Chapter 53

When the car came to a stop, Shang Mingbao automatically woke up. The windshield of the ride-hailing car reflected the Xiang residence, and amidst the dark mountains, the clear, calm lights felt like a dream.

At the entrance stood Aunt Lan and the driver, familiar faces that instantly doubled Shang Mingbao’s nervousness.

Xiang Feiran squeezed her hand and said, “Don’t be nervous,” then pushed open the door and got out of the car.

Aunt Lan stepped forward: “We were watching for your flight’s arrival. We thought you’d be on time, but why are you so late? You really shouldn’t have let us come to pick you up.”

Xiang Feiran, having gotten out of the car and holding the door, used Shang Mingbao’s excuse: “We ran into someone we knew on the way, which delayed us for a while.”

In Aunt Lan’s puzzled gaze, he stepped aside to reveal Shang Mingbao getting out of the car.

“Oh, this…” Aunt Lan was taken aback, “Miss Mingbao?”

Her gaze returned to Xiang Feiran, looking somewhat confused and unsure how to respond.

“We met while waiting for the luggage,” Xiang Feiran said without changing his expression.

Shang Mingbao waved and greeted everyone: “Aunt Lan, Uncle Zhao, it’s been a long time.”

She was still nervous, her hand tightly clutching the strap of her backpack.

Uncle Zhao, the driver, took Xiang Feiran’s hiking backpack from the trunk and, after greeting her, gave Xiang Feiran a deep look before directing his attention to the eaves, reminding them: “Ambassador Xiang is waiting for you over there.”

Although Xiang Lianqiao had been retired for a long time, his assistants and followers continued to use the title, and younger people often referred to him as “teacher.”

Xiang Lianqiao sat in a wheelchair, a blanket draped over his legs, smiling as he watched the two of them approach one after the other. He didn’t speak immediately; his long-standing authority was evident in his silent smile and gaze.

Unaware of the underlying tension between him and Xiang Feiran, Shang Mingbao waited for half a second and, without waiting for Xiang Feiran to introduce her, greeted him directly: “Grandpa Xiang, it’s been a long time. Do you remember me?”

Xiang Lianqiao’s smile did not diminish: “I remember, little Mingbao. I’m very happy to see how much you’ve grown.”

When people are nervous, they often lose their composure. Shang Mingbao swallowed and eagerly explained: “We had a spring break, and we just happened to run into each other on the plane. I recognized Brother Feiran first; he took a while to recognize me.”

Xiang Lianqiao laughed: “It’s because you’ve changed so much that he didn’t recognize you.”

Shang Mingbao’s anxious heart eased with the conversation, and she cheerfully said, “I was going to visit you tomorrow, but Brother Feiran said he would be leaving tomorrow, and then there was a traffic jam…”

“Shang Mingbao,” Xiang Feiran interrupted her.

“Huh?” She looked back, trying to make her gaze appear as if she was unfamiliar with him.

Xiang Feiran smiled slightly: “Let’s sit in the living room and chat.”

Shang Mingbao then realized what was happening. Once in the living room, tea was brewed and fruit was served in an orderly manner. Xiang Lianqiao, with effort, moved to the sofa, watching the two people—one on the east side, one on the west side.

“Don’t sit so far apart,” Xiang Lianqiao said, pointing with his cane. “Sit together so I don’t have to move my eyes too much.”

So, the two moved from opposite ends of the sofa to the middle, sitting a couple of fists apart.

Xiang Lianqiao’s gaze lingered on them for a long time, as if he were trying to imprint their image together in his mind.

His health had declined significantly; whereas he used to walk around the yard on his own, now he mostly relied on his assistant to push his wheelchair. Although doctors often said he was in good health, his body was like a candle nearing the end, burning out without a breeze. Before he left, he had planned to arrange things for Xiang Feiran and lay out his future path.

