Chapter 62: Intimacy

Winter in Zhanzhou, the greenery remains lush and vibrant, lacking the bitter chill of Xiangjiang, and instead, quietly brews the essence of the season.

In the afternoon, the business car sped off the highway, making no stops along the way, heading straight for the eastern Tiancheng district.

An Tong slept throughout the journey, only stirring once they entered the main city.

Outside, the sky was overcast, windless, shrouded in mist.

She gazed calmly at the unfamiliar streets, lost in thought. Something crossed her mind, causing her brows to knit ever so slightly.

Hopefully, when Su Ji learns the truth... he won’t lose his temper.

An Tong had never mentioned to Su Ji her plans to leave Xiangjiang. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but the timing was never right.

She intended to keep it a secret until Aunt Ji recovered from her illness. After all... what’s done is done. At worst, she’d endure a scolding.

With her resolve steeled, she focused again just as the business car halted in front of the gate to a private villa district.

The pure black wrought-iron gates concealed all within, but from a distance, she could just make out several European-style buildings—more than one, in fact.

Nervously, An Tong pressed her lips together, continuously pondering how she should play her part alongside Doctor Rong when meeting her “in-laws.”

The gates opened, and the car rolled onto a clean, winding asphalt road.

Landscaped gardens and ponds flanked the path, with golden willow trees lining the banks, exuding a quiet tranquility, a veritable paradise hidden from the world.

Later, An Tong learned that this was not simply a wealthy villa district, but nearly a hundred acres of private gardens belonging to the Rong family.

At the center, outside the main villa, several servants in grey uniforms stood at attention.

Following Rong Shen out of the car, An Tong surveyed the grand residence, her heart beating a little unevenly.

She wasn’t the only one tense—even the talkative Cheng Feng stood rigidly behind them, his expression unusually solemn.

“Young master, young lady, sir and madam are waiting for you in the living room,” the lead servant greeted them with utmost respect, full of ceremony.

Rong Shen nodded, then glanced at An Tong, his voice gentle, “Do you mind?”

“What?” An Tong didn’t quite catch his meaning, but following his gaze, she saw his arm bent slightly, waiting for her to take it.

Ah, it was time to put on a show in front of the “in-laws.”

She rubbed her fingers against her clothes, then slowly linked her arm through Rong Shen’s. “Is this alright?”

He said it was perfect.

Though their arms barely touched, An Tong simply slipped her wrist through, lightly clutching the fabric of his coat with her fingertips, maintaining as much distance as possible.

Still, it was a significant step forward.

At least she didn’t refuse this almost intimate contact.

A subtle, profound curve appeared at the corner of the man’s lips as he led An Tong into the grand hall.

Cheng Feng remained outside, helping the servants with the luggage.

The spacious, bright living room held the parents of the Rong family seated at the head.

The woman, in her fifties, retained her elegance and poise—a serene beauty, her natural smile adding warmth to her dignified presence. Even with faint lines at her neck and eyes, she was as graceful as a lotus blossom.

Ruan Danling, once a famous actress thirty years ago.

Beside her sat the unsmiling man, Rong Shen’s father, Rong Jinghuai.

Impeccably dressed, exuding authority, his eyes radiated a deep, sharp gravity.

A man of imposing presence and a woman of lotus-like beauty—this was An Tong’s first impression of the elders.

Unsure how to address them, she intended to wait for Doctor Rong’s introduction, but the woman at the head of the room spoke first.

Ruan Danling didn’t glance at Rong Shen, but looked intently at An Tong, smiling gently, “You must be An’an. Come, sit here.”

An’an?

An Tong almost looked down for a dog, but Ruan Danling’s gaze was unmistakably directed at her.

Rong Shen lowered his arm, lifting his chin in a cue, “Go ahead.”

Seeing this, An Tong walked stiffly to Ruan Danling’s side. She felt as if she’d stumbled, but wasn’t sure.

“Tired from the long ride?” Ruan Danling slid over naturally, her smile warm and welcoming.

An Tong sat beside her, smiling, shaking her head, “I’m fine, not tired.”

Ruan Danling reached to take her hand, but subtly changed course, “An’an, do you like desserts? I had the kitchen make some—not too sweet. Try one?”

The anticipated interrogation never came; instead, their interaction began in calm harmony, the “mother-in-law and daughter-in-law” mode quietly established.

What struck An Tong most was that Ruan Danling did not assume the airs of a mother-in-law, but called herself “Aunt,” as if gently reminding An Tong she could address her so.

“Thank you... Aunt.”

An Tong tried the address, and Ruan Danling patted her hand in delight, then offered her a plate of white jade cakes, “Here, try some.”

This warm gesture gradually eased the tension in An Tong’s heart.

She remembered vaguely that Doctor Rong had said his parents were open-minded.

Now, it seemed he was right.

Just then, Ruan Danling noticed Rong Shen standing awkwardly to the side and gave him a strange look, “Why are you still just standing there? Find yourself a seat.”

Rong Shen lazily unbuttoned his coat and sat down, like an outsider unconcerned with the proceedings.

Ruan Danling withdrew her gaze, returning a smile to An Tong. Before she could speak, the stern-faced Rong Jinghuai interjected, “Pour the child some tea, don’t just offer desserts—they’re too cloying.”

An Tong stared dazedly at the untouched plate of white jade cakes, feeling both confused and flattered.

This solemn, severe uncle, opening his mouth to ask his wife to pour An Tong tea, felt oddly out of character.

It was as if... he wore the coldest face, yet spoke the warmest words.

The atmosphere in the living room suddenly took a strange turn.

Ruan Danling glared at Rong Jinghuai, then gently pulled An Tong by the wrist, “Don’t mind him, An’an. There’s bird’s nest stewing in the kitchen—come with me for a bite.”

Balancing the plate of white jade cakes in one hand, An Tong was led to the dining room like a puppet.

She could still faintly hear Ruan Danling muttering, “Little Nine really doesn’t know how to take care of people. How did he let you get so thin? I’ll have to speak to him another day…”

The so-called “careless Little Nine” shook his head with a wry smile, fingers pressed to his forehead.

Rong Jinghuai watched the two leave, the lines of his face relaxing slightly.

He crossed his legs leisurely, glancing at Rong Shen, “How long do you plan to stay this time?”

“At most a month.”

Father and son sat in identical postures; their resemblance extended not just to their looks, but to their manner and bearing, as if one were a copy of the other.

Only, Rong Jinghuai’s stern authority was more pronounced.

“All this fuss just to stay one month?” Rong Jinghuai frowned, defending his wife, “Your mother’s been anxious to be a good mother-in-law, hardly eating or sleeping. A month is too short—at least let her enjoy herself before you leave.”

His wife’s lack of sleep and appetite was the lesser concern; the real issue was that Ruan Danling had recently been binge-watching family dramas...

(End of chapter)