Zhong Yi didn’t need to put on any airs in front of her father. She was slouched deep into the sofa, head tilted back against the cushion.
At that moment, all she wanted was something sweet. Turning her head slightly, she said, “Extra milk and sugar in the black tea.”
“No problem.” Jiang Jingyuan opened the fridge.
“Want some sweet red beans too?”
Zhong Yi blinked in surprise.
“You keep red beans in your office?”
“Of course. Always stocked.” Jiang Jingyuan smiled.
“Your dad will make you a custom red bean milk tea.”
As he spoke, he pulled out a sealed jar of syrup-soaked red beans from the fridge.
Zhong Yi had loved sweet red beans since she was a child. There were always some at home, and apparently, even here at her father’s office.
She watched as he opened the lid and scooped out three heaping spoonfuls into a cup.
“Add another half spoon,” she said greedily.
Jiang Jingyuan didn’t hesitate—he added a spoon and a half.
Zhong Yi grinned, satisfied.
“So what brought you to visit your old man today?” he asked, making tea while chatting casually.
Zhong Yi hadn’t figured out how to bring up the topic of Zhou Shiyi and the arranged marriage—especially since her father didn’t know she and Zhou had dated. So she deflected.
“Wasn’t too busy today. I’d be alone at home anyway, figured I’d come hang out with you.”
Jiang Jingyuan looked a little guilty.
“Ah, I’ve got a dinner engagement tonight. My bad—I should’ve told you earlier. Want to come with me?”
“You’re meeting business clients. What would I do there?” she replied lazily.
“I’ll head home after the milk tea.”
“It’s not business. Teacher Yu is in town—we’re having dinner.”
Teacher Yu was one of her father’s oldest friends, a renowned oil painter with international acclaim.
Only then did Zhong Yi remember—he had a gallery exhibition in Beicheng.
Years ago, when they lived in a quiet Jiangnan town, she’d studied painting under Teacher Yu. Day after day, year after year, she had followed him around like a shadow.
But alas, talent wasn’t something you could force—despite Teacher Yu’s patient, hands-on instruction, she never managed to produce anything decent.
Still, her father never gave up. Every summer, he’d personally accompany her to stay with Teacher Yu for a while, believing in the value of artistic exposure.
But after joining Jinghe Group, work had consumed her. Nearly three years had gone by without a visit.
She considered going. But before agreeing, she asked, “Who else will be there tonight?”
“Quite a few people. Your cousins will be there,” Jiang Jingyuan said, giving her a meaningful glance.
“And someone you might’ve heard of—Zhou Shiyi from Kuncheng Group.”
Zhong Yi’s lips parted to say “Then I’ll come”—but she swallowed the words back down.
Since his name had come up, she casually asked, “I heard you introduced Zhou Shiyi to someone for marriage?”
“Mm. He’s a good kid.”
“You didn’t used to think that. You said he wasn’t reliable!”
Her voice rose slightly with emotion. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d sat up straighter without thinking.
Jiang Jingyuan paused mid-tea-pour, frowning in thought.
“Did I say that?”
“You did!” There was no way she’d forget.
Back then, she and Zhou Shiyi had still been together. She’d tried to feel out her father’s opinion, hoping to one day introduce Zhou as her boyfriend.
But what she’d gotten instead was that single dismissive evaluation.
So she’d shelved the idea. They were fresh out of college—no rush to meet the parents.
And then… there was no “later.”
Jiang Jingyuan wasn’t trying to cover for himself.
“I used to be out of touch with young people. Had my biases. I thought Min Ting wasn’t reliable either.”
Zhong Yi raised an eyebrow.
Min Ting was her older cousin on her aunt’s side—and also the boss of Jinghe Group.
No one outside the family knew that Jiang Jingyuan had a daughter. Naturally, no one realized that she and her “boss” were actually cousins.
Their frequent interactions at work had always just been chalked up to favoritism.
“He’s just like you,” Zhong Yi teased.
“Same exact temper you had when you were young.”
“Exactly why I thought he wasn’t reliable.” Jiang Jingyuan cracked a grin.
They both laughed.
“So, did Zhou Shiyi agree to the marriage?” she asked, looping the conversation back around.
She stared straight at her father, waiting for an answer.
Jiang Jingyuan gave a small nod.
Zhong Yi felt something twist in her chest—something messy and hard to name.
It had been three years since their breakup. Logically, they were both free to move on.
But it still stung, especially since her own father had brokered the match.
Her father had many well-connected friends, and their daughters were all excellent. Who had he introduced?
“Did Min Ting tell you?” he asked.
“No. My supervisor had lunch with Zhou earlier and overheard something about an engagement. That’s all I know. Who’s the girl? Do I know her?”
Jiang Jingyuan looked at her and replied, “If I found a good son-in-law, why would I give him to someone else?”
He had originally asked Min Ting to help ease Zhong Yi into the idea. Then he’d planned to break it to her gently himself.
But seeing as things were already moving, there was no turning back now.
Zhong Yi’s lips parted. She sat frozen for a long time, unsure where to begin.
Until this moment, she had never once suspected she might be the intended bride. She’d always resisted romance, even the idea of marriage. Her father had respected that—he never pressured her.
Who would’ve thought he’d make arrangements behind her back?
A thousand thoughts surged through her mind.
“Dad…” she hesitated.
“Actually… I dated Zhou Shiyi. We were together for four years. We’ve been broken up for three. I’m sorry I never told you.”
Jiang Jingyuan’s voice was quiet.
“It’s okay. I already knew.”
She’d never been quite the same since the breakup. He’d raised her himself—of course he noticed.
She wouldn’t explain why, so he did his own digging.
It had taken time, but he’d finally uncovered the truth.
