Chapter 5: Everything Lies Within His Grasp

Xing Jue bit down on his cigarette and watched him in silence, a gentle smile lingering at the corners of his lips, but his gaze was icy. Chen Zhiyuan suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, and he stepped back, waving his hand. “I didn’t mean to joke about your wife, don’t be angry. I’ll have the bet called off right away.”

Xing Jue flicked away his cigarette and crushed it, letting out a soft laugh. “Why call it off? Let it play—it's quite interesting.”

…

Wen Sui indeed began acting out the drama of “thinking herself special.” She intercepted Xing Jue three times in two days; though he hadn’t called to scold her, Si Yao knew she had to deal with this useless matter quickly.

Times had changed. This time, Xing Ani had not only returned but also changed her surname, clearly aiming to marry Xing Jue. If word reached her, Xing Jue might very well lose his mind.

The next day, Si Yao drove out to find Wen Sui, only to see a crowd surrounding her at an intersection.

Si Yao tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, not intending to intervene. After all, those gamblers circling Wen Sui were brought by her brother’s gambling debts. If something really happened, it would actually make matters easier to resolve.

Sitting in her car, Si Yao lit a slim cigarette for women, resting her head in her hand as she watched Wen Sui waving her bag and screaming, her face flushed. For a brief moment, she felt a daze. When the cigarette burned down almost to her fingertips, she pressed the horn.

When Xing Jue arrived at the police station, Si Yao’s face was swollen and red, blood seeping from one earlobe, her sweater stretched out of shape from being pulled, yet she was still gently comforting Wen Sui, who was sobbing in her arms.

Wen Sui was unharmed, save for her swollen eyes from crying.

Xing Jue took his people outside.

Wen Sui ran to him in tears, throwing herself into his arms. To Si Yao’s surprise, Xing Jue didn’t push her away; he held her gently, soothing her.

Si Yao pondered, slow and dull.

Was this an exception…?

After all, for those Xing Jue had cast aside, the idea of coming close to him again was pure fantasy. Over the years, aside from Xing Ani—whose relationship with him was an endless cycle of breaking up and making up—Wen Sui was the only exception.

Si Yao clasped her hands tightly together.

So… Xing Jue wasn’t just an exception for Ani; he could be for others too.

Whenever Si Yao was there, she was always the driver, moving at a leisurely pace. “Where to?” she asked.

Wen Sui had fallen asleep against Xing Jue’s chest, his hand resting on her shoulder as he looked out the window.

He didn’t answer, so Si Yao drove straight to a hotel.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, about to get out, Xing Jue spoke. “You’re quite fond of her, aren’t you?”

“Who?” Si Yao replied.

She caught Xing Jue’s deep gaze in the mirror, then glanced down at Wen Sui in his arms.

Si Yao smiled. “She’s still a child—pure and innocent. Who wouldn’t like her?”

But she wasn’t just a child; Wen Sui was twenty, Si Yao twenty-nine, yet still a child.

“Take her to Fragrant Court.”

Si Yao paused. “Are you sure?”

Fragrant Court was the place where Xing Jue kept women. Years ago, it housed Ani, who came and went. It had been empty for two years, but now, with Ani’s return and new surname, Xing Jue wanted to send Wen Sui there.

He didn’t respond, but since he hadn’t moved, he must be certain.

Si Yao fastened her seatbelt again and drove.

Fragrant Court stood at the easternmost edge of Qing City. It was the first house Xing Jue bought for himself as a teenager, not large but grand, its architecture reminiscent of a European chapel, as if meant for a future wife.

Si Yao had been engaged to him for seven years, and this was her first time inside.

Wen Sui wandered curiously around the house, murmuring, “The furniture’s a bit old.”

After so many years, it was bound to be. Si Yao brushed her hand over the furniture and said coolly, “If you don’t like it, I’ll change it for you.”

“Really?” Wen Sui asked.

Si Yao nodded, her smile deepening. “Whatever style you want, I’ll make it so.”

Wen Sui looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Yao Yao, back when I was with A Jue I didn’t treat you well.”

Si Yao spoke gently; at first glance, she seemed soft-hearted, but she had carried the title of Xing Jue’s fiancée for many years. The various women who came and went around him always tried to bully her, and Wen Sui was no exception.

Si Yao shook her head. “It’s fine. You’re still young.”

Wen Sui bit her lip and leaned closer. “Yao Yao, will you marry A Jue?”

It was the question everyone in their circle wondered about.

The servant of the Xing family had gotten into bed with the master—everyone knew it. For the sake of the family’s reputation, they had to be engaged. Since the engagement, everyone waited for the conclusion; after years without one, people grew curious: would Si Yao and Xing Jue ever actually marry?

Si Yao wondered: would they?

No.

“If he wants to, we will.” Si Yao stroked Wen Sui’s youthful, collagen-filled cheeks, her voice gentle. “If he doesn’t, we won’t, Sui Sui. Everything is in his hands.”