Chapter 78: Dazzling

It seemed that Rong Xian had taken quite a liking to An Tong. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Rong Xian turned to leave, giving Rong Shen a light tap on the shoulder. “Good taste,” she remarked—not too loud, not too soft, but just enough for An Tong to catch every word.

Rong Shen’s brows eased, and he lifted his arm in a gentle, almost protective gesture around An Tong’s shoulders, lowering his gaze to reassure her, “There are no outsiders tonight. There’s no need to be so reserved.”

An Tong responded quietly, instinctively leaning into the crook of his arm. She couldn’t quite explain it—she’d always been troubled by her condition and disliked close contact with others, yet the doctor’s care and consideration made her want to draw nearer to him.

The man, ever perceptive, didn’t miss her deliberate movement. A pleased smile played at the corners of his lips; his forearm dipped slightly, hand coming to rest thoughtfully against her shoulder blade—a gesture attentive yet never abrupt—as he led her into the crowd.

“Little An Tong, I thought you wouldn’t make it tonight,” a familiar voice called out. Yi Ke, an old acquaintance, was the first to greet her.

An Tong offered a faint smile. “Senior Yi.”

Yi Ke rubbed the back of his hand, then glanced at Rong Shen with a grin, teasing, “Yi Ting’s been waiting for you all evening. If you don’t go over soon, he’ll start ranting again.”

Following the direction of Yi Ke’s nod, An Tong glanced over, just as he continued, “Seems like he has something to discuss with you. Go on, I’ll look after her for you.”

Rong Shen pressed his lips into a thin line and turned to her, asking, “If you’re hungry, go have some desserts. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, watching him leave. Then Yi Ke’s voice sounded again by her ear, “You look much better these days. Looks like Ninth Brother’s been taking good care of you.”

“Senior Yi, have you always known each other?” An Tong was a little surprised. She knew the doctor came from a good family, but hadn’t realized he and Yi Ke were so familiar. Then again, considering they’d run into socialite Wen Wan at a recent concert, it wasn’t too strange—Hong Kong’s circle of wealthy families was small, and everyone knew everyone else.

Yi Ke led her to a seat in the lounge area, picking up some fruit from the table and handing it to her. “We’ve known each other since childhood. You didn’t know?”

She shook her head and said nothing. Her understanding of the doctor was still superficial—beyond his family and profession, she knew little else. For two people who’d agreed not to pry into each other’s lives, perhaps that was for the best.

Yet now that she wanted more, it was hard not to feel a surge of curiosity—a desire to know him better.

At that moment, Yi Ke wiped his hands with a napkin, leaned in conspiratorially, and declared himself her secret ally. “If you ever want to know anything, just ask me. My memory may not be as sharp as yours, but it’s not bad. Truth be told, I could tell you stories from the days when Ninth Brother was still running around in split pants.”

An Tong pressed her lips together, meeting his gaze. The moment their eyes met, she lowered her head and laughed. Though years had passed and their feelings were a little rusty, Yi Ke’s earnest manner overlapped perfectly with memories of the past.

Memory is the thread that weaves relationships anew. After laughing, a new light sparkled in An Tong’s eyes. “Thank you in advance, Senior Yi.”

“If you’d drop the formalities, I’d be even more willing to share,” Yi Ke raised an eyebrow, his handsome features warmed by obvious fondness. This affection was free of romance—just a natural partiality.

Relaxed in mind and body, An Tong took a piece of fruit and, for once, teased him. “I thought it was called manners.”

“That’s called being distant,” Yi Ke leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and rocked them idly. “Back when you used to outplay me at the piano, you weren’t half so polite. Remember? Or shall I remind you?”

Genuine laughter blossomed on An Tong’s face again. “It wasn’t outplaying—it was just friendly competition.”

“You made my hands cramp, and you call that friendly?” Yi Ke retorted.

An Tong, munching on fruit, said nothing, but anyone could see how much she enjoyed talking to Yi Ke. For instance, Rong Shen, who was across the banquet hall discussing business with Su Yi Ting, couldn’t help but notice.

“Rong Technologies in Hong Kong is a mess lately. Lots of senior engineers have been poached. If this keeps up, their market share is bound to get carved up,” Su Yi Ting was complaining, pausing for a drag of his cigarette, only to realize the man beside him hadn’t responded.

At that moment, Rong Shen was gazing toward the lounge area, his dark eyes narrowing, lips pressed in a thin line. The light in the lounge was warm, the spotlight overhead casting a mellow glow that seemed to encircle An Tong and Yi Ke, enveloping them in a halo.

It was hard to imagine that usually quiet, reserved An Tong could be so lively—her face lit with a smile as radiant as spring flowers.

Rong Shen watched for a long time, his gaze growing darker, the lines of his face taut and severe. He’d seen many kinds of smiles from An Tong, but never this one.

They seemed to be talking and eating with great enjoyment.

The plate of fruit in An Tong’s hands was already half gone—she chatted and laughed, the atmosphere between them so harmonious it almost stung to see.

“You know,” Su Yi Ting nudged him meaningfully, “Yi Ke seems to have a special fondness for your An Tong. In the past two years, I’ve rarely seen him so approachable.”

After all, he was the latest piano prodigy—famous, successful, and still so young. His mindset was naturally different now. Even among their circle of friends, Yi Ke’s temper sometimes got the better of him, pride seeping through. But An Tong seemed to be an exception.

Su Yi Ting watched Rong Shen’s expression, then fanned the flames. “I heard Yi Ke say he and An Tong learned from the same master. No wonder they’re so close, childhood friends and all.”

Whatever Su Yi Ting’s intention, his words set off a storm in Rong Shen’s eyes. He withdrew his gaze, took a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it, eyes downcast. “And what makes you think their relationship is special?”

Su Yi Ting gave him a look that said, “Don’t pretend you can’t see it,” and whistled. “Come on, Old Nine, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Is that so?” Rong Shen replied, his tone unreadable.

Su Yi Ting, ever eager to stir the pot, added, “Who knows? But when you’re fellow disciples, there’s always plenty to talk about. Anyone can see how well they get along.”

Rong Shen took a drag, narrowing his eyes, turning to the dark night beyond the window, an unfamiliar restlessness rising in his chest.

He couldn’t deny that Su Yi Ting’s words rang true. Fellow disciples were bound to share more common ground. And when An Tong was with him, she usually listened more than she spoke. Unless he deliberately drew her in, their conversations rarely flowed so freely.

Meanwhile, An Tong and Yi Ke were still immersed in cheerful conversation. Outsiders only saw their easy laughter, never realizing that their entire discussion still revolved around a single person: Rong Shen.

(End of chapter)