Chapter Ninety-Three: Betrayal, Almost

The next morning, Cheng Jiu rose early. He glanced at Xin Gan’s room as he passed; she was still asleep. He quietly closed the door behind him. Meng Can was already waiting downstairs, and when Cheng Jiu descended, Meng Can snorted, “Hurry up, stop dawdling.”

Meng Can had decided on a whim to drag him to the training grounds for a round of exercise. Cheng Jiu’s body was no longer what it used to be; such intense physical exertion overwhelmed him, and he lagged far behind, gasping for breath. Meng Can looked back and teased, “Look at you panting like that, are you still up for it?” Cheng Jiu said nothing, steadied himself, and caught up.

…

Xin Gan woke to find the pillow beside her gone; he hadn’t slept with her last night, instead taking his pillow to the next room. He’d developed the habit of sleeping with the lights on, while she preferred darkness. The few times they’d shared a room with the lights on, she buried her face under the covers to manage.

Now sunlight streamed in, warm and gentle. Xin Gan dressed and opened the window, seeing a few figures running laps in the barren training grounds far away, one of them Cheng Jiu.

After finishing his workout, Cheng Jiu returned, chilled through. The living room was empty; from the kitchen came the sound of chopping vegetables. He shed his jacket and hurried toward the kitchen.

Xin Gan stood in the tiny kitchen, apron tied around her waist, her long hair twisted up, revealing her slender, delicate neck. Sunlight filtered in from the window, gently illuminating her brows and eyes, lending her an even softer aura—a scene almost painterly.

Hearing footsteps, Xin Gan turned and smiled at him, her eyes curving, “Rest for a bit, breakfast will be ready soon.” She turned back to her tasks.

She couldn’t cook rice, but boiling water was manageable. Today’s breakfast was Western: bread, meat, vegetables, perfectly balanced. She replaced milk with soy for herself. Cheng Jiu wasn’t picky and ate whatever she prepared. Though he usually cooked, it was rare for her to take charge in the kitchen.

It was just a simple breakfast, but Cheng Jiu was elated, the smile never leaving his lips.

Xin Gan removed her apron, hung it on the fridge, and said, “I’ll go get a towel.”

“Don’t bother, come eat.” He intercepted her on her way to the bathroom, gently turned her around, and pressed her into a chair. “Sit, I’ll handle the rest.”

Xin Gan agreed. Cheng Jiu washed his face and hands in the bathroom before returning.

They didn’t stand on ceremony while eating. After breakfast, Xin Gan asked, “Any plans for today?” Unsure if he still had to face the so-called ‘questioning.’

Cheng Jiu leaned back, hands behind his head, “Accompany you.”

“Have things been settled?” she asked.

“Mm, they won’t trouble me anymore. It’s all handled.” His gaze darkened as he spoke—so much he couldn’t explain to Xin Gan, too many tangled threads.

Xin Gan relaxed, smiling, “Then, let’s call home in a bit.”

A new year, a new beginning.

Cheng Jiu’s phone was old and the network unreliable, so he used Xin Gan’s to call home, letting them know he was safe.

It was early, and Cheng Hui hadn’t woken yet; the housemaid answered. Hearing his voice, she was delighted, asking eagerly about his well-being. When assured all was well, she hurried to fetch Madam Cheng.

Including this year, Cheng Jiu hadn’t returned home in several years. Originally, he planned to return at year’s end for the wedding, but now that wouldn’t happen, leaving the family with regrets.

Madam Cheng grew sorrowful upon hearing his voice, “Happy New Year. Take care of yourself, don’t overwork. You’re our only son; your sister’s waiting for you to take her sailing. By the way, where’s Xin Gan? Is she there?”

“She’s right here,” Cheng Jiu replied. “I’ll let her say a few words to you.”

Xin Gan was still nervous, embarrassed to call Madam Cheng ‘Mom’ in Cheng Jiu’s presence, or use any term for mother-in-law. In Yongcheng, daughters-in-law called their mothers-in-law ‘Mom.’

