Chapter 57: A Dream Within a Bubble

Li Mingyi watched the farce unfold and shook his head. The Zhou family hadn’t mentioned who the woman was, but it was Du Bin who’d been driving her car just now. Du Bin’s cautious attentiveness was something even Zhou Lichuan himself had never received. The third young lady of the Meng family, famous for her rigidity and seriousness, had completely eschewed etiquette to escort someone straight upstairs.

How could she possibly be an ordinary character?

Shen Xiaonan smiled and changed the topic: “Now that Xiaochuan has recovered, once things settle down, you all must come visit more often. No matter how busy the company gets, you shouldn’t forget to have some fun—consider it a way to unwind.”

The group of men nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Li Mingyi’s gaze finally returned to Zhou Jiayan.

Zhou Jiayan kept glancing upstairs. Why had Meng Qiaoyuan taken Jiang Zao up there? Everyone was talking downstairs; now that she’d gone up, how could he help her make an impression among his elder brother’s friends?

Meng Qiaoyuan, honestly, was so tactless.

Du Bin stood behind the sofa, remembering Li Mingyi’s stare. He lowered his head, lost in thought.

…

Jiang Zao and Zhou Jiayan sat down in the studio.

Meng Qiaoyuan had originally planned to send Jiang Zao back to her room to rest, but as they reached the door, Jiang Zao pulled her into the studio instead.

Lounging on the sofa, Jiang Zao’s mind was filled with the image of Zhou Lichuan just moments ago—noble, radiant. Among a crowd of wealthy young men, he was like a crane among chickens, imposing, omnipotent.

She had never seen this side of Zhou Lichuan before.

It turned out that the Zhou Lichuan she knew was only the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps she had never truly known him at all.

Meng Qiaoyuan glanced around the studio, pointing to an easel covered with a dust cloth. “May I take a look at this?”

Jiang Zao sat up. “Of course. There’s a lot of dust, though—be careful not to inhale it.”

Meng Qiaoyuan carefully lifted the cloth.

The painting was not large; on a quarter-sized canvas, luscious roses and grapes shimmered with life.

“Wow, it’s so vibrant. Thorny roses and delicate grapes—danger at its peak, passion at its most entwined. But… why isn’t it finished? These grapes seem incomplete, and the rose leaves lack detail.”

A young lady like Meng Qiaoyuan was bound to have received professional artistic training; Jiang Zao wasn’t surprised by her understanding of the painting.

She explained, “No matter how high-end, paint is still made from chemicals. I was worried it might harm the baby. After I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t touch it again.”

Meng Qiaoyuan glanced at her in surprise. “So you wanted this child from the start.”

Jiang Zao understood what she meant—that any initial hesitation must have come from not wanting the child.

“I never considered not having him. The moment I learned a new life was growing inside me, I started planning for everything. My hesitation wasn’t because I didn’t want him, but because I was thinking about how to protect him.”

“A parent who loves their child plans for the long term—that’s only right. So, are you not going to finish this painting?”

Jiang Zao shook her head. “I’ll leave it for now. I had a bit of spotting last night, so I need to rest and take care of myself at home for the next few days.”

Meng Qiaoyuan was startled. “You had spotting?! When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jiang Zao reassured her, “Coincidentally, Dr. Hou was on duty last night. She examined me and said it was due to stress and fatigue—a threatened miscarriage. She told me to rest and not to overthink things.”

Meng Qiaoyuan sighed and sat beside her. “Zao, why don’t you come stay with me for a few days?”

Jiang Zao shook her head. “I still have things to do.”

Just as Meng Qiaoyuan was about to insist, there was a knock at the door. A housemaid came to call them down for dinner.

Meng Qiaoyuan opened the door and said they’d eat upstairs, as Miss Jiang wasn’t feeling well.

The maid withdrew, returning soon with their dinner on a tray.

As she was about to leave, Jiang Zao called out, “Could you ask Sister Hui to prepare a room for me on the second floor?”

The maid, an older woman, was momentarily confused. “Miss, are you and the young master going to sleep in separate rooms?”

That single question made Jiang Zao’s expression change slightly.

Meng Qiaoyuan hastily intervened. “Just get it ready, and don’t ask so many questions.”

Once the door closed, Jiang Zao finally burst into tears for the first time in days.

A muffled sobbing filled the room.

Meng Qiaoyuan handed her tissues and hugged her. “Let it out, it’s alright to cry…”

“Qiaoyuan… I… I don’t even know what to say anymore… There’s such a distance between Zhou Lichuan and me. I was only a distraction when he was blind. What am I to him, really?”

Meng Qiaoyuan gently stroked her back. “Zao, have you noticed something off about yourself?”

Jiang Zao sniffled. “I’ve felt off all along. I don’t know why… Seeing Zhou Lichuan like that, not recognizing me…”

“Jiang Zao, you have prenatal depression. Did you know that?”

Jiang Zao was stunned, tears stopping. “Me? Depression?”

Meng Qiaoyuan nodded. “Insomnia, poor appetite, slow thinking. Pregnancy hormones are terrifying—you’re being affected by them.”

Seeing Jiang Zao’s red-rimmed eyes, Meng Qiaoyuan’s heart ached. “My senior warned me to watch your mood. I read a lot and asked other doctors. It’s almost a sure diagnosis.”

Jiang Zao could hardly believe it. “How could this happen…”

Meng Qiaoyuan patted her head. “So stop tormenting yourself over Zhou Lichuan, alright? The Jiang Zao I know is as bright and lively as the sun—she believes in her love, and she believes in herself. Go ahead and do whatever you want. Don’t worry about the consequences; I’ll have your back.”

Hearing this, Jiang Zao’s lips quivered, and she couldn’t help but cry again.

Meng Qiaoyuan stayed at the Zhou house until midnight, only leaving once she saw Jiang Zao settled into a bedroom on the second floor.

She ran into Shen Mushi in the hallway; neither said a word.

On the way home, Meng Qiaoyuan couldn’t stop thinking about Shen Mushi standing outside Jiang Zao’s door, deep in thought, as if making an important decision.

Whatever he decided, as long as it didn’t affect Jiang Zao’s mood, she didn’t care.

But if Shen Mushi dared to take advantage of the situation now, she wouldn’t show any mercy.

…

Jiang Zao didn’t sleep deeply. After two hours of restless slumber, she couldn’t lie still any longer and crept upstairs.

She sat in the studio, picked up her brush, squeezed out some paint, and began to sketch, stroke by stroke.

This painting… was for Zhou Lichuan.

Thorny roses and grapes—knowing full well the dangers, yet fatally entangled.

A gulf between clouds and mud, yet stubbornly together.

She painted her very flesh and blood onto the canvas, vivid, enchanting, and strange.

The night grew deeper.

Jiang Zao worked quickly, filling in the missing details.

Finally, she mixed a little white paint and painted several translucent bubbles onto the canvas.

“All conditioned phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, like dew or a flash of lightning. Thus should you contemplate them.”