He had considered many potential partners for him—calm, well-educated, gentle, akin to his mother, someone who could align with his ideals. His plan was to gradually set up everything for Xiang Feiran’s future over the next two years, and Shang Mingbao was an unexpected element.

No matter how you looked at it, it seemed mismatched—like a dazzling flower compared to silent grass, a palace peony versus a mountain fir.

Xiang Lianqiao couldn’t understand.

Hearing Shang Mingbao express concern about his health, Xiang Lianqiao smiled: “As I get older, old injuries in my legs act up in the spring. But hearing this, the injury even has a bit of a romantic quality.”

Shang Mingbao smiled along, finding Xiang Lianqiao both easy-going and humorous, making her feel at ease. She was initially worried about awkward silences, but Xiang Lianqiao made her feel comfortable, gently asking about her studies, recent updates, and health, and mentioned that Su Ning was also in New York, suggesting they could meet.

During their conversation, Xiang Feiran remained quiet, only occasionally chiming in. Apart from Su Ning’s absence, the situation was much like it had been three years ago.

After two rounds of tea, it was soon eleven o’clock. Shang Mingbao stood up to leave, saying she had booked a hotel at the base of the mountain, with her luggage there. Xiang Lianqiao remained silent, but Aunt Lan warmly insisted: “It’s so late. Uncle Zhao would take you to the hotel, and it would be past midnight. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. There are plenty of rooms, so just stay in the one you stayed in before.”

Xiang Lianqiao said nothing, still smiling in his refined manner: “Let Mingbao decide. There’s a car down the mountain if you want to leave, and it’s convenient to stay if you prefer.”

Shang Mingbao was taken aback by having the choice handed back to her. Slightly flustered, she instinctively looked at Xiang Feiran.

In front of Xiang Lianqiao, it felt like inadvertently exposing herself.

“Stay,” Xiang Feiran, already resigned, said lightly, instructing Aunt Lan: “Show Mingbao to her room.”

After they left, the warmth of Xiang Lianqiao’s smile from the night faded. When he wasn’t smiling, he was imposing, like a mountain with a dark shadow that could silence even the most persistent political reporters.

Xiang Feiran faced him in silence, not saying a word.

Eventually, Xiang Lianqiao spoke first: “Get ready. I’ll be in the study waiting for you.”

Xiang Feiran had little to prepare, as his belongings were minimal. After tossing his hiking backpack into his room, he took out a paper box and brought it to Xiang Lianqiao’s study.

“A New Year’s gift,” he said, placing the gift on the coffee table beside the guest sofa.

Xiang Lianqiao’s expression was no longer as grim as before, but his tone was still stiff: “What is it?”

“A camel hair blanket.”

Camel hair blankets are more comfortable and warm than merino or cashmere, considered one of the most luxurious materials. Xiang Lianqiao was accustomed to high-quality items, and ordinary gifts didn’t impress him. Xiang Feiran unwrapped it, a large blanket suitable for covering his legs to retain warmth.

Xiang Lianqiao, attended to by him, allowed the old cashmere blanket to be taken away, saying: “You’ve started becoming flashy after a few years in America.”

“Mingbao helped me choose it.”

Xiang Lianqiao was momentarily at a loss for words, his expression hard to describe. It was a reaction BBC reporters hadn’t managed to provoke.

After a while, as if seeking distraction, he said: “Summer is coming soon. Do you think I’ll need it?”

Xiang Feiran looked at him for a moment, shook his head, seeming disappointed in his grandfather.

Xiang Lianqiao, sensing something, asked: “What are you shaking your head for?”

“People who know you say you’re a textbook-level diplomat. Those who don’t know you would think you’re the grumpiest old man in a retirement home.”

Xiang Lianqiao: “……”

Xiang Feiran, having tidied up, sat down on an armchair, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, adopting a posture of listening: “Do you want to scold me or ask something?”

