Chapter 69
On the east side of the sanatorium stood a separate courtyard, its white walls and blue tiles hidden behind several stands of slender bamboo.
The moment they pushed the door open, they were met with a faint fragrance of sandalwood mixed with the clean scent of herbs. It came from the line of incense burning behind the counter, meant to calm the mind.
The main room was not large. Inside sat a round table, and on it rested a small moss bonsai no bigger than a hand; lush and green, it was almost unbearably adorable.
The four of them took their seats. Outside the window was a small stretch of dry landscape garden; white stones had been raked into ripple patterns, glowing softly in the slanted winter afternoon sun.
This place specialized in nourishing Cantonese cuisine, and every dish was exquisitely prepared.
The white-cut chicken was made with free-range birds raised in the mountains and forests. Its skin was a lustrous golden yellow, with a layer of crystal-clear gelatin beneath it, served with two dipping sauces.
One was chopped scallion and ginger drizzled with hot oil; the other was sand ginger soy sauce.
The stir-fried kai lan used only the tenderest shoots, piled bright and green on a white porcelain plate.
The mushroom soup came in a coarse pottery cup, the broth clear and bright with a few goji berries floating on top.
Best of all was the steamed egg custard: soft yellow like fat, with a drop of light soy sauce and two slivers of scallion on the surface. A gentle tap of the spoon made it tremble.
Chi Chunxin scooped up a big spoonful of the custard and put it in her mouth, squinting in satisfaction. “As expected, light food is the most nourishing.”
As she spoke, she muttered, “I spent the last few days shooting footage in western Yunnan and ate mushroom hotpot three days in a row. It was delicious, sure, but my throat still feels dry.”
Jin Zijin gave a fake smile. “If it tastes so good, then eat more. Eat until you’re fat and white.”
Chi Chunxin rolled her eyes. “Get lost.”
Just like that, the two of them talked while they ate.
As they chatted, Chi Chunxin noticed that Song Yao beside her was only taking tiny sips of soup, barely touching the dishes with her chopsticks.
So she warmly picked up a piece of chicken leg meat and put it in Song Yao’s bowl. “Why are you eating like a little cat? Try this. The skin’s crispy and the meat’s tender; it’s not greasy.”
The piece of chicken landed neatly in Song Yao’s bowl, glistening with oil.
Song Yao’s cheeks went red in an instant. Her fingers tightened around her chopsticks, and her voice was so soft it sounded like a mosquito’s buzz. “Thank you, Sister Chunxin…”
“I… I don’t eat much. Really, this is enough.”
“Even if you eat little, you still need balanced nutrition,” Chi Chunxin insisted, then went on to pick up some kai lan. “This is good too. Eat more.”
Under her enthusiasm, the little bowl in front of Song Yao was piled up to the brim.
The girl didn’t know how to refuse, so she could only sit there awkwardly, her face red.
In the end, it was Jin Zijin who couldn’t stand it anymore and spoke up. “Chi Chunxin.”
She tapped the rim of her own bowl with her chopsticks, her tone carrying familiar teasing as she drawled, “Can you calm down? She’s a dancer. She has to weigh herself and measure her body every day; even her calorie intake has to be calculated carefully.”
“Unlike you, that wild thing from the mountains, all rough skin and thick hide. A whole day of mountain climbing burns enough calories for you to eat hotpot three times.”
Chi Chunxin slammed her chopsticks down and widened her eyes. “What do you mean, what do you mean? What’s wrong with me!”
She sat up straight and made a vague sweeping gesture in front of herself, declaring with complete confidence, “I’ve got boobs and I’ve got a butt; my figure is insanely graceful~”
“Unlike you~” She snorted and deliberately dragged out the words, looking Jin Zijin up and down. “Skinny as a bamboo pole. One gust of wind and you’ll topple over.”
Jin Zijin let out a soft tsk, raised an eyebrow, and looked at her without saying anything. But that look clearly said, Too lazy to deal with you.
