Chapter Seventy
She slept until the sun began to set in the west.
When Shen Qianzhan woke, the other side of the bed was already empty.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the evening sun hung low, and clouds rolled across the sky with a golden, thunderous momentum, swiftly retreating toward the horizon.
Freshly awakened, Shen Qianzhan’s body still felt heavy with lingering fatigue.
She stared blankly out the window for a while, and only when her consciousness fully returned did she realize with a start that it was already nearly dusk.
As she got up, she silently complained about Ji Qinghe.
It was one thing for him not to be there when she woke, but how could he let her sleep until now?
Normally, it wouldn’t matter, but they had planned to visit Old Mr. Ji at the Ji family’s old residence early in the day. Now, she wasn’t sure if they could still make it in time.
She went into the dressing room to change, glancing at the time as she fastened her watch—5:20 p.m.
It was the peak rush hour in every city.
The traffic in Xi’an was notoriously bad, especially around the Drum Tower, a famous tourist attraction.
During her first visit to Xi’an, Shen Qianzhan had stayed at a hotel near the Drum Tower and the Muslim Quarter, so she knew all too well how the roads there were perpetually congested with both vehicles and pedestrians during morning and evening rush hours.
The four main thoroughfares, centered around the Drum Tower, were often jam-packed.
Although Ji Qinghe’s villa was situated in a quiet, secluded area within the bustling old city center, offering convenient transportation, the traffic itself was the biggest problem.
Even if Shen Qianzhan were to leave immediately without a trace of makeup, her face bare and hair unstyled, she still wouldn’t make it to the Ji family’s old residence, located on the side of Ling Mountain, before nightfall.
She was annoyed at herself for oversleeping and causing this delay, but since it had already happened, there was no point in stewing in frustration.
Given Ji Qinghe’s meticulous nature, if he hadn’t woken her, he must have already informed Old Mr. Ji in advance. Her absence wouldn’t be seen as breaking a promise or failing to show up.
With this thought, she looked out the window at the sunset gradually sinking into the clouds and nestled back into the bed.
—
With no need to rush, Shen Qianzhan took her time to freshen up.
Her complexion had been good these past few days; even without makeup, her skin was clear and flawless as snow. For a finishing touch, she applied a layer of Armani’s CC cream and carefully did her eye makeup and eyeliner.
Her features were sharp and delicate, with a full forehead and a straight, upturned nose that required no contouring. Her lips, naturally rosy without lipstick, only needed a touch of moisturizing color to define their shape, like red plum blossoms budding proudly in the snow.
Sitting before the mirror, Shen Qianzhan examined herself from both sides. Her gaze inadvertently fell on the black lace nightgown she had just changed out of, pausing briefly. She pressed down the collar with her finger and looked at the faint marks on her chest, freshly “planted” not long ago.
Her menstrual cycle had ended just yesterday.
Ji Qinghe had been restless, testing her boundaries more than once. That morning, while sharing the bed, he had slipped his hand beneath her underwear several times, but seeing how exhausted she was, he hadn’t pushed further.
Shen Qianzhan couldn’t remember when she had fallen asleep. Her last vivid memory before drifting off was of that shameless man planting a kiss between her thighs.
She felt both deeply embarrassed and strangely at ease, not finding it unacceptable at the time.
But now, fully awake, those images flooded back with undeniable intensity.
Given how far Ji Qinghe was willing to go, Shen Qianzhan felt… she would soon be surrendering to him in the bedroom.
She averted her gaze from her reflection in the mirror, adjusted her collar, and stood up to leave the room.
—
When Shen Qianzhan went downstairs, the lights in the living room and hallway on the first floor were already on, illuminating the space brightly.She held the staircase railing as she made her way down, and upon reaching the foyer, she faintly heard voices coming from the kitchen. Drawing closer, she saw Auntie Xie teaching Ji Qinghe how to simmer soup.
"Don't add salt too early, or the meat will lose its tenderness after cooking for too long. The heat should be just like this—simmer gently over low heat. The nutritional value of soup doesn't depend on how long it's simmered; moderation is key. It's about done now." As she spoke, Auntie Xie ladled a spoonful of soup into a white porcelain bowl and handed it to him. "Mr. Ji, have a taste."
Ji Qinghe took it and sipped. "The seasoning is just right. You can turn off the heat."
He casually set the bowl aside, watching Auntie Xie turn off the stove and tidy up. "I'll go check if she's awake. Keep the food warm for now."