After Xin Gan addressed her as Mom, Madam Cheng responded warmly, “Xin Xin, have you gotten used to living there? Has Cheng Jiu bullied you? If he does, tell me—we’ll stand up for you.”

Cheng Jiu laughed, not interrupting their conversation.

“No, he treats me very well, never bullies me.”

Cheng Jiu’s arm rested on the sofa, loosely encircling Xin Gan. Her ears reddened, still not used to the address. Cheng Jiu took her wrist, gazing at her bare, unadorned profile, eyes clear and silent, smiling gently. A stray lock of hair slipped down her cheek; he tucked it behind her ear. It was hard to imagine such careful tenderness from a man like him.

If Xiao Shi and the others saw this, they’d probably drop their jaws in shock.

Madam Cheng felt gratified by Xin Gan’s words, “That’s good. You take care of yourself, Xin Xin. The climate there’s harsh, snowy and cold. Wear more layers, don’t get chilled.”

“Alright, I will. Mom, you take care too.”

“You’re so sensible. Honestly, I worried at first that you wouldn’t manage Cheng Jiu’s reserved nature, but seeing how well you two get along, I’m relieved. When you come back, we’ll host the wedding.”

Xin Gan replied, “Alright, I’ll do as you say.”

Madam Cheng saw Xin Gan as gentle and considerate—a perfect match for Cheng Jiu. She didn’t like women who were too shrewd; while such women might excel in their careers, given the Cheng family’s status, what was needed was someone to run the household well.

Xin Gan had that potential.

But Madam Cheng didn’t fully understand her son. Cheng Jiu was never one to follow her wishes; otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to Beiyu after graduation and stayed for six or seven years.

Cheng Jiu watched her, gaze intense and deeply infatuated. He had loved her long before she realized it.

Madam Cheng chatted with Xin Gan about ordinary things; Xin Gan listened patiently, and when Madam Cheng finished, she softly said, “I’ll give the phone back to Cheng Jiu. He has something to say to you. Please wait a moment.”

She was excessively polite and restrained.

Cheng Jiu thought that, as family, there was no need to be so formal; they could relax.

He went to the balcony with the phone—some things had to be discussed privately.

“Mom, is everything alright at home? Has Cheng Hui caused any trouble?” His sister, twelve years younger, was beyond his control, too far away.

Madam Cheng hesitated for a few seconds, “Nothing major, just…”

“What happened?”

Afraid she was imagining things, Madam Cheng said, “It’s probably nothing. We’ll talk when you’re back.” She wasn’t sure herself, but yesterday evening she saw He Chuan and Cheng Hui return together from the garden. There was an indescribable atmosphere between them, intriguing.

“Cheng Hui likes to play, she’s wild, but she wouldn’t do anything bad. Don’t worry too much.”

“I hope so. If she were like you, I wouldn’t worry so much. Or even like Xin Gan—such a sensible child. I heard from her mother that she went abroad to study alone as a teenager, while Cheng Hui was still tagging along with you at eleven. Xin Gan was just too mature. On one hand, I envy the way the Xin family raised such a child; on the other, I feel sorry for her being so sensible.”

It’s often the crying child who gets the candy; Xin Gan’s quiet, gentle nature made her easy to overlook.

…

Xin Gan went to pour water, standing at the kitchen door, waiting for Cheng Jiu to finish his call. She walked to the living room, watched his back, hesitated, set down her glass, then slowly approached and hugged him from behind.

Her fingers clasped at his waist, with a hint of cautiousness.

She nestled against him; above her head, his voice sounded, “What’s wrong?”

Xin Gan rarely initiated a hug. Caught off guard, he held her fingers.

“Are you feeling better?”

“No major issues.”

Xin Gan pondered for a while and asked, “By the way, I haven’t seen Xiao Shi since I arrived…”

Mentioning Xiao Shi, Cheng Jiu was silent for a long time, the smile fading from his face, not answering.