Chi Chunxin immediately turned to find backup, tugging at Wen Yan’s sleeve and dragging out her voice in a soft, aggrieved whine. “Wen Yan, control her. Your wife’s talking about me behind my back again.”
Wen Yan was drinking mushroom soup in small sips. When Chi Chunxin tugged her, the spoon lightly tapped the edge of the cup.
She looked up at the pouting Chi Chunxin, then at the completely unconcerned Jin Zijin, and couldn’t help but curve her lips.
Putting down the spoon, she picked up the serving chopsticks and took the biggest piece of chicken breast, placing it steadily into Chi Chunxin’s bowl.
“All right,” Wen Yan said softly, her voice warm like a spring stream. “This white-cut chicken really is delicious. The heat’s perfect; the skin is crispy, the meat is tender, and it isn’t dry at all.”
“Eat more. Build up your strength. Weren’t you still going to discuss the filming details later?”
Her tone was calm, her brows relaxed; she had a quiet way of putting people at ease.
Chi Chunxin looked at the meat in her bowl, then at Wen Yan’s smiling eyes, and shot Jin Zijin a triumphant little huff.
Jin Zijin couldn’t help rolling her eyes at her, as if to say, Look at you, so smug.
Wen Yan then turned to Jin Zijin.
The woman had lowered her gaze and was leisurely picking up a stalk of kai lan. Seen in the window light, the line of her jaw looked even sharper than usual; she really did seem a little too thin.
Wen Yan’s heart softened. She also scooped up a spoonful of custard and gently placed it in Jin Zijin’s bowl.
“You should eat more too,” Wen Yan said softly, her fingertips brushing Jin Zijin’s hand without thinking. “You’re too thin.”
The words had barely fallen when someone on the other side snorted.
Chi Chunxin looked up and scanned Jin Zijin from head to toe. “See? See? Even Wen Yan says you’re thin!”
“Jin Zijin, did you hear that? You’re practically an airport runway; the public’s eyes are sharp!”
Wen Yan: “…”
Jin Zijin slowly set down her chopsticks and turned her head, her gaze locking precisely onto Chi Chunxin.
In a low voice, each word ground out between her teeth, she said, “Chi, Chun, xin.”
“You touched me? If you didn’t, then stop spouting nonsense here.”
“I have eyes,” Chi Chunxin said with righteous certainty, even pointing two fingers at her own eyes. “My eyes are a ruler! I can measure it at a glance.”
“A ruler?” Jin Zijin sneered. “Why don’t you just say you’re blind?”
Just as the already-dampened storm seemed ready to flare up again, Wen Yan hurriedly reached under the table and lightly held Jin Zijin’s wrist.
Her fingers were warm, the touch gentle but firm, and her fingertip lightly scratched the center of Jin Zijin’s palm.
“Eat, eat,” Wen Yan said, her voice still soft but carrying a mellow, unmistakable firmness. “It’s rare that everyone has time to get together. Don’t quarrel.”
“These dishes are all light and refreshing; they’re meant to be eaten slowly. Isn’t it nice to chat while we eat?”
As she spoke, she scooped another spoonful of soup for Jin Zijin and pushed it gently toward her.
Clear broth shimmered in the bowl, with a few mushroom slices drifting on top.
Held by Wen Yan’s touch, the faint itch in Jin Zijin’s palm eased the fire Chi Chunxin had stirred up for no reason at all.
She shot Chi Chunxin a glare, but in the end she picked up her spoon again. Before lowering her head to drink the soup, she gave a smug little huff.
The meal ended in just this sort of atmosphere: occasional bickering, but mostly warmth.
The dishes were light, but the ingredients’ natural flavors were excellent. After eating, their stomachs felt warm and comfortable, with no burden at all.
After dinner, Chi Chunxin stood up and stretched hard. Then, as if remembering something, she slapped her forehead and turned to pull out her phone. “Right, Wen Yan, we still haven’t added each other on WeChat.”
“Come on, scan me. I’ll add you to the filming group. It’ll be easier to discuss the later rehearsal times, locations, and so on in there.”
“Okay.” Wen Yan went along readily, unlocked her phone, and opened her QR code.
