Chapter Ninety-Six: The City Walls
Ji Bai twitched his lips into a faint smile and watched her with an increasingly inscrutable expression.
“Miss Jiang, I hope our cooperation is smooth. You keep your promise, and I won’t break mine.”
Jiang Tang replied, “Nothing could be better.”
Ji Bai turned to leave, and she called out, “When do you think he’ll have another episode?”
He thought for a moment. “Soon.”
His answer was vague, so Jiang Tang did not press him.
The effect of that drug came on suddenly and mercilessly.
Cheng Jiu could not hold out; his whole body felt as if ants were crawling under his skin, every nerve gnawed awake. Under the drug’s frenzy his will had no resistance left.
Watching him gasp and shake, Jiang Tang said, “Cheng Jiu, if you ask me once, I’ll help you.”
A normal person would despise this thing and never touch it. Cheng Jiu would never voluntarily seek it; not if he had to die first. Not a chance.
She was patient, almost gentle. “Back in school our teacher said that once someone has touched this stuff, they can never truly break free. Cheng Jiu, stop resisting. It’s useless.”
She didn’t care whether he heard or not. She spoke on, not for herself or for him. She had crossed the line long ago, and after dragging him into it there was no return. She had pulled him under, and he would never be able to pull free.
“Knowing all this now, why wait until today?” Jiang Tang walked to him with a smile. “Ask me, Cheng Jiu. If you say the word, I’ll give it to you. I can’t bear seeing you writhe like this.”
“I like you, Cheng Jiu. From the day you came to North Islet, the moment I saw you, I liked you. Even if my methods are base and my character is ruined, I don’t regret it. As long as I can have you, there is nothing I wouldn’t endure.”
Even at the edge of losing consciousness, Cheng Jiu never lowered his head. He clung stubbornly to himself, refusing to submit.
Jiang Tang could not bear it. She took the syringe and injected him again.
His eyes were all anger and fury, yet powerless, and in seconds an exquisite, terrible sensation flooded him, replacing the sensation of being gnawed to the bone. Anger still burned inside him, but he had no strength left to answer it.
Jiang Tang stroked his cheek softly. Her eyes were full of devotion as she said, “I don’t want to do this to you either, but I have no choice. I truly have no choice. If getting you means going to hell, I’ll do it gladly.”
For the next while, at irregular intervals Cheng Jiu was injected with that liquid, each time by Jiang Tang’s own hand. She watched the fluid slide grain by grain into his veins, and the satisfaction in her chest was absolute.
That liquid meant they would be bound, unable to separate; henceforth, he would not be able to live without her.
...
Cheng Jiu had another nightmare.
He woke in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, his heartbeat pounding hard. He sat up, suddenly alert, eyes searching the room, and then heard movement beside him. He turned and found Xin Gan there.
The bedside lamp was on. Xin Gan rubbed her eyes and asked quietly, “Cheng Jiu, another nightmare?”
He had been having these often enough that it no longer felt singular. When he saw it was her, he finally relaxed, though his breathing was still uneven. He said, “Sorry for waking you.”
Xin Gan slowly held his fingers and moved his hand to her waist, then sat beside him, leaning against his legs. “It’s fine. Don’t be afraid. It’s over.”
Cheng Jiu breathed in her light fragrance and slowly calmed. The aftershock still clung to him; he held her tighter and felt oddly grateful for the life he had just managed to hold on to.
Xin Gan had never had a lover before. She was not sure how to cheer him, so while she gently patted his shoulder she added, “Maybe keep the light on?”
“No need. This is fine.”
Avoidance was useless, he thought. A man had to face what had happened and deal with it, and he had to endure what came next.
His hand tightened around her waist as he spoke. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
She still did not let go. “Cheng Jiu, can you tell me what happened? She knows he took the drug after an accident, but she doesn’t know the exact events.”
Even if there was confidentiality, she wanted to know. She wanted to understand what he had endured.
Cheng Jiu did not answer. Silence wrapped around the room.
“Sleep a little more. It’s still early,” he said, steering the conversation away, and pulled her back into the bed.
Xin Gan didn’t ask again. She nestled into his arms, nuzzled his shoulder, and mumbled, “Okay, let’s sleep some more.”
Cheng Jiu was awake enough to know he had no sleep left in him. He pretended to drift off so she would not worry.
By morning, Xin Gan woke and found him there, already up and lost in thought with his fingers absently threading through her hair.