His silence made Xin Gan realize something; she sensed his mood and stopped asking, hugging him tighter, silently comforting him.

She felt heartache for him. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask. When you’re ready, tell me. No matter what, I’m on your side, Cheng Jiu.”

Cheng Jiu released her hand, murmuring, “It’s cold outside, let’s go in.”

Back inside, Xin Gan’s half-finished hot water was on the table. Cheng Jiu took it and, unbothered that she’d drunk from it, finished it.

“Do you want more? I’ll get you some,” Xin Gan asked.

“No need,” he replied. After a few seconds, he said, “Xiao Shi was killed. That operation—we were betrayed by our own. I miscalculated; most of the blame lies with me. That’s why I’ve been questioned lately.”

The person he trusted most had betrayed him.

That person was Jiang Yang.

He wasn’t the only one who nearly didn’t make it back; besides Jiang Yang, three others had barely survived. It was Xiao Shi who saved them.

But Xiao Shi couldn’t come back.

He wouldn’t be home for the New Year this year.

Cheng Jiu said quietly, “I’m luckier than the rest—got away with my life, limbs intact, nothing too serious.”

…

Xin Gan stood at the balcony door, chilled to the bone, unable to imagine what had happened during that operation. He said ‘betrayed,’ was it Jiang Yang?

She’d met Jiang Yang and remembered him.

He was Jiang Tang’s cousin, so did this involve Jiang Tang?

She dared not ask further.

Cheng Jiu noticed her stunned expression, perhaps frightened. He said, “Come here, let me hold you.”

Xin Gan stepped forward again, hugging his waist. “Cheng Jiu, I’m here.”

“Mm, I know.”

“If you’re sad, don’t hold it in. Tell me. I’m on your side; I won’t leave you.”

Cheng Jiu held her tighter, as if unwilling to let go. “Then why did you say you wanted to emigrate?”

She’d said it in a moment of anger.

“I can’t leave, even if I wanted to. I can’t control my body—it moves toward you involuntarily.”

Cheng Jiu said, “If I’d known you were mine, I’d have brought you home long ago, never letting you stay abroad alone.”

Xin Gan said, “Cheng Jiu, you’re mine. You won’t be alone anymore. Think of me more often.”

He couldn’t find words to express his feelings, so he held her with all his strength.

Xin Gan said, “If one day you’re killed in the line of duty—just saying—I won’t remarry. It’s hard to love someone; I’ll likely never meet another you, Cheng Jiu.”

He remembered telling her long ago that if he died, she could find another boyfriend, marry, have children, forget him, and move on. She’d find someone better.

Cheng Jiu never considered himself a good man. Forced to use that substance, even though he’d quit, the stain was indelible, impacting his future in society.

It couldn’t be helped.

Even if Meng Can and the others never mentioned it, after so many years, he understood well enough.

Xin Gan didn’t know; he feared she’d worry, so he never told her. It was the same at home.

But Cheng Jiu’s father understood and could tell Xin Gan—since she was his wife, some things couldn’t be hidden.

Cheng Jiu laughed hoarsely, “Then I’d never rest in peace; I’d still worry about you.”

“So please cherish your life. No matter what, promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” Tears welled in Xin Gan’s eyes. She struggled to hold them back.

Cheng Jiu kissed her brow and eyes, again and again, “I will.”

“Don’t ever leave me…”

“Alright.” His Adam’s apple shifted.

…

Madam Cheng hung up and went to find Cheng Hui in her room.

Cheng Hui was awake, lying in bed playing with her phone. Hearing the door, she popped her head out of the covers, relaxed to see it was her mother, “Mom, why didn’t you knock?”

“If you were up to something shady, I’d need to knock to warn you.” Madam Cheng pulled back the covers, muttering, “It’s so late, and you’re still in bed.”

Though reluctant, Cheng Hui got up and dressed. “Mom, I’m going out this afternoon. Don’t wait for me for dinner tonight.”

