Jiang Ci was no longer angry.
Su Yue instantly tried to pull herself out of his arms. Her voice was soft, but firm. “Jiang Ci, I need to get up. Let go.”
But the man didn’t move. For some reason, as her warmth slipped away, Jiang Ci felt an inexplicable sense of abandonment—like he had been used, then discarded.
“Jiang Ci?” Su Yue turned to look at him. He still didn’t release her.
She reached out to tug at his arm, but she dared not use much force, fearing it might pull at his injuries. “Jiang Ci!”
And just then, a poised and refined voice interrupted the room’s fragile calm.
“Jiang Ci?”
At the doorway, Song Nianyue stood frozen, her flawless features etched with shock. Her gaze was fixed on the scene before her—Jiang Ci, the aloof, untouchable Jiang Ci, holding a woman in his arms.
The tension in the room shifted.
…
Later, in the sitting room, Su Yue poured a cup of tea, her tone calm and polite. “Miss Song, please have some tea.”
“Thank you.” Song Nianyue took the cup with delicate fingers. Her eyes fell upon the leaf floating within. “Is this… bamboo leaf?”
“Yes,” Su Yue replied gently, her smile composed. “Bamboo leaf tea helps with sleep, clears internal heat, and is good for beauty and health. Please, try it.”
Lifting the cup to her lips, Song Nianyue sipped. A unique, refreshing fragrance lingered on her tongue. “It’s very pleasant.”
But as she lowered her gaze to the woman across from her, her fingers involuntarily tightened around the porcelain.
She had known Su Yue—known her as the black-skinned, chubby girl with the perpetual double chin. The one who always squinted at her in passing, as if she couldn’t bear to look at her properly. That Su Yue was now… unrecognizable.
Her skin was like porcelain, her jawline delicately defined. The eyes, once dull and awkward, now glistened like rippling spring water—deep, bright, and impossibly charming. Even her features seemed as if carved with a sculptor’s hand—every part proportioned perfectly. It made one want to stare, and yet, made one feel uncomfortable under her beauty.
Song Nianyue looked away, but the image lingered.
She had always believed herself to be the ideal beauty—elegant, gentle, dignified, the untouched white moonlight in countless men’s hearts. Compared to Su Yue, who was now glowing with vitality and grace, she shouldn’t have felt anything.
But she did.
She felt it deep in her chest—a discomfort she hadn’t expected.
Especially when she remembered how she had walked in on Jiang Ci holding Su Yue in his arms.
That shocked her to her core.
Jiang Ci—aloof, prideful, unapproachable. He had never allowed anyone to get close, never mind touch him. She once thought it a kind of purity, a testament to her belief that no woman could win his affection—not until he met someone as dignified as herself.
But then why… why did he embrace Su Yue so naturally?
Was it because she was his wife? Because he simply considered her a part of his possessions?
Her thoughts tangled, but her face remained serene.
She turned with a composed smile toward the man sitting beside her. “Jiang Ci, I’ve been busy with competitions abroad these past months. When I heard you’d been hospitalized for an allergy, I was so worried.”
She lowered her voice slightly, as if softening the mood. “So I brought you some allergy ointment… and your favorite mango cake.”
Jiang Ci’s face was still, cold as the unlit side of the moon. The allergic reaction had faded—only a few faint red marks remained—but the scar on his left cheek still twisted grotesquely, a painful contrast to his once flawless face.
Song Nianyue looked away briefly.
“Mm,” he answered indifferently, showing no sign of warmth.
He had been so comfortably holding Su Yue just moments ago, but now he felt irritable and suffocated, like the breeze had changed and taken the softness with it.
“I’m free now that my competition’s ended. Do you… need someone to accompany you for walks?” she offered, her voice light and graceful.
Jiang Ci tilted his head, his tone indifferent. “Why would I want to go out?”
Unfazed by his reply, she kept her smile. “Staying indoors too long isn’t good for your body. A walk might do you some good.”
“You’re annoying,” Jiang Ci cut in directly, lips curled with disdain.
Song Nianyue faltered, but she recovered quickly, as if she were used to it.
“I won’t insist then,” she said lightly, “so as not to bother you.”
She glanced at Su Yue from the corner of her eye before continuing, “I heard Aunt is home today. I thought I’d stop by to visit her and drop this off.”
She opened the cake box and smiled with quiet pride. “This mango cake—I made it myself. The chef said I learned fast. Jiang Ci, at least take a bite. Even if you don’t like it, I made it early this morning with care.”
Then she turned to Su Yue. “Miss Su, could I trouble you to cut it later? I won’t stay long.”
Su Yue nodded. “Of course.”
The woman in the elegant purple skirt exited soon after.
And as soon as the door shut—
“Come here.”
Jiang Ci’s voice rang out calmly.
Su Yue blinked. “What?”
“Hold me,” he said with complete seriousness.
Her eyes widened in horror. “What—no! Why would I hug you?”
“You won’t hug me?” Jiang Ci raised an eyebrow. “Then forget about mango cake.”
Su Yue’s lips twitched. “Didn’t Miss Song bring some? It’s right here—look!” She opened the box, placing it on the table. “She made it for you herself. Go on, take a bite.”
The cake was small and amateurishly assembled. The cream wasn’t spread evenly, and the mango chunks were cut irregularly. Clearly, the handiwork of a beginner.
Of course, Jiang Ci couldn’t see any of that.
But he turned his head toward her, lips curling. “Not interested.”
