Chapter Sixty-Six: Secretly

She hadn’t realized before just how shameless Cheng Jiu could be. Then again, if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have confessed to her in the first place.

But right now, standing openly at the airport entrance, holding him and chatting, she found herself lacking his brazen confidence. She quickly said, “I don’t want to breathe exhaust fumes. Can you let go? It’s really hot.”

The summers in Yongcheng were long, unlike the clear-cut seasons up north. Here, there were only summer and winter, and even winter lasted just five or six short months. The rest of the year was a relentless summer.

After a while, Cheng Jiu finally let go. She took a breath. With her makeup on, it was impossible to tell if she was sweating. He pinched her cheek curiously. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Just sunscreen.”

Cheng Jiu gave her a meaningful look and put a bit more distance between them. “Why didn’t you tell me in advance? Since you didn’t ask, I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

She sighed inwardly. For a moment, she felt as if Cheng Jiu was actually quite adept at flirting, every gesture and word exuding a restrained, captivating allure.

It wasn’t just in her head.

Xin Gan replied calmly, “No, I just thought about it, and decided I should at least come and see you off.”

“Mm. I’m really glad you came.”

The fact that she came to see him off meant she had some feelings for him.

Xin Gan was too embarrassed to admit that it was her mother who had told her to come, fearing it would upset him.

Last time, when she returned to Yongcheng from Beiyu, Cheng Jiu hadn’t come to see her off because he had a mission and had left in the middle of the night. He hadn’t had time, and she hadn’t held a grudge—she simply remembered it.

So did Cheng Jiu.

Cheng Hui had been completely ignored, unable to get even a glance from Cheng Jiu. After a few sighs, she remembered the photos she’d secretly taken earlier and grinned mischievously.

…

Cheng Jiu walked ahead, holding Xin Gan’s hand. She took small steps because she was wearing a skirt and heels. Noticing this, Cheng Jiu slowed his pace to match hers.

But after a few glances, he found her skirt too short, showing off those dazzlingly fair, straight legs, and the heels too thin—he worried she might stumble.

Mostly, he was bothered by how many men were openly staring at her, their gazes too blatant.

Cheng Jiu sighed silently to himself, realizing he had truly fallen for her. Not even his girlfriend from college had ever awakened such strong possessiveness in him. When it came to Xin Gan, he wished he could keep her all to himself, her beauty for his eyes alone.

Cheng Hui seized the opportunity to sidle up and ask, “Brother, when are you coming back?”

“End of the year.”

He’d told Xin Gan the same, and also said he’d give her six months to think things over. When he returned, he’d want a clear answer.

Cheng Hui said, “Brother, does that mean I can start calling Sister Xin my future sister-in-law by the end of the year?”

Xin Gan didn’t react much, but Cheng Hui was oblivious—she herself knew the truth.

Cheng Jiu smiled, glancing at Xin Gan. “I have to go.”

It was almost time to board, and the lines were long.

“Message me when you arrive,” Xin Gan said.

“Me too!” Cheng Hui insisted, determined to assert her presence.

Cheng Jiu ignored her and only responded to Xin Gan. “Mm.”

Xin Gan didn’t dare meet his gaze, lowering her eyes to avoid it.

“Anything else you want to say to me?” Cheng Jiu asked.

Cheng Hui looked back and forth between them, her eyes full of curiosity.

Xin Gan felt her ears grow hot, and with Cheng Hui present, even if she wanted to say something, she couldn’t. She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

“Cheng Hui, turn around,” Cheng Jiu ordered.

Cheng Hui blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Puzzled, Cheng Hui turned, still grumbling, and tried to look back, but the next second, her head was held firmly in place, making it impossible to turn.

“Brother! Why are you holding me down?”

Xin Gan was just as confused. She glanced at Cheng Hui, but the next second, darkness fell as Cheng Jiu bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead, gone as quickly as it came.

It was the second time he’d kissed her forehead—already quite an intimate gesture.

She said nothing, just felt a bit embarrassed, avoiding his gaze, afraid that if she looked, she would never escape those passionate eyes.

When the kiss was over, Cheng Jiu released Cheng Hui.

Cheng Hui turned back, saw nothing, and stomped her foot. “Brother, you’re too sneaky!”

Cheng Jiu put on a stern face. “While I’m not in Yongcheng, behave yourself. If you get into any trouble, I’ll come back and deal with you personally.”

“What trouble could I get into? I’m not He Cheng. I’m a good girl, honestly. Brother, you should be grateful. He Chuan is always worried about He Cheng—afraid he’ll go bald from the stress. I’m really worried about his hair falling out.”

Cheng Jiu’s lips twitched, then he turned back to Xin Gan. “It’s getting late. You should head home. Drive safe.”