Chi Chunxin scanned it and added her in one smooth motion.
When Wen Yan lowered her eyes to confirm the request, she caught sight of Chi Chunxin’s profile picture.
In some wild place above the snow line, Chi Chunxin was wearing a blazing red dress, her black hair flying freely in the fierce wind. She smiled at the camera without a trace of gloom, with endless white mountains and an ancient blue sky behind her.
Passionate, bold, full of the raw vitality of life.
Exactly like her.
That was what Wen Yan thought as she sent over her own name, “Wen Yan.” Chi Chunxin quickly accepted and changed the remark to: “Wen Yan baby (Jin Zijin’s).”
Wen Yan looked at that remark, the tips of her ears warming. She pressed her lips together and smiled.
The two of them exchanged a few simple greetings in WeChat, then parted at the entrance of the restaurant.
Song Yao softly said, “See you next time,” while Chi Chunxin made an exaggerated face at Jin Zijin before skipping off with her arm linked through Song Yao’s.
Jin Zijin took Wen Yan’s hand and walked toward the waiting car.
Their palms met; their warmth blended.
Just as the car drove out of the sanatorium area, Wen Yan’s phone gave a soft buzz.
It was the new group chat Chi Chunxin had created, with the straightforward name: [Campus Health Exercise Filming Strike Team].
Besides the four of them, there was also someone whose avatar was a molecular structure diagram, marked with the remark “Jiang Linyue.”
Chi Chunxin sent a “round of applause for everyone” sticker, then typed: [Everyone’s here! I’m sending over the beginner version video personally demonstrated by Teacher Song. Everyone take some time these next few days to follow along and practice, and get a feel for it~ The movements aren’t difficult; it’s mainly about rhythm and breathing coordination!]
Right after that, a video link came through.
When Wen Yan opened it, she saw Song Yao in simple practice clothes, demonstrating a gentle, graceful set of health exercises in a sunlit dance studio.
The movements blended the rounded flow of tai chi with the extension of dance. Coupled with the ethereal background music, it was enough to calm the mind just to watch.
Jiang Linyue replied quickly: [Received, downloaded.]
A few seconds later, she added: [Wen Yan? You’re joining too?]
Wen Yan’s fingertips tapped lightly on the screen, the corners of her lips unconsciously curving as she typed: [Hello, Senior. Yes, I’m joining too. Sorry to trouble everyone; I’ll practice properly.]
After sending the message, she habitually set her phone to silent and put it into her coat pocket.
Jin Zijin had been looking at her the whole time; now she finally spoke, her tone carefully measured with caution: “If the filming schedule gets too full, or if you don’t like it and think it’s too much trouble, don’t force yourself. Tell me directly; I’ll talk to Chi Chunxin. She’ll understand.”
Wen Yan looked up and met her serious gaze. She shook her head, her smile light but sincere. “I’m not forcing myself. On the contrary, I actually want to try it. It feels like… it’ll be fun.”
Jin Zijin studied her carefully, making sure there wasn’t even a trace of reluctance or perfunctory agreement in her eyes, only openness and a bit of eager curiosity. Only then did she truly relax.
She reached out and tucked a strand of hair blown loose by the wind behind Wen Yan’s ear, her fingertips lingering against the delicate curve of her ear.
“That’s good,” Jin Zijin said in a lower voice, with a closeness only the two of them would understand. “I was just afraid you’d wrong yourself for my sake, or because you didn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.”
“How could that be?” Wen Yan took the hand she hadn’t yet withdrawn and interlaced their fingers lightly. “I really do think it’ll be nice to do something with Chunxin and the others.”
“She has such an open personality, so warm and generous. She’s very comfortable to be around.”
Jin Zijin nodded and held her hand back, the pad of her thumb unconsciously rubbing over Wen Yan’s hand. “That’s true.”
“She’s straightforward and kind-hearted; it’s just that her mouth… sometimes I really want to seal it shut.”
Wen Yan laughed at the description, her brows and eyes curving into a soft crescent.
