Zhong Yi was halfway through her second slice of watermelon when the man got up and walked away.
She looked up.
“Do you still have those? I remember sending you two.”
“You said it yourself—just two. Isn’t that enough?”
He strolled out of the gazebo at a relaxed pace, neither confirming nor denying that he’d kept the old photos.
“Zhou Shiyi.” She called after him.
He turned around and waited for her to speak.
“Do you still have the photos from back then? If you do, send me a copy.”
She hadn’t just deleted their wedding pictures—she’d wiped her entire photo album clean.
Zhou Shiyi looked at her for a few quiet seconds, said nothing, and turned to head back inside.
When he returned, he was holding a pack of tissues.
Zhong Yi pulled out two sheets.
“Thanks.”
This time, he didn’t sit across from her. He took the seat next to hers.
The distance between them was the same as when they were on the boat—not close enough for their clothes to brush, yet close enough for their breath to mingle in the air.
He held out a hand.
“Phone.”
Their two phones lay side by side. Zhong Yi watched his slender fingers swipe through her photo album. It took him only a few seconds to find what he was looking for.
He began selecting pictures of the two of them and started AirDropping them to her.
He was never one for taking pictures. During their time together, he’d occasionally take candid shots of her, but most of the photos had been ones she’d shared with him.
Over a hundred photos transferred quickly.
Zhou Shiyi handed her phone back.
“Next time you delete them, I won’t be sending them again.”
Then he stood up and returned to the seat across from her.
The crisp, clean scent that lingered beside her faded with his departure.
“Thanks,” she said politely.
Finishing her second slice, she grabbed another from the fruit platter.
There was no need to be reserved in front of him—he’d seen every side of her already.
As she bit into the juicy fruit, she scrolled through the old photos he’d sent. Aside from a few travel shots, most of them were selfies—her nestled in his arms or resting her head on his shoulder.
In every photo without exception, he had one arm around her, the other still working—either typing or reviewing documents.
In a few rare shots, he happened to glance toward the camera, but in most, his eyes were locked on his screen.
She’d taken these during overtime nights—tired, leaning against him for a break, capturing those rare quiet moments of rest.
He hadn’t just sent photos. Two videos came with them.
She opened the first.
In the clip, she was curled up in Zhou Shiyi’s arms, asking, “I learned a new OST from a movie. Want to hear it?”
“When did you learn it?”
“Just over the past few nights.”
“Weren’t you too busy with your thesis to even video chat with me?”
He didn’t press the issue. Instead, he kissed her cheek and asked, “What movie is it from?”
“A domestic one.”
“When does it premiere here? I’ll take you to see it.”
“It’s already out of theaters. It was last year’s release.”
“Then one day we’ll watch it at home.”
She tilted her head up and kissed him.
Her hand slid behind his neck. Suddenly, the screen darkened. Nothing could be seen—just the soft, scattered sounds of kissing.
Then the video abruptly cut off.
She remembered that night. It was early in their relationship. She’d originally wanted to record herself singing that song.
But in the end, the song never got sung.
The movie she mentioned—her mother had starred in it. The OST had been sung by her mother, too.
The second video showed Zhou Shiyi making her coffee. She didn’t open it—she’d save it for later, back in her room.
“Planning to keep your hair short?” he asked suddenly from across the table.
“Yeah. Isn’t short hair nice?” Zhong Yi exited the album and set her phone aside.
Zhou Shiyi didn’t comment either way.
“I’ve had it this way for three years. I’m used to it now,” she added.
“Long hair actually feels strange to me now.”
Zhou Shiyi still hadn’t gotten used to her short hair. It made her seem unfamiliar—like someone he hadn’t fully come to know.
He uncrossed his legs, stretching slightly. Just as he shifted positions, his foot accidentally bumped into hers under the wooden table.
Zhong Yi paused mid-bite.
The table was narrow, and his legs were long—it wasn’t surprising they’d brushed.
She didn’t move, quietly swallowing the sweet, crisp fruit.
Zhou Shiyi pulled his leg back and returned to his original posture.