Madam Cheng was cautious, “Going to He Chuan’s again?”

Cheng Hui had just pulled on a pink hoodie, paused while putting on her pants, her expression unnatural, voice quieter, “No, why would I? I’m meeting classmates, want to leave early to avoid traffic.”

“You used to go to his house all the time. If you hadn’t, Aunt He wouldn’t want you as her goddaughter.”

“Don’t bring that up—it makes me uncomfortable. Not just anyone can be my godmother.”

“And He Chuan? You used to talk about him a lot, but lately you haven’t mentioned him.”

Madam Cheng wasn’t naive; she observed her daughter closely. She’d thought it was just adjustment to university, but Cheng Hui’s actions spoke of guilt—she wouldn’t be so evasive otherwise.

“I’ve grown up; I can’t follow him around anymore. I have my own life, he has his.”

Madam Cheng feigned a smile, everything unsaid, watching her daughter flee to the bathroom.

“Your Aunt He arranged a blind date for him recently, asked me to introduce girls. I think your cousin’s daughter is about the right age—she stayed with us last summer, remember?”

Cheng Hui, brushing her teeth, eyes darting, mumbled, “It’s none of my business. Introduce whoever you want. I don’t know what type He Chuan likes.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Aunt He. We’ll have Ruo Ruo over for dinner sometime.”

Yongcheng’s winter was dry, the wind sharp as knives, stinging the skin.

Cheng Hui wore layers, but still shivered, rushing to the bus stop.

Just then, He Chuan called, asking where she was.

Madam Cheng’s earlier words echoed in Cheng Hui’s mind, making her uneasy. “Don’t come looking for me.”

“Are you angry with me again?”

Cheng Hui licked her dry lips, “No, just… It’s better if we keep our distance. I don’t want my family knowing we’re entangled.”

“Did someone say something to you? Hmm?” He Chuan’s voice was rich, deep, and pleasant.

She used to flatter him, calling him the best person in the world—besides her family, of course. He enjoyed it, often petting her like a beloved dog. But since their relationship changed, she avoided him like the plague, stopped sweet-talking, stopped being clingy, and never asked for favors.

“Not yet. I don’t want that day to come, so let’s end it here. He Chuan, I’ll still treat you as a brother—just that.”

He Chuan held the phone in silence. He was driving, wearing a dark blue sweater, car heater on, sleeves rolled up. Even simple attire exuded elegance on him.

He pressed her, pushed her to the edge of the cliff, and only he extended a hand. Only he could save her, but she refused his help, knowing she’d fall if she pushed him away. Even if it meant near-certain death, she would not accept his rescue.

She dismissed his efforts of the past semester—his time wasted, but it wasn’t up to her to end things. In this chase, she wasn’t in control; only he was.

He Chuan sneered, “Hui Hui, that’s not up to you. It’s my decision.”

She’d known him for over ten years—since she could remember, he’d always been there, occupying all her growing years.

She’d seen him as a boy; back then, she treated him as a brother, paid special attention. In hindsight, she didn’t know how lucky she was.

He Chuan was famous in Yongcheng—a wealthy, handsome bachelor. Plenty of girls around him were outstanding, but he never cared for any of them.

Stubborn as he was, he insisted on dragging Cheng Hui into his world.

She couldn’t refuse.

…

Cheng Hui rode the bus for over an hour to the gathering place Tang Que mentioned. Afraid He Chuan would show up, she looked around, relieved not to see his car, and hurried inside.

Led by a waiter, she found the private room, arriving early; the others hadn’t come yet.

With a nervous heart, she finally greeted her classmates as they arrived.

They were all friends from the street, entering together with laughter and chatter.

Cheng Hui got along well with everyone, greeting them warmly and catching up.

Tang Que was there, but busy—he’d brought his girlfriend, Tang Yao, who was in the same class as Cheng Jiu.

Tang Yao knew Cheng Hui liked Tang Que, and she clung to Tang Que’s arm, smiling and chatting with Cheng Hui.

