Chapter Ninety-One: Indulgence
That night, snow was still falling outside. After brushing her teeth, Xin Gan entered the bedroom, about to turn off the light, when Cheng Jiu said, “Don’t turn off the light.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Cheng Jiu didn’t explain, only repeating, “Leave it on.”
Xin Gan didn’t press him. She closed the door, took off her coat, and lay down beside him.
Cheng Jiu stared at the ceiling, unmoving.
Xin Gan turned her head, gazing at his jaw. She reached out and patted his arm gently, whispering, “Are you feeling unwell?”
He shook his head, a self-mocking smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not used to sleeping with the lights off. Let’s just leave them on.”
She remembered the times she had gotten up in the middle of the night for water and seen light seeping from beneath his door. She’d thought he had insomnia, but now realized it must be a shadow left by something.
It probably had to do with that past operation.
He’d been missing for months, and when he returned, everything had changed. As for what he’d really experienced during that mission, she knew nothing.
She had never asked.
She never inquired, and Cheng Jiu would never bring it up himself.
She couldn’t sleep either, tossing and turning, her mind filled with worry about what dangers he’d faced during that mission, and how he’d almost lost himself.
Cheng Jiu was also sleepless.
Even when he couldn’t sleep, he could keep his eyes closed and lie utterly still. Xin Gan thought he was asleep, so she let her gaze roam over the lines of his face, inching closer to gently hug his arm.
After she finally fell asleep, Cheng Jiu stroked her hair, his gaze deep and restrained.
…
During that operation, Cheng Jiu hadn’t foreseen that there would be a traitor among them who sold their plans to Ji Bai.
Those months were like hell for him—endless darkness, utterly hopeless.
After Jiang Tang injected him with that stuff, others would come and inject him again at intervals. He had no power to resist, bound like meat on a butcher’s block, life and death at the mercy of others.
He hadn’t chosen to become addicted; Jiang Tang had done it to break him, to make him one of them.
Only Commander Meng and those higher up knew the full story; no one else did.
Xin Gan only knew he’d been forced into addiction during that mission. She never asked for details. She’d come to Beiyu without hesitation, to be by his side. Though she was terrified, she never let it show, nor did she ask for more.
For Cheng Jiu, it wasn’t something worth talking about, so he never mentioned it.
Fortunately, Xin Gan never asked.
…
The next morning, Commander Meng came to see him. They stood at the door talking.
Xin Gan was in the kitchen boiling water, not paying attention to their conversation.
Commander Meng handed him a cigarette. “In a few days, the higher-ups will send people down to investigate. We’ll cooperate with everything. Don’t let it weigh on you—whatever procedures there are, we have to go through them.”
Cheng Jiu smoked in silence, his face grim.
“Is there anything you two still need? Tell me and I’ll take care of it.”
“No need. We have everything.”
Commander Meng bit his cigarette, narrowed his eyes, and clapped Cheng Jiu hard on the shoulder. “If you have everything, why do you look so down? Buck up!”
Commander Meng was always full of energy, and even Cheng Jiu, having just recovered from illness, couldn’t withstand his enthusiasm.
Cheng Jiu remained speechless.
“What are you looking at? Haven’t you seen this before? Get yourself together. If you’re sick, get treated. If not, lift your spirits.”
Cheng Jiu chuckled, exhaling smoke, and the tension eased a little.
“All right, don’t just stand there. Go inside—it’s cold out here. I’m off.”
…
After Commander Meng left, Cheng Jiu closed the door, changed his shoes, finished his cigarette, and walked into the kitchen.
Xin Gan was wiping the table, head bowed, her hair falling to shield her cheeks.
Leaning against the wall, Cheng Jiu mused aloud, “Commander Meng has a son, just started university this year. Like father, like son—following in his footsteps. If I ever have a child, I won’t let him do what I do.”
Xin Gan kept wiping, asking, “What about a girl?”
“A girl? Like you—let her paint, dance, learn whatever she likes. Of course, she should learn some self-defense, too, in case she runs into any scoundrels.”
She answered softly.