The car drove back to Wen Yan’s place in the city center. As soon as they pushed open the door, a little black sesame ball shot out from the entryway like lightning, leaping with a meow to Jin Zijin’s feet.
Jin Zijin bent down and caught the furry little cannonball with perfect precision, lifting it up in front of her face and affectionately rubbing her nose against Little Honey’s damp nose.
“Does Little Honey miss Mommy?” she asked, her voice so soft and tender it sounded almost hooked, making Wen Yan’s heart tremble.
Little Honey answered with a drawn-out mew, rubbing its head hard against her palm, its tail held straight up like a flagpole.
The two of them changed shoes and went inside. In the living room, only a few warm yellow wall lamps were on, their light gently spilling into the corners.
Jin Zijin sank into the sofa with the cat in her arms, one hand scratching under its chin while the other kneaded its pink little paw pads. The kitten squinted with pleasure, a loud purr rumbling in its throat.
Wen Yan sat down beside her and watched the big and small pair interact, then asked softly, “So free today? No meeting tonight?”
“Mm. The big things for the year are basically done,” Jin Zijin said without looking up, focused on the cat’s paws. “The launch event, the strategy review meeting, the board report… everything that needed to be held has already been held. What’s left are just routine procedures and year-end settlement; the people below can handle those.”
She suddenly paused, as if remembering something important, and stopped teasing the cat to turn and look at Wen Yan.
Warm lamplight caught in her eyes, scattering into tiny flecks of gold. Her expression was unusually serious.
“Oh, right. There’s something I want to discuss with you. Do you have plans for tomorrow night?”
Wen Yan blinked, quickly ran through her schedule in her head, and shook her head. “I only work half a day tomorrow; after that I’m free. Why?”
“Tomorrow night is Hengxing Group’s annual dinner at headquarters,” Jin Zijin said, sitting up a little straighter while still stroking Little Honey’s back absently. “The date was set before we got married. I’ve been busy and forgot to tell you in advance.”
She paused, then tried cautiously, “If it’s convenient for you… I’d like you to come with me, as my partner.”
Wen Yan froze, her fingertips curling unconsciously.
Jin Zijin caught her hesitation sharply and immediately pressed, “What is it? Are you uncomfortable, or… do you have other concerns?”
Wen Yan moved a little closer to her until their knees touched lightly.
She chose her words carefully, speaking very softly. “If I go… will my grandfather, and the people from the Wang family and the Wen family, also be there?”
“Of course.” Jin Zijin nodded, her tone calm as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “They were invited long ago.”
“Given their status as important partners, and also as your family by marriage, they’re on the list both professionally and personally. Our marriage isn’t a secret within the core circle.”
Wen Yan pressed her lips together and frowned slightly. The reluctance was faint, but it was clear in Jin Zijin’s eyes.
Jin Zijin said nothing, simply waiting for her to continue. Then she heard Wen Yan say in a small voice, “Then… if I go, won’t they have even more reason, and more opportunity, to come over and ingratiate themselves?”
“To use my connection to make conversation, build ties, and fight for more cooperation… I don’t want to benefit them.”
She lifted her eyes to Jin Zijin, her gaze clear and direct. “Not at all.”
After listening, Jin Zijin first blinked; then she burst out laughing.
She reached out and used her warm fingers to pinch Wen Yan’s cheek, rubbing it once, then again, as if she were playing with a lump of dough.
“My Dr. Wen…” she laughed until the corners of her eyes curved. “So that’s what you were thinking about? Why is your little calculating expression so cute?”
Wen Yan’s cheeks turned red from the rubbing, and she tilted her head a little in embarrassment.
But she didn’t avoid Jin Zijin’s hand; she only smiled shyly, her ears also flushing red.
“Don’t worry about that,” Jin Zijin said, sobering as her expression turned steady and certain. “The cooperation framework that needed to be set was already nailed down before the wedding.”
“In business dealings, I know better than anyone where the line is. They want to ride on your light? Not a chance.”
“I won’t give them even a single opportunity beyond the established scope; not one bit.”
