“Jiang Ci!”
Witnessing his wife’s deathly pale face, Jiang Muhang couldn’t restrain a sharp shout of warning. “Jiang Xuan is my wife.”
“Oh.” Jiang Ci tilted his chin up with a look of bored indifference. “Su Yue is also my wife.”
Jiang Muhang shifted his gaze to Jiang Xuan. The revelation that she had conspired with Song Nianyue to harm Su Yue was a bitter pill to swallow. He had always believed her to be soft-hearted and fragile—someone who would rather endure a slight than cause a scene. If she had been so desperate to protect her career in the entertainment industry, why hadn’t she just come to him? He would have smoothed things over with their mother. There was no need for such dark schemes.
For the first time, Muhang felt a flicker of genuine disappointment in her. Yet, in front of the family, his instinct to protect his own was absolute. “Brother, Xiao Xuan’s injuries nearly claimed her life. The doctors fought for hours to save her. Beyond that, you’ve already dragged her name through the mud; the internet is a cesspool of insults directed at her. She has been punished enough. Besides, Su Yue wasn’t actually hurt. Let’s just let this matter rest.”
Su Yue’s brow furrowed at his words. The “no harm, no foul” logic felt like a slap in the face.
Jiang Ci’s eyes remained icy as he looked at his brother. “She deserved those injuries,” he said, his voice dripping with his trademark venom. He didn’t believe in mercy, only in cold reality. He let out a sharp sneer. “Even if she had been stabbed to death, it would have been her own karma. That wasn’t a punishment; it was a consequence.”
Jiang Xuan’s face drained of what little color remained. Her nails bit deep into her palms as she looked at Jiang Muhang with eyes full of watery dependence, playing the part of the wounded bird to perfection.
Jiang Muhang, ever the doting husband, was moved by her silent plea. He convinced himself she had only acted out of a moment of frantic desperation. “Big brother, I won’t stand by and let you ruin her face. Acting is her passion. Unless she chooses to leave, she won’t be retiring,” he said, meeting Jiang Ci’s gaze in a direct challenge.
Jiang Ci looked entirely unimpressed. He leaned back lazily, pulling Su Yue closer into his embrace, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “Whatever. Let’s see if you’re actually capable of protecting her.”
“Enough of this talk!” Old Master Jiang barked, slamming his hand onto the rosewood tea table. “Jiang Xuan, you were always the sensible one. How could you be so foolish? Su Yue is your sister-in-law. To conspire with outsiders against family… you brought those injuries on yourself.”
Jiang Xuan looked up, stunned. “Grandpa…”
“You are at fault here. Apologize to Su Yue,” the Old Master commanded, attempting to uphold a semblance of family justice. “We can bicker within these walls, but we must never break our internal harmony.”
Jiang Xuan bit her lip, realizing the wind had shifted. “Su Yue, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling with forced sincerity. “I was confused, led astray by Song Nianyue. I did things I shouldn’t have. Please, forgive me.”
“Are you done playing ‘Happy Family’, old man?” Jiang Ci interrupted with a frigid sneer. “How about I hire someone to disfigure you, or kill you, and then just offer a polite apology? Would that satisfy you?”
The Old Master nearly choked on his own breath, his blood pressure spiking. This grandson was going to be the death of him. He waved a weary hand, signaling a change in subject. “Let’s set that aside. I called you here for the group’s shares. I’ve agreed to your price. Here is the contract; sign it.” He gestured to the butler.
The butler stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Young Master.”
Jiang Ci didn’t even glance at the paper. He pushed the document away with a flick of his finger.
“You brat! What is this? Are you going back on your word to your own grandfather?” The Old Master’s face turned a dangerous shade of red.
“Yes.” Jiang Ci swung his crossed legs with effortless arrogance. “My wife is still upset. Do you really think I’d make things so easy for you?” He stood up slowly, his hand firm on Su Yue’s waist as he prepared to leave.
“Stand still!” the Old Master roared. “Jiang Ci, do you intend to be this reckless forever? Will you never listen to me?”
Jiang Ci paused, looking back with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Old man, you’re acting as if I’ve ever listened to a word you’ve said.”
Grandpa Jiang stared at the unsigned contract, realizing his leverage was gone. His suppressed rage finally boiled over. “I truly regret sending men to find you and bring you back all those years ago! You should have just died out there!”
Su Yue felt Jiang Ci’s arm stiffen, his grip on her waist tightening until it almost hurt.
“I think you’re getting senile, old man. Your memory is failing you.” Jiang Ci’s voice was hauntingly quiet. He tugged at the corner of his mouth in a joyless smile. “You didn’t find me. And you certainly didn’t save my life.”
The Old Master’s expression soured. Jiang Muhang quickly stepped in to play the filial grandson. “Grandpa, please, your health. Don’t let him get to you.”
Jiang Ci’s gaze fell on Muhang, a strange, mocking light dancing in his eyes. “That’s right. Listen to your ‘good grandson.’ Even if he isn’t your own flesh and blood, you’ve raised him for so long… there’s a bond there. At least he’s filial.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. The Old Master froze. “You brat… what exactly are you implying?”
At the table, Song Xiaoqing’s hand gave a violent jerk. Her delicate Bao-tai-ci [thin-body porcelain] cup hit the floor with a sharp shatter. Her elegant mask cracked as she shouted, “Jiang Ci! You’re clearly not awake yet! You’re speaking absolute nonsense. If you have nothing but insults for this family, then leave! Don’t stay here and agitate your grandfather!”
