Chapter 21: He had been rejected by her.

Zhou Shiyi never intended to tell his father-in-law that he’d deliberately concealed the car plate from the media.

Even if his father-in-law knew, he probably wouldn’t object—but any coordinated cooperation after being informed would reek of staged PR to anyone with a discerning eye.

Better to let things unfold naturally—it would be far more convincing.

“We’re in the spotlight right now. My dad might not even use his own car,” Zhou said.

“I’ve already sent the plate number of Secretary Yang’s car to Zhan Liang,” he added, placing his phone in front of Zhong Yi again, even though her own phone still had battery. He pretended not to notice.

But Zhong Yi wasn’t paying attention to the phone. Instead, she gave him a heads-up:

“If public opinion spirals, it might affect you and Kuncheng Motors.”

“It’s fine,” he replied.

“Zhan Liang has PR plans prepared. Even if there’s some impact, it’s no big deal. If we have to worry about everything, then my parents might as well give up on ever going public with their relationship.”

What truly worried him was: “Even if my mom clarifies things, it’ll be hard for people to believe she wasn’t the third party back then.”

Of course Zhong Yi understood that. The timing of her parents’ relationship had always been a touchy subject.

Even if some people believed the clarification, there would always be those eager to stir the pot, dragging the narrative in another direction.

Still, if they could go public, even if her mom got caught in a storm of gossip, she’d be happy at heart.

She turned to look at him. “Thank you.”

Zhou Shiyi had wanted to ask—was she thanking him as herself, or on behalf of her parents? But in the end, he simply said, “It’s what I should do.”

The gazebo fell quiet.

Zhong Yi peeled a loquat and tapped back into the trending topics.

#Zhong Zhuohua Interfered in Jiang Jingyuan’s Relationship 26 Years Ago# was still on the list, but had now dropped to the bottom.

She didn’t know much about her father’s first love. No matter how much her parents had argued over the years, neither had ever mentioned the other by name.

All she knew was that the woman had been carefree, artistic, and deeply charismatic.

Because she was a non-celebrity, no follow-up news could be found online. In the few faded, grainy photos that existed, she and Jiang Jingyuan had indeed looked like a perfect match.

After Zhong Yi was born, her father had devoted himself entirely to raising her, gradually fading from the public eye. These days, he didn’t even attend financial summits.

Their once-passionate love had been reduced to a mere footnote, mentioned only occasionally by industry insiders—forgotten by the rest of the world.

Her grandfather had once bitterly regretted driving the couple apart. If he hadn’t, her father might never have ended up with her mother.

“I can’t believe you went and found someone in the entertainment industry! You’d have been better off with little Yang!”

Little Yang—her father’s first love—was named Yang Jiayuan.

But by then, Zhong Yi had already been born. What was done was done. Regret was useless.

Her grandfather had made that comment on a phone call with her father—while her mother sat right beside him. The words had hurt her deeply.

So over all these years, her mother had never once visited anyone from the Jiang family. It wasn’t out of spite—it was simply that she knew she wasn’t welcome. Why force herself into a place she didn’t belong?

To comfort her, Jiang Jingyuan had allowed Zhong Yi to take her mother’s surname.

Her original name had been Zhong Yi (钟意, meaning “like” or “fondness”).

Her mother had once told her father, “You don’t 钟意 me, and I don’t 钟意 you. Let’s not call her that anymore. A child should have a name of her own.”

In some ways, it was good that their relationship was exposed now. At least she would have a few months to spend with her mother.

“Still reading?” Jiang Jingyuan had returned from a phone call to find his daughter’s screen still on the trending topic.

Zhong Yi exited the page and handed the phone back to Zhou Shiyi.

“Dad, when are you heading back to Shanghai?” she asked.

“Not tonight,” Jiang Jingyuan replied.

Zhong Yi blinked, caught off guard. She resisted the urge to glance at Zhou Shiyi, afraid her expression might give something away.

“Why not?”

“Your mom won’t finish filming until the early morning. I want her to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave at five and bring back some Jiangcheng breakfast.”

Zhong Yi breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As long as he was going back.

Zhou Shiyi lowered his gaze and sent Zhan Liang a message:

[Update the timeline: Jiang Jingyuan will visit Zhong Zhuohua tomorrow morning around 7:30, bringing breakfast across cities.]

Zhan Liang responded instantly: [Got it!]

***

The next morning.

Before dawn, Jiang Jingyuan left Teacher Yu’s house and headed into the city.

