Chapter 13

The afternoon sky was light, the clouds pale. Qiehui twirled a leafy branch in her hand as she walked slowly behind him.

Hearing the rustling of grass, Shen Zongliang deliberately slowed his steps, but she still didn’t catch up.

She really walked too slowly. Thinking this, he glanced back at her.

To his surprise, she hadn’t moved at all, standing still beneath a tree, tilting her head to admire the flowers in a pretentious show of refinement.

Shen Zongliang took a few steps back and stood behind her. “What are you looking at?”

Qiehui pointed above her, answering in a roundabout way. “I didn’t expect to find them here.”

Shen Zongliang knew little about flowers—his only interaction with them was ordering bouquets for his mother through his secretary.

Clicking his tongue, he commented, “They don’t smell much and look strangely blue.”

Suppressing a laugh at his odd description, Qiehui corrected him. “They’re called jacarandas.”

Then, she turned to him with a request. “Could you help me pick one?”

Shen Zongliang estimated the distance. “There’s one right in front of you. Can’t you reach it?”

Qiehui grasped his wrist and pleaded, “Not this one. I want that big cluster. Please?”

“I’d have to climb the tree for that! Do you really like them that much? Can’t you pick something else?”

She pressed her hands together in a prayerful gesture and nodded earnestly. “Yes, I really do.”

Shen Zongliang lowered his gaze to her, sighed in resignation, and steadied himself against the tree trunk before climbing up.

It had been years since he’d done something like this. Without practice, he actually felt a bit concerned about looking ridiculous.

Before he climbed, there was a distinct rise and fall in his chest, as if he were mentally preparing himself.

The person ordering him around suddenly showed a bit of conscience as he reached the treetop, calling out from below, “Be careful!”

Shen Zongliang had no choice but to break off a large bundle and toss it down.

Qiehui picked it up from the grass, beaming. “This is perfect! Thanks, little uncle!”

Landing smoothly, he dusted the pollen off his hands and said sarcastically, “No problem, as long as my dear niece is happy.”

But her eyes remained glued to the flowers, her “thank you” barely sincere.

Shen Zongliang glanced at the dimples that formed when she smiled, filled with youthful innocence.

Unable to help himself, he let out a short huff of laughter, then grabbed her wrist. “Let’s go.”

Qiehui let him lead her forward, only then remembering to ask, “Why did you come back for me just now?”

“This place is too big. I was worried you’d get lost,” Shen Zongliang paused briefly, “Since I was the one who brought you out.”

Qiehui said, “I wouldn’t. I remember the way back.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He suddenly stopped and let go of her. “Then go ahead and show me the way.”

She stood at a distance, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked ahead, then pointed vaguely. “Uh, over there.”

“Keep up with me, and hurry up.”

Shen Zongliang pulled her along again, striding off in another direction.

…

By the time they arrived, everyone else had already tired themselves out and was sitting in twos and threes under the umbrellas.

The most dramatic reaction came from Yang Yumeng—she was the first to see them.

Shen Tangyin was still talking to Zhuangqi when Yang Yumeng suddenly slapped the table and shot to her feet, muttering a low curse.

At that moment, Qiehui looked up and saw countless gazes sweeping toward her, all fixated on her wrist, which was still being held by Shen Zongliang.

She quickly struggled free, returning to her usual reserved demeanor, and cautiously addressed him, “President Shen.”

Shen Zongliang, however, remained completely composed, letting go of her indifferently, as if relieved to finally be rid of a troublesome task.

He gave a blank nod and said, “Alright, go have fun.”

“Mm, thank you for helping me pick the flower.”

Qiehui nodded gratefully, clutching her prize as she hurried over to Youyuan.

There were too many people eager for gossip, all straining their ears to catch what they were saying, but Feng Youyuan knew these games all too well.

Still, this was Qiehui’s business—whether it involved Shen Zongliang or not, she had no obligation to share.

So she asked nothing, simply accepting Qiehui’s flower with a smile. “It’s beautiful. We’ll put it in a vase when we get home.”

Qiehui unscrewed a water bottle and took a sip. “Yeah, let’s use the white-glazed vase.”

“Mm, that’s the plan when we get back.”

