Lin Jiaoyu was planning a trip to Macau at the end of the month.
A few old friends who knew that Zong Chi was coming had tried to arrange several gatherings, but each time Zong Chi declined, citing official business.
As the host, it was somewhat embarrassing, but that wasn’t the main issue.
The last time Zong Chi came all the way to Jiangnan, Lin Jiaoyu cursed him like his own father, complaining that Zong Chi had become very petty, always cozying up to the flatterers in the Zong Family.
In response, Zong Chi specifically picked a case for Lin Jiaoyu to investigate on his behalf.
Lin Jiaoyu laughed at Zong Chi, “Oh, you leave the open-cutting-in business to Chen Xiangyang, but behind the scenes, you want me to do the dirty work.”
Zong Chi complained about Lin Jiaoyu’s meddling: “If I don’t call you, you complain. If I do, you grumble. What the hell do you actually want?”
Lin Jiaoyu remained unfazed, continuing to provoke Zong Chi, “I’m not afraid of you turning hostile. You, the young master of the Zong Family, have all kinds of shady, unscrupulous secrets in my hands. Now there’s one more — digging up dirt on a rival, right?”
Zong Chi cursed obscenely for a moment but finally admitted, “Yeah, I’m digging up dirt on him. So what? If he can’t stand me, I can dig up his stuff too.”
Lin Jiaoyu barely suppressed his laughter and pointed at Zong Chi, scolding him, “Don’t pass your jealousy onto me. Let me be honest for a moment — is he really that outstanding? I trust A Li’s taste. Usually, she doesn’t notice just anyone. And someone wouldn’t rile up our young master of the Zong Family so much unless he’s exceptional.”
Zong Chi drained his glass with a sneer and leisurely played along with his friend’s tease, “Hmm, if accompanying her to a blind date counts as a quality trait, then I concede.”
Not long after these words, Lin Jiaoyu received some news — but then, suddenly, the young master seemed to lose interest altogether.
Lin Jiaoyu’s instincts told him something was off.
Zong Chi was a peculiar character: if his self-control was weak, no one was more reclusive than him; if strong, then his domestic affairs would be a chaotic mess.
They say that enemies in love are especially jealous, and Zong Chi had been ready to ruin everyone’s life not long ago, but now he had gone silent.
Experienced Lin Jiaoyu suspected the problem lay with He Dongli.
If she had really come out to defend her new love and viciously slander the old flame, Lin Jiaoyu shuddered to think — the young master was so prideful, if he didn’t kill that bastard himself, then the only other possibility was that he’d die on his own.
Stuck between public morality and brotherly loyalty, Lin Jiaoyu chose neither and went ahead to dig into the background information.
After a quick glance, he tucked the files under his arm and went to find Zong Chi.
It had been days since they last met, and Huang Secretary had already returned from her vacation.
Lin Jiaoyu saw her in Zong Chi’s suite and immediately asked, “Your boss is still alive, right?”
Huang Secretary gave Lin Jiaoyu a look that couldn’t hide her contempt for all carbon-based lifeforms, replying that Mr. Zong was fine and that she still had visitors, so Lin Jiaoyu could do as he pleased.
Zong Chi was signing documents — his mood wasn’t terrible, just carrying a slight loneliness typical of a widower.
Of course, if you outright said he was a widower, he would fight you tooth and nail.
When Lin Jiaoyu came in, Zong Chi was reviewing some financial papers, dipping his pen in ink to sign.
Unexpectedly, his mind wandered to He Dongli’s compliment about Zong Jingzhou’s signature sometimes having “feibai” (white streaks from the brush).
He had told her before she was weird, staring at classmates’ parents’ signatures for no reason.
What was so good about an old man’s handwriting anyway? Tch.
Zong Chi vividly remembered the Christmas when he returned to the country and picked up He Dongli from school.
He had rented a small Western-style house near their Medical School for her, so she’d have a place to stay on weekends and holidays without going back to her mother’s, mainly so he could visit her easily.
Her roommate had gifted He Dongli a bottle of nail polish, but since they had anatomy classes, she couldn’t put it on her hands.
So, while chatting with Zong Chi, she crouched down and painted her toenails on all five toes, then showed them off to him on a whim.
She was wearing men’s pajama pants that were a bit too long.
Zong Chi said he hadn’t noticed.
He Dongli then rolled up her pants leg and deliberately showed him her bare ankle, waiting for his comments.
Zong Chi rarely saw this side of He Dongli — putting down her book and being vain — so he pretended to check emails for classmates and finally let her stand next to him until she gave up and walked away disappointed.
He couldn’t help teasing her from behind, “Not pretty, ugly as hell.”
Before the polish dried, He Dongli was already reaching for the remover.
Zong Chi was quick to save the situation, praising, “Very pretty. How can someone be so pretty? Even your toes are beautiful — each one is perfect.”
He Dongli cursed him for being fake, like a robot.
Zong Chi shot back, “Nonsense, I’m not a robot. You don’t like compliments?”
“Then you be a robot and compliment me,” she said.
As he painted the other foot, He Dongli didn’t dare move.
Zong Chi joked that she was playing cute like a little chick.
She said she had held back many times and didn’t understand why he always said she was pretending to be cute.
“If you think I’m not cute, then fine. I never said I was cute,” she said.