She called softly, and only then he looked over, voice deep and rough: “You’re awake?”
She nodded and pointed toward the window. “Looks like it stopped snowing today.”
“Yeah, it’s over.”
“Sunny. Do you want to go out?”
“Sure. Where?”
“I don’t know. You choose.”
She stretched, rose from the bed.
“Let’s walk down to the town,” Cheng Jiu suggested.
“Okay.” She smiled. A walk and a little change of air would do them good.
There was still no snow, but the cold was sharp. She wore a fitted thermal top under a thick down jacket, and slim lined jeans that kept her warm while still showing off her shape. To Xin Gan it was ordinary, unremarkable. Yet Cheng Jiu watched her for a long while and said, “You look beautiful, but you’re dressed too lightly. Wear more.”
Xin Gan made a face. “I’m already warm enough. The clothes are lined. They keep me warm enough.”
“…”
“See?” she said, lifting the fabric and showing him the lining. “I’m not lying.”
He finally smiled. “Fine. Put on a hat and scarf too.”
“Got it.”
When she stepped out, he felt as if he were bringing a little child along. She had wrapped a red scarf and worn a knitted cap, so she looked especially young, sweet, and playful.
Everything was silent and white. The world seemed drenched in snowlike snow, yet brightened with vivid life in a way a monochrome winter never was. She stood there, doing nothing at all, and he could not tear his eyes away from her.
They had barely stepped outside the yard when they met the longwife of elder Meng and her little boy, who were out in the sun.
The child saw Cheng Jiu from afar and called out. Xin Gan glanced at him with amusement; Cheng Jiu made little boys adore people with disarming ease. If they had children someday, no matter whether boy or girl, they would probably adore him, too.
The longwife greeted them warmly. “You’re going out?”
“Yeah, to the town to buy a few things,” Cheng Jiu said.
The child had already rushed up and stretched out his hands for a hug.
Cheng Jiu bent down and lifted him up. “All day long you cling to me. Why don’t you go bother your father instead?”
“Dad is at work. Mom says I’m not supposed to bother him. Cheng Jiu uncle, will you take me to play? You promised, and you can’t break your word.”
The longwife looked embarrassed. “I’ve spoiled him too much. Don’t listen to him. Little wild one, come down now. You can’t pester like that, your uncle is busy.”
The child pouted, clinging to Cheng Jiu’s neck and ignoring her.
Cheng Jiu playfully swatted at his backside. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take you. But I need to go out now. Go home and wait. I’ll come back and take you skiing later.”
“Really?”
“Try telling me a lie, you little pup.”
“I’ll wait for you. Don’t lie this time. I never forget.”
“Okay. No lies.”
The child finally returned to his mother, not forgetting to remind him to come back soon.
Cheng Jiu hired a car but drove himself. The roads were slick with snow and he wasn’t about to let Xin Gan drive.
Xin Gan sat in the passenger seat, mesmerized by the white world beyond the glass. The snow in Yong City never looked this overwhelming. Far-off mountains were wrapped in thick, glassy layers, and when sunlight hit them, they flashed like cut crystal.
The town was full today—everyone out, maybe because the weather was good, the streets alive with pedestrians.
Cheng Jiu pulled over and they walked through the market together.
Many of the things for sale were things Xin Gan had never seen while living abroad: local crafts, silver bangles, jade pieces, all sorts of regional specialties.
She seemed to like them, so Cheng Jiu asked if she wanted to buy anything as a keepsake.
Before she could answer, the stall owner, sensing interest, began pushing his wares at her.
She asked, casually, “How much is this bracelet?”
“This one isn’t expensive. It’s genuine silver. Since you’re so pretty and you seem to like it, I’ll give it to you for nine thousand.”
Cheng Jiu raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Xin Gan did not know much about trade, yet she knew enough: most roadside jewelry sold as pure silver was not. A decent shop might mix in a little silver, but never much. Most were aluminum alloy.
Real silver and aluminum look different; their weights are different, too.
She smiled and set the bracelet down. “Thank you, that’s too much.”
She moved on to jade carvings, which glittered in rows and looked dazzling.
“Do you like this very much?” Cheng asked.
“It’s not just that,” she said. “The color is beautiful. It’s impressive to turn ordinary marble into so many colors.”
The vendor interjected, correcting himself, “What marble? Everything here is authentic jade, pure material.”
