Jiang Churan: "My shot lasted barely two seconds. The fact that you still spotted me—so touching."
Jiang Churan: "You have no idea how awful Shuang Shuang and Yan Yan were. I told them exactly when I'd appear, and they still said they couldn't see me..."
Jiang Churan: "Are you asleep?? Good night. I'll probably sleep in tomorrow; I'm too excited to doze off now. Sweet dreams."
Jiang Churan had always been the quiet, aloof type.
The fact that she'd just fired off that many messages showed how moved she was that Jiang Cheng had crouched in front of the TV to look for her Spring Festival Gala clip.
Jiang Cheng: "Baby, I just got up—slept great last night."
Jiang Cheng: "Even if they hadn't given you a close-up in that huge crowd, I'd still have picked you out at a glance."
After reeling off a few effortless sweet nothings, Jiang Cheng opened the wechat message from An Xin.
An Xin: "Happy New Year—may the coming year bring everything you wish for."
After sending that, An Xin recorded a New-Year greeting video of Annie for him.
In the clip Annie wore a tiny red Chinese-style dress and looked like a porcelain doll.
It had only been a short while, yet although Annie was still soft and adorable,
Jiang Cheng noticed a new maturity in her eyes and brows.
Kids really do grow up fast.
An Xin's message had arrived a little after seven in the morning.
Jiang Cheng sent a brief reply.
"Thanks, Annie—big red envelope for you when I get back."
After that he tapped on Huang Yuqi's message.
Huang Yuqi: "Happy New Year's Eve. I'm on my own and never stay up for the vigil, so I turned in early last night..."
Her message had been sent around six a.m.
Reading Chen Xueer's teasing text, Jiang Cheng rubbed his nose.
He was sure he'd only ticked Zhao Linger—how had Chen Xueer ended up in the group?
Jiang Cheng couldn't deny he still yearned for Chen Xueer's body.
But he'd already decided to let whatever happened between them unfold naturally;
he wouldn't take the initiative himself.
Jiang Cheng: "Um... let me explain. That message was a group send; I must've accidentally checked your name."
Jiang Cheng: "Just ignore it."
The second he hit send, Chen Xueer replied.
Chen Xueer: "Hmph, scumbag—did you blast it to every girl in the company?"
By the time he'd finished breakfast and answered all the messages, an hour had slipped by.
Jiang Cheng mulled over how to tackle the year's first system task
while heading for the gate, planning to look for Huang Yuqi.
As he crossed the courtyard corridor, steady, forceful footsteps approached.
Chen Ping was escorting a slightly paunchy, crisply uniformed middle-aged man through the entrance.
The stars on the man's epaulettes glittered.
Every crease of his uniform was razor-straight, the dense medals on his chest clinking softly as he walked.
Jiang Cheng's eyes narrowed.
Wasn't this the youngest major general he'd bumped into at the gate when he visited Zhao Anning at the base?
Chen Ping snapped a salute the moment he saw Jiang Cheng.
"Young Master Jiang, Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year."
The officer's stride checked at Chen Ping's words.
Eagle-sharp eyes narrowed as he sized up the young man ahead.
"It's you," his voice low and resonant, clipped with military authority. "So you're Elder Jiang's grandson."
Both remembered the measuring look they'd exchanged at the camp gate.
Their clans stood worlds apart; meeting again under this corridor roof set off subtle ripples inside each of them.
Jiang Cheng nodded calmly. "Happy New Year—didn't expect to run into you here."
Jiang Cheng remembered him,
and of course he remembered Jiang Cheng.
That bugatti nights sound parked so brazenly at the gate—he'd snuck more than one glance at it,
wondering who dared flaunt such flash in a city crawling with tigers and dragons.
"So you're Elder Jiang's grandson." His gaze slid to Jiang Cheng's hands, casually pocketed.
Seeing the same easy posture the young man had shown at the gate, he asked, "That car—yours?"
The man before him was the last blood of his line:
even if its power had waned, pride still ran bone-deep.
His uniform was top-grade issue for a general,
his watch a special-edition Beidou satellite timepiece,
his shoes hand-made by the General Logistics Department.
Jiang Cheng knew these privileges were largely for show—
when it came to real leverage, there was little left.
Chen Ping sensed the delicate tension and was about to speak up
when Jiang Cheng waved him off with a chuckle: "Yeah, a gift from my grandpa."
A bitter smile tugged at the officer's mouth. "Elder Jiang gives out such trendy rides..." He paused, eyes turning distant. "All my grandpa left me was a crate of yellowed field diaries."
The words dropped into sudden silence.
Jiang Cheng caught the fleeting loneliness in his eyes—
a clan that once roared now reduced to one man
in a splendid uniform and ceremonial stars, a living monument.
Reading the lull, the man's square face broke into a smile.
He lifted the sandal-wood box in his hand: "I'm on my way to wish your grandfather a happy New Year—hate to keep him waiting. Drop by the base when you're free."
Jiang Cheng nodded thoughtfully. "Will do."