As he finished speaking, he noticed Shen Qianzhan standing behind the two of them and asked with slight surprise, "Awake?"
Auntie Xie turned around at the sound, smiling before she spoke. "Miss Shen, are you hungry? Shall we serve dinner now or wait a little longer?"
Shen Qianzhan glanced at Ji Qinghe and smiled as well. "Let's eat now. I'd like to go out for a stroll tonight."
Ji Qinghe was washing his hands. Though he was eager to cook, he still wasn't entirely comfortable in the kitchen. After drying his hands, he walked with Shen Qianzhan to the dining room to wait for dinner. Suddenly, he curled his lips into a smile and said, "I've discovered one of my flaws."
The remark was truly infuriating, but Shen Qianzhan couldn't resist her curiosity.
She held back for a few seconds, but when Ji Qinghe showed no intention of volunteering the information, she shot him a glance and asked, "What flaw?"
"I don't enjoy cooking." He sat down beside Shen Qianzhan and handed her a pair of chopsticks. "But this flaw is easy to remedy. I'll just earn more money to ensure I can afford to hire help for the rest of my life."
"That way, neither of us has to cook or handle household chores."
Auntie Xie happened to bring out the duck soup just then, catching Shen Qianzhan's eye. Not wanting to interrupt her employers' conversation, she simply smiled at Shen Qianzhan—a smile that was both knowing and envious.
Lately, Shen Qianzhan had been particularly thin-skinned. Under Auntie Xie's gaze and smile, she felt her ears burning with embarrassment. Choosing not to respond to Ji Qinghe, she instead asked about the soup. "Auntie Xie, what kind of soup is this? I could smell its fragrance from upstairs earlier."
Auntie Xie discreetly glanced at Ji Qinghe, using a ladle to divide the dried lychee and duck soup into two bowls and placing them before the pair. "Mr. Ji said you've been working too hard lately. This pot of dried lychee and duck soup is refreshing, relieves fatigue, and is very nourishing."
"I think the nutritional value of this soup is secondary—what matters most is the thought behind it." She smiled, hinting with her eyes at Shen Qianzhan. "Mr. Ji made this soup himself, Miss Shen. You should try it quickly."
Shen Qianzhan was taken aback.
She had assumed Ji Qinghe was merely in the mood to learn how to simmer soup, with Auntie Xie guiding him from the side. She hadn't expected him to have made the soup himself.
She took a sip.
Seeing Ji Qinghe watching her, waiting for her feedback, she deliberately kept him in suspense for a moment.
The taste of the soup was, of course, impeccable. The ingredients were fresh, simmered gently over low heat, with the duck's savory flavor and the dried lychee's subtle sweetness perfectly balanced.
She also picked up a piece of duck meat with her chopsticks. The texture was neither tough nor overly tender, and it left a lingering fragrance in her mouth.
Whether it was because she was hungry or because it was genuinely delicious, she finished the entire bowl, leaving only the broth, and then served herself another.
Seeing this, Ji Qinghe didn't need to wait for her review. He chuckled softly and lowered his head to savor the soup.
Once all the dishes were laid out, Shen Qianzhan finally found an opportunity to ask, "Why didn't you wake me up this afternoon?""She wouldn't wake up." Ji Qinghe leisurely picked up some food with his chopsticks. "I tried for half an hour."
Shen Qianzhan didn't believe it.
She was a light sleeper, easily roused by the slightest disturbance. Even in her deepest sleep, calling her name a couple of times would bring her back to consciousness. How could it be possible that Ji Qinghe had tried for half an hour without waking her?
Seeing her disbelief, Ji Qinghe smiled without a word, offering no further explanation.
After a while, Shen Qianzhan pressed again, "What about Old Mr. Ji? If we don't go over today, won't he think I'm someone who breaks promises?"
"He won't."
Ji Qinghe said, "I called him this afternoon and told him something came up at the company, so we couldn't make it in time."
Shen Qianzhan immediately felt relieved.
That excuse was far better than "Shen Qianzhan isn't used to the climate, isn't feeling well, and is still asleep."
"It's just Ji Lin," Ji Qinghe paused, "who was a bit disappointed."
"Grandfather said he baked a jar of cookies with the housekeeper to welcome you."
Shen Qianzhan stopped her chopsticks.
She found Ji Lin's gesture of goodwill even more surprising than Ji Qinghe making soup for her. "Ji Lin didn't like me much before."