Xiang Lianqiao could tell that scolding was redundant. Xiang Feiran clearly knew everything, understanding every nuance, yet was intent on heading towards trouble.

Shang Mingbao was given the same room she had during summer camp. Aunt Lan had prepared the bed and opened a drawer: “You left early back then, and there were a few drawings you didn’t take. I haven’t thrown them away.”

Shang Mingbao had learned to draw with her older brother, Shang Lu, since she was little. However, she lacked his artistic talent and focus, so she only practiced for a few years before abandoning it. Her basic skills were solid, but she only thought of sketching when confined in the hospital.

The drawings were a thin stack of paper, colored with pencils. The initial few were celebrity sketches, and later they became flowers and plants, but they were not very detailed—scattered like prose, with form scattered but spirit intact.

Shang Mingbao felt a deep sense of warmth and affection as she looked through the items and sincerely said, “Aunt Lan, you’re such a kind person.”

Aunt Lan smiled and said, “Oh, it’s nothing. Since the room is empty anyway, I thought that if you come back during the holidays, you might want to visit Suining again.”

Upon mentioning Suining, Shang Mingbao quickly cautioned, “Please don’t tell Suining that I came here. Otherwise, she might think I’m hiding things from her and get upset with me.”

Aunt Lan wasn’t one to gossip or question whether her reasons were valid. She simply nodded in agreement.

After Aunt Lan left, Shang Mingbao guessed that Xiang Feiran and Xiang Lianqiao must have a lot to catch up on since they hadn’t seen each other for a long time. So, she didn’t rush to contact him but instead took a bath first. She didn’t have her own pajamas, so she wore the ones Suining had left here. After letting Sophie know she was safe, it was almost midnight. The surroundings were quiet, and she had a sudden thought, opening the window halfway—

In the silent courtyard, a cigarette ember flickered. Xiang Feiran stood with his back to her, looking up at a tree in the courtyard.

Not knowing if the elders were asleep or not, Shang Mingbao didn’t dare to act recklessly. She rested her arms on the window sill and dialed his number.

The night breeze was slightly cool. She asked, “What are you looking at?”

“The Acacia tree.”

“… Are you kidding?”

“Why would I lie to you? It’s a legume, from the Mimosa family, an evergreen tree. Its flowering period is from March to October. It’s too dark to see now.”

Hearing his serious tone, Shang Mingbao became suspicious: “Is it really such a coincidence?”

Xiang Feiran brushed off the ash and lowered his face, chuckling softly by the microphone, “Why, do you think I’m doing this on purpose?”

Shang Mingbao, trying to be coy, said, “Well, I thought…”

“I am doing it on purpose.”

Suddenly, the surroundings were still, only the yellow flowers of the Acacia tree fell from the branches.

In this courtyard, not only was the Acacia tree in bloom, but also the Oleander, the Tropical Almond, and the Jacaranda were flowering. If you wanted to find a bright yellow one, there was a Yellow Cassia in the top left corner of the courtyard. It might be even more vivid and brilliant than this Acacia tree.

He had deliberately stood under this Acacia tree, waiting for her to ask about it.

“Get some rest early,” Xiang Feiran turned around, his gaze lifting with the rich fragrance in the courtyard, looking at his princess under the moonlight. “Good night.”

Shang Mingbao looked into his eyes and softly said into the receiver, “Don’t lock the door.”

She was like a stowaway boat, sailing on the night wind, crossing the sea of moonlight, docking on the shore where he was.

His room had a distinct scent compared to the one in New York, filled with the fragrance of the courtyard plants.

Under the moonlight, Shang Mingbao held her slippers in her hand, knelt on the bed, and slid into Xiang Feiran’s embrace like a fish.

Without speaking, pretending nothing had happened, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Xiang Feiran awoke from a light sleep and instinctively held her tighter, then found it incredible.

“Shang Mingbao, you’re braver than I am.”