The eavesdroppers got nothing out of them, grumbling inwardly about how tight-lipped these two were.

Yang Yumeng, on the other hand, was fuming. “What did I say? That Miss Zhong always has her ways.”

Shen Tangyin scanned the group. “Stop talking nonsense. Aren’t you afraid of making a fool of yourself?”

Just then, a waiter arrived with a plate of salad. The space was cramped, and he accidentally bumped into Yang Yumeng’s shoulder.

She immediately exploded. “What’s wrong with you? So careless!”

The waiter quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Miss Yang. It wasn’t intentional.”

But Yang Yumeng wasn’t letting it go. “So just because it wasn’t intentional, it’s fine to mess up my clothes?”

“It doesn’t even look stained. Do you really need to make such a fuss?”

Feng Youyuan glanced at her white knit top and spoke with evident disdain.

Yang Yumeng spun around and shot them both a glare. “What’s it got to do with you?”

At that moment, Qiehui caught the fierce glint in her eyes and realized that her hostility was directed at her.

Yang Yumeng’s stare was unrelenting. After years of animosity, she could only see the quiet resilience in Qiehui’s gaze.

That gentle, refined face showed not a hint of hesitation or retreat—only contempt.

A kind of scorn that came from knowing exactly why the other person was angry yet refusing to offer even a single explanation, letting her fume all she wanted.

If there was one thing Yang Yumeng had always despised about Zhong Qiehui, it was this.

It had been infuriating even when they were kids. And now? What was there to be so proud of anymore?

Zhuangqi pulled Yang Yumeng back into her seat, trying to placate her. “Alright, we’re all classmates. What’s the point of this?”

Shen Tangyin gave the waiter a look, signaling him to leave instead of standing there awkwardly.

After such a scene, there wasn’t much mood left to stay. One after another, people began heading home.

On the way to the parking lot, Wei Jinfeng muttered, “Man, Yang Yumeng sure is jealous.”

“She’s already acting like this, and she’s not even engaged to President Shen yet. Imagine if they really got engaged.”

Wei Jinfeng curled his lips and shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll ever get engaged. The Yang family hasn’t been doing well these past few years.”

Zhuang Xinhua remained silent, walking ahead without a word.

Wei Jinfeng slung an arm around his shoulders and continued, “I’m telling you, Qiehui isn’t simple. Do you think someone like Old Shen would actually go pick a flower for her?”

Lei Qianming chuckled. “If Qiehui really wanted to win someone over, it’d be easy. Anyone without strong willpower would melt just hearing her speak a few words.”

At the parking lot, Zhuang Xinhua brushed them off. “Can you two stop harping on the same thing? So annoying.”

Up ahead, Qiehui wasn’t far off—standing right beside their car.

She folded her arms and turned to Lei Qianming, saying mockingly, “Young Master Lei, I’m right here, you know. Must be satisfying to talk about me like this, huh?”

“Oh, my bad, my bad.”

Lei Qianming had walked right into it. He laughed, clasped his hands together, and made a playful bow. “Blame my big mouth. Just talking nonsense.”

At that moment, Shen Zongliang reversed his car out, rolling down the window as he waited for Tang Nayan.

That’s when he heard Qiehui, clearly exasperated.

“Seriously? I live my life plain and simple, and you guys turn me into some kind of flirt?”

Having spent enough time in Jiangcheng, her oddly mixed Beijing accent made Shen Zongliang want to laugh.

He knew it—she was only putting on that obedient act in front of him. This was the real her.

Sure enough, the moment Qiehui noticed him, she quickly dropped her arms and composed herself, giving a polite nod.

Shen Zongliang sat in his car and let out a faint scoff before looking away.

Only when Tang Nayan got in did he finally press the gas and slowly drive out of the court.

Tang Nayan took a break, downed half a bottle of water, and said, “President Shen didn’t play a single round today—just spent the whole time keeping a girl company.”

Shen Zongliang rested one hand on the steering wheel, lips curving slightly. “If I had gone onto the court and opened the betting, how would you guys even play?”

“Don’t get cocky now. Just wait till I train for another three to five years.”

Shen Zongliang snorted. “You? Going to the court to train? Every time, you just sit there talking business for three hours straight. How’s that supposed to improve your game?”