Chapter 19

“You smile without saying a word, and I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for a very long time.”

—

The bookshelves in the Wu family’s library were stacked layer upon layer, intertwining like a maze in Xiang Feiran’s view.

Isn’t it a coincidence that there is another Chinese person named Babe in New York, appearing in this attic?

Or perhaps it is a coincidence that, in New York, she happens to appear in this attic?

He could hardly distinguish which of these coincidences was more improbable.

Wu Baiyan, noticing Shang Mingbao’s reluctance, moved his face away from her ear slightly and raised his hand to lightly tap her nose: “Why are you so nervous?”

Shang Mingbao frowned and glared at him: “I warn you not to mess around.”

Wu Baiyan pretended not to understand: “What do you mean by messing around?”

He took a cigarette out of his pocket, put it between Shang Mingbao’s lips, and pressed the lighter for her, “I heard from Raino that you’re moving?”

He suddenly started talking about trivial matters.

Shang Mingbao, whose nerves had been taut just moments ago, was now confused by his words. Could it be that she misunderstood and misinterpreted his meaning? Was he just acting out of drunkenness and wasn’t actually intending anything serious? After all, he had just turned 18.

Shang Mingbao bit the cigarette like it was a lollipop and replied, “Moving before Christmas.”

“Isn’t the apartment on 74th Street good? Didn’t you like that it was convenient for shopping?”

“It’s too noisy there, I don’t like it.”

The apartment on Fifth Avenue naturally had its charm, but when her mother visited recently to help her settle in, she found it too noisy and unsuitable for Mingbao to rest and recuperate. With the help of a real estate agent, they looked at over a dozen properties and finally chose a townhouse on the east side of Central Park.

Although the thousand-square-meter five-story villa seemed a bit too spacious for Shang Mingbao alone, her mother, Wen Youyi, believed it had good security and a quiet community. The breeze from the Jacqueline Reservoir and the forest provided natural purification. Furthermore, after some investigation, the surrounding neighbors were all from reputable families with good upbringing. So, her mother decided to buy the house for forty million dollars.

The house, built before World War I, had been owned by several prominent families, well-maintained, and needed only a little cleaning and maintenance to move in. Shang Mingbao planned to move in before Christmas, and her housekeeper, Sophie, had been busy preparing and organizing the new home.

The only regret Mingbao had was that the house didn’t have a private swimming pool. She had lost interest in golf and now preferred swimming. Fortunately, her elder brother had a penthouse apartment in Manhattan that had been vacant, which included a twenty-meter-long private swimming pool. Shang Mingbao had decided to ingratiate herself with her elder brother to find an opportunity to move in.

Wu Baiyan took the chance to ask, “When are you moving? I can help you.”

Top wealthy young ladies are hard to please—Shang Mingbao, after hearing this, genuinely and confusedly asked, “Ah? Isn’t it just the workers who should move it? Then ask Sophie if she needs your help.”

Wu Baiyan: “……”

Sophie.

That was the name of Shang Mingbao’s personal housekeeper.

Xiang Feiran finally confirmed it, and his hand, which was holding the letter, loosened in shock.

With a population of 1.6 million residents, Manhattan boasts the highest population density and the most tightly-knit social barriers in the world. In Times Square, you can see East Asians, Middle Easterners, Western Europeans, Eastern Europeans, Arabs, Jews, White people, Black people, mixed-race individuals from two, three, four, or five countries, aimless drifters, gang members in jackets, drug addicts in a high, fresh tourists kissing on the street, international students, Wall Street professionals in suits, and nondescript blue-collar workers all appearing in the same square, watching the same sunset over Manhattan, looking up at the same electronic billboards, and either vomiting in the same trash cans or tossing away cigarette butts. But this does not mean they intersect—

They will never intersect.

New York, with its spectacular human landscape box, seems dazzling and colorful in the macro view, full of tolerance and enthusiasm. However, it is interspersed with transparent acrylic sheets that precisely and strictly separate the paths and routes of each group.

