Yu Fengyan only learned that Jiang Yan had already left the Jiang family residence several hours earlier when the banquet ended that evening and they returned to the old Jiang estate.

Having earlier heard Jiang Yan mention those dangers, Yu Fengyan had placed enormous importance on his personal safety and had privately hired several bodyguards to stay close to him.

Now, finding out he had slipped away from the Jiang home without a word, Yu Fengyan was naturally beside herself with worry. After paying her respects to Patriarch Jiang and Madame Jiang, she immediately tried calling Jiang Yan — but the call would not go through, no matter how many times she tried.

Jiang Suiyuan, sensing his wife’s anxiety, reassured her. “If Ah Yan knew what was going on, he wouldn’t just wander off carelessly. Something urgent must have come up and he didn’t have time to tell you.”

Yu Fengyan’s worry was not eased by Jiang Suiyuan’s words. Her curved brows were drawn tightly together. “I just can’t settle my heart.”

It was as though something were about to happen — yet no matter how hard she tried to think, she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Didn’t you have people following Ah Yan?” Jiang Suiyuan reminded her. “Why not ask them what the situation is?”

In her panic, Yu Fengyan had momentarily forgotten about the bodyguards. At his words she snapped back to awareness, stood up, and called her assistant.

“No unusual circumstances so far,” the assistant reported, scanning the incoming messages from below. “The Young Master appears to have simply gone back to his own residence.”

“Good. Tell them to stay attentive.” Yu Fengyan let out a breath of relief. “Notify me immediately if anything happens.”

“Understood.”

After hanging up, Yu Fengyan set down her phone and turned to find Jiang Suiyuan standing behind her. Her heart was awash with a complex tide of feeling.

The two of them had crossed a thousand mountains and rivers to reach this moment of peace and happiness, and only the two of them knew how much hardship and struggle it had cost.

Thankfully, heaven had been merciful and had not ultimately failed their hopes.

The two returned to their room. Jiang Suiyuan took off his jacket and tossed it over the foot of the bed, then went into the bathroom to wash up first. Yu Fengyan tidied away his coat outside, then sat down at the dressing table.

Perhaps out of consideration for Jiang Mulan’s feelings, the old Jiang estate had not been lavishly decorated for the occasion. Jiang Suiyuan and Yu Fengyan had not redecorated the bridal room either, and stayed in the rooms they had always occupied. To add a touch of good cheer, the maids had affixed two pairs of red “double happiness” characters to the bed frame, and several pairs of red ceremonial candles had been placed on the dressing table.

At that moment, the base of one of the candles was weighted down by an envelope. From the corner that peeked out were written the characters: Jiang Yan.

For reasons she could not quite name, when Yu Fengyan saw this envelope, her heart gave a sudden lurch. A vague unease began to circle in her chest.

She picked up the envelope. It was unsealed. Inside were a letter and a photograph.

The photograph was slightly aged. It showed Jiang Yan on his sixth birthday — Yu Fengyan and Fang Hai were holding him in front of the Xixi City Astronomy Museum.

On the back were a few small lines of handwriting:

Commemorating Jiang Yan’s sixth birthday. Left by his father, Fang Hai.

Yu Fengyan’s memories were pulled back more than a decade. In her recollection, Fang Hai had always been gentle beyond measure — never a trace of reproach.

If only…

If not for…

Yu Fengyan lowered her eyes and exhaled quietly, setting aside those thoughts that could never come to pass. She put down the photograph and unfolded the letter.

In the letter, Jiang Yan wrote of many things from the past. He wrote about why Jiang Mulan had suddenly agreed to let Jiang Suiyuan marry her. He wrote about why he had never been willing to acknowledge Jiang Suiyuan as his father.

“…I thought that you and he were simply a matter of picking up the pieces and beginning again. But reality told me that in the eyes of others, you are the third party between Jiang Suiyuan and Zhou Zhilan — and that I am the illegitimate son no one dares mention.

If there had been no Jiang Suiyuan, perhaps we would still have been a simple, happy family of three. You would not have had to bear all these years of slander, and I would not have had to endure a so-called brother and so many cold looks, all because I needed to become a member of the Jiang family.