He Cheng’s name didn’t surprise Xin Gan; her expression was a bit complex, but Cheng Jiu said nothing more, so she didn’t dwell on it. “Alright, goodbye then.”

Cheng Jiu nodded.

He picked up his luggage and walked toward security, never looking back.

Xin Gan felt complicated inside, silent and thoughtful.

Cheng Hui waved at his retreating figure, then hugged Xin Gan’s arm. “Let’s go home, Sister Xin. Did you drive or take a cab?”

“I drove. Are you alone? I can give you a ride.”

“Great, I’ll ride with you.”

The Cheng family driver, left waiting in the airport parking lot, finally received a message from Cheng Hui telling him to go home on his own—she’d be riding with her future sister-in-law.

The driver could only laugh.

Cheng Hui chattered non-stop as soon as she got into Xin Gan’s car, talking about anything and everything. Xin Gan, with her good temper, answered everything, and before they knew it, the conversation turned to the college entrance exams. At this, Cheng Hui felt a pang in her heart.

“My brother still doesn’t know what I scored. I got my mom to help me keep it from him. Luckily, he wasn’t home long this time, or my results would’ve been exposed.”

Xin Gan smiled. “Are you that scared of him?”

“Terrified. We’re ten years apart. When I was little, I always heard my mom talk about his glory days—he and He Chuan were wild, always getting into trouble. Back then, my dad could still control him, often with a switch. He was stubborn. Even when beaten until his skin split, he never made a sound. My mom thought he didn’t feel pain, so she took him to the hospital for a checkup. It was only when the doctor cleaned his wounds that he finally groaned.”

“My mom was so relieved. She thought she’d given birth to a mutant—cracked me up.”

Boys were always harder to handle than girls. Xin Gan, an only child, had always been obedient, never defying her parents. Listening to Cheng Hui, she felt a twinge of envy.

Her own childhood had been short; by thirteen, she was on her own. Sometimes she envied others’ childhoods, but she had no regrets. If she had to choose again, she might still listen to her family and study abroad.

Seeing Xin Gan laugh, Cheng Hui seized the chance. “Sister Xin, can I ask you out for a meal or to go shopping sometime?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s add each other on WeChat and arrange something.”

Xin Gan smiled gently. “Alright.”

She genuinely liked Cheng Hui—she was young, lively, a little impish, but with no malice. Very likable.

Xin Gan dropped Cheng Hui off at home. Standing in the doorway, Cheng Hui waved with a bright smile. “Sister Xin, let’s hang out soon!”

Xin Gan nodded with a smile and agreed.

By the time she’d finished and headed home, it was already past eleven. When she got back, her mother was still awake, calling her to the living room for a chat.

Her mother rarely stayed up this late. She must have had something to say.

After they sat down, her mother poured her a glass of warm water before speaking.

“I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but you don’t seem very happy since coming back to China.”

Xin Gan stammered, “No, not really.”

“You’re my daughter. I carried you for ten months and gave birth to you—our bond runs deep. How could I not sense it?”

Xin Gan fell silent. “Maybe… I’m just not used to it yet. I got accustomed to living abroad.”

Her mother found that answer both bittersweet and guilt-inducing. “You’ve suffered, Xin Xin.”

But Xin Gan only smiled lightly. “Mom, it’s late. You should get some rest. I’m tired, too.”

Her mother could only say, “Alright, we’ll talk tomorrow if there’s anything else.”

Xin Gan agreed.

Back in her room, she dug out her old notebooks and flipped through them—all study, nothing else.

All these years, the Xin family had stayed in Jinsha Bay, never moving. The house was old, the banyan tree in the yard had grown tall, and her life hadn’t changed much—everything was arranged by her family. All she had to do was follow their plans.

Including marriage.

That was why she rebelled, why she wanted to leave.

She wanted a life of her own.

She was indeed drawn to Cheng Jiu, but that didn’t mean she would necessarily marry him.

…

The next morning, Xin Gan received a text from Cheng Jiu. A few simple words: “I’m at the team.” She glanced at it and replied with a single, polite “Okay.”

Nothing more.

Not long after his return, Cheng Jiu received her one-character reply and couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t dwell on it, as he was quickly summoned by Captain Meng.

While he’d been away, Xiao Shi had been in a car accident and was now recovering in the hospital.

Captain Meng handed him an envelope. “Xiao Shi’s family is struggling. This is a collection from everyone. Take it to him—he’ll listen to you. He won’t listen to anyone else.”

“Was it an accident?” Cheng Jiu asked.

“It’s under investigation. The driver fled the scene—no news yet.”

Cheng Jiu’s expression darkened, worried for Xiao Shi.