Cheng Jiu glanced at her; her head was still down, her shoulders trembling slightly. He sensed something was wrong, his throat drying up, silent for a long moment.
He wasn’t the only one weighed down these days—so was she.
He explained nothing, leaving her anxious and fearful, with nowhere to hide. Just now, she’d overheard some of Commander Meng’s words at the door. She wiped her tears, choking out, “I’m going to the bathroom—don’t follow me.”
Crying in front of him felt far too pitiful.
She was even more afraid her emotions would become his burden.
His pressure was no less than hers.
When Xin Gan returned, her eyes were red as a rabbit’s. Cheng Jiu smiled, “You cried?”
Xin Gan looked away, avoiding his gaze.
Cheng Jiu acted as if nothing was wrong, a faint smile still on his lips. He stepped forward to embrace her, kissing her hair, her forehead, and then her lips.
The more he kissed her, the more uneasy she felt, clinging tightly to his arm, tilting her head up to gaze into his eyes—they were so close.
Through his actions, he seemed to tell her that he was right here, real and present, not a dream.
Xin Gan couldn’t help but cry again, her heart pounding wildly. She looked at him and said, “Cheng Jiu, I’m scared—so scared. Will you be all right?”
He took a gentle breath, lowered his head, and kissed her forehead once more.
“This is the last time. Once I finish what’s at hand, we’ll go back to Yongcheng.”
“But… can you really bear to leave? Xiao Shi and the rest said you love it here, that you’ve been here since graduation…”
“I was always going to transfer out eventually.” He meant that he couldn’t stay in Yongcheng forever. Even before all this happened, he’d planned to apply for a transfer back to Yongcheng with age. Now, this incident was just the catalyst.
Life in Beiyu had always been about missions, actions, training, endurance, combat, and planning—day and night, living in the wild, never certain of tomorrow. He thought life would always be monotonous and dull. Who would have thought fate would play such a trick? Fortunately, Xin Gan had entered his world, becoming his faith.
Xin Gan, head lowered, looked small and aggrieved. Having cried, she looked fragile and worried for him.
Cheng Jiu stroked her cheek, his thumb tracing down to her earlobe, soft and pink. He pinched it gently, reluctant to let go.
“I still made you worry.”
Xin Gan sniffled, determined not to cry anymore. She tried to sound calm, “It’s nothing. As long as you’re all right, I’ll wait for you. Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you.”
Cheng Jiu felt a pang of guilt, quickly embracing her and patting her shoulder. Words of comfort felt unnecessary—he couldn’t say anything, his throat seemed choked.
…
In the following days, Cheng Jiu left early and returned late, answering inquiries. Xin Gan, unable to accompany him, waited for him at home.
On New Year’s Eve, he still couldn’t spend the night with her, not returning until after two in the morning.
His clothes were dusted with snow, which melted into water as soon as he shook them off.
He returned quietly, not wanting to wake Xin Gan.
But Xin Gan had fallen asleep on the sofa, wrapped in a thin blanket. Luckily, the house was heated, or she surely would have caught a cold.
Cheng Jiu smiled helplessly, set down his keys and coat, and lifted her into his arms. She frowned slightly; he whispered, “Let’s go sleep in the bedroom.”
Half-awake, Xin Gan felt chilly, instinctively burrowing into his chest for warmth. She clung to his sweater, her voice hoarse, “Did you eat?”
“I did, don’t worry.” It was a routine inquiry—they weren’t exactly restricting his freedom, denying him food.
It wasn’t that twisted.
He wasn’t a criminal.
In the bedroom, Cheng Jiu laid her on the bed, turned on the heater, took off his sweater, and got under the covers with her.
Xin Gan squinted at him, touching his chin, as if making sure he was really there and she wasn’t dreaming.
Cheng Jiu, distracted by her touch, held himself back. His voice was low, “It’s late—go to sleep. I’ll stay with you.”
Drowsy, Xin Gan asked, “Do you have to go again tomorrow?”
“Yes, I do.” He wouldn’t be able to leave any time soon.
