Chapter 28.1

◎ Chen Zhiqian’s Embarrassing Moment ◎

After finally shaking off the reporters, they returned home—by then, it was already quite late.

Fan Qi went to shower first. Chen Zhiqian sat in the living room watching TV.

Partway through her shower, Fan Qi suddenly remembered something. After drying off her hair and stepping out, she asked, “Chen Zhiqian, since you’re in the game console business, how come I’ve never played any of your games?”

Back when he first moved in, he’d already started selling game consoles. There were plenty in the house, but the original Fan Qi never paid attention, so she never touched them. Now that she showed interest, he said, “I’ll bring one back for you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She sat down. “You go take your shower.”

Chen Zhiqian went into the bathroom while Fan Qi continued watching financial news. Now that she was dabbling in stocks, this was part of her new normal.

The phone on the table rang. Fan Qi picked it up. “Hello?”

A deep male voice came from the other end. “Qi Qi, it’s Dad. Is Ah Qian there?”

Fan Qi quickly realized—it was Chen Zhiqian’s father. A stranger to her, really, but legally her father-in-law. She didn’t have time to figure out how the original Fan Qi addressed him, so she just said, “Dad, please hold on, Ah Qian is in the shower.”

You couldn’t call elders by their name, after all.

She called out, “Ah Qian, it’s your dad on the phone!”

The bathroom door opened. Chen Zhiqian came out shirtless, wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping. He took the phone from her. “Dad, what is it?”

Fan Qi noticed the water dripping from his hair and took off her own towel, placing it on his head.

Chen Zhiqian took the towel and sat down while drying his hair. In the moment he sat, he instinctively pressed one hand down—grabbing the towel around his waist. The towel on his head slipped off.

Before Fan Qi could react, she saw him barely holding onto his waist towel. She bent down to pick up the fallen towel.

“Fan Qi, go to the bedroom.”

But it was too late. As she picked it up, she saw one of his hands clutching the towel desperately—barely covering what needed covering.

She placed the towel back on his head and said, nonchalantly, “I’m going now.”

Chen Zhiqian’s face—and neck—turned beet red.

Before heading into the bedroom, Fan Qi peeked her head back out. Chen Zhiqian was still on the phone, wildly gesturing with his eyes for her to please leave.

Once the bedroom door shut, he breathed a sigh of relief and continued speaking into the phone. “Don’t worry. He did come looking for me. I turned him down. Qi Qi turned him down first, yeah. We understand. We won’t do it.”

After hanging up, with both hands now free, he finally secured the towel at his waist and looked toward the bedroom door, mortified.

He went back into the bathroom to finish his shower, feeling more and more embarrassed the longer he thought about it. Why didn’t I just have her hang up the phone? Why did I rush out like that?

After he finished, cleaned the bathroom, and brought Fan Qi’s clothes out, he tossed his own into the wash.

When he knocked on the door, Fan Qi winked playfully at him. Chen Zhiqian flicked her on the forehead and handed her a plastic basin.
“Hang the laundry,” he said.

Taking the basin, Fan Qi asked, “Your dad made a long-distance call—was it something urgent?”

Income on the mainland was modest, and long-distance calls to Hong Kong or Macau weren’t cheap. Normally, they wouldn’t spend money on such things.

Hearing her ask about something serious helped ease Chen Zhiqian’s embarrassment.
“Liu Xiangnian really has some tricks up his sleeve,” he said. “He actually managed to call my dad’s office. Scared my dad half to death—he thought something had happened to me.”

“And then?”

“My dad told me not to have anything to do with Liu Xiangnian.”

“That’s to be expected. But I doubt Liu Xiangnian will give up easily. That old man is selfish and irresponsible, yet he wants everything.”

After hanging the clothes, Fan Qi put the basin away and went back inside to sleep. She was in an unusually good mood today. Usually, it was her making a fool of herself, but tonight it was Chen Zhiqian’s turn. Normally he even wore long sleeves and pants to bed—so getting such a complete and unfiltered view of him was rare. Way more embarrassing than her forgetting to wear a bra.

With that, her mental scales felt balanced. Even the noisy window air conditioner couldn’t disturb her peace. She drifted off to sleep contentedly.

While she slept soundly, Chen Zhiqian lay wide awake. She snored lightly beside him like a little pig, and he shut his eyes, telling himself to hurry up and fall asleep. He figured she’d probably start kicking, rolling, or grabbing at him again soon.

But as he waited, he noticed something strange—why hadn’t she rolled over to hug him yet?

He turned onto his side and looked over. In the dim light, he saw Fan Qi sleeping properly, facing the inside of the bed. A sudden wave of unease crept over him. Why was her sleeping posture so neat? He almost wanted to wake her up just to check.

Just then, Fan Qi rolled over and slung an arm across him. That sense of unease vanished like a falling leaf. Sleep finally overtook him.

When Fan Qi woke up the next morning, the “Snail Prince” had already made breakfast again. Feeling a little guilty for being waited on hand and foot, she said,
“Chen Zhiqian, let’s split things up from now on. You do breakfast on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I’ll take Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

“It’s just breakfast. No need to be so formal,” he said, bringing over a plate.

Well, today’s breakfast was simple—each of them got a sandwich and a cup of hot milk. Fan Qi told herself she needed to step up and take more initiative around the house.

She turned on the TV, which was playing the morning financial news.
“Hey, it’s Rong Yuan!” she exclaimed.

Chen Zhiqian looked up. On-screen, Rong Yuan was giving an interview. A reporter asked how long he planned to stay in Hong Kong.
“Around a week,” Rong Yuan said. “I can’t stay away from the U.S. for too long. I came back this time for a project.”

