Chapter 33: Stirring Emotions

The white sedan sped across the open fields, and inside, a voice broke through the hum of the engine with a hint of disbelief. “Are you sure you two had a fight? Sounds more like flirting to me!”

Wen Shuyu replied with conviction, “It was a fight; he was really harsh with me.” Her tone was low, her expression serious.

Meng Man struggled to believe it. “I can’t imagine him being mean to you. Does he really have it in him?”

Wen Shuyu maneuvered the car into the right lane. “It’s complicated. I can’t quite explain it.”

This was her first time witnessing Jiang Huaiyu’s different side, yet the details were too personal to share.

“Oh, look at you, Wen lawyer, having trouble explaining something?” Meng Man teased, laughter bubbling up.

The journey from Zhonan Village to Jiangxin City took about forty minutes on the highway. In the hazy moonlight, the village lights flickered like stars, culminating in a glowing sea of lights at their destination.

The two women checked into a mid-range hotel, and Wen Shuyu felt a pang of guilt. “Thank you so much, Senior Sister.”

Meng Man pretended to hit her playfully. “Stop it! You’re being too formal.”

Having walked this far together from school, they had supported each other through thick and thin, understanding each other with just a glance.

They weren’t blood relatives, but their bond felt as strong as family.

When her parents didn’t support her, Meng Man had invited her to join forces, and together they had founded their law firm.

Wen Shuyu hadn’t discussed much with Jiang Huaiyu lately; her focus was entirely on the case.

She had considered the possibility that her family was behind it all, but after more than twenty years of fighting for justice and sifting through the convoluted files, she was determined to take action.

The Chen couple had entrusted them with their case, giving them full authority as their legal representatives.

Their first stop was the prison to visit Chen Jin’an, located on the outskirts of Jiangxin City. The Chen couple accompanied them, having traveled from the countryside.

Having seen Chen Jin’an’s photo at the Chen household, Wen Shuyu couldn’t help but reflect on how time had changed him.

Once a bright-eyed seventeen-year-old, he was now in his thirties, youthful innocence replaced with a hardened gaze that still held traces of vulnerability.

What a tragic fate—to spend one’s prime years behind bars.

As they discussed the case with Chen Jin’an, he adamantly maintained his innocence. He had not committed murder.

For all these years, he had fought tirelessly to clear his name.

Wen Shuyu and Meng Man turned to glance at the towering walls of the prison behind them, their hearts heavy. If this was true, how many others faced similar injustices?

Back at the hotel, they took a moment to regroup. Wen Shuyu scrutinized the documents from the trial and jumped up from the bed, grabbing her bag from the nightstand.

“Where are you off to?” Meng Man inquired.

Wen Shuyu hastily tied her hair up. “Back to Nancheng to see Prosecutor Jiang, the one in charge of the final review at the Supreme Court.”

Meng Man had heard of Prosecutor Jiang, known for his fairness and straightforwardness, avoiding unnecessary complications.

“Do you know him?”

Wen Shuyu shook her head. “Not really; just a friend of a friend.”

She had met him by chance, but if she wanted things to go smoothly, she needed to seek him out.

Driving back from Jiangxin City to Nancheng, the sun hung low in the sky, its warmth less oppressive than at noon.

“After this, I’m applying for leave,” Meng Man groaned.

“Me too. I’ll leave everything to Lawyer Cheng,” Wen Shuyu replied.

They made it to the prosecutor’s office just before closing time. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they dove straight into the serious matters at hand.

Caught up in the conversation, they lost track of time, too engrossed in the complex issues at stake.

Wen Shuyu finally looked up, noticing the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a deep sapphire hue, vibrant yet fading.

Checking her phone, she saw it was already past seven, realizing she had kept him late.

Quickly gathering her papers, she apologized, “Thank you, Prosecutor Jiang. I owe you dinner tonight.”

Jiang Jinchu glanced at his phone, replying politely, “No need for that; I have plans tonight. If you have questions, just message me.”

They had already connected on WeChat previously.

“Alright, take care,” Wen Shuyu signaled to Meng Man that it was time to go.

As they left the prosecutor’s office and got back into the car, Meng Man remarked, “Don’t you think he’s a bit cold?”

Used to dealing with corporate types, Meng Man rarely encountered someone so taciturn. His answers were often one syllable—“Oh, hmm, uh”—never elaborating further.

“I can’t imagine how his wife puts up with that,” she added, noticing the ring on his ring finger.

Wen Shuyu corrected her, “Maybe that’s just his personality.”

Though he appeared distant, he had surprisingly cooperated, providing them with as much help as he could within reason.

After two busy days, they settled for a casual restaurant, just wanting to relax and recharge.

Returning home in the dark, Wen Shuyu opened her door to find the house enveloped in silence, realization hitting her—Jiang Huaiyu was still in the port city, leaving her all alone.

Her spirits sank instantly. She flipped on the lights, tossed her shoes at the door, and dropped her small bag in the entryway.

Clutching her case files, she made her way to the living room.

Wen Shuyu sat cross-legged on the carpet, sorting through the new materials she had gathered today on the coffee table.

