Chapter 32 Shen Mushi’s Past

Jiang Zao gazed at the tie clip, its edges sharply cut, the platinum surface reflecting the light from various angles. An emerald was inlaid at its center, tempering the ostentatious brilliance with a touch of understated elegance.

She could almost picture Zhou Lichuan wearing that tie clip.

“This one, please. Wrap it up for me,” she said.

The staff member brightened instantly, cheerfully taking the tie clip away to be packaged.

Having finally found the perfect gift, Jiang Zao felt her tightly wound nerves begin to ease. Humming a carefree tune, she wandered among the dazzling displays at the other counters.

Her face was alight with admiration and curiosity as she looked at the sparkling jewels. Immersed in the play of colors and the artistry of the designs, she seemed as radiant and lively as a blooming flower, warm as sunlight in spring, her joy filling every corner of the space and making it hard for anyone to look away.

Shen Mushi watched her, lost in thought, memories drifting back to childhood days running and laughing in the rose garden.

Their browsing was not in vain—Jiang Zao also asked for a men’s wallet to be wrapped up. Simple and elegant in design, made of fine leather, it was adorned with just a single, exquisite pearl set in one of its few metal accents.

With her purchases complete, Shen Mushi drove Jiang Zao home.

Before getting out of the car, Jiang Zao handed him the bag containing the wallet.

“For me?” Shen Mushi asked in surprise.

Jiang Zao nodded. “Thank you for standing up for me at the art exhibition today. This is my way of thanking you.”

Shen Mushi stared at the gift bag, then reached for it. “Thank you. I’ve never received a gift from a girl before. I’ll treasure it.”

Jiang Zao looked at him incredulously. “You’ve never dated anyone? How could it be that no girl wanted to give you a gift?”

Shen Mushi shook his head. “Maybe I was too focused on my studies. I’ve always been… immune to the opposite sex.”

Jiang Zao burst out laughing. “Then you must be too aloof. I thought only someone like Zhou Lichuan, who always has that stern look on his face, would have trouble finding a girlfriend.”

Perhaps it was something she said that muddled his head, but Shen Mushi blurted out, “I’m not as good as Chuan, after all. There’s always someone thinking of him.”

Jiang Zao was taken aback, then remembered Zhou Lichuan telling her that whenever Shen Mushi wanted attention, he would unconsciously play the victim—subtle, manipulative, pretending to be pitiful, what people nowadays might call a “green tea” act.

Watching Shen Mushi examine the gift bag with his head slightly lowered, she began to understand why men often couldn’t recognize the cunning, innocent types among women.

“Ahem,” Jiang Zao cleared her throat. “Come over for dinner sometime. I’m heading up now.”

Shen Mushi stared after Jiang Zao, dumbfounded as she walked away. She just left? Without a word of comfort? That wasn’t right—definitely not. She was the second woman unmoved by his words; the last one was… Meng Qiaoyuan…

Why was he thinking about that woman again? So rigid and dull it was almost criminal, like the reincarnation of an ascetic nun. He couldn’t imagine how someone with that temperament managed to grow up at all.

Muttering to himself, Shen Mushi drove away, his white Bentley turning out of the parking lot and narrowly missing a black Audi.

On the way back to his own place, his mind wandered back to memories of his childhood. He remembered a birthday celebration for his grandfather, the house crowded with unfamiliar relatives and friends. Alone, he’d played in his grandmother’s rose garden, watching ants move their nest.

A little girl with twin ponytails had come bouncing over to join him. After a few words, they were chasing each other, roughhousing as children do. In the scuffle, the prayer beads his grandmother had brought back from a temple to keep him safe were broken.

In his panic, all he could do was cry, but it was the girl who calmly picked up the scattered beads, carefully gathering each one—dust and all—into her own little coin purse.

The spare change jingled as she poured it out, coins glinting on the ground like tiny stars. His muddy beads, along with his battered self, were tenderly tucked into the soft, clean pouch.

That was the last time he felt truly cherished. Afterward, his parents divorced and started new families; he was left with his grandparents until he got into the capital’s medical school and was taken in by his aunt…

When he got home, Shen Mushi took the faded pink and yellow coin purse from his bedside drawer and placed it beside the new wallet, gazing at them in silence.

If that little girl had grown up, she would probably be as lively and spirited as Jiang Zao. He wondered if he’d ever meet her again in this life.

…

Meng Qiaoyuan, driving her black Audi, caught sight of the Bentley as it passed and was momentarily stunned.

Who had Shen Mushi come to see? Jiang Zao or Zhou Lichuan?

After going upstairs and knocking, she discovered that Zhou Lichuan wasn’t home.

“He said this charity project is very important. The investment is significant and requires great caution,” Jiang Zao explained as she welcomed her in.

Meng Qiaoyuan nodded. “The Zhou family has always valued charitable work. Zhou Lichuan is certainly carrying on that legacy.”

Seeing it was still early, Jiang Zao invited Meng Qiaoyuan to stay for dinner.

“I came to see Zhou Lichuan, of course I’ll wait for him to return. I heard from Professor Shen that you like fish. I’ll cook tonight—I’ll make spicy boiled fish for you,” Meng Qiaoyuan offered.

Jiang Zao was astonished. “You can cook? Really! You can even make spicy boiled fish!”

Meng Qiaoyuan’s usually stern expression softened, emotion flickering across her face. “Yes, I can.”

Jiang Zao grabbed her hand. “That’s wonderful! Teach me, will you? I’ve been learning from Aunt Hui, but she’s always afraid I’ll hurt myself and won’t let me do much. If you teach me, I’ll be sure to learn properly.”

Beneath her rimless glasses, Meng Qiaoyuan’s cheeks turned faintly pink as she nodded, a little shy but agreeing nonetheless.

Jiang Zao, delighted, steered Meng Qiaoyuan out the door to buy ingredients for the dish. She’d been to the market before and knew how to pick the best produce.

They bought all the spices and vegetables for the fish, plus a freshly cleaned black carp. At the fruit stall, Jiang Zao also selected a generous bunch of grapes.

Zhou Lichuan loved grapes.

Pushing the small cart provided by the building’s management, Jiang Zao suddenly recalled how Meng Qiaoyuan had addressed Shen Xiaonan.

“You just called her ‘Professor Shen’? Is Aunt Shen really a professor?” she asked.

Meng Qiaoyuan looked at her in mild surprise. “You really didn’t know?”

Jiang Zao shook her head. “Zhou Lichuan doesn’t talk much about his parents, and I’ve never known whom to ask.”

Meng Qiaoyuan replied, “Professor Shen is a history professor at the National University. Many of her doctoral and graduate students are now leading archaeologists in the country. It’s only because Chairman Zhou’s health has declined these past two years that she retired early to care for him.”

Jiang Zao hadn’t realized Shen Xiaonan was so accomplished.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether she felt more admiration and envy or a pang of sorrow for a woman who had set aside her beloved career.

Back at home, as they laid out the ingredients and began their lesson in earnest, Zhou Lichuan returned—bringing Du Bin and Zhou Jiayan with him.