Encountering someone like Shang Mingbao in New York—or rather, in Manhattan—is as absurd and illogical as a drifter on a street corner being invited by a Wall Street executive in shiny shoes to share a dinner at his home.

Wu Baiyan looked at Shang Mingbao’s expression with curiosity and slowly deduced something.

It was difficult to build rapport and develop feelings through normal methods. For a well-behaved rich girl like Shang Mingbao, perhaps taking a more stimulating approach would be more efficient.

He finally made up his mind, weighing the options, and deliberately placed his hands back on both sides of Shang Mingbao’s ears. “How about the cigarette? Would you like…” he said, leaning his lips close to her ear, “to let me have a taste?”

Even if Shang Mingbao were drunk, she could see that this eighteen-year-old punk wasn’t sincere. With her thick eyelashes lowered, she looked up at Wu Baiyan’s face, took the cigarette from her lips with her hand, and hooked her arm around his shoulder.

“Alan,” she called out to him in a rather flirtatious tone, then obediently and softly said, “I’m drunk, how about…”

But she thought, *I might as well just crush you directly.*

However, before she could act, and before Wu Baiyan’s head could lower to meet her lips, they both heard a “slap”—

In the warm, spring-like atmosphere of the library, it was as distinct as the sound of ice breaking during a thaw.

It was the sound of a book being forcefully closed, sharp, and precise, with an underlying sense of extreme displeasure and impatience from the person who did it.

No one expected there to be anyone else in the room, much less that they had been there for so long. Startled, they both turned to look—

Under the crystal chandelier, a man in a suit stepped forward slowly, bathed in the light, removing his silk gloves as he lifted his gaze and asked,

“Grown up, have you?”

Shang Mingbao’s eyes widened, and in an instant, she sobered up, cursing *shit* countless times in her mind. The hand that had been wrapped around Wu Baiyan’s neck hurriedly retracted—so hurriedly that ashes fell from the cigarette onto Wu Baiyan, making him hiss in pain.

She quickly shoved the cigarette into Wu Baiyan’s fingers, pretending to be soft and aggrieved, “What are you doing, making me smoke…”

Wu Baiyan: “…?”

He figured he must have caught her panic, because despite inwardly cursing, he also stood up straight and stiff, like a high schooler caught by a parent in a compromising situation, and called out reluctantly, “Brother Feiran.”

He mumbled an explanation, “Just fooling around.”

Shang Ming glanced at him sharply.

*They know each other?*

Could it be that the “grown up” comment was directed at Wu Baiyan?

Her confusion was evident in her eyes, and Wu Baiyan whispered in her ear, “He’s a brother I met when I was younger.”

Shang Mingbao pressed her lips together as the panic settled lightly in her heart.

She stood still, her beautiful eyes fixed on the man opposite her, completely forgetting to look away.

Three years.

He seemed unchanged, still as striking as ever, always standing out no matter where he was, still favoring simple black clothing.

Yet, he had completely changed; there was no trace of the student left in him. His body, now encased in a suit, held power, and his demeanor had grown more composed.

He could no longer be called a “youth.”

Xiang Feiran hadn’t expected Wu Baiyan to remember him and looked at him with a gaze full of intrigue.

They had only met a few times. Back then, the other was just an elementary school student, and though he was about to graduate high school, he had also changed significantly since then.

He spoke, his voice steady, “Was it fun?”

Wu Baiyan nodded and then shook his head. He pulled Shang Mingbao’s arm lightly and introduced, “This is Bei—”

He only managed to get the first syllable of “babe” out.

“Bei—Becca,” Shang Mingbao kicked him and pulled her arm away, smiling brightly.

It seemed Brother Feiran didn’t recognize her.

