The maid served the tea—Mingqian Longjing, Ling Yaqiong’s favorite. As its clean fragrance wafted through the air, she took a delicate sip. “Have you spoken to Yanjing about what we discussed?” she asked. Lin Yuxi paused. “Not yet.” She had tried. She’d called Zhou Yanjing while he was still in Manhattan, telling him they needed to talk, but he’d been busy, impatient, and had brushed her off with, “Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get back.” She had tried calling a few more times after that, but her calls went unanswered. Eventually, she stopped trying. “You never take a word I say to heart.” Ling Yaqiong’s brow furrowed deeply. “It’s been ages since I told you to talk to him, and for all I know, you’ve done nothing.” “Now that Yanjing is back, you two need to find the time to get the paperwork done. The sooner it's over with, the better.” “Living like this, a laughingstock for outsiders. If you’re not ashamed, I am.” For the past few years, nothing had vexed Ling Yaqiong more than Zhou Yanjing and Lin Yuxi’s marriage. Looking back, she would have rather died than relent and allow them to wed. “A divorce would be a release for both of you. I’m only saying this for your own good.” The teacup was hot against her skin. Lin Yuxi curled her stinging fingers, her gaze dropping to the leaves floating in the pale-yellow liquid. It *would* be a release, she thought, if only she didn’t love Zhou Yanjing. “I’ll discuss it with him.” “The master and the second young master are home,” the maid announced. Lin Yuxi turned her head. Zhou Yanjing entered with Zhou Qizhen. In private, he was always casual. He walked in chatting with Zhou Qizhen, his suit jacket slung loosely in his hand and a lazy smile playing on his lips. The smile, however, vanished the instant his eyes landed on her. Ling Yaqiong hadn’t seen her son in a long time and rose with a wide smile to greet him. “What’s with the sudden return? You didn’t even think to tell me.” Zhou Yanjing replied, “Don’t you like the surprise?” “What surprise? I’m lucky you haven’t worried me to death. Leaving whenever you want, coming back whenever you please.” Ling Yaqiong’s words were chiding, but having not seen her son for so long, she was happier than anyone. “You’re thinner again. Weren’t you eating properly over there?” Zhou Yanjing stood there lazily, letting her inspect him, a roguish grin on his face. “You say that every time we meet. If I get any thinner, I’ll just blow away.” Ling Yaqiong swatted his arm. “This mouth of yours. Can you ever be serious?” Zhou Yanjing had always been quick-witted. He could charm his way out of anything with his silver tongue, and in an argument, he was unbeatable. He’d grown more composed with age, but at his core, he was still the same rascal. From childhood to now, Lin Yuxi had never won an argument against him. At dinner, Lin Yuxi sat next to Zhou Yanjing. Zhou Qizhen, long accustomed to a position of power, carried an air of authority that Lin Yuxi had feared since she was a child. During the meal, Zhou Qizhen asked her a couple of obligatory questions about her work. Lin Yuxi answered each one dutifully, feeling like a student being interrogated by the school principal. She only managed a silent sigh of relief when Zhou Qizhen finally turned his attention to Zhou Yanjing. After that, the father and son discussed business for the rest of the meal. Zhou Yanjing's achievements on Wall Street in recent years were undeniable, and Zhou Qizhen nodded from time to time, his pride in his son evident. With so much on her mind, Lin Yuxi had no appetite. But afraid that putting down her chopsticks would invite more questions, she feigned eating, slowly picking at the grains of rice in her bowl. Perhaps her focus was too intense, because Zhou Qizhen noticed. “Is the food not to your liking?” Lin Yuxi was about to say it was fine when Zhou Yanjing shot her a languid glance. “She needs cat food.” Zhou Qizhen looked baffled. As Lin Yuxi scrambled for an explanation, Zhou Yanjing, as if his parents’ expressions weren’t priceless enough, leaned back in his chair and added nonchalantly, “I don’t know what kind of special diet she’s on, but she’s started giving birth to cats.” Lin Yuxi froze. She wished the ground would swallow her whole. Ling Yaqiong shot Zhou Yanjing