"Didn't like me much" was a rather mild way to put it. The last time they met, Ji Lin's dislike for her was almost as intense as if she were trying to steal Old Mr. Ji away, wishing she would vanish on the spot.
"The little one has a strong sense of territory," Ji Qinghe explained. "Half of his life has always felt incomplete, so he's quite protective of the people around him, afraid they'll be taken away."
He placed a few slices of meat into Shen Qianzhan's bowl. "He's kind-hearted by nature and not mischievous. Once he realized you're one of us, he held no more hostility. In fact, he wanted to see you soon to apologize in person."
Wait a minute...
Being considered "one of us" was one thing...
"When did he decide I'm one of you?" Shen Qianzhan asked.
Ji Qinghe glanced at her and said leisurely, "If you want to know, ask him yourself tomorrow."
Shen Qianzhan: "..."
She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but ever since arriving in Xi'an, it felt like certain people had suddenly become more assertive, exuding an aura of authority.
—
After dinner, Auntie Xie cut some fruit and brewed a pot of red date tea for Shen Qianzhan. Considering she might want a late-night snack, Auntie Xie also prepared a serving of cold noodles and left it on the small stove.
Unable to decline such hospitality, Shen Qianzhan sat cross-legged on the sofa, sipping the tea diligently.
Ji Qinghe went to his study after dinner to handle some work.
At eight o'clock, hearing the sound of a door closing, he paused his pen, pushed his chair back, and stepped out to get some water.
Shen Qianzhan was about to go upstairs when she heard the noise and looked up.
Ji Qinghe stood at the top of the stairs on the second floor and asked, "Has Auntie Xie left?"
Holding her teacup, she nodded.
Ji Qinghe tilted his head slightly, gesturing for her to come up. "Want to see the collection room?"
Shen Qianzhan's eyes lit up, sparkling as if treasures were right before her.
She held onto the stair railing as she went up and followed him into the study.
Ji Qinghe's study wasn't particularly large. Two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books. A traditional Chinese chandelier with gilded inlay craftsmanship hung from the ceiling, and in the center stood a rosewood desk.
The furnishings were minimal, simple yet elegant.
He pushed open the hidden door behind the bookshelf. Motion-sensor lights turned on, illuminating the floor.
He stepped inside first and switched on the lights.
When Shen Qianzhan entered, he stood with his hands behind his back near the door and asked, "Is it different from what you imagined?"
It was, indeed.In Shen Qianzhan's imagination, Ji Qinghe's collection room should have been a grand, museum-like space for storing treasures. The room before her clearly fell short of that expectation.
Yet, compared to the vulgarity of rooms filled with glittering jewels, this space, which felt more like Ji Qinghe's personal sanctuary, left her even more awestruck.
The room was lined with display shelves on all four walls, each section neatly categorized and independent.
Every area was dedicated to a specific type of item—clocks and watches, for instance, or the tools he had once used for watchmaking.
Beyond timepieces, there were also various antiques and ornaments, ranging from paper kites to calligraphy and paintings, creating a dazzling array.
Shen Qianzhan found it all wonderfully novel, as if she had stepped into his world, filling her with an unexpected sense of warmth and tenderness that spread through her entire being.
"This is the flowerpot I used for my first cactus," Ji Qinghe said, reaching up to retrieve a palm-sized pot from the highest shelf. "It may look unremarkable, but it's actually a Ming Dynasty antique."
He paused in thought before adding, "When I used it to plant a cactus, Old Mr. Ji nearly disowned me."
Using a Ming Dynasty flowerpot for a cactus—no wonder Old Mr. Ji was furious. Even she felt the urge to scold him.
"This kite was made by Old Mr. Ji. Crudely crafted," he remarked with a faint smile. "But I flew it for two years."
"This watch was the first timepiece I ever repaired."
"During my first year working at the Beijing Clock Museum, I bought this camera. I originally intended to photograph the snow-covered Forbidden City and the blooming red plum blossoms, but..." He trailed off, not finishing the sentence, and instead retrieved the camera from the shelf to install the batteries.
"The camera broke last year—the display screen stopped working, but the photos are still saved," he explained, handing her the powered-on device and gesturing for her to take a closer look.
Shen Qianzhan accepted it.
Through the viewfinder, just as he had described, were scenic shots of the Forbidden City—every corner and detail captured.
There were images of vermilion palace walls and glazed green tiles, palace lanterns lining corridors, bronze vats and stone pillars, early spring blossoms and vibrant red plum flowers, and even one of a person sitting foolishly on a wooden bench in the heavy snow... Was that her?
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