When their daughter had been little, every time his wife had a break, the three of them would reunite in Jiangcheng. Besides Hong Kong-style dim sum, his wife’s favorite food had always been local breakfast.

He packed up her usual order and drove straight to their home in Shanghai.

The car wasn’t under his name, so it could avoid paparazzi and enter the apartment garage undetected.

When he arrived, Zhong Zhuohua had just woken up and was sitting in bed on the phone.

A minute earlier, her agent had called to tell her that Yang Jiayuan had reached out, asking if she needed help clarifying the “third party” rumors.

“If she does,” the agent said, “she can send over a PR draft—or I can write one and run it by her team. We’ll have the lawyers handle the release.”

“I haven’t responded yet. What do you think?”

Zhong Zhuohua hadn’t had any contact with Yang Jiayuan in years. They had no personal relationship.

She doubted the woman even knew about her and Jiang Jingyuan.

“No need,” she replied. “She’s a private person. Let’s not drag her into this.”

Sometimes public opinion is like a runaway train—no one can steer it. If things got out of hand, Yang Jiayuan’s entire life might get torn apart online.

“Even if she clarifies, some people will twist it around—say we forced her into it, or that she’s only speaking out because of pressure.”

She paused. “Just thank her for me.”

“Understood,” the agent said.

“And no more PR. Let the storm pass on its own,” Zhong Zhuohua added with a wry smile.

“Infamy is still fame. Without this scandal, I might not even be this popular.”

Her agent chuckled dryly. “I hope that’s really how you feel.”

After all, how could she not care, when the rumors involved Jiang Jingyuan?

Just as Zhong Zhuohua was about to respond, the bedroom door quietly creaked open. Their eyes met.

She gave him a calm glance, then looked away and said into the phone, “Let’s talk in person later.”

“Get up and eat,” Jiang Jingyuan said, handing her some clothes. “Brought breakfast from Jiangcheng.”

Zhong Zhuohua took the outfit and casually informed him, “Yang Jiayuan contacted my studio, asked if we needed her help to clarify the rumors.”

The sudden mention of that name gave Jiang Jingyuan a brief pause.

“She doesn’t need to step in,” he said. “If anyone should clarify things, it should be me.”

Though her statement would carry more weight, they each had their own lives now. He didn’t want to disturb her.

Zhong Zhuohua didn’t respond. She slipped out of her nightgown and into a long black dress.

Jiang Jingyuan instinctively reached out to help zip it up, but she turned slightly to avoid his hand. “Thanks, I can manage.”

“When have you ever managed it on your own?” he said lightly, pulling her back in front of him.

“You always struggle with it. The food’ll be cold by the time you’re done.”

He carefully swept her hair to the front.

“You going to Lu Cheng’s concert?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Zhong Zhuohua replied. “Zhou Shiyi is going—no reason for me to avoid it.”

When it came to their daughter, their tones always softened.

“Why did they break up back then? Was it because of Lu Cheng?”

Zhong Yi had never mentioned the reason, so Zhong Zhuohua hadn’t asked.

“Not entirely,” Jiang Jingyuan said. “They were never going to work out. It was written in the stars.”

He zipped up the dress and gently pushed her hair back behind her shoulders.

“Xiao Yi rejected Zhou Shiyi back then. She was still with Lu Cheng, and I think things were going well.”

Zhong Zhuohua’s eyes widened. “What?”

“She had a boyfriend at the time. Zhou Shiyi didn’t know. He thought she was single.”

It wasn’t until after he was rejected that he realized she’d had someone she’d liked for years.

After that, they’d never seen each other again—like complete strangers.

Zhong Zhuohua nodded slowly. “Zhou Shiyi told you that?”

“He’d never say that. I asked his driver. He told me.”

To understand why they broke up, Jiang Jingyuan had sought out the person most likely to know the truth.

He’d told the driver he was trying to patch things up between the two. The driver had then shared everything he knew.

Zhong Zhuohua sighed softly. Matters of the heart were out of her hands—only the two of them could work it out.

As she tied up her hair and walked into the bathroom, she suddenly remembered to ask, “You drove a different car today?”

“Yeah. Came straight up from the garage.”

He reassured her: Secretary Yang had already checked with building management—no unfamiliar vehicles had entered.

Zhong Zhuohua warned him: if he got photographed again while things were this tense, she wouldn’t let it slide.

She didn’t want to see her name in trending tags about meddling in his relationship ever again.

Jiang Jingyuan thought he’d been cautious enough—but just three days later, a video surfaced of him entering and leaving the apartment, having late-night snacks with Zhong Zhuohua.