“It’s such a hassle. You’re not a bad person—why are they doing this to you…”
“It’s just the procedure—something we have to go through. It’s all right. I’ll handle it. Don’t worry. Next time, if you’re tired, sleep in the bedroom, not the living room. If you catch a cold, you’ll suffer for it.”
Xin Gan muttered a complaint, frowning, unhappy at his sternness.
She didn’t even realize she was acting spoiled.
“Don’t be so fierce—I’m scared…”
Cheng Jiu’s heart melted, all his dark emotions dispelled by her warmth. He finally couldn’t restrain himself and kissed her.
All day, he’d been badgered by endless questions—the same ones, over and over. He was fed up with these people, always perched above, clueless about the front line, only knowing how to interrogate as if he were a criminal.
Fortunately, he’d done nothing wrong—his conscience was clear. Still, being shut in that little dark room made him irritable.
Xin Gan was left breathless by his kisses. Opening her eyes, she saw him, eyes closed, utterly focused—the shape of his brows and eyes so captivating. She couldn’t help but be swept away, unable to resist, clutching him tightly.
When Cheng Jiu lost control, he really couldn’t stop.
Though he was a lot thinner, his body was still strong—more than enough to handle her.
Xin Gan was no match, left to his mercy over and over.
They were married; there was no need to hide their feelings.
Cheng Jiu never concealed his possessiveness toward her.
…
The next morning, a call came from the Xin family.
Directly to Cheng Jiu’s phone.
Xin Gan was still asleep, lying gracefully as a sleeping beauty.
Cheng Jiu stroked her face, hurriedly pulled up his trousers, and went out to take the call.
It was her father. His tone was normal, not surprised to hear Cheng Jiu answer. He asked, “Where’s Xin Gan? Still in bed?”
“She waited up for me last night, so she’s still resting.”
“Why so late?”
“She was worried about me.”
Xin’s father was silent for a moment, then said, “Are you two coming back this year?”
“I’m sorry, Father. Because of my situation, we can’t leave for now.”
“That’s all right. She’s sensitive to cold—take care of her for us. Remind her to keep warm, not to go out in this weather, and rest more at home.” He didn’t have much else to say. He only knew there had been an incident during Cheng Jiu’s mission and they couldn’t leave Beiyu yet, but it wasn’t anything serious.
Cheng Jiu promised.
After hanging up, Mrs. Xin, standing nearby, asked anxiously, “Well? Is everything all right?”
“It was Cheng Jiu who answered. From his voice, it sounds like nothing’s wrong—maybe a small issue.”
Mrs. Xin paced with worry. “But I still feel uneasy—the Cheng family hasn’t said exactly what happened to Cheng Jiu, and Xin Xin won’t say anything either. How can we not worry?”
“Most of Cheng Jiu’s matters are confidential. What can Xin Gan know? Even if she went over there, seeing him wouldn’t mean she’d know the details. Don’t fret. Since Cheng Jiu says it’s all right, let’s not worry ourselves over nothing.”
Mrs. Xin sighed. “Why does this year feel so unsettled?”
“Then go burn incense and pray. When Xin Gan comes home, take her along.”
“That’s a good idea.”
…
The Cheng family’s New Year was the same as always. Everyone had thought it would be livelier this year, with Cheng Jiu and Xin Gan’s wedding planned for the end of the year. But now, with Cheng Jiu unable to return and Xin Gan not in Yongcheng, the festive atmosphere was much diminished.
Fortunately, the Xin family visited, making things a bit more cheerful.
He Chuan came to pay his New Year’s respects, greeted by Mrs. Cheng.
They were all familiar—no need for formalities.
As she poured tea, Mrs. Cheng asked, “I heard from Mrs. He that she wants to set you up on a blind date. She even asked me if I knew any suitable girls to introduce. Since she asked, I can’t refuse. Come, tell me—what kind of girl do you like?”
Cheng Hui was sitting on a single-seater sofa, playing games on her phone. Hearing her mother ask He Chuan, she didn’t look up, not sure if she even heard.