“Chencheng’s probably home by now?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“She is,” he replied.
“How many kids does your cousin have?”
“Just Chencheng.”
“And your cousin’s wife—she’s from Jiangcheng?”
“Yeah.”
Zhou Shiyi looked straight at her.
“All these questions about other people—don’t you have anything to ask me?”
Zhong Yi gave him a sidelong glance.
“What does your family’s heirloom ring look like?”
Zhou Shiyi blinked, taking a moment to register what she meant. He’d once mentioned having wedding rings ready, and she had mistaken them for some sort of family heirloom.
“Just a plain band,” he replied.
As he spoke, his gaze swept over her right hand—her ring finger, like his, was bare.
Zhong Yi placed the watermelon rind into the empty dish and carefully wiped her fingers with a tissue—deliberate movements that now served as a shield for the silence between them.
“At the pier that day,” Zhou Shiyi said bluntly, “how did you introduce me to Grandpa Lu?”
Earlier, she’d casually mentioned Grandpa Lu while chatting in the kitchen with her mentor’s wife. He hadn’t asked at the time, thinking the matter was behind them.
But clearly, it wasn’t.
“No introductions. He didn’t ask.”
“I just said I was bringing my cousin’s kid for a boat ride, and Grandpa Lu didn’t question it.”
In that moment, Zhou Shiyi understood: Grandpa Lu had mistaken him for her cousin.
“Grandpa Lu doesn’t even know I used to date Lu Cheng. To him, we were just old classmates.”
High school classmates, from many years ago. The old man wasn’t the gossipy type—naturally, he never probed further.
Nothing ruins feelings faster than comparison.
He probably assumed her relationship with Lu Cheng back then had been so deep, even their families were aware of it.
Zhong Yi thought of what she’d told him a few days ago:
“But later on, I fell for you too, didn’t I?”
But in his heart, affection that grows slowly over time didn’t feel passionate enough—didn’t leave the same searing mark as a blazing first love.
On top of that, when they first met, their timing had been off. She already had a boyfriend.
To her then, he was just another Ning Que—someone nice, but not a possibility.
Zhou Shiyi noticed she’d stopped eating the watermelon and had nothing more to say to him. He glanced at his watch and said, “Let’s head inside.”
—He was intruding.
Inside, Jiang Jingyuan and Teacher Yu had already moved from the tea room to the dining area.
The dishes had been served, but seeing the young couple enjoying a rare moment of quiet in the courtyard, they hadn’t called them in.
When the two finally came in, Teacher Yu warmly ushered them to the table.
“Try your teacher’s cooking for lunch. I’ll be the chef tonight.” He turned to Jiang Jingyuan with a teasing glint.
“You’re not going back tonight either. Don’t annoy me.”
Jiang Jingyuan, unfazed at being mocked in front of the kids, smiled:
“I just want to understand what’s behind her sudden change in attitude.”
Teacher Yu poured him a full glass of wine—half for a son-in-law.
“What else could it be? Aren’t you always like this?” He set another glass in front of his wife.
Jiang Jingyuan replied, “Not entirely. We’ve been together over twenty years. Of course there were good times too.”
They used to talk about everything—what made them happy, what made them sad.
But lately, she’d grown distant for no clear reason. And it wasn’t like he’d done anything to upset her.
Aside from work, he was always at home, spending time with their daughter. Taking care of the child wasn’t just an excuse.
As the thought crossed his mind, he glanced up at his son-in-law.
If there was one thing that might have upset Zhong Zhuohua, it could’ve been their decision to arrange the kids’ marriage.
“What is it, Dad?” Zhou Shiyi felt a bit uneasy under his gaze.
Teacher Yu cut in with a side-eye:
“Don’t pin it on Shiyi. Look at yourself first.”
“I’m not blaming him. But if your mom’s upset with me because of the marriage arrangement, at least I’d know what to fix.”
Right now, he had no clue. But he couldn’t just let their relationship continue drifting.
“Dad, it’s got nothing to do with Zhou Shiyi,” Zhong Yi said firmly.
