’s not intentional, I don’t know what is!”

She gritted her teeth and added, “I told you—she even ‘accidentally’ left her shawl at the Fengs’ house that day. It was all part of her plan, but you didn’t believe me. And did you hear her? It’s only been a few days, and she’s already calling your uncle by his first name—at this rate, she’s about to outrank you in seniority!”

As if she dared.

Her uncle didn’t even invite her to sit for a meal—she had the sense to leave on her own.

Frustrated, Shen Tangyin tossed her bag aside and instructed the driver to start the car.

She said, “Alright, alright. My uncle isn’t some naive kid. Even if Zhong Qiehui really has an agenda, he won’t fall for it.”

After a moment of silence, Yang Yumeng muttered begrudgingly, “No matter how sharp he is, he’s still a man first and foremost.”

//

Qiehui had sprinted downstairs and rushed into her bathroom, twisting the faucet open and splashing cold water onto her face.

Droplets slid from her brows, tracing down her pale neck before disappearing beneath her clothes. But the water wasn’t cold—it was warm, still carrying the residual heat from her flushed face.

She looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, ears burning, and a few strands of damp hair clung to her temples, making her look like someone who had just lost a battle.

Qiehui grabbed a towel and rubbed her face roughly before tossing it onto the sink.

She steadied herself against the stone counter, took a deep breath, and slowly walked back to the living room.

On the heavy huanghuali wood coffee table lay an unfinished criminal law theory exam paper.

Since breakfast, Qiehui had been sitting on the carpet, writing away until she lost track of time. When she finally looked up, it was already past one—too late for lunch, and she didn’t even have time to go teach the kids their dance lesson.

She had settled for a hurried meal on the subway, gnawing on an oat bun that nearly choked her. It wasn’t until she gulped down a few mouthfuls of Pu’er tea from her thermos that she managed to swallow it down.

And after all that commotion, she never even got to eat the crab—only her stomach had something to say about it.

For convenience, she pulled out a small enamel pot, scooped some leftover rice from the fridge, poured in some purified water, and set it to boil.

A bowl of rice porridge in the evening, paired with pagoda mustard greens—the grains sliding down smoothly with the broth—was refreshing and comforting.

The rice softened quickly. Qiehui had made too much and ended up serving herself a big bowl, steam rising from the surface as she set it on the table.

Just then, there were three knocks at the door.

She called out, “Coming!” while pinching her earlobe with two fingers to cool it down before going to open the door.

After opening it, she blew on her fingers twice before looking up—only to see the man from upstairs.

Startled, she stammered, “Shen… Shen Zong, what brings you down here?”