The shout made Xia Meng, standing nearby, feel a sudden, inexplicable awkwardness.
Usually, when she and Jiang Cheng were alone—especially when he was spanking her—she would keep calling out, "Honey, go easy," or "Honey, not so hard."
Hearing another woman call Jiang Cheng "husband" now still stung a little.
After hearing Xia Xia's "husband," Jiang Cheng turned to Xia Meng.
"And you?"
When Jiang Cheng called her, the faint sourness in Xia Meng's heart vanished without warning.
Instead she felt a covert tug-of-war for favor; after giving Jiang Cheng a coquettish glare she even forgot to feel shy and cried, "Honey~~"
The single cry made Jiang Cheng melt.
For a moment he wanted the two girls to fly straight to him.
"Good girls, when I get back I'll spoil you properly…"
On any other day those words would have left them mortified,
yet now, having already cried out, what remained was anticipation…
The next morning Jiang Cheng woke to birds outside the window.
There were not only birds but, at dawn, roosters crowing,
plus insects and animals he couldn't even name.
Clearly the ecosystem around his grandfather's place was thriving.
Every stay here reminded him of his father's remark that the "magnetic field" of the place was excellent.
Despite the chorus of creatures he slept soundly,
never waking drained.
When he opened his eyes sunlight was slipping through the curtain crack, pooling warm across the quilt.
He grabbed his phone: 9:57 a.m.
After returning yesterday morning he had stayed with his grandfathers,
juggling company with time-management,
chatting non-stop on WeChat.
Washed and out of his room, he stepped into the parlor and spotted a familiar figure.
Qiu Yihe sat in an agarwood chair.
Today she looked different.
He had seen her in Chinese dress at New Year,
but now, in spring, the fabric was lighter.
Her long hair was loosely pinned, baring a slender, fair neck.
A pale-pink Republican-style qipao dress, collar embroidered with tiny magnolia blossoms.
The hem reached just below her knees, outlining her curves.
The full arc of her bust stood out under the fitted cloth,
softening her usual sharpness with gentleness.
As Jiang Cheng walked over he greeted the two elders.
"Grandfather, Second-Grandfather, good morning."
"Awake?" Great-Grandfather beamed and waved. "I had Uncle Lin save you sugar cakes and millet porridge; I'll have them bring it."
"Thanks, Grandfather."
Qiu Yihe had seen him the instant he appeared;
her smile froze for a second,
fingers imperceptibly tightening on her cup, a flicker of unease in her eyes.
She had meant to ignore him,
but this was, after all, his territory.
So she forced a polite nod.
Jiang Chenghong chuckled and waved Jiang Cheng over. "Sit, sit. Why not sleep longer? Young folk should eat and sleep while they can; when you reach my age you'll want to and won't be able."
Beside him Qiu Yihe's mouth twitched.
Shouldn't an elder be quoting "An inch of time is an inch of gold" or "No need to sleep now, you'll sleep forever when you're dead"?
Instead he was urging Jiang Cheng to rest more?
Before she could ponder further, Jiang Cheng settled into the chair across the small table from her.
"Oh, you're back?" He raised an eyebrow, teasing. "That outfit suits you—softer than the police uniform."
Qiu Yihe's heart lurched, but her voice stayed cool. "Just arrived; came to greet the elders. On leave one can't wear a uniform every day."
Out of the elders' sight she shot him a glare—
his gaze had definitely landed on her chest.
If the old gentlemen weren't present she'd have swung at him.
As it was she swallowed the awkwardness.
Seeing her indignant yet helpless, Jiang Cheng grinned. "By the way, I saw Uncle Qiu yesterday; he said you were returning to the capital. I meant to WeChat you and ask when you'd arrive."
Qiu Yihe forced a smile. "Really? I never got your little message, but I'm already here, so no need."
She had, after all, blocked him—how could he send anything?
Could he still not know he'd been blocked?
Hmph, of course not.
The thought irritated her.
During the time she'd blacklisted him she had waited for a friend-request or a call—
nothing.
She had even pictured him angrily demanding an explanation,
yet he hadn't even noticed.
So to him she was just one more girl in his wechat list.
Tch—truly a scumbag!