Maybe it was because she was wearing heavy party makeup today, or maybe because they hadn’t seen each other for three years, she hadn’t left a deep impression on him. Or maybe it was because from sixteen to nineteen, from adolescence to a more mature young woman, girls change a lot, and a woman who knows how to use makeup can change seventy-two times over…

Whatever the reason, it was just as well.

She couldn’t let him know she had become what she was now—someone who smoked and drank, who flirted with boys in a mix of seriousness and play, who even hid away in attics with people… He would be disappointed.

She didn’t want to disappoint him.

The woman drunkenly stumbling around in the attic could be Becca, Jessica, Ross, Lily, Lucy, Christina, but she absolutely could not be Shang Mingbao.

In that instant, Shang Mingbao could only think of this method to pretend to be someone else, without having time to consider how full of holes it might be.

Xiang Feiran hesitated for a moment, his expression shifting from shock to one of blankness in less than a second.

A complicated feeling rose in his heart.

*She doesn’t want to see me again.*

At least, she didn’t want to have a second encounter, which was why she used such a clumsy lie to cover up this reunion. Once she left the party, they would never see each other again.

He nodded, pretending he had never known her, his gaze deep as he looked at her through the sea of light. “Nice to meet you, Miss Becca.”

It was almost time for the fireworks.

Perhaps it was the servants of the Wu family reminding them, as the once lively crowd on the fourth floor began to gradually move up the stairs.

The black double doors with gilded handles of the attic were repeatedly opened and closed, pushed open, and closed again, like the door of fate, uncontrollably swept by the tide.

Shang Mingbao’s eyes sparkled with a smile, “Brother Feiran, do you want to watch the fireworks?”

Xiang Feiran had been about to leave, but after a brief pause, he said, “Yes.”

Wu Baiyan wrapped his arm around Shang Mingbao’s shoulders, pushing her forward. Her gaze, still bright and fixed on Xiang Feiran’s face, caused her to mechanically walk forward as she asked, “Your name sounds so nice, which ‘Fei’ and which ‘Ran’ is it?”

Xiang Feiran lowered his eyes, brushing past her face as he responded, “The ‘Feiran’ from the phrase ‘Feiran Chengzhang.'”

Shang Mingbao pressed her lips together and broke into an exceptionally sweet smile. She turned her head, blinking away the strange moisture at the corners of her eyes.

Wu Baiyan draped a shawl over her, patting her slim shoulders, “Next time, remember to wear more. Even if you’re not cold, I am.”

For the fireworks display, the rooftop had been decorated beautifully. Sofas were arranged in a circle, champagne chilled, flowers placed in vases, and on a screen embroidered with Chinese designs, cranes bathing in snow appeared so lifelike. The snow had been cleared by the servants earlier, but a new layer of fine snow had since fallen on the carpet, reflecting the dim moonlight of the winter night.

Liao Yunuo arrived late, her face still flushed. In the crowd, she precisely found Shang Mingbao: “Bei—”

She received a kick as well, her expression twisted, but she heard Shang Mingbao smile firmly and say, “Becca has been waiting for you for a long time, we thought you weren’t coming.”

Liao Yunuo often made her play the wingman, and there was a mutual understanding between them that needed no words. As soon as she heard the affected tone, Liao Yunuo instantly understood and warmly linked arms with her. “How could I leave my darling Becca?” She whispered in her ear, “What’s going on?”

Shang Mingbao didn’t answer.

Liao Yunuo glanced at Wu Baiyan, who was sticking close by, and decided to assist, “Young Master Wu is being quite generous tonight, isn’t he?”

Shang Mingbao’s attention was entirely on Xiang Feiran, who was silently standing beside her, and she replied casually, “What do you mean?”

“This firework display wasn’t from me; it was from him. He wanted to make you happy.”

Wu Baiyan coughed, “It was nothing.”

He should be thanked.

If it weren’t for him organizing this banquet, arranging this firework display, and tricking her into coming to the attic, she wouldn’t have met Xiang Feiran.

Shang Mingbao lifted her face and sincerely said to Wu Baiyan, “Thank you.”