Jiang Huaiyu had given her a heads-up that he would be tied up with a dinner meeting that night, so she refrained from interrupting him.

He was out with his father, likely involved in some gambling game.

Suddenly, she heard a sound, and instinctively reached for her phone. It was silent.

Just a trick of the mind.

In the archives, she had stumbled upon a critical piece of information and hurriedly saved it, oblivious to the fact that her phone had died after a long day of use.

Planning to check the time, she rummaged through her bag for the charger, and when her phone powered back on, a message from Jiang Huaiyu lit up the screen, asking, “What’s up?”

Guessing he was busy, Wen Shuyu typed back: [My phone died; just got it charged.]

Within a second of sending the message, a video call request from Jiang Huaiyu popped up.

“I’m home.”

He caught sight of her half-reclining on the couch. “Are you done for the night?”

“Not yet. I just wanted to hear your voice.” Jiang Huaiyu had found an excuse to step out of the private room, resting against the railing in the hallway.

A surge of longing flowed through the wires, traveling from Port City to Nancheng, his magnetic tone lingering in the air, almost as if Jiang Huaiyu was whispering directly in her ear.

Wen Shuyu’s heart fluttered uncontrollably, but she pushed those feelings down, responding with a simple “Oh.”

What did that “oh” mean? Jiang Huaiyu couldn’t quite read her. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Wen Shuyu knew exactly what he wanted to hear, but she held back a laugh, deliberately avoiding the question.

She wanted him to ask her directly.

As guests moved through the corridor, Jiang Huaiyu steeled himself. It felt like an eternity before he finally blurted, “Do you miss me?”

Wen Shuyu had anticipated this question, but hearing it live felt completely different. Even though she had prepared herself, her heart raced, and her ears flushed with warmth. She tossed the question back at him, “What do you think?”

She wouldn’t give him a straight answer—that was so typical of her. Jiang Huaiyu broke into a light smile. “I can’t guess; I hope you do miss me.”

Pausing, he added, “I hope my wife, Wen Yuyu, is thinking of me.”

“Such a smooth talker,” she said, wary of what he might ask next. Changing the topic, she added, “This case is so difficult.”

Jiang Huaiyu replied, “Then take a break; maybe it will resolve itself by tomorrow.”

His casual remark took her by surprise; he responded with unexpected seriousness.

Wen Shuyu’s eyes sparkled as she turned over, “I thought you would say something like, ‘Don’t worry about it; I’ll support you.’”

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled, “All my assets are in your hands, so if anyone’s supporting anyone, it’s you supporting me, right, dear wife?”

She couldn’t help but smile; it was true—she had never touched his money and had never really thought about it.

“How’s everything on your end?” she asked.

“Everything’s going smoothly; don’t worry,” he reassured her.

Wen Shuyu twirled a lock of hair, muttering, “Nobody’s worried about you.”

From the other end of the line, a teasing voice chimed in, “Mr. Jiang, still chatting with your wife, huh?”

After being out of sight for half the day, it turned out he had been here, hidden away, talking to her.

“You should get back to work. Rest early,” Wen Shuyu urged.

Jiang Huaiyu replied, “You too. Make sure to cover up and turn up the AC a bit.”

“Got it, you’re so naggy.” Wen Shuyu glanced at the air conditioning panel—20 degrees Celsius. He had guessed correctly.

After hanging up, she adjusted the temperature to 26 degrees.

She really was the dutiful wife.

Revising the case wasn’t something that could be done overnight. In Nancheng, Wen Shuyu didn’t need Meng Man’s company; in the sweltering 40-degree heat, she darted between the high court and the prosecutor’s office, losing a few pounds by the end of the day.

That night, while chatting with Jiang Huaiyu, Wen Shuyu felt her eyelids growing heavier. Eventually, she succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep on the couch.

“Yuyu, Yuyu,” Jiang Huaiyu called a few times, but there was no response.

Her phone lay in her hand, the camera capturing her in her pink blouse, only the soft rhythm of her breathing breaking the silence.

She must have forgotten to cover herself.

During the video call, Jiang Huaiyu noticed her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, having dried but still clinging to her skin.

She was likely sweating from the heat; a hot and cold combination like this could lead to a cold.

After a short nap, Wen Shuyu felt slightly refreshed. She realized her phone was still hot, and the video call was ongoing. “Why haven’t you hung up yet?”

Collecting herself, she noticed it was one in the morning—Jiang Huaiyu must be asleep by now. She considered ending the call.

But Jiang Huaiyu spoke up, “There’s some cold medicine in the left drawer of the side cabinet. Just mix a packet. You definitely didn’t cover yourself; be careful not to catch a cold.”

Others might think Wen Shuyu was spoiled, raised by two doting families, but he knew better—she never complained or showed signs of weakness.

Wen Shuyu smirked, “Fine, stop worrying so much. I’m not your daughter.”

Her feigned annoyance hid a sweetness that bloomed within her heart.

It felt like sipping ice-cold watermelon soda on a scorching summer day.

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled softly, “You’re not my daughter; you’re my wife—the one I’ve spoiled since childhood.”