Cheng Hui couldn’t avoid her, forced to smile awkwardly, her expression unnatural. She’d dressed up for the occasion, but standing next to Tang Yao, she faded into the background.

Cheng Hui wasn’t unattractive, but her features were plain.

Tang Yao’s looks were striking, she knew how to dress and do makeup, her eyes lively and expressive—the sort of girl who attracted boys.

Tang Que had a beautiful sister, and preferred girls who were outspoken and bold.

So naturally, Cheng Hui wasn’t the one.

“Cheng Hui, you’re early. Why not sit down and chat?”

Tang Yao sat beside her, holding her hand, “Are you feeling unwell?”

Cheng Hui avoided looking at Tang Que, forcing a smile, “No, just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Tang Yao pondered, then quietly asked, “Are you afraid to see me?”

Cheng Hui said nothing.

…

“Do you still like Tang Que?” Tang Yao asked.

Cheng Hui quickly waved her hands, “No, I don’t.”

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone.” Tang Yao looked regretful, “Tang Que is so outstanding; it’s normal if you can’t get over him.”

The gathering was stifling for Cheng Hui; she had no appetite, sipping drinks instead.

She didn’t want to talk and stopped chatting with Tang Yao, pretending to check messages on her phone.

Tang Yao smiled, seeing her discomfort, and shifted the conversation with others.

Tang Que never acknowledged Cheng Hui, his attention solely on Tang Yao—their closeness apparent to everyone.

Few knew Cheng Hui liked Tang Que; those who did silently sympathized but could do nothing.

Cheng Hui went to the bathroom, feeling depressed by the atmosphere. A male classmate followed, stopping her in the corridor.

“Cheng Hui,” he called.

She turned, “What is it?”

“Don’t be too sad—it’s been so long.”

Cheng Hui smiled, “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“No need to force yourself. If you don’t want to stay, let’s go for a walk outside.”

Cheng Hui considered, “Is that okay?”

“No worries. They’re busy, won’t notice us.”

She’d forgotten his name, too embarrassed to ask, racked her brain until she remembered—Lin Hao.

They walked out; the streets were lively.

…

In the private room, someone noticed Lin Hao and Cheng Hui downstairs and joked, “Lin Hao’s trying to chase Cheng Hui? He won’t miss any chance.”

“Cheng Hui’s not easy to win over. I heard she has a very protective big brother, bad temper. If he finds out, Lin Hao’s finished.”

“What does Cheng Hui’s family do anyway? Her clothes aren’t cheap.”

“…”

Tang Yao didn’t join their conversation, instead saying to Tang Que, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come today. Seeing us together, Cheng Hui must feel bad.”

Tang Que was indifferent, eyes cold.

“By the way, isn’t your sister coming too? Haven’t seen her yet.”

Tang Que finally replied, “No idea. She does as she pleases; I don’t bother her.”

“Lin Hao…”

“If he likes Cheng Hui, that’s his business. Tang Yao, don’t worry about irrelevant people.”

Tang Yao laughed, “Alright, I won’t mention them.”

…

Cheng Hui wandered with Lin Hao for a bit, then returned. She carried a cup of milk tea, Lin Hao watching her and gently reminding, “Careful with the steps, don’t fall.”

“Thanks.”

“No need to be so polite—we’ve known each other for years. We were classmates in junior high and high school; it’s fate.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Cheng Hui smiled.

“Not many girls like you who don’t wear makeup—looks cute.”

Cheng Hui couldn’t keep up the smile, “Don’t flatter me. I’m just lazy, don’t bother with makeup.”

“No, I mean it. Cheng Hui, Tang Que isn’t worth your feelings…” Lin Hao blushed, embarrassed, “Actually, Cheng Hui, I…”

Before he could finish, someone called out, “Hui Hui!” The sound made Cheng Hui’s blood run cold, heart pounding. She turned to see He Chuan at the stairs.