He Chuan glanced at her before replying, but at that moment, Cheng Hui’s phone rang.
Mrs. Cheng glared at her. “Always so busy—your phone never stops ringing.”
“It’s just a classmate asking me out to eat,” Cheng Hui replied.
“Which friend this time?”
“Just a college classmate.” She took her phone and went out to the little garden to take the call.
Mrs. Cheng turned back to He Chuan, “Never mind her. Let’s talk about you. What kind of girl do you like? I can introduce you…”
With Cheng Jiu married, Mrs. Cheng could finally set aside one worry. Though she didn’t care for most of the He family, she liked He Chuan—he was a good kid and got along well with Cheng Jiu. Mrs. Cheng basically treated him as family.
Cheng Hui answered the call in the garden. It was Tang Que, his voice awkward, stammering for a while before saying, “Cheng Hui, it’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has,” she replied.
It had been a whole semester.
After he’d rejected her, a semester had passed.
“There’s a high school class reunion tomorrow—will you come?” Tang Que asked.
They’d been in the same class in their final year, so she’d be invited to any class gatherings. Tang Que was the class monitor, so it was natural for him to invite her.
“I probably won’t go. I think I have something on tomorrow.”
“You’re not coming because of me, right?”
“No, I really do have something.”
Tang Que chuckled. “Cheng Hui, there’s no need for this. There’ll be lots of other classmates too. If you don’t want to see me, I won’t go.”
She used to like him a lot. Now, there was only a faint sense of regret—she hadn’t completely let go, just felt unhappy, especially seeing him with her friends, while she was nothing.
But she couldn’t let Tang Que skip because of her—her classmates would give her trouble.
She forced herself to say, “It’s not that I don’t want to see you…”
“Then come. It’s nothing—just a meal, some conversation. We’ve known each other for years, and we worked so hard together in our last year.”
Cheng Hui was silent.
…
After hanging up, Cheng Hui rapped her knuckles against her head, annoyed at her inability to refuse Tang Que.
It had only been one semester, but she still couldn’t let go.
It was a thorn in her heart—easy to ignore most days, but once touched, the pain was sharp and unforgettable.
She turned around and was startled to see He Chuan standing at the doorway.
“How long have you been there?” she asked. She had no idea how long he’d been standing there.
He Chuan’s lips curled in a half-smile, “Why not admit you’re feeling guilty for not noticing me?”
Her scalp tingled at his smile. “I’m not guilty of anything—don’t talk nonsense.”
“An old flame calls you, and you’re not guilty?”
Cheng Hui glanced nervously around, afraid someone might overhear. She was nervous, but not because she felt guilty—more because her relationship with He Chuan was ambiguous.
He’d ambushed her a few times, taken her to his place several times—nothing had happened, but she knew their relationship was murky, full of unspoken tension.
“Stop talking nonsense—let me through, I want to go inside.”
He Chuan blocked her way. “Don’t worry, Aunt Cheng is on the phone in the study—she won’t be down soon. While we have this time, tell me: what did your old flame say?”
That wasn’t a question—it was a statement.
Cheng Hui’s expression turned stubborn. “Don’t interrogate me like a criminal. I haven’t even told my brother you keep bothering me. You’re his friend, yet you still have ideas about his sister, and you have the nerve to question me like this. He Chuan, you’re going too far.”
He Chuan laughed coldly, without any attempt to hide it, looking down at her, “Cheng Hui, you’re getting bolder. Am I too indulgent?”
She grew even more stubborn. “Move. I don’t want to talk to you. If you won’t, I’ll go myself.”
He Chuan wouldn’t let her leave. “Come on, talk. If you won’t, then you’re not going anywhere.”
“This is my house.”
“So what? You want me to find out myself, or do you want to tell me? Hmm? Good Huihui, I’m giving you a choice.”
Cheng Hui felt a tightness in her chest, her frustration growing. She stormed off toward the edge of the garden.
He Chuan followed.
In the study, Mrs. Cheng was on the phone, standing by the window. She happened to see He Chuan and Cheng Hui walking, one behind the other, in the garden.