His words conjured images that made her mind wander. What did it mean to be spoiled since childhood? They hadn’t even had an arranged marriage.

Wen Shuyu touched her warm earlobe, feeling flustered. “You should sleep early; I’m going to take a shower.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Having reviewed parts of the case files, Wen Shuyu was now completely convinced that Chen Jin’an was wrongfully accused. Figuring out how to clear his name was her most urgent priority.

Due to this case, Wen Shuyu set aside most of her other work. She delegated some tasks to Su Nian, who could handle them independently, while the more complex matters went to Cheng Xianzhi and Meng Man.

For the past few days, she had been shuttling between the high court and the prosecutor’s office and even found time to visit the prison.

Jiang Huaiyu, concerned for her, had sent the family driver to pick her up and drop her off. But the sweltering weather drained her energy, and by the time she returned home, she only wanted to collapse on the bed and rest.

The conversations with Jiang Huaiyu had become less frequent.

To avoid dozing off again, Wen Shuyu called him as soon as she returned from the prosecutor’s office.

They chatted casually for a while.

But Jiang Huaiyu, perceptive as always, picked up on the subtle changes in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

Wen Shuyu cleared her throat. “Just a bit of a sore throat. I’ll take some lozenges later. Don’t worry; it’s an old issue, you know how it is.”

She had chronic pharyngitis, and Jiang Huaiyu was well aware of it. Their home always stocked lozenges for her.

“They’re in the medicine cabinet next to the TV,” he instructed.

Everything in their home was organized by Jiang Huaiyu. She had truly become the hands-off manager; where she once called for her mother when she needed something, she now called for Jiang Huaiyu.

“I know, I’ll grab them. Bye!”

Wen Shuyu counted the days on her fingers—she hadn’t seen him for a week. This was the longest they had been apart since their marriage.

Somehow, it felt longer than the five or six years before they started dating.

In college, they were in different departments, occasionally running into each other at home, sometimes going months without seeing one another, and it never felt this long.

What was happening to her?

Was she falling for him?

Or was it just the discomfort of her illness that made her feel this way?

When had Jiang Huaiyu stealthily slipped into her heart? Was it during that kiss on the Ferris wheel, or had it grown gradually over time?

She couldn’t allow herself to fall for her rival, even if just a week ago, she had declared her desire to spend forever with Jiang Huaiyu.

Maybe she wanted to take that back.

The first person to speak would lose.

Just like what had happened with Lu Yunheng.

The outcome had been disastrous—she was the last to know when he applied for a position abroad.

Wen Shuyu sat in the car, watching the towering buildings and low bushes zip by in reverse.

She really wasn’t brave enough.

The wind picked up outside, dark clouds gathering over the city as the rain began to pour, enveloping everything in a torrential downpour.

It reminded her of the typhoon making landfall along the coast, gradually moving inland.

Jiang Huaiyu’s city was precisely where the typhoon had struck, a fact she had forgotten amidst her busyness.

Frantically, she pulled out her phone and called him, only to hear the mechanical voice telling her that the line was disconnected.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the world was a blur, while her phone continued to play the news. The “Rose” typhoon had made landfall in Port City earlier that morning, with winds reaching level fourteen—classified as a strong typhoon.

Jiang Huaiyu’s phone remained unreachable. She tried calling Song Jinnan, but no one picked up.

Wen Shuyu pinched her fingers, trying to reassure herself: It’s fine, it’s fine. They had weathered a level seventeen super typhoon years ago without a scratch.

Unable to quell her spiraling thoughts, she paced back and forth in the room.

Suddenly, she heard a noise at the door. Instantly, she bolted toward it, and when the door swung open, a familiar face appeared before her.

His once crisp shirt was now drenched, water dripping from the ends of his hair, surrounded by a haze of rain.

But he hadn’t changed: his dark eyes and chiseled features still radiated a gentle smile, as soft as a breeze.

The very person who had told her just the night before that he would be gone for another two or three days was now standing right in front of her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be gone for a few more days?” she exclaimed, surprised.

Perhaps due to his damp clothes, Jiang Huaiyu didn’t immediately pull her into his embrace. Instead, his deep-set eyes gazed into hers with an almost shy longing. “I missed you, so I came back.”

His voice was soft and clear, cutting through the humidity in the air.

Wen Shuyu opened her mouth, “Oh, you didn’t answer my calls.”

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled, his irritation turning into amusement. He had braved the storm to return home just because he missed her, and all she could say was, “Oh.”

“Don’t you miss me?” he asked, his tone plaintive, his rain-soaked hair giving him an adorably pitiful look, like a wet puppy.

Wen Shuyu refused to give him the satisfaction. Pouting, she replied, “Not really. I’d rather you weren’t here…”

She didn’t want him annoying her at home.

But before she could finish her thought, Jiang Huaiyu anticipated her response. He lifted her delicate chin, leaning down to kiss her.

His warm, damp hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her close against him, drawing Wen Shuyu into his embrace.

Their hearts collided, lips pressed tightly together, releasing a week’s worth of longing.