Qi Siran glanced at Shao Yuanjia’s indifferent expression and couldn’t help rolling her eyes inwardly. If she weren’t in such a tight spot right now, she would never have considered teaming up with him.
“Use your head. Would you really get engaged to someone you just started seeing?” Shao Yuanjia said flatly.
A few days ago he’d complimented her for being sensible—turns out he’d been wrong. The disdain in his tone made her frown; she shot him a visible eye-roll in return.
He didn’t bother to notice. “Besides,” he added casually, “didn’t you feel it? Your mother seems to have some objections about me.”
The words froze her for a moment. Then anxiety flooded her face. She leaned in close, lowering her voice. “Can we still get married?”
Anyone overhearing would have assumed Miss Qi was desperate to be with him. Shao Yuanjia, however, knew she was really worried about being shipped overseas by Lady Qi.
“We will,” he replied coolly, the single word tossed off like a stone.
This wasn’t just about her; it was his last trump card.
Before the conversation could go further, Shao Qi appeared and shot Shao Yuanjia a long look. “Yuanjia, come with me.”
Yuanjia’s face betrayed no surprise at the summons. Seeing the elder’s solemn expression, Qi Siran didn’t press to follow; she gave them space.
Once they were a few steps away, Shao Qi asked directly, “When did you two start this?”
“Recently. We got to know each other better, found we like one another, and—well—it turned into a relationship,” Shao Yuanjia answered evenly.
They’d rehearsed that story; he’d even invented details to prevent her from slipping up. So when Shao Qi questioned him now, he kept his composure.
Shao Qi regarded them for a long beat. “Do you think you’re suited for each other?”
Yuanjia took a deliberate sip of wine. “Yes.”
That seemed to satisfy the older man. He didn’t press further, though a flicker of doubt lingered in his eyes—rumors had reached him about Yuanjia’s past closeness with Wen Yin. Shao Qi shrugged the worry off. He’d learned from watching family quarrels that the disputes of the young were best left to the young to settle. He was an old man; stepping in would only make things worse.
Yuanjia had expected resistance today. He’d almost been braced for an argument, so he left feeling pleasantly surprised that Shao Qi had been so easy.
Word of their engagement spread through the circle after the banquet—congratulations rolled in, and the usual gossip swirled about their new match. But both of them seemed unbothered. Life after the engagement didn’t change much, except that Shao Yinan took charge of the wedding plans and grew busier than ever.
Wen Yin spent long stretches at the Li family hotel tending to her grandfather’s appetite, trying different dietary therapies. Shao Yinan, as was his habit, drove to the hotel after work to pick her up. One evening, when she didn’t come out right away, he went straight to the familiar private room and found her there, laughing softly with the old man. The grandfather looked noticeably healthier; Wen Yin’s regimen, paired with his herbal medicines, was doing some good.
Shao Yinan slid into the seat beside her as if he’d done it a thousand times. He shot a look at his grandfather, who only scowled and pretended not to notice.
“You little brat, why are you staring at me like that?” the old man barked, waving his whiskers.
Wen Yin startled, realizing only then that Shao Yinan had come in. He pouted in a way that seemed utterly helpless. “Ayin, it’s time to go home,” he said, edging toward her with all the theatrics of a sidelined pet.
The old man rolled his eyes. He had no idea his doting grandson could be so shameless.
Wen Yin softened. She remembered how busy she’d been lately and felt guilty—she and Shao Yinan hadn’t had a proper moment together in days. Looking at his pitiful face, her resolve melted. “Alright. Let’s go.”
As they stood, Shao Yinan shot his grandfather a triumphant look, as if announcing his victory to the world: See? My wife still loves me most.
Shao Qi, seeing through the display, let a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve stayed with me all day. You should go home and get some rest.”
At the remark, Shao Yinan’s smug expression evaporated; he glared at his grandfather with mock hurt. That old fox always knew just what to say to get under his skin. Age does sharpen cunning.
Wen Yin, having just greeted Li Xiangwei, hadn’t heard the back-and-forth. Pressured by Shao Yinan’s playful jab about grandchildren, the old man had begun sending Wen Yin home earlier each night for days. That night, though, Shao Yinan arrived much later than usual. He smelled of alcohol, but still insisted on seeing her home. When she took off his suit jacket at the door, Wen Yin noticed—subtly at first, then unmistakably—a trace of a woman’s perfume clinging to the fabric.