a glare. “You child, stop talking such nonsense.” A heavy silence fell over Zhou Qizhen’s stern face. At his age, he didn’t understand the younger generation’s inside jokes. He tried to process it: giving birth to a cat was either a gynecological problem or a psychiatric one. In any case, neither was a topic he, as a male elder, could comfortably inquire about too directly. “Yuxi… are you feeling unwell?” Her face flushed with embarrassment, Lin Yuxi quickly replied, “No, not at all. He’s just making things up.” After dinner, the father and son retired to the study. Ling Yaqiong brought them some soup and stayed, not emerging for some time. Lin Yuxi had been waiting in the living room. Between a sleepless night and a full day of work, she soon drifted off, slumping against the sofa. “Yuxi.” Aunty Zhao, one of the household maids, gently woke her. Lin Yuxi rubbed her eyes. “Are we leaving?” “The second young master and his father are still talking business. I don’t think they’ll be done for a while.” Aunty Zhao had looked after Lin Yuxi since she was a girl and treated her like her own daughter. “I’ve kept your old room clean. Would you like to go upstairs and rest for a bit?” Lin Yuxi rarely came here anymore, only for holidays or when Ling Yaqiong summoned her. There were still some of her things in the room upstairs—old trinkets from her childhood, though not many of them were truly hers. She got a cardboard box from Aunty Zhao. After packing, she was carrying the box downstairs when Zhou Yanjing happened to be coming out of the study. Zhou Yanjing’s gaze slid to the box in her arms. “What’s that?” “Just some childhood things I forgot to take.” His lips twisted into something that couldn’t be called a smile. As they walked down the stairs, Lin Yuxi said from behind him, “Next time, don’t talk such nonsense in front of your parents.” “Nonsense?” Zhou Yanjing stopped, loosening his tie with a tug. He glanced back at her. “You’re the one who said it.” “I was joking,” Lin Yuxi said. “It’s embarrassing when you say things like that in front of them.” Zhou Yanjing slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, a half-smile in his eyes and an air of complete compliance. “Alright. From now on, why don’t you give me a list of everything you say? You can mark which statements are for public consumption and which aren’t. I’ll follow it to the letter. That way, I won’t accidentally spill any of your little secrets and have you take it out on me again.” The sarcasm was unmistakable. “I’m not taking anything out on you.” Zhou Yanjing ignored her explanation and turned to continue down the stairs. Lin Yuxi followed him. He was tall, and his back cast a long, straight shadow in the dim, yellow light of the stairwell. His stride was lazy and unhurried, yet she struggled to keep up, quickly falling behind. Outside, a black Bentley was already waiting by the door. Zhou Yanjing stood beside it, lighting a cigarette. The red ember glowed and faded between his fingers, giving him a roguish, sophisticated air in the night breeze. When he saw her emerge, he stubbed out the cigarette. “Got those long legs for show? What’s taking you so long?” Lin Yuxi wanted to retort, *Can’t you see I’m carrying a box?* but she couldn’t be bothered to argue. She didn’t know when it had started, but they had both lost the desire to even communicate with each other. *Forget it.* The words surfaced in her mind countless times, silencing anything she might have wanted to say. Zhou Yanjing opened the car door and tossed his jacket inside. His hand, with its well-defined knuckles, rested on the top of the doorframe. His voice was laced with ice. “Anything else you forgot? Might as well take it all with you tonight.” “There’s nothing left,” Lin Yuxi snapped, his words finally getting to her. “Everything else belongs to the Zhou family. You can keep it.” She ducked into the car, hearing Zhou Yanjing let out a cold, derisive laugh as he shut the door. He got in from the other side. Zhou Yanjing’s gentlemanly manners were deeply ingrained, a product of his upbringing. His venomous tongue and his cold heart, however, were innate. Lin Yuxi used to think he was just a flirt, a man incapable of commitment. It was only after they were married that she learned just how cruel he could be.