Xin Gan turned her back to him and, smiling at Cheng Jiu, pulled him toward the next stall.
By the end of the round, they had bought nothing.
Cheng Jiu, seeing her wanted nothing, led her downstairs to a noodle shop.
The noodles were not very good by her standards; Xin Gan didn’t get used to the taste at all. But Cheng Jiu was sudden in appetite and impulse, and she could not refuse his kindness.
North Islet noodles were huge and thick, and the broth was bold and spicy—nothing like the food in Yong City.
She was used to cold fast-food fare abroad, but not to noodles like two chopsticks in thickness and broth so heavy. She ate a few mouthfuls, then enough filled her. She didn’t dare leave too much for fear he would call her wasteful. So she kept forcing herself to chew.
Her mouth full, cheeks puffed, she quietly watched him.
When Cheng Jiu finished and turned to her, he asked with a laugh, “Can you manage all that?”
She answered honestly, “No. It’s too much.”
Without another word, he took her bowl and helped himself to what was left.
Leaning on her elbow afterward, Xin Gan watched him drift a little, and after he returned from paying, he said, “In a few days, we’ll go back to Yong City.”
She blinked, startled by the abruptness. “In a few days?”
“Mm.”
His face did not show relief or excitement. It was calm—too calm, almost unsettling. Even more unsettling because it was not the Cheng Jiu who used to be cold and hard to reach. She could feel his weight in silence and was not sure how to name it.
She seemed to understand and did not dare ask more. Instead she only intertwined her fingers with his and gave him a steady, tender smile.
Cheng Jiu answered, “Don’t worry about me. The plan was always to transfer back to Yong City this year. I just didn’t expect it to be this way.”
...
Before leaving, Elder Meng gathered a few close comrades of Cheng Jiu to eat with them, and for once brought out several bottles of white spirit.
Xin Gan was there too, called over by Elder Meng. She did not drink. It was late and cold. After dinner, Cheng Jiu told her to go back and rest, and she obeyed immediately.
A group of men with only one girl among them felt constricted; there were topics they could not properly talk through.
When Cheng Jiu rose to go, Elder Meng hesitated but still followed orders from above.
“Time passes quickly,” Elder Meng said after a few cups, face flushed, one hand smoking and the other shaking. “In the blink of an eye, six, seven years are gone.”
The comrades beside him were just as emotional. After fighting together for so long, no one who left would be easy to part with.
No banquet lasts forever, however. Whoever is meant to leave, will leave. Today it is him, tomorrow you, and the day after, someone else.
Cheng Jiu showed little reaction. He stayed calm, and he had not drunk much; he remained clear-headed. He spoke a few words to Elder Meng: take care of your health, smoke less, pay more attention to your son.
Elder Meng thumped him on the shoulder and snorted, “You just got married—am I supposed to lecture you on caring for your son? Insolent.”
Cheng Jiu grinned and did not answer.
Elder Meng kept going. “My son—well, he’s still a kid but sharp. Maybe he told on you. The other day his mother said he was tattling on his grandparents, like you did, too. No manners.”
Cheng Jiu only smiled and smoked in silence.
The evening atmosphere was heavier than usual. No one was cheerful. Even Elder Meng, who usually avoided alcohol, drank himself into a rough edge and grabbed Cheng Jiu to scold him.
When it was time to go, Cheng Jiu stood still and let him unleash himself, a full tirade of rough words. At the end, Elder Meng’s voice caught and he murmured, “Cheng Jiu, if you ever need anything, tell me. I’ll do what I can.”
Cheng Jiu’s throat felt dry. He bit off the tip of his cigarette and said, “I’ll remember, Elder Meng.”
...
He did not want to drink, but the mood and his brothers’ insistence pulled him into several more cups.
Since graduating from university he had hardly touched alcohol—work made it a waste of time, and he never had an appetite for it. But now, after a few cups, the room tilted and his head grew thick.
After everyone dispersed, Zhao Que came to him for a smoke. He had been away from the unit for a while; when he returned from his mission he had heard about Xiao Shi. He sat beside him in silence for a long time, then said, “Brother Jiu, before you leave, do you want to visit Xiao Shi?”
Xiao Shi had been buried in the cemetery. Cheng Jiu had attended the funeral; Zhao Que had not been there.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
“Brother Jiu, there’s one more thing… Jiang Yang…”
At the name, Cheng Jiu gave a mocking half-smile. “What about him?”