A firework shot into the sky, exploding with a golden shower that illuminated this corner of the Upper East Side night.

Everyone marveled, gazing upwards. The golden drops seemed to fall into the champagne glasses in their hands, swallowed down, entering their dreams.

The atmosphere was just right, and people began to embrace and kiss. Some gasped, some envied, some imitated.

Shang Mingbao really wanted to turn around and look at Xiang Feiran, to see his face illuminated by the fireworks. But for some reason, she didn’t dare.

She simply kept her head tilted upward, making a show of being deeply immersed in admiration.

Her chestnut hair slipped off her shoulder, resting on Wu Baiyan’s hand, which was gentlemanly placed on her back.

Through the faint snow and the intermittently lit sky, Xiang Feiran quietly watched her, looking at her profile as she gazed upwards, at her shining eyes, and her cherry blossom-like smiling lips.

It was about the time it took to finish a cigarette.

When the cigarette in his heart burned out, he turned and left.

The bustle of the rooftop garden sharply contrasted with the silence of the attic. He reached out to grasp the doorknob, paused for a moment, then turned it, walking alone through the room where original copies of *Botanical Correspondence* were stored.

“I say…” Liao Yunuo turned her gaze back from her departing figure, “Who was that guy behind you? How did I not notice such a gem earlier?”

She regretted it, feeling that the earlier “meal” wasn’t quite top-tier.

Wu Baiyan lazily replied, “The one you’ve been looking for all night.”

“What?!” Liao Yunuo was truly beating her chest in frustration now, pointedly asking, “Xiang?”

Wu Baiyan shrugged, “The real deal.”

Liao Yunuo grabbed Shang Mingbao’s arm, “He’s Xiang Lianqiao’s grandson! I knew it!” She glared fiercely at Wu Baiyan, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? You wait until he’s gone to say something?”

Shang Mingbao’s heart tightened, her body turning instinctively before she even realized it—

There were shadows behind her, but none of them were him.

He was gone?

Shang Mingbao didn’t have time to think. The panic in her heart came so quickly that she pushed through the crowd without a second thought.

“Mingbao?” Wu Baiyan grabbed her arm, puzzled.

“He’s my friend.” Shang Mingbao’s gaze was weak, but her tone was firm as she pleaded with him to let go, “He’s my friend…”

There was a trace of confusion and helplessness in her expression. Wu Baiyan froze, realizing that it wasn’t because she was asking something of him; it was because that person had left so suddenly that she felt confused and helpless.

Wu Baiyan let go. She left so quickly that her shawl slipped from her shoulders, still warm, and was caught in Wu Baiyan’s hand.

·

Xiang Feiran returned to the study on the second floor to make a brief farewell to the three elders of the Wu family.

Wu Land accompanied him downstairs, handing him a cigarette, “So, what do you think of Rousseau’s originals?”

“Quite impressive.”

Wu Land smiled, “Good to hear. Since you’re into botany, would you like to keep it as a collection?” He was very generous, implying that if Xiang Feiran liked it, he could have it.

How much of this was for Xiang Lianqiao’s sake, and how much for Xiang Weishan’s, was hard to say.

Xiang Feiran pinched the cigarette holder, his lips curving silently, “No need. A phoenix perches on a parasol tree; precious things should be treasured in the right place. Just seeing it is enough.”

Wu Land admired his poise, calm and composed, living up to the personal cultivation of Xiang Lianqiao.

Studying botany seemed like such a waste.

He escorted him to the main hall on the first floor, where Xiang Feiran, understanding the etiquette, said, “Thank you for tonight’s hospitality, please don’t trouble yourself further.”

Wu Land stopped and patted his shoulder, “Remember to visit often. Consider this your home in New York.”

To such polite and customary remarks, Xiang Feiran maintained his good manners, nodding slightly before taking his leave.

