Chapter 2

Mrs. Wu recognized him at a glance.

When her husband visited China to see an old friend that year, he returned and praised the friend’s grandson for months, describing him as “solid as jade, upright as a pine.”

Not only did he praise him, but he also compared him unfavorably with Bai Yanjun, calling her son a good-for-nothing playboy.

Mrs. Wu, who doted on her youngest son, naturally took offense to such comparisons. Upon hearing that this person was coming, she harbored a curious attitude of “I’ll see for myself.”

Now, she truly understood the literal meaning of “solid as jade, upright as a pine.”

“You must be Feiran?” Mrs. Wu asked softly, elegantly extending her slender hand to him.

Xiang Feiran gently grasped her fingertips: “Good evening, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His voice was as resonant as metal and stone, and his manners were impeccable. Mrs. Wu’s face blossomed into a smile as she found an excuse for his near tardiness: “I see it has started snowing outside again. Your journey here must have been quite delayed.”

“I biked here,” Xiang Feiran said casually.

Mrs. Wu’s expression froze for a second, “Biked? Ah… Yes, in such snowy weather, biking all the way from Central Park must have been quite a serene and beautiful experience.”

She stubbornly believed he must live near Central Park on the Upper East Side, or at least not more than a couple of blocks away.

Xiang Feiran smiled slightly and did not explain further.

“Alan just started at Columbia this year. I remember he was only twelve the last time you met in China.” Mrs. Wu led him upstairs while introducing, “How much older are you than him? I heard you are pursuing your Ph.D. at Columbia, quite a coincidence.”

Xiang Feiran replied, “Five years older.”

Mrs. Wu calculated, realizing he was twenty-four, or rather, twenty-three years old. From her husband’s occasional mentions, she knew Xiang Feiran might spend some time at their company during this winter break.

The Wu family had their own family trust, naturally. They had long ceased engaging in real industry but owned an investment company, which, under the advisement of Wall Street professionals, was doing quite well. Recently, the Xiang family called to explain the situation and asked them to arrange an internship for Xiang Feiran.

The Xiang family’s situation was rather complex, but one thing was certain—the son Xiang Lianqiao had adopted earlier was now running a vast business empire, making him worthy of the Wu family’s respect.

Thinking of this, Mrs. Wu smiled and asked, “What are you studying at Columbia?”

Since he needed an internship at the investment company, she assumed it must be something related to finance or another business discipline.

“Botany.”

Mrs. Wu maintained her smile, but her brow furrowed: “… What?”

“Botany, Botany.”

In Mrs. Wu’s stunned gaze, Xiang Feiran nodded: “The Chiyoran in the front hall is quite nice. Excuse me.”

With that, he gracefully stepped past her and knocked on the study door ahead.

The Wu family’s elder, Wu Land, had known Xiang Feiran’s grandfather, Xiang Lianqiao, since their youth. They had traveled the beautiful landscapes of their homeland together. Later, as Xiang Lianqiao’s career took him farther away and his status made it inconvenient, they rarely saw each other.

Because of this connection, Wu Land showed great joy and enthusiasm at Xiang Feiran’s visit.

Upon hearing that his Ph.D. was in botany, Wu Land commented knowingly, “With your academic background and expertise, you will surely make great contributions when you join your father’s company in the future.”

Xiang Feiran curved his lips but did not confirm or deny his statement.

His father’s company was in the field of biology and medical science, hence Wu Land’s assumption. However, he didn’t know that Xiang Feiran’s research was in plant classification and evolution, quite different from what he imagined.

Moreover… the relationship with his father was frosty. He attended the banquet today purely out of respect for Xiang Lianqiao’s request.

After conveying Xiang Lianqiao’s longing for his old friend and declining the internship arranged by the Wu family, Xiang Feiran stood up to take his leave.

Wu Land, holding a cigar, escorted him to the door and casually mentioned, “Hearing you talk about botany reminded me that we have some books on the subject upstairs. I wonder if you’d be interested.”

The Wu family had an extensive collection, and Wu Land had once purchased and donated a Han dynasty artifact that had been lost overseas, causing a sensation. The top-floor attic, designed for storing books and paintings, was a source of great pride for the Wu household.

Mrs. Wu chimed in, “I think one of them is by Rousseau…” She smiled uncertainly, “Maybe I’m mistaken? He was a philosopher, after all.”

To her surprise, the young man, who had remained distant and aloof, lifted his gaze at this remark.

He spoke up for the first time, “Rousseau wrote eleven letters about botany to his cousin’s daughter, which were published as a collection titled “Botanical Correspondence .”