He Chuan wore the same outfit as earlier, but now held an umbrella and wore gold-rimmed glasses. He smiled at her and the boy beside her, walked over naturally, and stood. “Hui Hui, when are you done?”

Lin Hao stood aside, intimidated by He Chuan’s aura, glanced at Cheng Hui, “Cheng Hui, this is…?”

Cheng Hui’s scalp tingled, forcing herself, “He’s my brother…”

“I’m He Chuan, Cheng Hui’s brother’s friend.” He Chuan introduced himself with an air of superiority. He was tall, and though Lin Hao was also over six feet, his presence was nothing compared to He Chuan.

“Hello, I’m Lin Hao, Cheng Hui’s classmate.”

He Chuan glanced at him, then at Cheng Hui, gently asking, “Didn’t I tell you not to drink milk tea at night? You’ll complain about insomnia again.”

“I’m just having a little…”

“You can have one sip, no more.”

“He Chuan…” She frowned, annoyed, warning him.

Clearly, she didn’t want his interference.

With Lin Hao present, Cheng Hui couldn’t say much.

Lin Hao apologized, “Sorry, I bought it for her. I didn’t know…”

He Chuan barely looked at him, his attention solely on Cheng Hui. He was dissatisfied with her outfit, brows furrowed, voice low, “Drinking milk tea without wearing a coat—so cold, you’ll catch a cold.”

He took her milk tea—it was iced—and his brows tightened further, voice harsh, “Greedy little thing, always snacking.”

Lin Hao felt awkward.

Cheng Hui was at a loss. She’d told him earlier not to come, yet here he was again; she couldn’t escape him.

Lin Hao scratched his head, unsure what to do.

Cheng Hui glared at He Chuan, who remained unconcerned, taking off his own coat and draping it over her shoulders. She stiffened, silently watching him.

He Chuan whispered in her ear, “Cooperate. If you want to vent your frustration, do as I say.”

She didn’t understand his meaning, startled.

He wrapped her in his coat, smiling at Lin Hao, handed him the milk tea, “Thanks for buying her a drink, but she can’t have any more. Could you throw it away for me? Thanks.”

He Chuan had no qualms about ordering people around.

Lin Hao, bewildered, accepted the milk tea, “No problem. It’s nothing.”

In experience and age, Lin Hao was no match for He Chuan.

But over a cup of milk tea, He Chuan noted it—Cheng Hui rejected him, yet accepted another boy’s kindness and drank his milk tea. He remembered.

He Chuan checked his watch, “Go in and greet your classmates. It’s getting late—you should head home.”

Before Cheng Hui could protest, Tang Yao stepped out and spotted them.

Cheng Hui had her back to Tang Yao, unaware she was there.

Tang Yao approached, “Why are you guys out here? Everyone’s waiting for a group photo.”

Cheng Hui turned at her voice.

Lin Hao said, “We were about to go in, just met Cheng Hui’s brother’s friend and chatted for a bit.”

Tang Yao had noticed He Chuan immediately; he looked familiar, like someone she’d seen with Tang Que’s sister. She’d seen him in her social circle—He Chuan was striking, easy to remember.

But why was Tang Que’s sister’s friend with Cheng Hui?

“Cheng Hui, where did you and Lin Hao go? Out alone—how suspicious.” Tang Yao teased with deliberate ambiguity.

He Chuan raised his brows at the words, his hand resting naturally on Cheng Hui’s shoulder. She wore his coat, looking like a child in adult clothes.

“Nowhere special, just wandered a bit,” Cheng Hui said.

“So this is your brother’s friend? When I walked over, I thought he was your brother,” Tang Yao remarked.

Cheng Hui felt the hand on her shoulder tighten. He Chuan spoke, “You’re Hui Hui’s classmate?”

“Yes, I’m Tang Yao. Why not come in and sit? Since you’re here, right, Cheng Hui?”

Cheng Hui was far from willing—Tang Que was inside, and with He Chuan joining, she had a bad feeling.