Jiang Ci’s lips curled into a dark, brooding smile. “There’s no point staying anyway,” he chuckled softly. Then, without another word, he led Su Yue out.
The car was a tomb of silence until Su Yue raised the privacy partition. She turned to Jiang Ci, who was idly tracing the line of her waist. “Is Jiang Muhang not your biological brother?”
Jiang Ci’s hand slipped beneath her pink fuzzy coat, his calloused fingertips grazing the silk-smooth skin of her waist. He met her gaze with a nonchalant shrug. “As much as I loathe him, he really is my mother’s son.”
“Then what did you mean back there?”
“He’s just the old man’s ‘grandson,’ not his blood.” Jiang Ci found her confusion endearing and leaned in to nip the tip of her nose. “Little idiot, do I have to spell it out?”
Su Yue swiped at her nose, glaring at him even as her mind raced. So, they were half-brothers? And judging by the explosion in the living room, the Old Master had no idea. “You’ve known all along?”
Jiang Ci leaned back, watching the way her nose had turned a cute shade of pink. “I found out after the kidnapping.”
Su Yue’s heart skipped a beat. She knew from the family gossip that Jiang Ci’s abduction was the turning point in his life—the event that had turned a sunny boy into a cold, dog-hating cynic. “Who did it?”
“My mother’s lover. Her first love, apparently,” Jiang Ci said, his voice rhythmic and calm, as if telling a bedtime story.
He explained how Song Xiaoqing had been forced by the matriarch of the Song family to abandon that man and marry for status. But after Jiang Ci was born, the old flame was rekindled in secret. Jiang Muhang was the result of that affair—a secret Song Xiaoqing had guarded with her life until the grandmother found out and drove the man out of the city in disgrace.
“When he came back years later, he was a broken man with a limp and a thirst for revenge. He wanted to kidnap his own son, Jiang Muhang, to hurt my mother. But…” Jiang Ci’s eyes turned into bottomless pits of shadow. “Jiang Muhang lured me into the trap instead. He traded my life for his.”
Su Yue felt a wave of nausea. “And then?”
Jiang Ci’s lips twitched. He pressed her head against his chest, tucking her chin under his own. “Then I was taken. When I finally came back, I made sure that man got exactly what he deserved.”
He spoke with such detachment, but Su Yue’s heart ached. She remembered the butler saying how much he changed, and how he couldn’t stand the sight of dogs. “Why reveal it now?”
“I wanted to see a show,” he said simply. “It’ll be much more entertaining when they start tearing each other apart.” He paused, his tone shifting to something more mischievous. “Besides, I’ve been bored lately since I can’t sleep with you. I needed a hobby.”
That night, after Su Yue had surreptitiously called Assistant Gu to learn the gritty details—the chains, the dark shed, the months Jiang Ci spent fighting starving wolfhounds for a scrap of food—she couldn’t look at him without her heart breaking. She saw the photos Gu preserved: a young Jiang Ci, covered in filth and whip marks, eyes dead to the world.
She waited for him in their room, her heart heavy with a bittersweet need to comfort him. When he emerged from the bathroom, towel in hand, she stood up. “Let me dry your hair.”
Jiang Ci sat on the edge of the bed, surprised by her initiative. “Are you in a good mood?”
“Not exactly.” She stepped behind him, her fingers gentle as she worked the towel through his damp hair. “I just wanted to take care of you.”
She thought of the photos—of the boy who had to kill three dogs just to survive. As her fingertips brushed the shell of his ear, Jiang Ci let out a low hum. “My left ear itches. Rub it for me.”
Su Yue set the towel aside and leaned in close. Instead of her fingers, she pressed her lips to his ear, gently sucking on the tip.
Jiang Ci’s eyes snapped open, a sharp gasp escaping him. “This is torture!” He turned around, gritting his teeth as he pushed her back slightly. “I can’t touch you right now, yet you’re here seducing me? When your ‘time’ is up, don’t you dare cry for mercy.”
Su Yue’s face burned, her emotional moment shattered by his typical bluntness. “I was just… trying to be sweet.”
Jiang Ci pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her milky scent. “I know.” He felt her relax against him. “You can sleep with me tomorrow, right?”
“I… you weren’t supposed to hear that,” she whispered.
“I heard everything.” He lowered his head, claiming her lips in a kiss that was both moist and hungry. “Something sweet before bed helps with the insomnia.”
While Jiang Ci and Su Yue found their peace, the Jiang household was a powder keg. Jiang Xuan had the recording pen Jiang Ci “dropped,” but when she played it, she found only a recording of Jiang Ci’s voice mocking her: “Idiot.” The realization that he had bluffed her into confessing in front of the family made her scream in rage, smashing the device against the wall.
Over the following days, the “show” Jiang Ci promised began to play out. Hengyuan Group, under Jiang Muhang’s leadership, started to bleed. A major construction project was caught using substandard materials; another building literally collapsed. Reporters swarmed, and customers were rioting at the sales offices.
Muhang was drowning. He knew this was Jiang Ci’s revenge for Su Yue. Just as he was trying to manage the PR disaster, his phone rang. It was the Old Master.
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