Mrs. Wu suddenly realized: “I see, then it must have significant scientific value?”

“No.”

“…”

“It has some humanistic and natural history value.”

“…”

Xiang Feiran pondered for a few seconds: “I remember that the original letters should be in the hands of Mrs. Dresser’s descendants.”

Mrs. Dresser was Rousseau’s cousin. He thought Mrs. Wu should be able to deduce this identity from the context.

Mrs. Wu didn’t figure it out, but that didn’t stop her from slightly raising her already straight neck and smiling: “Perhaps these old papers have traveled around and just happened to end up in this attic in this lifetime.”

Xiang Feiran’s lips lifted slightly, an emotionless smile flashed across his face.

“I guess you must not get along with Alan and the others. He’s just a kid, only knowing how to drink and mess around,” Wu Land quickly saw through his disinterest and cleverly suggested: “How about I take you to the attic to look through those letters handwritten by Rousseau?”

Xiang Feiran had, of course, already read both the Chinese and French versions of the book. The letters contained many inaccuracies and speculations in their botanical analyses and scientific judgments. But this was Rousseau, after all, and it was a gift he had once given to a little girl.

The hesitation in his steps was very subtle, lasting only a second. Xiang Feiran gave up his appearance fee for the second half of the night at the bar and followed him upstairs.

·

The fourth floor was filled with loud music, and everything at the scene was impeccable, especially since Wu Baiyan had invited a singer who was currently a hit on the Billboard charts to entertain the guests.

Someone, likely drunk, had pushed the window wide open. The cold wind swept in, causing Shang Mingbao’s chestnut-colored long hair to flutter slightly from her shoulders and neck. After socializing with the guests, Wu Baiyan glanced back and was moved by the sight.

Next to him, Liao Yunuo chuckled: “Some people need to control their gaze.”

Wu Baiyan snapped back and didn’t respond to Liao Yunuo’s teasing: “Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Oh, your mother is pushing so hard, and you’re still pretending to be reserved in front of me?” Liao Yunuo twirled her hair with her finger: “Don’t tell me you don’t have any thoughts.”

Shang Mingbao came from a prominent family. Few at the gathering could match her status, and while they were part of the same circle, many secretly took pride in having any connection with her. Wu Baiyan knew his mother’s intentions of forging a marriage alliance. Although he had mocked it a few times, he had never explicitly refused.

Liao Yunuo thought for a moment: “She’s been in a bad mood lately. If you can win her over, you’ll be useful.”

Wu Baiyan raised an eyebrow: “Just watch.”

He snapped his fingers, signaling a servant to fetch a shawl.

He walked leisurely over, but when he reached her, he took the wine glass from Shang Mingbao’s hand and casually draped the shawl over her shoulders: “Didn’t you just have surgery at Mount Sinai? Can you drink this much?”

Shang Mingbao was momentarily speechless: “Stingy, inviting people to play and begrudging the wine?”

Wu Baiyan could tell she was slightly drunk, acting coy with a hint of rosy wetness in her eyes, so he moved a bit closer to her: “I don’t care about others, just you. How many drinks have you had tonight?”

Shang Mingbao had already drunk four gin tonics tonight, plus half a bottle of wine at home this afternoon and a glass of champagne in Liao Yunuo’s car, reaching her limit, her vision slightly blurry.

She felt a bit confused by Wu Baiyan’s somewhat ambiguous proximity and mumbled back: “None of your business.”

Wu Baiyan smiled: “I heard from Liao Yunuo that you had a breakup.”

“No.”

“Who was it?” He probed subtly, “Yunuo said it was a failing star.”

Shang Mingbao forced herself to sober up a bit: “It’s not true, don’t spread rumors.”

Although no one dared to gossip about her, she still didn’t want to appear in any gossip under a pseudonym, becoming the subject of a clichéd story.

“Oh.” Wu Baiyan shrugged: “I see your family has loosened their control over you.”

In Wu Baiyan’s eyes, Shang Mingbao had grown up in distilled water. Because of her congenital heart condition, her family had always been very protective of her. At eighteen, she underwent surgery at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York, ending the long-term illness and finally allowing her to study abroad normally.

Though she had a wide social circle and friends like Liao Yunuo who liked to have fun, no one dared to be disrespectful to her. Perhaps other ladies might be tricked into compromising situations, but not Shang Mingbao, as everyone knew that her family was not to be trifled with.

The hall, now a dance floor, was illuminated with rich gold and shadows by the lights.

