Seeing that no one else had followed them in, Qiu Yihe instantly shed all restraint.
She strolled into the glass-walled sunroom to look around.
Wow, can you actually brew tea here?
The sunroom stood deep within a sea of bamboo; custom floor-to-ceiling glass drank in every verdant hue outside while revealing nothing within.
Warm-toned bluestone pavers covered the floor; in the corner waited an old elm tea table carved with delicate fretwork.
On it, a full Ru-ware set gleamed like jade, and beside it stood a small brass charcoal brazier.
A Yixing teapot simmered atop the coals.
Two low stools flanked the table; against the wall, a curio shelf displayed scattered scholar's rocks and aged pu-erh cakes.
Beneath the shelf, a bamboo basket held sun-dried bamboo leaves. Qiu Yihe lifted a handful to her nose. "It smells amazing—and there's a rattan daybed! I love it!"
"The room's cleaned daily, and the water is spring water from Yuquan Mountain; tea brewed with it tastes wonderful," Jiang Cheng replied.
As he spoke, he closed the door—quietly turning the lock.
Once the kettle was set to boil, Qiu Yihe unceremoniously stretched out on the wide, plain-cushioned bench beside the tea table.
Jiang Cheng sat opposite her, snapped a firestick to light the charcoal, then flicked on the ventilation switch.
Only then did he look at her.
Her eyes were closed, long curled lashes resting like tiny feather fans against her lower lids.
They trembled gently with each even breath.
Sunlight slanted through the glass, brushing her fair skin so pure it looked translucent, every fine downy hair visible.
Jiang Cheng had always known she was beautiful—her charm score was a solid ninety-five.
But her usual bouncing words and gestures rarely gave him a chance to simply stare.
Her nose was small and elegantly straight, her lips a natural peach-pink.
A few soft strands of hair, edged gold by the sun, lay against her cheeks, stirring with each breath.
Framed by warm light and quiet bamboo shadows, she seemed less willful, more serene.
Like a porcelain doll wrapped in sunlight—innocently winsome, almost ethereal.
Damn, the longer he looked, the prettier she got.
Wasn't this exactly the long-lost feeling of falling in love?
The brazier's warmth slowly filled the room, wrapping everything in cozy heat.
After a dozen seconds she opened her eyes, tilting her head at him with a smile.
Jiang Cheng quickly averted his gaze, lifted the copper kettle, and poured hot water into the Yixing pot; rising steam veiled his face.
Moments later he slid a filled cup toward her.
The liquor was bright, the aroma richer.
Qiu Yihe took a sip; the warm tea slid down her throat and she sighed contentedly.
When Jiang Cheng lowered his eyes, she was secretly studying him.
Status is a natural bonus for a man.
A golden boy like Jiang Cheng, plus those looks—her own cheeks flushed.
She looked away, feigned composure, and cleared her throat.
"You still haven't answered my question."
With that pretty, evasive face, few men could refuse her.
The thrill of young love felt wonderful.
Right now their bodies brimmed with hormones.
Jiang Cheng wondered if, years later, he'd still be stirred by this shy, ambiguous mood.
Everything he wanted came too easily.
Because it was within arm's reach, his heart was often calm.
He cherished the rare feeling of genuine affection.
He exhaled softly, glanced at the locked door, and countered, "If I cut ties with my family, do you think I could still support the woman beside me?"
Qiu Yihe's hand holding the cup paused.
Then, brows raised, she said, "You mean your Xingchen Investment Company?"
Jiang Cheng's fingers idly traced the rim of his teacup.
He lifted his eyes to her, a half-smile curving his lips.
"You ought to know everything about me, don't you?"
He sipped his tea, tone casual yet certain.
He leaned forward, eyes settling on Qiu Yihe's startled face, and repeated, "Just tell me—if I really walked away from everything back home, could I give those Girls a solid future?"
She had, in fact, looked into Jiang Cheng.
After overhearing his conversation with Wang Houliang at the Security Bureau, Qiu Yihe had quietly investigated him.
People in her line of work tend to keep a close eye on Tyrande.
When Jiang Cheng had saved her at the bar and understood the Tyrande dialect, Qiu Yihe knew for certain what his position in Tyrande was.
Looked like he'd caught her anyway.
Feeling busted, Qiu Yihe turned her face away with a huff, directing the sound at the tea in her cup.
Given Jiang Cheng's influence in Tyrande, he really did have the resources to handle these matters on his own.
Since the questions were finished, she let her gaze drift lazily around the sunroom.
Time to change the subject.
"The décor here is so atmospheric. Sometimes I feel our Huaxia antique style is truly special."
"Look at the bamboo with those bluestone slabs and the old tea table—it feels like we've traveled back in time, like someone might walk in fanning himself and come to drink tea beneath the bamboo shadows."
When Jiang Cheng didn't answer, Qiu Yihe pouted.
She leaned closer, blinking at him.
"By the way, don't you think Qiu Li's acting a bit odd?"
Seeing Qiu Yihe get to the point, Jiang Cheng glanced once more at the characters on the door.
He lowered his gaze, then lifted it to her again, fingers still unhurriedly toying with the teapot.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked flatly.
Happy he'd responded, Qiu Yihe's smile widened.
"Why would she suddenly bring up such a weird proposal? I'm no ace detective, but I've read plenty on criminal psychology and cases..."
She paused, sipped her tea, voice full of doubt.
"At the end she looked guilty—off. Anyone else pitching a plan would pick something popular and safe, something beneficial to the country and its people, or at least a steady, foolproof route. Hers was guaranteed to draw opposition and a heap of trouble."
She leaned forward, eyes curious.
"The strangest part? A proposal this controversial sailed through the preliminary review. Doesn't that feel way too easy?"
Jiang Cheng had noticed Qiu Li's strangeness too,
but hadn't read as much into it as Qiu Yihe had.
Now that she mentioned it, certain things came back to him—
like an author as famous as Guo Han taking a million to publish a travel book praising Japan's culture.
It sparked a wave of admiration for Japan across the country.
Publicity stunts claiming foreign air is sweeter aren't rare.
And it's not just Japan—other countries do it too.
There are even dedicated departments pushing such campaigns.
Seeing Qiu Yihe waiting for his reply, Jiang Cheng knew she'd followed him here for help with this.
"We agreed: one question each. I answered mine. Yours is a second question, so I won't respond."
Watching him sip his tea unhurriedly, Qiu Yihe felt a flash of frustration.
"Then… what would it take for you to answer?"
At that, he suddenly looked up at Qiu Yihe,
his gaze traveling over her.
Her heart lurched; she panicked.
She whipped her head toward the sunroom door.
Crap—when did that door get locked?
Uh-oh, I've walked straight into the tiger's den!
Only now did she realize she'd fallen into a trap Jiang Cheng had laid from the start.
How had a few casual sentences lured her into this sunroom?
She glanced instinctively toward the window.
Chen Ping and the others stood by the bamboo grove in plain view,
yet the special glass was a one-way mirror; no one outside could see in.
From the beginning Jiang Cheng had planned this.
Qiu Yihe couldn't help smacking her own forehead.
Damn—where was her usual sharpness on a case?
Before she could leave,
Jiang Cheng stood, walked to the recliner, and bent down to her.
"Now it's my turn to ask. You said you wanted to thank me, but too many people were around. No opportunity. How's this place?"