Wen Yan looked at the control in her eyes, and the little knot in her heart quietly untied.
She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “As long as you don’t think I’m being selfish for thinking this way.”
“Selfish?” Jin Zijin seemed to hear something interesting. Her fingers slid into Wen Yan’s hair, gently combing through it. “I understand why you’d think that. After how they treated you, being on guard against them is perfectly natural.”
“To be honest…” She paused, a glint of sharp coldness flashing through her eyes. “If you didn’t look like you wanted to stay out of all that trouble, I’d have already moved to dismantle and buy up the Wen and Wang family businesses, just so they’d stop popping up now and then to irritate you.”
As she spoke, she actually fell into serious thought, her fingers unconsciously winding around Wen Yan’s hair ends. “How about… I still think of a way to take effective control of those two companies.”
“Transfer the shares into your name and hire a reliable professional management team to run them. Your grandfather’s and your mother’s assets are things you’re entitled to by inheritance anyway.”
“That would count as your property too. Returning it to its rightful owner is only proper. What do you think?”
Wen Yan had not expected her to suddenly turn to that proposal, and she went still.
Tilting her head, she thought seriously for a moment; then her eyes gradually brightened.
“Mm…” she said slowly, a note of sudden clarity entering her voice. “That could work. I’d never really thought about it before; I always felt like those things had nothing to do with me.”
“But now that you put it that way… it does seem like I should take it back.”
She even began to plan aloud. “With that asset, my brother and I could do a lot more. His Antarctic research expedition and glacier protection project have always been short on funds…”
Jin Zijin lifted a brow in surprise. “You’re planning to share it with your brother too?”
“I’m not that stingy.” Wen Yan answered calmly, even with a touch of matter-of-factness. “I can give him five percent. The rest is mine to decide what to do with.”
Jin Zijin: “…”
After a two-second silence, she chuckled and shook her head, then tapped Wen Yan’s forehead. “Looks like your sibling relationship is even better than I thought.”
She emphasized the word “good” with deliberate teasing.
Then she pointed to herself, a spark of sly expectation in her eyes. “What about me? Dr. Wen, how much are you willing to give me?”
Wen Yan hardly thought about it before answering, “All of it. If you want it, I can give it all to you.”
Something in Jin Zijin’s heart went suddenly soft, like being tickled by the most delicate feather.
She reached out and hooked an arm around Wen Yan’s neck, drawing her closer. Their foreheads touched; their breaths mingled.
“You’re so good to me?” Jin Zijin’s voice dropped low, carrying a smile as her breath brushed Wen Yan’s lips. “Dr. Wen, aren’t you a little too hopelessly in love?”
Wen Yan blinked, then laughed too. “That’s because this part of the property doesn’t belong to me yet.”
“Of course I can be generous about something that isn’t mine. But if you’re asking about the savings under my name, my salary card, or the stones and knives I’ve collected…”
She deliberately paused, a tiny, mischievous light flashing in her eyes. “Then I’d definitely need to think about it carefully.”
Jin Zijin laughed at her.
Then curiosity surged through her, and she asked, “Then let’s make a hypothetical. Purely hypothetical.
“Say one day I go bankrupt, end up with nothing, and come to you asking for money so I can make a comeback. How much would you give me?”
Hearing that, Wen Yan really did tilt her head and think seriously.
The warm yellow light fell across her profile, her lashes lowered and casting a small, quiet shadow beneath her eyes.
“Let me think…” She counted on her fingers with meticulous care. “I don’t have many properties under my name. Including the ones given by Grandma and my parents, it’s only four in total.”
“Four?” Jin Zijin suitably showed surprise. “How come I didn’t know you had a fourth one?”
Wen Yan pressed her lips together and smiled a little shyly. “There’s a small apartment near the Peking University School of Medicine. Two bedrooms and one living room; I rent it to two PhD students. The rent isn’t much, and I keep it in a separate account.”
She continued to calculate, her tone calm and earnest, as if she were discussing a surgical plan. “If you really went bankrupt… I don’t have many material desires. As long as I have clothes to wear, food to eat, and a place to live, I won’t spend much.”