Sensing the conversation and atmosphere were a bit off, Shang Mingbao awkwardly looked around: “Where’s Liao Yunuo? I need to talk to her about telling you everything.”

“In the adjacent guest room.”

“Huh?” Shang Mingbao, not suspecting anything, took a few steps: “I’ll go find her…”

“She probably wouldn’t welcome you barging in right now.” Wu Baiyan casually pulled her back, his gaze meaningful.

Shang Mingbao paused, suddenly understanding.

Liao Yunuo, that… that live-in-the-moment woman!

Wu Baiyan observed her flushed face and teasingly clicked his tongue: “You’re really pure. Didn’t that failing star teach you any fun things?”

Shang Mingbao, both embarrassed and angry, whispered through gritted teeth: “I told you, I have nothing to do with him. He’s gay!”

Wu Baiyan chuckled softly, thinking that being gay didn’t matter; in the face of ambition, that was just like taking a few pills. In the end, it was the failing star’s lack of courage.

But Wu Baiyan didn’t continue on the topic. Instead, he adjusted her shawl and asked: “Want to watch the fireworks? They’re on the rooftop, prepared especially for you by Yunuo. She’s preoccupied now, so I’m reluctantly taking her place.”

The Wu family’s attic was also elegantly decorated, with rows of floor-to-ceiling American-style bookshelves exuding classical luxury. The cascading crystal chandeliers complemented the wall lamps in various places, weaving a beautiful interplay of light.

Wu Baiyan brought her to the place and suddenly played a trick: “I remembered wrong; there’s still an hour until the fireworks.”

“You…” Shang Mingbao was furious.

“Okay, don’t be angry,” Wu Baiyan coaxed smoothly. “I didn’t do it on purpose. But I have a bottle of whiskey hidden here.”

He looked into her eyes and softly said, “You’ve had enough gin and tonic. Isn’t it time to drink some adult liquor?”

Like performing magic, he pulled out a book thick as a brick from the shelf, opened the hardcover, and inside was indeed a bottle of whiskey.

The warmth of the heating and the effects of the alcohol made Shang Mingbao both restless and bewildered. She wasn’t worried that Wu Baiyan would actually do anything to her, but… was he flirting with her?

Shang Mingbao didn’t understand. Wu Baiyan had just turned eighteen, younger than her, but he displayed the demeanor of a seasoned player. How was he so skilled? What did he want?

No one noticed that there was someone else in the attic.

At the end of the middle bookshelf, a golden wall lamp embedded in the wall cast a golden light, illuminating the flowered wallpaper and the man beneath the lamp.

Xiang Feiran stood slightly leaning against the window frame behind him, his posture relaxed. He wore a pair of black silk gloves used for handling rare books, holding an original letter from Rousseau.

The streetlight outside illuminated this corner of the attic and the thin snow on the milk-white bricks of the eaves.

He was very silent, so no one noticed his presence. Hearing the boy say, “Isn’t it time to drink some adult liquor?” he slightly smiled.

Such stories were not new at any rooftop party. Speaking up at this moment was obviously not a good idea. Keeping silent was not difficult; the only challenge was… he felt his pants pocket and realized that his earphones were in the pocket of his parka, which had been taken away by the concierge.

Well, he hoped this couple wouldn’t get too passionate, at least… go downstairs to find a bed.

With a “pop,” Wu Baiyan pulled out the cork. The strong fragrance of the whiskey immediately filled this silent, book-scented, old space.

Then, he slowly placed one hand on the bookshelf beside Shang Mingbao’s ear, seemingly trapping her in his arms.

“You…” Shang Mingbao’s thin back almost turned into a sheet of paper.

Her heart was pounding, her eyes wide open, but her mind was slow. No one had taught her how to handle the current situation, especially since she was still tipsy.

“Nervous?” Wu Baiyan chuckled, covering Shang Mingbao’s eyes with his hand.

“Close your eyes.”

Shang Mingbao’s heart tightened, and she reflexively closed her eyes tightly. Should she kick him? Wearing high heels, would she render the Wu family heirless?

Wu Baiyan was oblivious to her thoughts, deliberately lowering his voice: “Don’t be so innocent, let me teach you…” He paused, his breath almost brushing Shang Mingbao’s ear: “Oh, I always forgot to tell you, your English name sounds really nice—

“Babe.”

Babe.

Xiang Feiran’s hand paused, almost crumpling the precious letter in his stiffness.

He finally raised his eyes, looking coldly towards the side of the bookshelf.