Zong Chi wasn’t bothered, “If someone thinks they’re cute, they’re definitely an ugly monster.”
He Dongli didn’t want to talk anymore and tried to pull her foot back.
Zong Chi held her ankle tightly and teasingly said, “You look cuter when you try to run away.”
She cursed him as a pervert.
Zong Chi then told her that her serious stance earlier reminded him of the last field trip permission slip in ninth grade.
He had almost told her, “Okay, I’ll give it to you tomorrow morning,” but she had no patience with him and just walked away, so he faked the signature to get by.
He asked how she saw through it so quickly.
What she said made him laugh.
On the couch, coaxing her, He Dongli relaxed a bit, sometimes complaining the light was too bright, sometimes that it was downstairs, and finally blushing so hard she rested her head on his shoulder.
Zong Chi caught her face, dazed, and took her hand to a fitting place.
In their happiness, he told her, “He Dongli, you’re most adorable when you’re doing something you’re not good at.”
He then carried her back to his room to unwrap Christmas Eve gifts.
He Dongli had complained that Zong Chi gave gifts too frequently, with no place to put them.
Each gift had to have a reason, and Zong Chi joked that she was such a boring person.
But her return gifts, Zong Chi treasured like medals.
The most practical and valuable gift Zong Chi ever received was a pure gold Protection Amulet of the zodiac sign, bought by He Dongli after she won the National Scholarship.
The amulet was engraved with a rough sketch of a Bernese Mountain Dog.
It was the first time He Dongli had asked her mother to accompany her to the temple to pray for a blessing from the Master.
When Zong Chi received it, dizzy with emotion, he asked, “Are you sure this isn’t a proposal?”
In fact, for many years afterward, he never received a gift as thoughtful and painstakingly earned as this.
That dog’s Protection Amulet was melted down by Zong Chi the year the Bernese Mountain Dog passed away.
Thinking of this, his pen scratched the paper, spilling ink across the entire report.
Irritated, he threw everything aside.
When Lin Jiaoyu approached, Zong Chi wore a dark expression but didn’t ask why his friend was here.
He just stood up and offered him a drink.
Lin Jiaoyu pointed outside, “It’s only ten in the morning. You’re drinking too early.”
Zong Chi didn’t wait for him to finish and downed the glass.
“Why did you come to see me?” he asked.
Lin Jiaoyu sat at Zong Chi’s desk and tossed the file folder onto the table.
He praised Zong Chi’s sharp instincts and heightened enemy radar.
It didn’t matter now; wasn’t it Zong Chi himself who said that what he couldn’t have, no one else could get either?
“Besides, that Zou guy isn’t exactly the only one A Li can’t live without.”
Zong Chi pinched the rim of his cup with three fingers, walked back, and sat down.
He eyed Lin Jiaoyu suspiciously and before he could speak, said slowly, “I told you to pay double, not to open the file.”
“Bullshit. I want your money. I paid for it myself, so can’t I look?”
The file lay unopened on the desk, and Zong Chi didn’t bother opening it.
Lin Jiaoyu had no patience to waste and began telling him outright: Zou Yan had a childhood sweetheart whose mother used to be his middle school teacher.
That family’s surname was Feng.
Feng Mother and Zou Father, Zou Siming, were old classmates from the same hometown.
Zou Siming’s academic path was more successful; he later married the woman he met then.
They had twin sons, but one died in college.
Lin Jiaoyu looked at Zong Chi and continued, “Zou Father and Feng Mother had a relationship when they were young. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, but their sons ended up involved with the children of those old flames. When the romance was exposed, it happened right when the eldest son was in trouble. Zou Mother loved and hated her son at the same time and threatened suicide to force her younger son to break up with that girl.”
Hearing this, Zong Chi suddenly understood why the surgery for a friend’s grandmother wasn’t announced under the Zou family’s name.
Lin Jiaoyu tore open the folder on the desk.
The information was hardly surprising — just trivial gossip that could never be kept secret.
But there was a photo he wanted Zong Chi to see: a half-year-old candid shot of Zou Yan passionately kissing a woman in his car.
Feng Ganxu, currently embroiled in negative news amid her rising career, was one of the family members whose surgery A Li had helped arrange.
Her original name was Feng Lulu.
Coincidentally, Lin Jiaoyu bluntly said, Feng Xing’s current nominal sponsor or rumored boyfriend was one of his dog friends, Dou Yunong.
The implication was clear — as fellow men, they understood.
If their relationship years ago was cut off cleanly, that was one thing; but private, behind-the-scenes help with surgery half a year ago against their parents’ wishes was something that could never be clean anymore.
Lin Jiaoyu urged Zong Chi to leak this photo to the media as the best way to break them up.
Zong Chi held the slightly scandalous photo against the sunlight filtering through the glass curtain wall, quietly silent.
Lin Jiaoyu tried to snatch the photo back, but Zong Chi refused.
“What’s wrong? A few days ago, you were ready to kill everyone. Don’t let your brothers laugh at you.”
“Laugh at what?”
Zong Chi snapped.
“Do you think I enjoy stirring up others’ family matters? That’s no skill.”
“Then why investigate?”
“I just want to confirm if my intuition is right or wrong.”
Zong Chi squinted at the so-called passionate photo.