He was the last guest to arrive and the first to leave. At the concierge, the attendant brought out his incongruous North Face jacket and said, “Sweet dreams, sir.”

Xiang Feiran put on the jacket but held his beanie in his hand instead of wearing it.

Once outside, he zipped up his jacket and removed his bronze half-rim glasses, rubbing his temples.

It was only then that he took a deep breath, the mist from his exhale mingling with the night air.

Just as he was about to step down the final stair, a voice called from behind, “Feiran-gege!”

The voice was breathless, as if the person had rushed over, not caring if they twisted their ankle in high heels.

She could run now?

Xiang Feiran’s heart instinctively tightened for her before he remembered that she had already undergone surgery.

He turned around and silently watched as she approached, a distant smile tugging at his lips. “Miss Becca.”

Shang Mingbao’s modified purple qipao dress was swirled by the wind and snow, along with her long hair glowed under the streetlights as if it were radiating light.

Xiang Feiran naturally turned back and stepped up the stairs again: “It’s cold outside.”

Shang Mingbao sneezed loudly, and the concierge quickly brought over a fur shawl. It was probably Mrs. Wu’s, with a distinctly feminine fragrance.

Shang Mingbao wrapped the shawl tightly around herself and nervously looked at him, saying something meaningless: “Did you leave so early?”

Xiang Feiran nodded: “I have other matters to attend to.”

Shang Mingbao couldn’t think of any suitable words to keep him there or to suggest another meeting.

She awkwardly asked: “Don’t you want to get to know me?”

Xiang Feiran chuckled, his gaze complex and meaningful: “We should already be acquainted.”

“How so? You didn’t leave me your contact information.” Shang Mingbao insisted, “True acquaintance means we should be able to contact each other anytime, right?”

This time, Xiang Feiran was genuinely puzzled. He squinted slightly, examining her without showing it.

Wasn’t she supposed to have no intention of meeting again, hiding her identity and claiming her name was Becca? Why now is she asking for contact details?

He never thought he’d be unable to see through a nineteen-year-old girl.

Xiang Feiran finally asked with a cold expression: “Miss Becca, do you think we need to keep in touch?”

“Why not? Unless you think I’m not pretty enough and have no interest in me.” Shang Mingbao’s bright eyes stared at him.

“……”

Xiang Feiran fell silent, uncertainly asking: “Are you always this direct?”

Shang Mingbao bit her lip, rubbing the inside of her lip with her teeth, and finally said outright: “Or is it that you have someone controlling you and won’t let you add female contacts?”

Xiang Feiran responded quickly this time: “No.”

Perhaps he responded a bit too quickly, and he couldn’t help but reflect on it.

Shang Mingbao suppressed her involuntary smile: “Then…”

The man finally took out his phone from his coat pocket and handed it over: “Which one do you want to add?”

“WeChat, Line, WhatsApp, Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Weibo.” Shang Mingbao listed them all in one breath, looking at his chin hidden under his collar.

After hearing this long list, Xiang Feiran raised the corner of his lips slightly, with an unintended tone of helplessness: “I don’t have all those.”

In the end, they added the simplest and most convenient WhatsApp. The rest could be discussed next time when she wasn’t so cold.

After adding the contact, he left, and Shang Mingbao began to sulk again.

Why did it have to be so easy to add him!!!!!

Was she really so beautiful that he couldn’t refuse, or… does he not turn away anyone who comes his way? Would another beautiful girl be added just as easily?

When Liao Yunuo caught up, Shang Mingbao had already been sulking for a while, her high heels almost making holes in the floor.

“Tell me, did I really look this beautiful today?” She grabbed Liao Yunuo.

Liao Yunuo was puzzled by the question: “You’re beautiful.”

“Am I more beautiful than I was at sixteen?” Shang Mingbao blinked desperately, “More beautiful than the sixteen-year-old Shang Mingbao?”

Liao Yunuo: “……”

Why is she comparing herself to her past self? This is bad, she must be losing it.