All of this is the fault of you and him. I cannot find it in myself to forgive it.

But you are still my mother. As your son, I hope my mother can be happy. So let me be the one to repay whatever debts there are.

From this day forward, there is no more Jiang Yan of the Jiang family — only Jiang Yan of the Fang family. My father will always and only be Fang Hai. He had no wife, only me as his son. My father was a good man. He never blamed anyone.

……

Lastly, I hope you can be happy. This is the last time I write as your son — and it is also the thing my father wanted most to see.”

After reading the letter, the tightly wound string in Yu Fengyan’s heart suddenly snapped. Tears came in a rush she could not control. She had never imagined that Jiang Yan had been carrying such a weight of guilt inside him.

The remorse that she and Jiang Suiyuan had always avoided and been afraid to remember — Jiang Yan had carried it all along.

He was deeply conflicted, and yet extraordinarily understanding.

For the sake of his mother’s happiness, he had sacrificed everything. Yet he could not forgive his mother’s choices. And yet, as a son, he hoped his mother could be happy — so he could only quietly shoulder all the debt himself.

Yu Fengyan had always prided herself on her composure and grace. For years, she had never shown a flicker of emotion in public — always gracious and poised, leaving no room for criticism. It was why so many of Jiang Suiyuan’s close friends had come to genuinely respect her from the heart; what man wouldn’t want such a woman by his side?

But in this moment, Yu Fengyan lost every last trace of that composure. She wept like a child — heaving, uncontrollable sobs, tears flooding out beyond all restraint.

Hearing the commotion, Jiang Suiyuan didn’t even stop to put on his shoes before rushing out of the bathroom in a panic. “Ah Yan — what’s wrong?”

Yu Fengyan’s eyes were red and swollen; she couldn’t speak. She could only hold out the letter in her hand.

Jiang Suiyuan took it, skimmed through it quickly, and fell silent.

For a long time, he said nothing.

Then he made every effort to steady himself and comfort Yu Fengyan. “All right. Today should be a day for happiness, no matter what. Go wash your face. I’ll handle this.”

Yu Fengyan only wept. She made no reply.

Jiang Suiyuan called for the maid who normally attended Yu Fengyan to look after her, then went to the study and carefully read through the entire letter.

After a moment of silence, he rose and went to Jiang Mulan’s room on the third floor.

“Ah Lan, why didn’t you say a word to me about your brother wanting to renounce his inheritance and leave?” For years, Jiang Suiyuan had always felt he owed his son a debt, and had never spoken a harsh word to him, never once raised his voice or been at odds with him. A sharp rebuke like this was a first.

Jiang Mulan seemed to have anticipated this. He didn’t appear particularly surprised — only felt, somewhere inside, a fresh wave of disappointment. “Why I did what I did — shouldn’t you understand it better than anyone? Besides, can he truly be counted as my brother?”

Jiang Suiyuan had no answer.

Jiang Mulan gave a contemptuous laugh. “I was only trying to protect what belongs to my mother. Don’t forget — my mother was the Madame Jiang you married properly and in full ceremony. She is the woman you personally vowed to cherish for the rest of your life!”

“Ah Lan, I have explained the matter of your mother to you many times. Ours was an arranged marriage with no emotional foundation, and a marriage without love cannot last.”

“Then why did you marry her in the first place!” Jiang Mulan stood and hurled a glass against the floor near Jiang Suiyuan’s feet. Then, as if all the venom had been expelled at once, he went cold in an instant. “Forget it. It’s too late for any of this now. My agreeing to let you marry Yu Fengyan was already the greatest concession I could make. Whatever you want to do from here on — it has nothing to do with me.”

Jiang Suiyuan knew this was not the moment to press Jiang Mulan further. He let out a helpless sigh, turned, and left.

Jiang Mulan watched his retreating back and said, with cold mockery, “You feel you’ve failed me, failed my mother, failed so many people — yet you will never be a competent father or husband. Oh, wait — as Yu Fengyan’s husband, I suppose you’re actually quite competent.”