He leaned back lazily, voice low and unbothered. “I only want to eat what you make.”
Su Yue was stunned. She looked at him—at his languid, handsome face, turned toward her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“But what about this?” she asked, gesturing to the cake.
“Throw it away.”
Su Yue couldn’t help but chuckle. Her eyes softened, though her voice was teasing. “Jiang Ci, wasting food is shameful.”
He lifted his brows in mock seriousness. “Then feed it to the cat.”
Of course, he meant Coriander, the cat.
…
Meanwhile, just outside the Xiaoyang Building, Song Nianyue arrived at the main villa to pay her respects.
“Aunt,” she greeted with a gentle smile, as elegant as ever.
Song Xiaoqing was speaking with the housekeeper. Seeing her, she smiled warmly. “Nianyue, come sit down. The competition’s over?”
“Yes. I came as soon as I heard Jiang Ci had an allergic reaction. I brought him mango cake. He used to like it,” Song Nianyue said softly, exuding grace.
Song Xiaoqing nodded in satisfaction.
She had always liked Song Nianyue. In her eyes, this child had every quality fit for the Jiang family: refined temperament, outstanding manners, and impeccable appearance. She was everything a future daughter-in-law should be.
She also knew Nianyue had always admired Jiang Ci. It was just that Jiang Ci had been bound to a marriage contract for years, and then—unexpectedly—he married the daughter of the Su family.
And Jiang Xuan, who was originally intended to marry Jiang Ci, ended up marrying the younger brother instead.
It was dramatic and regretful.
If only things had been different…
Song Xiaoqing looked at Nianyue with a trace of pity, not knowing that in the girl’s heart, a storm of emotions was already gathering.
Because for the first time, Nianyue wasn’t sure what Jiang Ci truly felt.
And that uncertainty… it frightened her.This child still had no true bond with Jiang Ci.
“You’re very thoughtful,” Song Xiaoqing said, gently patting the back of her hand.
“Auntie, I’ve been busy with competitions lately, but I’ll be resting for a while now.”
“Yes, I heard you’ve been pushing yourself quite hard,” Song Xiaoqing said with concern. “Training at such a high intensity every day—now that the competition is over, you must take proper rest. Burning yourself out wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Don’t worry, Auntie. I know my limits.”
After a brief pause, Song Nianyue spoke again, her tone soft and sweet, “I have some free time recently… Why don’t I stay here for a few days? I can accompany you, keep you company. I’ve also started learning to bake—I could show you my cooking skills. What do you think?”
Song Xiaoqing was taken aback by the suggestion. But then she smiled warmly. “Silly girl, how could that possibly be a bother? You know I only have two sons—one’s recovering, and the other is so busy I barely see him. Of course I’d love to have a caring girl around to chat with.”
“I just hope I won’t be a nuisance.” A soft smile graced Song Nianyue’s delicate face, her features glowing under the evening light.
That night, the summer heat had finally begun to retreat. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, and the green leaves outside the Xiaoyang building swayed gently in the wind. Everything around the house fell into a calm silence, blanketed in the hush of the night.
Inside, Su Yue was about to lie down when she suddenly paused. “Jiang Ci, where’s my pillow?”
Across the room, Jiang Ci’s hands paused as he fastened his shirt. His dark lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes, and his tone, unusually airy, rang out, “Pillow? You’re asking a blind man if he’s seen your pillow? Su Yue, are you making fun of me for being blind?”
There it was again—that sensitive nerve of his. Always latching onto the word “blind,” as if waiting for someone to poke it.
Su Yue blinked, stunned by the sudden edge in his voice. “I just wanted to ask if you happened to know where it went. If not, fine. You don’t have to bite my head off.”
She pouted, her voice muffled with grievance.
She searched around the bed but found nothing. The pillow had vanished completely—perhaps taken by a servant to air out. With a small sigh of defeat, she slumped back onto the bed, her head resting awkwardly against the firm mattress.
The other side of the bed dipped. Jiang Ci lay down beside her.
Then, unexpectedly, his low voice broke the silence. His tone was languid, casual, yet oddly magnetic in the night.
“Su Yue, do you need a pillow?”
“Hmm?” She turned her head toward him.
Jiang Ci shifted his body toward her, the corner of his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Come over here. I’ll give you half of mine.”
Su Yue blinked. Her long lashes trembled with surprise.
“No, I—”
Before she could finish her sentence, she caught herself. Her mind flashed back to the time in the hospital—when Jiang Ci had offered to share a bed. She’d refused then, and he’d gone cold and sulky.
She paused.
This time… maybe she should just accept.
Without a word, she rolled over and quietly inched closer. Her head gently bumped into his pillow as she nestled beside him. Her voice softened into a sweet whisper, “Thank you, Jiang Ci. You’re so kind.”
The pillow was barely big enough for one—cramped for two. But she made do, her face pressed near his, close enough to share the scent of breath and the faint smell of fresh milk lingering on him.
Jiang Ci’s brows, which had been furrowed, gradually relaxed. Feeling the warmth of her breath and the subtle fragrance in her hair, he let out a small snort. “Go to sleep.”
The room fell into a peaceful quiet, save for the sound of their gentle breathing.
Later, in the still hush of midnight, once Su Yue’s breaths had grown slow and steady, Jiang Ci’s hand stretched out silently. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her soft, warm body into his embrace.
The corners of his lips curved faintly.
Only in sleep did he allow himself the luxury… of holding her close.