…

Xiao Shi’s leg was injured, and he had other minor wounds, but none were too serious. Still, he’d be bedridden for a while.

Cheng Jiu went to the hospital to see him, but before they could talk much, some of Xiao Shi’s comrades, including Jiang Yang, arrived.

They were all worried about Xiao Shi and had taken time to visit.

Xiao Shi’s leg was in a cast, his forehead bandaged, and he spoke weakly.

After sitting with him for a bit, Cheng Jiu stepped out to the smoking area for a cigarette. As he returned, Jiang Yang came out of the ward and greeted him. “Ninth Brother, I thought you’d left.”

“I was just having a smoke,” said Cheng Jiu.

The others inside were intimidated by him and felt uneasy with him around.

Jiang Yang looked troubled. “Xiao Shi’s accident is partly my fault. If I’d gone on the mission with him the other night, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I got word about one of Fishhead’s men and didn’t want to alert them. I told Xiao Shi, and we split up to track them down. But Xiao Shi got into trouble on the way.”

“Did you catch the guy?”

“No, got there too late.” Jiang Yang’s voice was weak. “Ninth Brother, I’m responsible. I never thought this would happen. You can punish me.”

“Were you the one who hit him?” Cheng Jiu asked, glancing at him with a careless smile.

Jiang Yang froze. “No.”

“Then how is it your fault? Don’t take on blame for nothing.”

“But Ninth Brother—”

“That’s enough. What’s done is done.”

Jiang Yang’s face was full of guilt. He punched the wall, vowing, “I’ll catch those who slipped through the net.”

Cheng Jiu didn’t comment, though he already had something in mind.

…

Back in the ward, it was just Xiao Shi. “You holding up?” Cheng Jiu asked.

“I’m fine, won’t die.” Xiao Shi grinned, full of spirit, undaunted by the accident. In this line of work, danger came with the territory.

“Focus on recovering,” Cheng Jiu said. “Don’t worry about anything else.”

Xiao Shi, a bit choked up, replied, “Sorry to worry you, Ninth Brother.”

Cheng Jiu ruffled his hair. “Just get well. Leave the rest.”

After Cheng Jiu left, Xiao Shi sighed and wiped his eyes, which had grown wet.

A nurse came in for her rounds. Xiao Shi asked, “Nurse, do I still owe any medical bills?”

“Haven’t they all been paid?”

“But… I didn’t pay, and this morning you asked me again. How could they be settled?”

“You don’t know? The man who just left paid for you.”

It was Cheng Jiu.

Xiao Shi came from a poor background. The accident and hospital stay had already cost a fortune. He sent most of his monthly salary home, keeping little for himself, and hadn’t told his family about his accident.

Captain Meng had said the money collected from the team was far from enough to cover the bills.

Cheng Jiu had paid the rest out of his own pocket.

He was luckier than Xiao Shi and the others—he came from a well-off family. Besides his salary, he had other, legitimate sources of income. His family didn’t know about those, only he did.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to cover Xiao Shi’s medical bills.

…

For the next while, Cheng Jiu was busy and had no time for Xin Gan, nor did he contact her. She didn’t reach out either—she wasn’t clingy and didn’t pay him much mind.

He’d promised to give her six months; during that time, she could take things slowly, and he wouldn’t pressure her.

But He Cheng was a time bomb. Cheng Jiu worried he might bother her again, so he found time to speak to He Chuan, asking him to keep an eye on his brother and stop him from harassing Xin Gan.

He Chuan had just finished a meeting. His assistant was still handing him documents to review. After glancing over them, He Chuan replied, “Alright, I’ll keep an eye on He Cheng.”

“Thanks,” Cheng Jiu replied simply.

He Chuan smiled. “No need to thank me. We’re brothers, aren’t we? But let me say this—when you and Xin Gan get married, I want to be your witness.”

“Deal.”

“And take care of yourself. I saw on the news that things in Beiyu are pretty rough.”

“I know. By the way, keep an eye on Cheng Hui too. If she acts up, don’t go easy on her—give her a good scolding.”

“Cheng Hui’s just a little mischievous—she’s easy to handle, not like my brother.” He Chuan grew agitated at the mention of He Cheng. If he weren’t his brother, he would’ve kicked him out ages ago and saved himself endless trouble.

Thinking of his brother, He Chuan felt a surge of frustration. “I’ve got another meeting. Let’s talk later.”

“Alright, get back to work.”

…

That afternoon, after finishing up his tasks, Cheng Jiu went to the hospital. Jiang Tang was already in Xiao Shi’s room.

Cheng Jiu had nothing to say to Jiang Tang. He simply glanced at her, then poured Xiao Shi a glass of water. “How are you feeling? Dizzy?”