“Yesterday I saw him. He asked me to carry a message.”
Zhao Que did not want to say it, but Jiang Yang had begged him on the old brotherhood, asking him to do one favor.
Cheng Jiu had no choice but to hear it out.
“He says he understands the mistake now, knows what he did. He’s not asking you to forgive him…”
“Enough. Don’t continue.” Cheng Jiu cut him off, irritation rising. “He’s an adult. Whatever happens, each person pays for their own acts. Nothing we say will change that.”
“Sorry, Brother Jiu. I didn’t mean—”
“You just came back from the field. Rest first.”
Cheng Jiu rose, a little unsteady. Zhao Que tried to walk him to the car, but Cheng Jiu waved him off.
He did not go home immediately. He sat under the stairwell, in front of the residential building, letting cold wind clear his head and sober him. He still smelled of drink. Xin Gan might not like that.
From the balcony, Xin Gan had noticed him smoking outside and sat there a long while, not caring how cold it was. She took her coat, shut the door behind her, and hurried down.
A soft set of footsteps followed. She saw him on the steps, back alone and forlorn, almost beaten. She walked slowly to him and draped her coat over him.
“How are you sitting out here like this, in the cold? Are you trying to eat the northwest wind?”
He turned to her. “It’s fine. I just drank. I want the smell to fade before I go back upstairs.”
“Don’t keep smoking. It’s too cold. Let’s go back.”
He tilted his head toward the sky and said, “Want to see stars? You said you wanted me to teach you. In the city, it’s hard to see them. Here on North Islet you can. Look, the brightest one is there…”
She crouched by his side and followed his finger upward. There was indeed a bright star hanging over the dark sky.
Even with snow falling, the stars were still visible.
At first she meant to call them back inside, but instead they stood there looking up together. She found it both funny and absurd, and a little frustrated by how helpless she was to stop smiling.
...
The next day Cheng Jiu took Xin Gan and Zhao Que to the cemetery to visit Xiao Shi.
The wind was strong, and there was no snow. It had been falling when they left, but stopped by the time they arrived.
Zhao Que placed flowers by the tombstone and bowed. His posture straight, exact, respectful.
Cheng Jiu reached out and wiped the photo on the stone several times, his voice low. “Xiao Shi never even had a girlfriend. And he’s gone like this.”
Zhao Que swallowed hard and held his breath.
“Who knows when I’ll get to come again.”
Xin Gan stood at a distance. The wind had reddened her cheeks and watered her eyes. She had brought flowers too, placed them by the stone, and bowed once.
She remembered that first time she came to North Islet: it was Xiao Shi who drove out to meet her. So much happened after that. He explained things, spoke on her behalf. Had he not cared for her in those early days, she truly would not have known what to do.
Zhao Que lit another cigarette and set it down near the grave. “Before, I told you not to smoke because it was good for you. Now maybe I can’t stop you anymore. Xiao Shi, Brother Jiu is leaving. I came to see you once before he goes. I hope you’re doing well where you are. I’ll come when I can—don’t think you’re alone. Maybe tomorrow it’ll be me who keeps you company.”
Xin Gan glanced at Zhao Que unconsciously and pressed her lips together.
Cheng Jiu said nothing, eyes deep and dark.
Xin Gan, worried, came near and held his hand. She feared he might shake her off, but he did not. He squeezed her palm once, reassuring her without words.
She exhaled softly and glanced at Zhao Que.
...
After returning, Cheng Jiu first drove Xin Gan back home, then made one more stop at Elder Meng.
No further explanations were needed. Two men, no sentimentality. Elder Meng clapped him on the shoulder and said with weight, “No matter what you do from now on, as long as you stand upright and stay away from crooked paths, you’ll have a future. Cheng Jiu, your ambition isn’t in North Islet. You have something better ahead.”
Then he handed over all the materials.
Before leaving, Cheng Jiu said thanks, then added, “Take care of your health, Elder Meng. Don’t drink anymore. It’s bad for you.”
He opened the door and let it fall shut with a soft click. He was gone.
Elder Meng stood by the window, hands trembling at his back. He was past middle age and had led and buried more men than he could count. Few departures had ever sat in his chest like this one. He truly valued Cheng Jiu, but discipline demanded what it demanded. He had no way around it.
...