At that moment, Zhong Yi had just finished dinner at her grandfather’s house and was sitting around chatting with the old man.

Originally, Zhou Shiyi had planned to fly back with her, but a last-minute business negotiation came up—he couldn’t get away—so she returned to Beicheng alone.

Worried it might get awkward if she couldn’t keep the conversation going with her grandparents, she brought her cousin along as backup.

“This time the footage is clear. Third Uncle can’t deny it now.”

“What can’t he deny?” Zhong Yi was munching on fruit, completely unaware that her parents had made the trending list again.

Jiang Yanfeng handed her the phone. “Your dad and mom were filmed having dinner at home. Full face, no blur.”

Zhong Yi hurriedly swallowed the fruit and glanced at the screen. Her parents were seated across from each other, having a quiet meal.

She hadn’t expected the paparazzi to be this efficient—less than three days and they’d already captured such clear footage.

Jiang Yanfeng pulled his phone back and warned, “You might wanna stay off the internet for a while.”

Zhong Yi replied calmly, “Even if I don’t check, I can already imagine what the comments say. I’m immune by now.”

Old Mr. Jiang put on his reading glasses and examined the exposed video carefully.

“Look at your dad—just eating a simple dinner—and already the views are pushing fifty million.”

He replayed the footage again and again, trying to identify what his son was eating.

“Not even some rare delicacy, just a few leaves of salad. And yet all these people are watching it.”

Zhong Yi: It was probably the seasonal salad Mom didn’t finish.

Old Mr. Jiang exited the video. At his age, his blood pressure wasn’t the most stable—he didn’t dare venture into the comments.

“Can’t even have a private meal at home these days,” he sighed, removing his glasses.

Then, as if seizing the opportunity, he turned to Zhong Yi and began:

“Yi-yi, over the years, your grandma and I… we haven’t done right by you. We barely spent any real time raising you.”

“It’s not that I ever had an issue with your mother as a person. As parents, we just didn’t want our son marrying someone from the entertainment industry.”

Before Zhong Yi could say a word, Jiang Yanfeng cut in with a lazy drawl, “Shall I pass that on to Min Ting and ask what he thinks?”

Old Mr. Jiang nearly choked on his own breath. “What, now I’m lying?”

Zhong Yi gave her cousin a light elbow jab. They were already here—no need to provoke the old man further.

Mr. Jiang quickly changed the subject, turning his attention to his granddaughter:

“Your cousin told me your team moved to the new tech park. Where’s your new apartment? Is it close to the office?”

Zhong Yi wasn’t even sure where her marital home was going to be yet. She hedged, “Not too far.”

They stayed until around nine. Most of the time, her cousin kept Grandpa company in conversation, while Zhong Yi chimed in now and then.

On the way home, she glanced over the trending topics again—no new hashtags had appeared.

It was already late. Her parents likely wouldn’t issue any kind of response tonight.

Back at home, the spacious house was quiet and a little cold. Only the housekeeper was waiting up for her.

Back when she was dating Zhou Shiyi, whenever Professor Yu or her parents dropped by, the housekeeper would help cover for her.

Four years of dating, and no one ever caught on—much of the credit went to the housekeeper.

“Still planning to do yoga?” the housekeeper asked.

“Not tonight. You should get some rest.”

Zhong Yi set down her bag and headed to her private storage room.

Opening the same storage bin once again, she pulled out a few framed photos. Looking at the long-haired girl in them—herself—she felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity.

There was still too much from the past. She couldn’t summon the energy to sort through it yet.

After taking out the photo frames, she closed the bin again.

Before she’d left Professor Yu’s place, Zhou Shiyi had reminded her once more: Don’t forget to bring me that old laptop.

She scanned the shelves—the old laptop sat on the third one.

Because she’d forgotten to delete one particular photo—one with her and Lu Cheng on a trip—that laptop had caused the very first crack between her and Zhou Shiyi.

Even though he pretended not to notice and never accused her of keeping it on purpose, that image had burned into his memory.

So after that, whenever she deleted photos, she made sure to delete them completely.

Zhong Yi carried the photo frames and the laptop upstairs to her bedroom, then packed them into a suitcase.

Back in town, she’d promised him that going forward, she’d be the one to call him too.

Tonight was her first night back from Jiangcheng.

She picked up her phone, unsure what to say at first. After a long pause, she simply dialed his number.

On the other end, Zhou Shiyi was still at a dinner meeting.

Half-listening to the conversation at the table, he glanced down at his phone—and paused at the name displayed on the screen.

This one call…felt like he had waited three years for it.