Zhong Yi stared at the chat window.
The words “The other party is typing…” appeared—and lingered.
Two full minutes passed. The indicator at the top vanished. The message box remained blank.
Her last conversation with Zhou Shiyi was still stuck on the same three polite words:
“You’re welcome.”
Zhong Yi forced herself to swallow the ache rising in her chest. She switched over to her father’s chat window and typed:
[I sent the oil painting I liked to Zhou Shiyi.]
Jiang Jingyuan let out a quiet sigh of relief. Well, at least the tension between them wasn’t completely frozen anymore.
Jiang Jingyuan: [I brought your gown. Call me when you get to the hotel.]
Zhong Yi: [Not changing.]
She looked down at her work uniform. This would do.
Jiang Jingyuan: [Then… are you still sitting at our table?]
Zhong Yi: [I’ll sit with Yang Xi and the others.]
Zhong Yi: [I’ve been working all day. I’m starving. If I sit at your table, I’ll have to keep up appearances—and I won’t even get full.]
She didn’t know why she added that last part, trying to make it sound more casual than it was.
But Jiang Jingyuan knew his daughter well. He could read the subtext in a single line. So he simply replied:
[Okay. Eat lots.]
He had originally planned to use tonight’s gathering to formally introduce her to people in the industry—let them know that despite his public image as an unmarried bachelor, he’d had a daughter more than twenty years ago, long before the hidden marriage he’d kept so carefully under wraps.
But clearly, his daughter wasn’t in the mood for that tonight.
He turned to his nephew seated beside him.
“Your cousin’s not sitting with us. Don’t reserve a spot for her.”
Jiang Yanfeng had been staring out the car window at the city’s glittering lights. At that, he turned back.
“What’s going on with Xiaoyi?”
Jiang Jingyuan: “She said she’s hungry. She wants to sit somewhere more relaxed. Let her be.”
He paused before adding, “She probably hasn’t figured out how to face Zhou Shiyi yet.”
Jiang Yanfeng gave it a moment’s thought.
“Then let’s not go public just yet. I’ll quietly inform a few people at the right time. I’ll handle it.”
Years ago, Third Uncle had caused a scandal by skipping his engagement party for his first love—offending not just the powerful family they were supposed to ally with, but also launching years of ups and downs with Third Aunt.
Add to that the constant friction with the family patriarch, and his secret marriage and hidden daughter had remained just that: a secret.
Only a few close family members and Teacher Yu knew. No one else.
By the time twilight fell, Zhong Yi had arrived at the hotel where the banquet was being held.
She didn’t need an invitation. Staff could enter with an ID.
As she rummaged through her canvas bag for her work badge, a bright, familiar voice called out from behind:
“Miss Zhong! We meet again!”
She turned—and immediately recognized her.
It was Ji Fanxing, the self-proclaimed “unknown director” she’d given a guided tour to on the opening day of the exhibit.
Tonight, Ji was stunning in a strapless black satin gown. Her thick curls tumbled elegantly over her shoulders, her smile dazzling. Even more radiant than she had been at the gallery.
But her enthusiasm hadn’t changed one bit.
Zhong Yi nodded with a polite smile.
“Hello.”
Ji Fanxing, always knowing where the line was, didn’t try to strike up conversation.
Since Zhong Yi clearly wasn’t interested in the entertainment world, Ji simply offered a friendly greeting and glided gracefully into the banquet hall.
Inside, the lights were dazzling, and the room buzzed with luxury and conversation.
Yang Xi tugged Zhong Yi toward the employee seating section. Their navy-blue uniforms stood out starkly among the evening gowns and tuxedos.
The table was full of exquisite desserts. Yang Xi placed a slice of cheesecake on Zhong Yi’s plate.
“Fill your stomach first. These kinds of events have nothing to do with us anyway.”
The banquet, the champagne, the small talk—none of it belonged to them. They were just here for the food.
Zhong Yi chuckled.
“One piece won’t cut it.”
“No worries, I got you.” Yang Xi added two more slices of different flavors, then raised her glass of red wine.
“Zhong-jie, let’s stay in touch, okay?”
She clinked her glass lightly.
Their project was done. Who knew when—or if—they’d meet again?
She was already feeling a little reluctant to say goodbye.
Zhong Yi took a small sip of wine.
“I’m off until June. Anytime you’re off, call me—we’ll grab food or go shopping.”
“You’re staying in Beicheng the whole time?” Yang Xi looked surprised.
“I’m a Beicheng local. Grew up in a small town near Jiangcheng. Same hometown as Teacher Yu.”
“No wonder you’re so close to him—and you even speak the Jiangcheng dialect.”
Yang Xi explained that she lived just a few blocks from the hotel.
“I’m usually off on Mondays and Tuesdays. If you don’t mind, come over and try my cooking sometime.”
She grinned candidly.
“My paycheck’s small, and I’m trying to save. So I cook whenever I can—eating out’s a last resort.”
Zhong Yi smiled.
“I’d love that. Just don’t get sick of me dropping by.”
She had never really had a close friend before. From childhood to adulthood, most of her relationships were just surface-level. Maybe it was instinct.
Her parents had complicated public personas and an unstable relationship. She was born out of wedlock, always told to be careful what she said in front of others.
Yang Xi had appeared at a very particular moment—right before Zhong Yi’s hidden identity was about to be revealed.
If they’d met earlier, she probably wouldn’t have let herself get so close.
Through their small talk these past few days, she’d learned that Yang Xi had picked the wrong college major—one that sounded fancy but turned out useless.
She’d graduated into unemployment, had to switch tracks, and ended up applying for a job at the curation company.