Inside the house, Xin Gan packed her things—only two suitcases. Some were Cheng Jiu’s things he could not take with him, and carrying them would mean nothing.
The tickets had been booked the night after they watched the stars.
When Cheng Jiu came in, he stroked her face and pinched her earlobe, addicted now to the little indulgence of touching her.
Pain flickered through her and she softly protested, “Don’t squeeze that. I’m not a toy.”
He stopped her with a few kisses, and she fell quiet.
...
This time no one came to send them off. Cheng Jiu had asked Elder Meng specifically, and Elder Meng had ordered no one to escort them, including Zhao Que.
In the end, it was the secretary who came grinning in a car, claiming, “The weather is bad and there aren’t many buses. Elder Meng’s kindness is to send you off, but this is only because of Ms. Xin—don’t think this is a special arrangement for you.”
The “you” in that sentence was clearly Cheng Jiu. Elder Meng had made it plain.
At the airport, the secretary smiled broadly, saw them out, waved goodbye, and drove away.
Xin Gan looked back once. “If we have time, we can still come back and visit. If you want to return, I’ll come with you.”
Cheng Jiu smiled faintly. “Some other time. Let’s go. Let’s go home.”
...
Mrs. Cheng learned midway through that Cheng Jiu had called: he and Xin Gan were on their way back. Suddenly the Cheng household felt alive again.
Mrs. Cheng immediately told the maid to go buy groceries and sent the driver with her.
She hurriedly called Mr. Cheng and Cheng Hui, telling them Cheng Jiu and Xin Gan were already on the plane back, arriving a little after ten. On the other end she also rushed to tell the driver to be at the airport by nine to pick them up.
Mr. Cheng was not as cheerful as his wife. He called Elder Meng and learned the whole chain of events.
When Cheng Jiu arrived, Mrs. Cheng was finally at peace. Even an invitation to play mahjong from the rich lady down the road, she declined without hesitation: her son had come home.
The story reached Mrs. He, who was curious enough to call He Chuan and ask, “Why did Cheng Jiu suddenly return? From what the Cheng family said, was this a transfer back?”
He Cheng had come to her two days earlier and had dinner with her, asking her for help in one matter: keep an eye on the Cheng household.
Mrs. He had felt uneasy and asked why.
He Cheng said, “I and Cheng Jiu have become enemies. If Cheng Jiu comes back to Yong City, he won’t spare me. You don’t want trouble for your son, do you? Cheng Jiu and He Chuan are close; if he comes to settle things with me, He Chuan will stand with him. If you do nothing, you’ll watch me get into trouble right before your eyes.”
Mrs. He insisted there had to be some misunderstanding—how could Cheng Jiu come to settle accounts with him?
He Cheng added, almost casually, “Cheng Jiu found out I was interested in Xin Gan.”
Mrs. He no longer doubted it. If He Cheng spoke so, she would stand by her son without hesitation.
He Chuan had not even known Cheng Jiu had returned, and he asked his mother how she knew.
She replied, “Mrs. Cheng told me. I assumed you already knew.”
“Oh. I’ll ask him later.”
“There’s nothing else. You be busy. I’ll hang up now,” she said.
He Chuan suddenly asked, “By the way, Mom, has He Cheng contacted you lately?”
“No, no. Why?”
“Nothing. I have to get back to work.”
What Mrs. He knew was only a fragment, and that was all she passed on to He Cheng.
...
Not many people knew yet that Cheng Jiu had been transferred back.
The flight landed smoothly at Yong City Airport. Mr. Cheng’s driver had been waiting for a long time. He had called, and when he reached Cheng Jiu they stepped out quickly, hand in hand.
At their arrival, the driver informed Mrs. Cheng.
It was late, and Xin Gan called home first to report she was safe. Her mother sounded excited and asked when she was coming back. Xin Gan glanced at Cheng Jiu and said, “A little later. Not that soon.”
Her mother asked, “Are you going to Cheng home first?”
“Yes. I’m going there first.”
“Then come home as soon as you can. You’re his wife now, after all. If you’re staying at his home tonight, that’s fine.”
After ending the call, Cheng Jiu squeezed her hand. “We’ll eat there and then return to your place.”
She bit her lip. “It’s okay. I already told Mom. I can come home tomorrow.”
Cheng Jiu held her hand more tightly.
...