At those words, Jiang Suiyuan’s step faltered briefly. Then he simply opened the door quietly and closed it quietly behind him.

……

Love is intoxicating, addictive — like a candy wrapped in sweetness. But sometimes it is like a poppy flower: while you drown in it, it brings those around you endless pain and suffering.

Heaven blessed the love of Yu Fengyan and Jiang Suiyuan — yet brought torment and sorrow to those closest to them.

……

Afterward, Jiang Suiyuan and Yu Fengyan tried to reach Jiang Yan a few more times, but never managed to see him in person. He rarely picked up the phone.

It was as though his departure had been quietly forced into permanence.

And life went on, day by day.

After the Start of Spring, Jiang Mulan set off for England across the ocean to study. Jiang Suiyuan and Yu Fengyan also left Xixi City, heading south to Haicheng for a business expansion.

School had long since resumed after the New Year.

At the start of the new semester, Jiang Yan no longer came to school. Instead, he followed Coach Guo Wen into the national team’s reserve training program.

Back at school, Lin Tao and Du Wenbo became deskmates.

The matter of her new deskmate had actually started with Jiang Yan. Originally Lin Tao had planned to sit beside Hu Hanghang for the last few months, but Jiang Yan — worried that Hu Hanghang would lead her astray — had spoken to Teacher Yu about getting her a new deskmate.

Lin Tao had assumed Jiang Yan would ask Teacher Yu to find a studious girl in the class to sit with her. What she never expected was that her new deskmate would be Du Wenbo.

Speaking of Du Wenbo — when the second year of senior high had just started, Lin Tao had actually been his deskmate for about a week, though back then the two of them were strangers and had barely exchanged a few words.

And now…

It seemed they were still not very well acquainted.

Lin Tao felt that Du Wenbo had to be the most tight-lipped person she had ever met. Essentially there was nothing to talk about. One week into the new semester, the two of them had exchanged fewer than ten sentences — and all of those were completely trivial. Most were Lin Tao asking him to let her out when she needed to get up from her seat during breaks, or asking him to let her back in when she needed to return.

Later, Du Wenbo simply switched seats with Lin Tao — moving himself to the inner seat and putting her by the aisle — so that their last remaining interaction disappeared entirely.

During Chinese class, Lin Tao finished the exam paper early and had nothing to do. She took out her phone and complained to Meng Xin:

Please help me, someone!! ? Du Wenbo literally does not say a single word to me, I feel like Jiang Yan found me a human-shaped mute device. [Oh and what does that have to do with me.jpg] [Boring, logging off, bye.jpg] I seriously was not going to laugh but I truly cannot help it!! ……

In the middle of her happy exchange of memes with Meng Xin, a WeChat message from Jiang Yan suddenly arrived:

Don’t play on your phone in class.

Lin Tao: “!! [Shocked face.jpg]”

She quickly replied:

But I’m not playing on my phone! Oh, so right now it’s a ghost sending me messages? ……

Lin Tao muttered to herself: it’s your girl— friend!!!

Jiang Yan didn’t chat long with her. He just told her not to use her phone so much. Lin Tao agreed in WeChat while continuing to covertly use her phone all the same.

But whether Jiang Yan and she had some kind of telepathy, she wasn’t sure — he had barely gone offline when he popped back up:

Still on it. …… Bye. 886.

At first Lin Tao thought it was just a coincidence that he happened to catch her on her phone. She didn’t pay it much attention. But in the days that followed, every time she took out her phone, Jiang Yan would be online within a few minutes without fail.

After this happened several times, Lin Tao sensed something was off. She quietly sought out Hu Hanghang, who was the easiest person to get information from. “Pangpang, did Jiang Yan say anything to you guys before he left Xixi City?”

“Say anything? What would he have to say to us?” Hu Hanghang said. “Ever since he got a girlfriend, it’s like he’s completely cut ties with us.”

“……” Okay, fine.

Lin Tao felt she probably wasn’t going to get much useful information out of him either, but there was no one else to ask, so she pressed on. “Did he tell you to keep an eye on me — like, to notify him immediately whenever I’m on my phone?”