Despite being a rookie, Yang Xi was calm and efficient when handling emergencies. It was hard to believe she’d only been in the workforce for less than a year.
Zhong Yi had just picked up her dessert fork when a sudden commotion broke out in the hall.
She looked up—and her breath caught.
There he was. That familiar figure.
He was smiling gently at someone in front of him, speaking with ease.
He looked… different. His features had grown more defined. Yet somehow, he hadn’t changed at all.
He still had that same cold elegance.
Next to her, Yang Xi followed her gaze and recognized the man surrounded by people like stars orbiting a moon—refined, magnetic.
Noticing Zhong Yi’s gaze linger, she set her wine glass down and whispered with a hint of gossip, “That guy in the black suit? That’s Zhou Shiyi, from Kuncheng Group.”
Their table was tucked away near the edge of the hall, several rows behind the VIPs, so their view wasn’t very clear.
“We worked with Kuncheng before,” Yang Xi continued.
“He’s even more attractive up close.”
Zhong Yi only smiled faintly, offering no reply.
The hall buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Zhou Shiyi, busy with greetings and socializing, hadn’t yet noticed the familiar presence at the back of the room.
After about two glasses of wine, he finally slipped away from the crowd.
The seat beside Jiang Jingyuan had been left empty for him. Jingyuan waved him over.
Zhou Shiyi placed his empty glass on a passing tray and sat down beside his future father-in-law.
“Which painting did Zhong Yi pick?” Jiang Jingyuan asked.
“Something from the ‘Qu’ series,” Zhou Shiyi replied.
That was a problem.
The ‘Qu’ series wasn’t up for auction.
They were painted two decades ago, and Old Yu had said he could no longer return to the creative mindset he had back then. He treasured them and had no plans to sell.
Just then, Zhou Shiyi’s phone rang. A work call.
Too noisy to talk inside, he said, “I understand. I’ll handle it,” then added to Jiang Jingyuan, “Excuse me, I’ll take this outside.”
As he answered, he made his way toward the rear exit.
The call was about an endorsement contract for a car brand. They wanted his opinion.
Zhou Shiyi paused a beat. “No objections from me. Go ahead.”
Though he hadn’t officially taken over the family’s auto business, everyone at Kuncheng treated him like the boss already.
As he passed by the dining tables, his eyes swept the crowd—and then stopped.
There she was.
He had thought she might attend, to show support for Teacher Yu. But he hadn’t expected her to cut her hair short. He almost didn’t recognize her.
The photo his uncle had shown him still had her with long hair.
Zhong Yi was fully focused on her cheesecake, completely unaware of her surroundings.
He didn’t pause. The call was still going. But just as he glanced away, he caught something in his peripheral vision—Zhong Yi had looked up, as if sensing something.
Their eyes met.
Across the crowd, across the flickering candlelight and clinking glasses.
Time seemed to freeze.
This close, she could see his face clearly. He held the phone to his ear with a slender, well-defined hand.
His crisp white shirt had a tailored grace, matching the man himself.
A few heartbeats passed.
Zhou Shiyi pointed to his phone, signaling the call. His gaze lingered briefly on her short hair, then he turned and walked away—disappearing into the noise of the banquet hall.
Zhong Yi clutched her dessert fork, feeling as if she were standing alone by the rising tide, the roar of waves crashing in her ears.
Even without the engagement, with his upbringing, he would’ve greeted her politely and with grace.
But now—they were about to become husband and wife.
Yang Xi had witnessed their silent exchange. She hesitated before asking, “Zhong-jie… you two… know each other?”
Zhong Yi didn’t hide it.
“Ex-boyfriend.”
Yang Xi’s jaw dropped. It took her a moment to find her voice.
“No wonder. No wonder someone as calm as you couldn’t stop looking his way.”
She gave Zhong Yi’s shoulder a comforting pat. But after two taps, she quickly withdrew her hand. Zhong Yi looked perfectly composed.
The comfort seemed unnecessary.
Out in the hallway, Zhou Shiyi ended his call. His fingers hovered over his screen.
He sent Zhong Yi a message: [Are you free to step outside for a minute?]
Zhong Yi: [Sure. Where are you?]
Zhou Shiyi: [Just keep walking left. You’ll see me.]
She had no idea what he wanted—but it wouldn’t be a heart-to-heart.
She got up, left her bag on the chair, and asked Yang Xi to keep an eye on it.
The short walk toward the back exit suddenly felt unusually long.
Outside in the corridor, Zhou Shiyi opened a window.
He turned when he heard her footsteps. She was already close.
The night wind slipped through the open window, brushing against his sharp features—then rippling through the ends of her short hair.
A few strands danced in the breeze.
The air grew quiet.
A faint scent of cedar and fir lingered.
Zhong Yi didn’t want to admit it, but it was true: after all this time, even his scent felt foreign.
Zhou Shiyi glanced at her work uniform and began, “You’re volunteering tonight?”
She nodded.
“Mm-hmm.”
Not the opening line she’d expected.
Then he got to the point.
“Uncle said the ‘Qu’ series isn’t for auction. If there’s anything else you like, tell me later.”
He hesitated, then added, “Sorry.”
Zhong Yi looked out the window.
“It’s okay. Whether it’s with Teacher Yu or me, the ‘Qu’ series belongs in the same place.”
She turned to meet his eyes.
“I like all of Teacher Yu’s work. You can decide what to bid on.”
His phone rang again.
Zhong Yi said, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back in.”
He nodded.
She paused, then turned and walked away.
Her shadow blurred faintly on the windowpane.
As her footsteps faded, Zhou Shiyi picked up the call.
Jiang Yanfeng asked where he was. The auction was about to start.