“If it’s something I truly wanted, even if Mom disliked it, she’d never make me feel caught in the middle. It has to be something else.”
Her mother loved her more than anything. She wouldn’t pull away from her husband because of her.
Jiang Jingyuan nodded.
“Alright. I’ll think about it more.”
Just then, his phone buzzed—a message from the old man.
Grandpa was asking when Xiao Yi would be free to come home for dinner.
It was the second time he’d asked.
In the past, his father would never follow up like this if he didn’t get a reply. Never this proactive.
But now, Grandpa was getting older. And with only one granddaughter, he’d long felt guilty and was always looking for ways to make it up to her.
What he didn’t understand, though, was that the old family home felt like a stranger’s house to Zhong Yi.
Jiang Jingyuan replied:
[Zhong Yi isn’t home. She’s in Jiangcheng.]
“Your grandpa wants to know when you’ll come over for dinner. If you’d rather not, I’ll just find an excuse.”
Zhong Yi:
“No, I’ll go. I told Grandpa myself that I’d visit him and Grandma.”
The old man was too anxious—couldn’t wait even two or three days.
Jiang Jingyuan turned to his son-in-law:
“Shiyi, go with her when the time comes. The two of you haven’t even formally met the family since getting your marriage certificate.”
Zhou Shiyi nodded.
“Alright.”
Meeting elders always came with a barrage of questions: when’s the wedding, where will you live after?
After lunch, Zhong Yi went back to her room for a nap. The rest stayed to play cards with Teacher Yu’s wife.
She’d just learned how to play poker recently and was hooked. Every evening, Teacher Yu would keep her company for a few rounds.
To avoid disturbing Zhong Yi’s nap, they brought tea and fruit out to the garden pavilion.
Zhong Yi closed the bedroom door, changed into pajamas, and curled up under the covers.
Teacher Yu’s home was built near the water, and a cool breeze drifted through the mesh screen.
She’d planned to watch a few of her and Zhou Shiyi’s videos before napping, but the moment she turned on her phone, the screen lit up with several entertainment news notifications—all about her mother.
She clicked on them immediately.
Sure enough, her mother’s name had shot up the trending list—most of the tags were marked “explosive.”
Over the years, there had been countless rumors: secret meetups with directors, cougar romances with young actors, even alleged affairs with powerful men. Zhong Yi had grown immune to them all.
But this time was different.
Her biological father’s name was mentioned.
She looked closer at the photo—there was a figure with his back to the camera. It really was her dad.
This was the first time in her memory the two of them had ever been photographed together.
If it had happened before she was of age, her mother would’ve flat-out denied it.
But now that she was an adult, she could handle public gossip with ease. She didn’t care what others thought.
In fact, she was curious: how would her parents respond this time?
[Dad, you and Mom are trending.]
Two minutes ago, Jiang Jingyuan had just hung up with his secretary.
She’d asked if they needed to respond to the online rumors—whether they should issue a public statement.
“No need. Let her decide.”
If Zhong Zhuohua still cared about her acting career and didn’t want to go public, him speaking up first would only backfire.
At that very moment, Zhong Zhuohua, on set, had already seen the trending topics. She’d also noticed the curious stares from her crew.
#Award-winning actress rekindles romance with former backer?
#Rumor: Zhong Zhuohua came between Jiang Jingyuan and his girlfriend 26 years ago?#
Her agent asked carefully, “What do you want to do? This might actually be a good chance to clarify things and go public.”
Zhong Zhuohua stared at the trending tags, lost in thought.
For years, her greatest wish had been to sit down for a meal with her daughter, openly. To hold her hand and walk down the street without looking over her shoulder.
The child she fought so hard to bring into the world still couldn’t call her “Mom” in public. Instead, she’d grown up guarding a secret, careful with her every word. She didn’t even have close friends.
Zhong Zhuohua closed the page.
“Let it be for now. I want to see what else the paparazzi manage to dig up.”
What she really wanted… was to see how Jiang Jingyuan would respond.
But odds were, he’d do what he always did—leave the choice to her.
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