If not for the delay, he would’ve made this arrangement much sooner.
Zhong Yi took a deep breath.
“Does Zhou Shiyi know your daughter is me?”
The tea was ready. As he poured, Jiang Jingyuan replied, “He knows. How else would he agree to this? I showed him your photo.”
“Did he… say anything about me?”
“No,” he said simply.
Zhong Yi nodded slowly.
Neither of them brought up the past again.
Nor did they mention Zhou Shiyi.
They’d always shared an unspoken understanding. Some things didn’t need to be said.
Just like how Jiang Jingyuan never asked her if she wanted this marriage.
And how she never blamed him for going behind her back.
She leaned into the sofa again, quietly watching her father prepare the warm, soft, sweet red bean milk tea.
Golden rays of the setting sun spilled through the window, landing on the tea cabinet—and on the strong, steady hands of her father.
For a moment, it felt like she was a little girl again.
She had been born premature, barely seven months, her body fragile, always falling ill. Her respiratory system had been especially weak.
So her father had taken her to live in a peaceful southern town, nestled between green mountains and clear rivers—whitewashed walls, tiled roofs, black-sailed boats and stone paths.
A hidden world, untouched by time.
They’d lived there until she was six. During those years, he’d cooked almost every meal for her. As long as he wasn’t away on business, he did everything himself.
“I was a handful even back then. Still am,” she murmured.
“No kidding. When you were born, the doctor told me to prepare for the worst,” Jiang Jingyuan recalled, voice thick with emotion.
“They said you might not survive.”
Back then, he barely went to the office. People thought he wasn’t interested in running the company. But in truth, he just couldn’t leave the side of his sickly baby girl.
Finally, the milk tea was ready.
He placed a long-handled spoon in the cup and handed it to her.
The fragrant black tea blended with creamy milk, and the red beans filled nearly half the cup. Her dad always spoiled her.
Zhong Yi sat cross-legged, took a spoonful, and popped it into her mouth. Sweet and soft—it melted instantly.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Jiang Jingyuan said, sitting beside her.
She looked up and smiled. The heaviness in her eyes from earlier had faded.
Just then, the phone on his desk buzzed.
Zhong Yi asked, “Is that Teacher Yu?”
“No, it’s from Min Ting.” Jiang Jingyuan leaned on the table as he read the message.
“Your cousin says… you applied for three months’ wedding leave?”
Zhong Yi quickly swallowed.
“That’s a misunderstanding! I didn’t know you were planning a wedding when I took the time off. I was just exhausted and needed a break.”
“Well,” he said with a chuckle, “it all worked out. The wedding’s in two months. After that, you two can go on a honeymoon. Three months should be perfect.”
Zhong Yi was stunned.
“You already set the date?”
“May 19th. That way it won’t conflict with people celebrating 520.”
“Did Zhou pick the date?”
“I did,” he replied.
Zhong Yi gave a barely perceptible nod.
Jiang Jingyuan sent a reply to his nephew and returned to his seat.
Zhong Yi cradled her cup in both hands, feeling like she was trapped in a surreal dream.
Over the past few years, she’d dreamed of Zhou Shiyi more than once. But when she woke up, it was always just emptiness.
Sometimes it took days to recover. Then it was back to the grind—life in a straight line.
Ning Que often teased her for being a cold-hearted workaholic. Before Zhong Yi joined, Ning Que had held the office record for being a workaholic—until she came along.
The only good thing about being busy was not noticing time pass. One blink, and the day was gone.
Life had rushed by so fast, it gave her the illusion that their breakup hadn’t been that long ago.
As if just yesterday, he had still been by her side.
But in reality, he had left three years ago.
“Want to come with me tonight?” Jiang Jingyuan asked again.
Zhong Yi snapped out of her thoughts.
“No. I’m going home to sleep.”
Then she added, “Didn’t fall asleep until 2 or 3 last night. I’m exhausted.”
She was just stating a fact, but in that moment, it sounded like an excuse.
Jiang Jingyuan didn’t press. It didn’t matter—sooner or later, they’d have to meet.
“Go to bed early. Don’t wait up for me.”
Whenever he had dinner plans, no matter how late it was, she would always wait for him in the living room.
She’d done it since she was a child—and the habit never changed.
“Okay,” she murmured, distracted.
“If you’re hungry, tell Auntie to cook something.”
Then a thought struck her.
“Dad, what about the wedding ceremony? When the parents go on stage…?”
“You have parents, don’t you?” he said lightly.
“But everyone thinks you’re single,” Zhong Yi pointed out.
“When they find out you have a daughter my age, it’s going to blow up.”
She was most worried about one thing.
“And Mom… the internet’s going to explode.”
“Don’t overthink it. When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll straighten itself out.”
Then he reminded her to reach out to Zhou Shiyi.
“You two should meet before the wedding.”
Zhong Yi went quiet.
“I don’t have his contact anymore.”
Three months after their breakup, she had deleted everything.
They hadn’t spoken since. Didn’t know where the other was or how life had been.
“I’ll send you his card?” Jiang Jingyuan offered.
Zhong Yi didn’t answer. She just looked at him.
Understanding her silence, he opened Zhou Shiyi’s contact and forwarded her WeChat card.
Moments later, he gestured for her to check her phone.
Zhong Yi pulled it out of her bag. When she saw the friend request from someone labeled “Zhou Shiyi,” her heart—silent for years—lurched hard in her chest.
She stared at the familiar profile picture, held her breath slightly, and clicked “accept.”
After all this time, she wondered what the first thing he’d say to her might be.
But even after a long while… he said nothing more.
Zhong Yi put down her phone, scooped another spoonful of sweet red beans, and placed it gently into her mouth.
At least the red beans were still sweet.