“Anyway, if Grandpa finds out, he’ll scold you, not me,” Shang Mingbao said with a cute head tilt. “I’m not afraid of losing.”

She was right; she wasn’t afraid of losing. With the whole world behind her, why not take the risk? After loving once more, returning in a crown and robe, still a princess.

Xiang Feiran smiled, holding her tighter, kissing her passionately, and his fingers hesitated when they touched the cotton pad.

Wasn’t this here before?

Shang Mingbao recalled this and swallowed nervously, softly explaining, “It just arrived…”

“…”

“I’ll help you,” she said, trying to move down.

Xiang Feiran pulled her back into his arms, calmly saying, “You’re being silly.”

Shang Mingbao held his hand with both of hers, guiding his fingers to her warm, soft lips. “Use this.”

Xiang Feiran’s breath caught noticeably, and he didn’t speak, pressing Shang Mingbao back into his arms and silencing her potentially troublesome mouth with a kiss.

Shang Mingbao was also somewhat unsure. After several months of dating, Xiang Feiran had always been the one serving her, and when she was asked for help, it was rare. A few times, her wrist would ache, and she’d give up halfway, provoking Xiang Feiran to handle her roughly, lifting her legs and pressing hard. She simply thought that using her mouth might be a bit more efficient and hadn’t considered whether she could actually take it in.

Her clothes had a fragrant scent, like camphor balls used earlier, probably because Aunt Lan feared Suining’s clothes might mildew. After kissing for a while, Xiang Feiran could no longer tolerate it and furrowed his brow, asking, “What are you wearing?”

Shang Mingbao answered seriously, “Suining’s pajamas.”

“…”

Xiang Feiran said slowly, “Take it off.”

He rummaged through drawers and threw his T-shirt to her.

Shang Mingbao obediently changed into it, folded Suining’s pajamas, and placed them on the end of the bed—she’d need to wear them again tomorrow to keep up appearances.

“Did Grandpa notice anything?” she asked, lying back down, unsure.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think so. My performance was flawless, and Grandpa seemed perfectly normal.”

She was naive and had never considered that if she could see through Xiang Lianqiao’s abnormalities, then wouldn’t the past forty-five years have been in vain? But her innocence made people’s hearts soft, unwilling to expose her.

“Aunt Lan didn’t notice anything either,” Shang Mingbao thought for a moment, resting on Xiang Feiran’s arm and holding his fingertips. “Uncle Zhao and Assistant Uncle seemed normal too.” After analyzing, she relaxed and concluded, “We covered it well.”

Xiang Feiran felt his heart soften for her cuteness and her serious yet completely mistaken demeanor.

To be able to serve in a political family for a long time, who isn’t perceptive? From the moment she got out of the car, everyone knew she belonged to him.

He gently kissed Shang Mingbao’s hair, his tenderness laced with a complete surrendering affection: “It’s all thanks to you; you hid it very well.”

Before going to sleep, Shang Mingbao set an alarm for five o’clock, even earlier than Aunt Lan’s schedule. She never imagined that due to exhaustion from the long flight, she wouldn’t be able to get up the next day. She had turned off the alarm without a second thought before Xiang Feiran heard it, repeating this five times until the morning light and shadows fell into the courtyard.

Shang Mingbao was woken by the sound of conversation. The window blinds were not drawn, only a sheer curtain was pulled, and the sunlight made the room very bright. The space beside her was empty, and Xiang Feiran was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t think much of it and got out of bed to get some water from the table.

“Who is in your room?”

Xiang Weishan stood in the corridor, squinting at the vague silhouette behind the sheer curtain. Although dressed in a T-shirt, it was clear that the figure was slender, with long hair cascading over the shoulders, unmistakably a woman.

The curve of his lips was a silent, ecstatic delight.

“Feiran,” he fixed his gaze on his uncontrollable son, the son he admired most and most desired, and asked slowly, “You have a girlfriend, why didn’t you tell your father?”