Chapter 32: The First Encounter

Yang Xue could cook. Back in high school, she had learned from her father, who was a chef. She was naturally clever and picked things up quickly—so quickly, in fact, that she could now be considered half a professional chef herself.

But during high school, with studies to focus on and being so young, cooking for Jiang Bei was out of the question—her parents would have beaten her senseless. Now, things were different; they were in the imperial capital, far from home and parental oversight. It was finally her chance to show off her culinary skills.

Still, Jiang Bei had his doubts. “Are you sure you can cook? Or is this going to be one of those infamous kitchen disasters?”

Yang Xue, carrying the groceries she’d just bought from the nearby supermarket, responded with a direct and fierce roll of her eyes. “Did I beg you to come eat? If you don’t want to, then don’t. No one’s forcing you. Otherwise, get lost.”

Jiang Bei chuckled. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to try it first.”

In the imperial capital, especially in the area where both Huaqing University and Imperial University were located, driving often wasn’t any faster than walking. Luckily, the supermarket wasn’t far—just a ten-minute stroll.

Yang Xue considered buying a bicycle online that afternoon; it would make supermarket trips and commuting to class much easier. “Do you want to get one too?” she asked, noticing a purple Bentley parked in the middle of the complex road. The unusual color caught her eye.

Jiang Bei, carrying some basic household supplies, saw it as well. “Sure, let’s order them online this afternoon.”

He glanced at the purple Bentley but didn’t pay it much mind; cars, to him, were nothing more than a mode of transportation.

The two of them continued side by side along the sidewalk.

It was late August, and the summer—unwilling to exit quietly—sent a hot wind sweeping through. The breeze lifted the hem of Yang Xue’s skirt and ruffled Jiang Bei’s hair, which was in dire need of a trim.

Inside the purple Bentley, Fang Yuan, having finished her notes, tucked her small notebook into her bag. She looked up just in time to see Jiang Bei and Yang Xue walking past her car, side by side, their figures receding together.

She watched them, lost in thought, unable to stop herself from recalling a line she’d once read in a book: That summer, the sky was so blue, the clouds so high. Innocent youth—just right.

…

The purple Bentley rolled forward slowly. As it passed Jiang Bei and Yang Xue, still walking side by side, Fang Yuan glanced at them—just once—before turning her attention forward and driving on.

Her parents had already furnished the villa down to the last detail, so after parking the car in the yard and getting out, Fang Yuan was truly moving in with nothing more than her suitcase.

She didn’t have much luggage—just a single, extra-large suitcase, about half her height, packed entirely with clothes.

Dragging her suitcase through the villa, she looked around and was quite pleased. She took out her phone to order some delivery, then, while waiting for her food, began hanging up her clothes in the spacious walk-in closet.

Her suitcase was quickly emptied, but the wardrobe still looked sparse—a vast, empty space, bare and uncoordinated.

“I’ll have to buy more clothes to fill it up,” Fang Yuan said to herself with a smile.

There were no surveillance cameras in the villa—no one would dare install any. Otherwise, Wang Fu, hearing this remark, would be instantly reminded of the mountain of clothes and shoes he’d once faced in that castle, and the terror of having to wash and dry them all himself.

Why? Because that was his responsibility—wash, then hang them to dry!

---

It was noon—time for lunch.

In Wang Fu’s villa, four elves—who ought to have been ethereal, unworldly beings, untouched by mundane concerns—stood in the kitchen wearing white chef hats and aprons, one hand on a spatula, the other on a pan handle, preparing lunch with utmost professionalism.

The wok was tossed, flames leaping high, and in no time at all, four dishes of stir-fried pork liver were set on the table.

Wang Fu and the other bigwigs sat around a massive round dining table in the dining room, staring each other down in a tense, murderous silence.

Under their gaze, cold sweat broke out on Wang Fu’s bald head. He wiped it off and, despite his reluctance, knew he had to speak.

“Ahem, staring at me won’t help. I’m not Fang Yuan—my face isn’t that pretty.”

Still, none of them spoke.

Seeing this, Wang Fu had no choice but to press on. “Honestly, just because she keeps accounts doesn’t mean Fang Yuan is cheating. Maybe after all these years, this habit has become second nature to her. That’s actually quite possible—have you thought of that?”

“Really, think about it. Take human women, for example—I’ve heard they’re born to hold grudges. The tiniest slight, no matter how long ago, can be brought up again, ten or twenty years later…”

The atmosphere in the dining room eased, just a little.

Sensing the shift, Wang Fu relaxed and played his trump card. “And think about it—if Fang Yuan really were cheating, do you think she’d have no reaction upon seeing Jiang Bei and Yang Xue strolling together? Wouldn’t she have whipped out her little notebook right away?”

His trump card had a powerful effect. The tense atmosphere in the room weakened considerably.

Yes, that was the biggest oddity.

Why had Fang Yuan shown no reaction to such a scene? It just didn’t add up. Given her temperament—well, in the past, just seeing Jiang Bei chatting and laughing with Yang Xue would have been enough for her to twist Jiang Bei’s ear off.

“Ah Fu! Let’s cut the nonsense!” someone called out. “This game is getting stranger and stranger. None of us are fools. Give it to us straight—are that couple up to something with this whole game?”

Wang Fu: …Who do you want me to ask? If I knew, I’d tell you.

…

Fang Yuan’s food delivery arrived. The deliveryman couldn’t enter the complex, so the security guard took it, and Hu Yao, the general manager of the property department, brought it to her door.

Hu Yao, beaming, rang the doorbell. Fang Yuan, wearing slippers, soon came out from the villa.

Hu Yao was dressed in a sleek black suit—Fang Yuan, with her eye for fashion, could tell at a glance that it was expensive. This made her a little curious—who was this woman, so well dressed, delivering her food?

Suppressing the surge of admiration brought on by Fang Yuan’s beauty, Hu Yao kept her sweetest smile, introduced herself briefly, and handed over her business card.

“Miss Fang, if you ever have any issues in the complex, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you,” Fang Yuan replied.

“I won’t keep you. Enjoy your meal.”

As Hu Yao turned to leave, she happened to see Jiang Bei, also in slippers, heading next door to Yang Xue’s for lunch.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jiang. Are you settling in well?” Hu Yao’s smile grew even warmer as she waved a friendly greeting in his direction.