Hu Hanghang scratched his head. “Oh, that one — yeah.”

Lin Tao’s eyes lit up. She inwardly complimented herself on her brilliance. Then she heard Hu Hanghang continue in a flat, expressionless tone: “He told Song Yuan to keep watch over me and Xu Yichuan. He said if we ever got you to play games with us, Song Yuan had to tell him right away, and then when he got back, he’d deal with us properly.”

“!!!” Lin Tao was genuinely stunned. No wonder none of them had been calling her to rank up lately.

Ranking up in the game was a matter of life’s great importance. Lin Tao felt she should push back a little. “Maybe you guys could go behind Song Yuan’s back and secretly get me to rank up together?”

“Probably not.” Hu Hanghang refused, clean and quick. “If we do, next time it’ll be Jiang Yan coming to pay his respects at our graves.”

“…… [I’m fine.jpg]”

Lin Tao confirmed several more times that Jiang Yan hadn’t said anything else beyond this — and then she thought it over. Sometimes when she used her phone in class, she was extremely discreet about it. Hu Hanghang and Song Yuan, who sat in the back rows, couldn’t possibly see. Unless it was someone sitting right beside her.

Hm?

Wait!

Right beside her!?

Lin Tao felt as though her inner energy channels had suddenly been unblocked. The realization dawned on her all at once. No wonder every time she used her phone, Jiang Yan went online — it was like they were telepathic twins.

She had a strong hunch that Jiang Yan had privately said something to Du Wenbo, but this was all speculation. She wasn’t certain. Still, she had made up her mind.

When afternoon classes began, Lin Tao made a show of diligently finishing an exam paper, then took out her phone and started playing a game.

Sure enough, within a few minutes, Jiang Yan was online.

Lin Tao made some nonsensical excuses with him: “I seriously wasn’t on my phone just now! I was just looking something up! Now I’m getting back to studying! Bye! 886!”

She fired off the message without waiting for Jiang Yan’s reply, tucked away her phone, and then propped her chin in her hand and stared straight at her deskmate Du Wenbo.

Du Wenbo sensed something and looked up, meeting her gaze. He said nothing.

Lin Tao thought to herself: this big brother really does have nerves of steel. She couldn’t help giving him a silent round of applause in her heart, while outwardly not shifting her eyes from him for a second.

Time ticked by. Lin Tao felt her neck getting stiff. Du Wenbo still showed absolutely no reaction.

Just as Lin Tao was about to give up and try a different strategy, Du Wenbo finally moved.

He took off his glasses, rubbed his brow, then turned his head and looked at Lin Tao with an air of innocent confusion. “Can you please stop staring at me?”

“I’m not,” Lin Tao said, rolling her shoulders and reaching up to pat her aching neck. “I just find that this angle is better for thinking through problems.”

“……”

Du Wenbo still looked like he wanted to say something. Then Lin Tao suddenly pulled out her phone. “Never mind, I can’t think of anything anyway. I’ll just play on my phone for a bit.”

Even though she said she was playing on her phone, Lin Tao kept her eyes fixed on Du Wenbo the entire time, quietly watching his every move.

Perhaps conscious of her scrutiny, Du Wenbo made no other moves and simply bent over his exam paper.

This time, Lin Tao played on her phone for nearly half a period. Jiang Yan never went online. When class ended, Du Wenbo did something unprecedented — he got up to leave his seat during the break.

Lin Tao first suppressed a smile, rose to make room for him, and then looked at him with a knowing expression. “Hey — did Jiang Yan ask you to watch me?”

At those words, Du Wenbo’s step faltered. He stumbled slightly.

Reading his reaction, Lin Tao had figured out roughly eight or nine tenths of it. Once he was gone, she took out her phone and sent Jiang Yan a message.

At the same moment.

Far away, a hundred li distant, Jiang Yan received his girlfriend’s message — and in the very next second, also received a message from Hu·Scout Unit One·Hanghang:

“Jiang Yan bro!!!!!! IT’S OVER!!!!! Lin Tao seems like she’s going to fall for someone else!!!!!!!!”