At the Cheng house, Mrs. Cheng was overwhelmed with emotion. “Come right in, come right in,” she urged, then seeing Xin Gan, hurried them both inside and made them step over the brazier first. Cheng Jiu thought it unnecessary, but let her have her comfort.
When Cheng Hui saw Cheng Jiu, he too was moved and ran to hug him, shouting wildly.
Cheng Jiu, feeling the noise, grabbed her collar and set her aside with an impatient motion.
The Cheng home finally buzzed with joy. The family was together again.
After dinner, Mr. Cheng’s face had gone hard; he called Cheng Jiu to the study to talk. The atmosphere was heavy.
Xin Gan sensed something and felt uneasy.
Cheng Hui peeled an orange, then seeing her serious expression, slipped over and said, “What’s wrong, Xin Xin-sister? You don’t look happy.”
She blinked out of it. “Nothing. I just haven’t gotten used to it.”
Cheng Hui frowned, trying to read her. “Are you worried about my brother?”
She held her cup in silence.
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry,” she answered.
Cheng Hui guessed she did not want to speak and did not push. He handed her peeled orange slices. “Whatever happens, my brother can handle it. You don’t need to worry, Xin Xin-sister.”
She nodded, but he was not the only one who knew. Mr. Cheng already knew the reason Cheng Jiu had been dragged into this mess.
Cheng Jiu’s room had been prepared beforehand and was ready to use at any time.
Xin Gan would stay the night at Cheng’s house.
Cheng Jiu’s room was on the third floor, quite spacious. The decor was cool and restrained, decorated with things a man would like: model warships, race cars, all fitting his character.
Xin Gan had been there before, but never slept there overnight.
Cheng Hui popped in, saying, “Xin Xin-sister, the toiletries in the bathroom are new, and the bedding is freshly cleaned. You can use it without worrying.”
Cheng Jiu was still in the study; Cheng Hui had come over just to make sure she felt at ease in a house with him away.
He took a stool and sat. “Is it really inconvenient for you?”
“Just a little,” she said, looking out from the balcony. “Is Cheng Jiu still in the study?”
“He is. I passed by and tried to listen; my brother caught me and scolded me.”
She laughed.
Cheng Hui said, “It’s getting late. Go shower. I’ll check on my brother’s condition. This is your home too. Come and go as you like. No pressure—we’re all family.”
“Okay,” she said, and added, “Thank you.”
He replied with mock pride, “You’re welcome. From now on you need to have my back too. My brother won’t dare bully me then.”
After he left, Xin Gan’s smile faded.
When Cheng Jiu finished with his father and came down, he met Cheng Hui at the stairs.
“Brother.”
She came over.
“Where’s Xin Gan?”
“In her room.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Can’t.”
Cheng Hui said with a playful grin, “You’re not leaving again, right? Not going back to North Islet? Mother said you transferred back, didn’t she?”
Cheng Jiu did not answer, and pinched her nose tip lightly. “Too many questions. Go to bed.”
“I’m just worried about you,” Cheng Hui said, genuinely cheerful. “It’s really good, you’re finally back.”
Cheng Jiu sensed her mood was off. He frowned slightly. “What is it? Did someone tease you?”
She avoided his eyes. “No, no one.”
Something was off.
He ruffled her hair. “Really?”
She lowered her voice. “No…”
Before Cheng Jiu could say more, their father came out of the study and saw them in the corridor.
“Cheng Hui, why aren’t you in bed? Don’t you have class tomorrow?”
“I’ll go to my room now. Goodnight,” she said, then darted upstairs.
Cheng Jiu stood there thinking a moment before going up himself.
In the room, Xin Gan was still repacking her suitcase and had not showered yet. He opened the door and asked, “Did Cheng Hui say anything?”
“No. What happened?”
He frowned. “She seemed strange somehow.”
As soon as she heard the word “strange,” something came back to her, but she could not be sure and dared not say anything.
He did not hold it much longer. “Are you tired?”
“No.”
She was not tired at all. Back in Yong City, her chest was simply not at ease; something felt wrong.
Cheng Jiu said, “No need to pack. Stay just one night. Go back to the city tomorrow.”
He had insisted before returning that since they were married, Xin Gan would not stay in the Cheng family home. She would live in his apartment in the city.
It had just not been renovated yet.
But he could not send her back to her mother’s home just because he had come back. They were married now. She should stay with him.
Even though they had not yet held a wedding ceremony.