“So there really isn’t much I need to hold tightly onto.”
“Mm… I can give you the houses my parents and grandma gave me, along with the place we’re living in now.”
“The 120 million in cash the family gave me, I can give you that too.”
“My own savings are probably less than one million; I can give you all of that as well.”
She lifted her eyes to look at Jin Zijin, her gaze clean and without the slightest impurity. “Just leave me one month’s salary. That’s enough for us to eat, and enough to buy Little Honey cat food and canned food.”
“Anyway, my job is stable, and my income is enough to cover daily expenses.”
She paused, then curved her lips. “I can support you.”
The moment she said that, Little Honey, who had been dozing on Jin Zijin’s lap, seemed to understand and suddenly lifted its head, letting out a soft mew as its round eyes looked at Wen Yan.
Wen Yan reached over and gently rubbed the kitten’s fluffy chin with her fingertip, her voice so soft it could have dripped water.
“Don’t worry, I’ll support you too.”
Jin Zijin looked at her.
Looked at her brows and eyes, softened beautifully in the warm light; looked at that unguarded innocence, certainty, and tenderness in her gaze. Her heart itched.
She tightened the arm around Wen Yan’s neck, drawing her even closer, her eyes deep and dark with a tenderness that could drown a person.
Jin Zijin lowered her gaze and glanced at her hand, then suddenly let her eyes fall to the wristwatch there. “Then what about this watch? Will you sell it?”
Wen Yan looked down at the expensive Patek Philippe on her wrist. “Sure, I can sell it.”
“But after I sell it, you’ll buy it back for me anyway, won’t you?”
She asked it as if it were a certainty, her expression full of trust in Jin Zijin.
Jin Zijin looked at her and felt that at this moment, she was vivid and alive in a way that could almost be tasted.
So beautiful.
So badly wanted to swallow her whole.
Jin Zijin kept her arm around Wen Yan’s neck and tilted her head down a little farther, letting her breath fall across Wen Yan’s lips as she said in a low voice, “Dr. Wen.”
Her voice had gone a little hoarse, half teasing and half amazed as she continued, “You’re done for.”
“If you’re like this… it’s really easy to get labeled as hopelessly in love.”
Wen Yan met Jin Zijin’s eyes and corrected her word by word, “This isn’t hopelessly in love.”
“This is responsibility.”
“If I decide to love someone, I’ll do everything I can to lift them up and support them. I won’t be like my parents, calculating every gain and loss.”
Wen Yan paused, thinking it through before answering, “You only live once. Life is unpredictable; anything can happen.”
“So when you have the chance, putting everything into loving once and protecting once is far more important than obsessing over gain and loss.”
Something in Jin Zijin’s eyes trembled violently.
She couldn’t help leaning in and brushing the tip of her nose against Wen Yan’s, teasing her in a low voice, “Then… who was it last night, holding me and so earnestly saying, ‘Jin Zijin, I’ll love you with my reason intact’?”
“And now you’re talking about ‘putting everything into it’?” Her breath was warm, carrying that familiar citrus aftertaste. “Dr. Wen, you’re so changeable.”
Wen Yan was tickled by the rubbing and leaned back slightly, but laughter still spilled from her eyes. “I am indeed good at judging the situation and adapting flexibly. So…”
She lifted her chin a little, a trace of proud self-satisfaction showing. “I’m smart.”
Jin Zijin looked at how vivid and lively she was, at the starlight flashing in her eyes; her love surged like a tide, and she could no longer restrain it.
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Wen Yan’s smiling lips, lingering there in gentle, prolonged savoring.
When they parted, her lips were still hovering near Wen Yan’s mouth, and her voice was as low as a dream, filled with boundless indulgence and satisfaction. “Mm. I like your ‘changeability.’”
“I like your cleverness, your little schemes, your everything.”
Everything about you, I like.
Only then did she begin to understand what Wen Yan had said two days ago.
I really can’t control it. I’m liking you more and more.
I want to sink into the depths of your soul and never wake again, becoming only a dream of you and me.