“What kind of project?”

“I’ve invested in Tianyao Electronics. I think this industry has great potential.”

After the interview, analysts appeared to discuss the TV gaming console industry. Their conclusion: Japanese manufacturers still dominated, but local companies might get a piece of the pie. They explained the current OEM (original equipment manufacturing) model and listed several such companies—Ailai Electronics among them.

They were essentially pointing out concept stocks. Based on her stock trading experience from her past life, Fan Qi thought one of those stocks was likely to become a breakout leader.

Thinking back to the recent unusual movements in Ailai Electronics’ stock, it was likely that some insiders had already caught wind of Rong Yuan’s investment and had positioned themselves early. But since Chen Zhiqian was planning a joint venture factory on the mainland, these stocks might soar for a while and then crash hard.

“By the way,” Chen Zhiqian said, “it looks like our divorce will have to be postponed.”

Just as he said that, Fan Qi happened to be drinking a mouthful of milk and choked, coughing violently. Chen Zhiqian handed her a tissue. She wiped her mouth and asked,
“Why?”

“I’m in the spotlight right now—one, as Liu Xiangnian’s biological grandson, and two, as the guy Rong Yuan is investing in. You know how the Hong Kong media are—once they catch a whiff of gossip, they’ll hound us. If we divorce now and start living separately, it’ll be a media circus. They’ll either think I’m going back to the Liu family, or suspect you’re with Feng Xueming. And that guy—he’s the type who only gets more persistent when you ignore him. He thinks the things he can’t have are the most precious. So not only can’t we get divorced, we’ll have to act extra lovey-dovey in public—like we did before,” Chen Zhiqian explained.

Fan Qi realized she’d really been holed up at home too long—she hadn’t even thought about any of that. What he said made perfect sense. She nodded.

“So… maybe hold off for a year or so? What do you think?” Chen Zhiqian asked.

“Up to you.” After last night, they’d both experienced such intense secondhand embarrassment they could probably dig a fantasy castle with their toes. At least it brought them a weird sense of balance—things didn’t feel so awkward anymore.

“Alright.” Chen Zhiqian stood up to clear the table.

Fan Qi quickly stood up too.
“Let me do it—you made breakfast, so I should wash the dishes.”

“Okay.”

Fan Qi went to wash up, while Chen Zhiqian wiped the table and gave the floor a quick mop.

Once everything was cleaned up, the two of them headed out together.

Meanwhile…

Liu Xiangnian hadn’t slept a wink all night. He kept tossing and turning, haunted by the image of Chen Wanyin holding their little son’s hand.

Not only did his son refuse to acknowledge him, he’d even changed his name. That thought left Liu Xiangnian deeply disheartened.

But then he thought of his grandson—so handsome and refined. He wondered what his son had grown up to look like. His heart was tangled in knots.

Fate had been generous, granting him status and wealth. But fate also toyed with him, tearing him away from his own flesh and blood for forty years. And now, neither his son nor grandson was willing to acknowledge him.

He instructed someone to arrange for a driver and decided to visit the Wong Tai Sin Temple to offer incense.

His personal assistant accompanied him.

The temple was bustling with worshippers, its popularity due to its reputation for granting wishes. Liu Xiangnian knelt on a prayer mat, silently reciting his wish, wholeheartedly devout:

“Let my family be reunited. Even if I can’t see my wife again in this life, may I at least relocate her grave and be buried alongside her.”

Beside the temple was a long corridor lined with fortune-tellers. Liu Xiangnian stood there for a while, visibly hesitant. His assistant asked,
“Boss, would you like to get a reading? They say it’s very accurate.”

Liu Xiangnian feared it wouldn’t be accurate, and his wish wouldn’t come true. But he also feared it would be accurate—what if he drew a terrible fortune and the reading contradicted what he longed for?

He let out a long breath.
“Let’s go,” he said.

On the way back, since they had to pass through the tunnel anyway, Liu Xiangnian asked the driver to make a detour to where his grandson lived. By the time they arrived, it was already the morning rush hour. The traffic crawled, and the driver asked, “Sir, should I stop the car?”

Liu Xiangnian looked up at the building—rows upon rows of tiny windows, each small unit home to a different family. In one of those units lived his own flesh and blood. He replied, “No need.”

As the car slowly moved forward, Liu Xiangnian caught sight of his grandson and Fan Qi walking side by side. He couldn’t hear what she said, but his grandson laughed happily.

The sight brought back vague memories of his passionate youth with Wanyin—of days when love was new and bright.

The two walked into the subway station and were quickly out of sight. From the car’s radio, a finance segment was playing, discussing Rong Yuan’s investment in the television game console industry.

Truly, he thought, that boy is his grandson—outstanding in every way.

After pondering for a long while, Liu Xiangnian made a decision. “Book me a flight to Shanghai.”

His assistant was alarmed. “Sir, I’m afraid your health isn’t suited for long-distance travel. Let me try contacting your son and daughter-in-law and invite them to visit you here in Hong Kong.”

It was true—he was only a few months out from surgery and not fit for such a trip.

“If you go, they might not even bother with you,” Liu Xiangnian said.

“Sir, first, we have many investments in the mainland. Second, the government encourages reunions across Hong Kong, Macau, and the mainland. A grandfather searching for his long-lost grandson after forty years makes a great human-interest story. I’ll approach the local authorities—your son and daughter-in-law both work in public institutions: schools and hospitals. They’re mainland locals. In front of TV crews and officials, they won’t dare to ignore you. There’s clearly a misunderstanding between you and your son. Without outside pressure, they wouldn’t even give you the chance to explain.”