Volume One, Chapter 16: So, What Do You Like? Me?

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Zhou Jingmo replied helplessly, “Got it, we’ll talk later.” After dinner, Zhou’s father went out on an errand. Zhou’s mother brought over two bowls of steamed peaches in fermented rice wine, handing one to Zhou Jingmo and the other to Jiang Yihuan. “I knew you were coming, so I specially prepared this for you. Try it.” “Thank you, Auntie, you’ve gone to so much trouble.” Jiang Yihuan was somewhat overwhelmed by the kindness.

She looked at the rosy peaches in the bowl and felt a tightness in her throat. Her mother’s fermented rice wine was the most delicious, but ever since her mother passed away, no one had made it for her again. She scooped a spoonful and tasted it, feeling a slight dryness in her throat. “I don’t really like it anymore.”

Zhou’s mother didn’t catch that clearly. “What?” Jiang Yihuan shook her head. “Nothing.” A servant approached holding a phone. “Madam, there’s a call for you.”

Zhou’s mother took the phone and stepped aside to answer. Zhou Jingmo lounged comfortably on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. He leaned slightly toward Jiang Yihuan’s ear and whispered in a voice only they could hear, “Then what do you like? Me?”

Jiang Yihuan’s hand tightened around the spoon, startled, and she quickly turned to look at Zhou Jingmo. Because they were so close, her lips lightly brushed against his. Zhou Jingmo extended the tip of his pink tongue to gently lick the spot she had grazed, his captivating eyes locked onto hers.

Jiang Yihuan felt her throat grow even drier. Zhou Jingmo was truly a devil incarnate, a seductive demon. She looked away, trying to hide her emotional turmoil. “This is your home. Can you behave a little?”

Zhou Jingmo chuckled softly, a low and enchanting sound. He sat up straight, creating some distance, but his gaze remained fixed intently on Jiang Yihuan’s face. “What? Did I touch a nerve?”

His tone was teasing, but there was a subtle seriousness in his eyes. Jiang Yihuan didn’t look at him, quietly eating the fermented rice wine. What good was it to like someone?

Zhou’s father had always regarded them as siblings. In the family’s understanding, there were clear boundaries between them. Even without blood ties, growing up together had woven an invisible web around her emotions.

She feared crossing that line would shatter the existing harmony, having witnessed too many ugly faces hidden behind friendly masks. She also feared that crossing the boundary would cost her the closeness she currently shared with Zhou Jingmo.

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Outside, a sudden blizzard began, with fierce cold winds howling and snowflakes swirling thickly. Jiang Yihuan sat until eight o’clock; the snow was still falling, growing heavier, showing no signs of stopping. She stood to take her leave.

Zhou’s mother looked out the window. “No, the snow’s too heavy, the roads are barely visible. It’s too dangerous for you to go home alone. Stay here for the night; I’ve prepared a room for you.”

“It’s fine. I’ll drive Brother’s car,” Jiang Yihuan smiled. “Don’t worry, Auntie—I’ve driven in worse weather back in America.”

After all, she had once raced death-defying races. Besides, she couldn’t stay here; who knew what outrageous things Zhou Jingmo might do at night?

Zhou Jingmo stood up from the sofa. “I’ll drive you back. I have a press conference in the city tomorrow and will be staying there.”

Seeing that her persuasion was futile, Zhou’s mother relented but felt more at ease with Zhou Jingmo accompanying her. “Jingmo, make sure to get Yihuan home safely.”

“Don’t worry.”

—

In the hospital ward, Lin Zhaohua lay on the bed with eyes tightly shut, her face pale and lifeless. Shen Wuyang sat on the adjacent bed, his head bandaged, only his eyes visible.

She clutched Shen Qiming’s hand, tears streaming down her face. “Dad, Jiang Yihuan wants to kill Mom and me! You have to avenge us!”

Shen Qiming’s anger boiled. He had brought Jiang Yihuan back intending to arrange a marriage alliance to secure a loan from the Cheng family. Now, this engagement seemed on the verge of breaking off because of Jiang Yihuan, and he was already very displeased with her. He never expected her to dare lay hands on people!

“You ungrateful wretch!” Shen Qiming growled at his assistant, “Where’s Jiang Yihuan? Bring her back here!”

The assistant hesitated. “Miss Second is at the Zhou residence having dinner. I can’t just go there to fetch her.”

“Call that wretch now!”

“No need. I’m here.”

A cold, indifferent voice came from outside the door. Everyone in the room turned instinctively toward the entrance.

The off-white hospital door was pushed open, revealing Jiang Yihuan dressed in a high-neck, pleated, lace-paneled long dress, with a cashmere cardigan over it. Her sleek black hair was loosely tied in a bun. She cradled a bouquet of flowers, her pretty face wearing a calm, cool smile, as she strolled into the ward.

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“Sorry I couldn’t visit earlier today; I had some matters to attend to.”

Jiang Yihuan placed the flowers on the small table beside the bed.

Shen Qiming’s face darkened, pointing a finger at Jiang Yihuan, furiously berating her. “You really have the nerve to come here, Jiang Yihuan! Are you crazy? How could you be so cruel to your stepmother and sister?”

He glanced at the bouquet on the table, his hands trembling with anger. Jiang Yihuan had brought white chrysanthemums—the most insulting choice—and, most infuriatingly, a small mourning ribbon hung from the bouquet.

The upper line read: “A wicked woman’s deeds unforgivable by heaven.”

The lower line: “A vile woman’s loss of virtue intolerable on earth.”

The horizontal inscription: “Together to the netherworld.”

Shen Qiming roared, “Jiang Yihuan! Was this deliberate? Who sends white chrysanthemums to the living?”

Shen Wuyang, trembling with rage, grabbed the bouquet and hurled it at Jiang Yihuan. “Get lost!”

Zhou Jingmo had just finished a call and entered the ward, immediately seeing the scene. He quickly reached out, pulling Jiang Yihuan behind him to protect her.

The bouquet fell to the floor. Zhou Jingmo stared at the white chrysanthemums in surprise. “Where did you get these flowers?”

“Downstairs, the funeral service one-stop shop,” Jiang Yihuan replied casually.

Zhou Jingmo smiled helplessly, then looked at Shen Wuyang. “If you’re sick, why are you so fired up?”

Shen Wuyang hadn’t expected Zhou Jingmo to come and was momentarily stunned.

Shen Qiming suppressed his anger and forced a smile. “Jingmo, what brings you here?”

“I took my sister to your house for dinner. She said Wuyang was ill, so I came to check on him.” Zhou Jingmo bent down, picked up the chrysanthemums, placed them on Lin Zhaohua’s bed, and added, “But he looks quite lively. Nothing serious.”

“What do you mean nothing’s wrong? Jiang Yihuan scratched my entire face with ceramic shards!” Shen Wuyang pointed at Jiang Yihuan, venomous. “You shameless woman! Why aren’t you dead yet?!”

Jiang Yihuan sneered, “You’re still alive, so why would I be?”

“You! Shameless woman! Ah—” Shen Wuyang shrieked in fury.

But before she could scream much longer, Jiang Yihuan slapped her sharply.