Xiao Shi shook his head. “A bit dizzy this morning, but I’m fine now.”

Jiang Tang felt ignored, disappointed, but she understood Cheng Jiu’s attitude toward her. Still, she couldn’t let go. If Xin Gan hadn’t appeared, things wouldn’t have come to this between them.

She steadied her voice and interrupted, “I spoke to the doctor. Xiao Shi’s symptoms are normal. With good rest, he’ll recover soon.”

Cheng Jiu didn’t respond or look at her, but he did hum in acknowledgment.

Xiao Shi sensed something different between them and, thinking of Xin Gan, finally understood. He hesitated, then said, “It’s getting late, Jiang Tang, maybe you should—”

“Yes, it’s late. I should go. Xiao Shi, I’ll visit again in a few days. Jiang Yang said you like fruit—I’ll bring some next time.” She cut him off, barely pausing for breath, then turned to Cheng Jiu with a smile. “Cheng Jiu, I have a favor to ask. Would you mind giving me a ride? If it’s inconvenient, I won’t insist. Sorry.”

Cheng Jiu glanced at her, voice steady. “It’s no trouble. Let’s go.”

His tone was ice-cold, nothing like how he was with Xin Gan.

But then, he’d never really been warm toward her, even before.

Jiang Tang’s face paled. She knew there was no hope, but she still wanted to be a moth drawn to the flame, burning herself for him.

She was unwilling, but powerless—she had no chance of competing with Xin Gan. Her only hope was that Xin Gan didn’t like him and would leave on her own.

Once again, Jiang Tang sat in his car, recalling the first time she’d met Xin Gan. She’d been sitting in this very car, exchanging a distant glance with Xin Gan, and perhaps from that moment on, they were destined to be rivals.

Cheng Jiu focused on the road, silent, deliberately keeping his distance.

“Did something happen at home when you took leave recently?” Jiang Tang tried to make conversation, hoping to close the gap between them.

Cheng Jiu glanced at the rearview mirror. “Yes, I went home.”

Jiang Tang lowered her eyes, picking at her knees. “You haven’t gone home in years. Are you planning to go this year?”

“I am.”

“That’s good. I thought you’d skip it again this year.”

Whether he went home or not had nothing to do with her, but she just wanted to talk to him, even if it was pointless.

“I already made plans with Xin Gan this year,” Cheng Jiu said.

That sentence sent her plummeting straight to the depths of hell. She bit her lip; she wished she hadn’t asked.

Jiang Tang forced a smile. “I see.”

Xiao Shi was still in the hospital. Jiang Tang hadn’t really wanted to visit him, but she knew Cheng Jiu would be there. If she ran into him, she’d get to chat. If not, she wouldn’t even have the chance to see him.

So she tried her luck, and today it paid off.

Cheng Jiu was still polite and gentle, but the distance between them was palpable, with no room for other emotions.

Jiang Tang felt wretched, unable to accept the outcome. She’d spent four or five years by his side, years in which Xin Gan had never appeared. What did that make her? Not even dust.

She stared out the window, gathering her emotions for a long while before saying, “Cheng Jiu, I can tell you’re not interested in me. I understand your attitude, but could you at least be kind? I’m not asking for anything—just to be friends, that’s all.”

Cheng Jiu’s gaze flickered. “Jiang Tang, I’ve been very clear, and I don’t want to keep repeating myself. We can be friends—just ordinary friends, nothing more.”

“I know. I understand. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

“I should. I’ve caused a lot of misunderstandings between you and Miss Xin. Captain Meng spoke to me about transferring. I think I’ll apply for a transfer after all. I won’t bother you anymore.”

She forced herself to say it, almost out of spite.

Cheng Jiu remained unmoved. “Congratulations, then.”

He was truly cold, completely indifferent.

She was humiliating herself by saying any more.

“Let me off at the next intersection,” Jiang Tang said. “I just remembered something. Thank you.”

“Alright.”

…

Xin Gan started work at Song Chen’s company. Everything went smoothly, and she soon befriended the woman at the next desk, Zhou Jinyan, who had also studied abroad. They had a lot in common and quickly grew close.

Inside the company, only the HR manager who’d handled her onboarding knew she was related to Song Chen. Since they were in different departments, they rarely crossed paths, but the manager would greet her in the cafeteria.

During her lunch break, Xin Gan was eating at a nearby restaurant when she got a call from Cheng Hui. “Sister Xin, I have a date tonight but don’t know what dress to wear. Can you help me pick one?”

“Sure, send me some photos,” Xin Gan replied.

Soon after hanging up, Cheng Hui sent several photos from a shopping mall. Xin Gan noticed He Cheng in the background and texted: Who are you with?

Cheng Hui replied: He Cheng—He Chuan’s younger brother.