Chapter 1
The noble consort paused for a moment, only to realize that she had once again crossed his taboo. He had a poor relationship with his wife, yet strangely, he consistently defended Nan Qin in public, to the extent that he forbade her from directly addressing his wife by name, as if uttering it would be an insult. Was he truly indifferent to that lady? In truth, he understood his own feelings better than anyone else. He must be deeply in love with that woman! A man with a hard exterior is clearly not endearing, yet he possesses a certain charm that captivates women. Was he truly indifferent to that lady? In truth, he understood his own feelings better than anyone else. He must be deeply in love with that woman! A man with a hard exterior is clearly not endearing, yet he possesses a certain charm that captivates women. It is not merely because he is the son of Feng Kewan, nor because of his military rank. A young man with a notorious reputation is difficult to praise, yet upon closer reflection, he is entirely alluring. Like a glowing ember nestled within ashes, its fiery light cannot be overlooked.
The car rolled over the tram tracks, causing a slight bump. A sweet and fragrant aroma wafted in through the window, the warm scent of osmanthus. Liang Yan leaned out to look, noticing someone selling candied chestnuts by the roadside. A large pot was placed on a coal stove made from a gasoline barrel, and a worker was vigorously stirring the chestnuts in the quartz sand with a metal spatula, cooking them with great enthusiasm
The flower basket presented to the singing star is quite exquisite, and of course, it comes at a hefty price—ten dollars for five, which seems a bit like extortion. Young Master Feng has never hesitated to spend money on women, but Deputy Officer Yu cannot help but feel a pinch in his wallet. The cost is too high; he believes it is not worth it. If Miss Zhou were a beauty, it would be a different story, but in fact, she is not even half as beautiful as the young mistress at home. It all relies on her alluring charm, which indeed gives her an advantage in winning men's favor. Young Master Feng is not such a superficial person; he can see that he is half-hearted towards those women. The money spent is merely the price of indifference, and in his heart, he has always cared only for the young mistress.
She took a seat opposite him, her crossed legs gracefully extending from the slit of her qipao, her posture beautiful, yet unfortunately failing to capture his attention. She did not seem to mind much, adjusting her curved bangs and saying: "Why are you not speaking? You came over as if you had eaten gunpowder, and now you just fall asleep as soon as you arrive, treating my place like a hotel? Hey, what is going on with you and your wife? If you are not happy, why not just get a divorce? Hanging around like this every day, can you even stand it?"
The adjutant Yu in the front seat turned around and asked him, "Is the second young master going to the official residence or returning to the courtyard?"
A person descends the spiral staircase, their high heels tapping on the walnut floor, moving gracefully and unhurriedly, glancing down as they walk
The hall was brightly lit, and the military boots made no sound as they stepped on the carpet. He walked to the staircase and looked up, hesitating for a moment before taking a step upstairs. Her room was at the end of the corridor, and he walked slowly past it. The intricately carved mahogany door in front of him was tightly closed, as if it severed all emotions and connections. He hesitated slightly before reaching for the doorknob; he had tried many times before, and it had always been locked. Today, however, it was strangely different, as he was able to turn it open. He knew she could never have intentionally left the door open for him; she had most likely forgotten.
Yu Raoliang was somewhat taken aback and hurriedly followed him, seeing him retreat to a stall and buy a bag of chestnuts, which he held close to his chest
It is just that I do not know when they began to drift further away, and now they are as distant as the horizon, which is truly disheartening
At the age of fifteen, Yu Raoliang was assigned a deputy officer who was the closest among the four logistics officers. He was habitually called "Second Young Master" when not on official duty, a practice that has not changed over the years. The official residence referred to by the deputy officer Yu is the residence of the Grand Marshal in Zhita, from which he had moved out after getting married. However, the garden is not far from Zhita, and his mother often thinks of him. In addition to reporting military affairs, he frequently stays for dinner and sometimes even stays overnight.
Aren't you coming?" She seemed to be looking forward to it, but then thought it wasn't right. She fiddled with her curly hair and said, "Two won't do; at least five are needed to help me save face.
He did not speak again and bent down to get into the car
He slipped in, the lamp by the bed still lit, and the room was filled with a faint glow and fragrance. He reached out and rested his hand on the bed frame, looking over from the foot of the bed; she lay on her side, her long black hair spread across the pillow. He turned to face her, silent, quietly observing her. She had her eyes closed, her thick eyelashes casting shadows, reminding him of the celluloid doll that his elder brother's daughter, Miaoyin, often held in her arms. ... A delicate nose, rosy lips, and skin that appeared almost translucent under the light ... . She had her eyes closed, her thick eyelashes casting shadows, reminding him of the celluloid doll that his elder brother's daughter, Miaoyin, often held in her arms. ... A delicate nose, rosy lips, and skin that appeared almost translucent under the light ... . ... The shock of seeing her for the first time, which had left him in awe, still lingered in his memory.
The car drove into the gate of the garden and stopped next to the fountain. A servant from the house came out to greet him. As he got out of the car, he was still holding the chestnuts in his hand and asked, "Is the young lady asleep?"
As night approaches, the temperature outside is very low. The cold wind rushes in through the window, cutting against the face like a knife. The streets are crowded, and the cars move slowly, allowing a clear view of the newsboys and cigarette girls bustling about. He leans back, his gloved hand pressed against half of his face, and says in a muffled voice: "Return to the garden."
He paused slightly, smiled with a hint of mockery, and casually handed the paper bag to Wu Ma, saying, "Go make a plate of chestnut chicken, I haven't eaten yet"
The bleak sunlight of early spring filtered through the square stained glass on the second floor, casting slanted rays onto the Turkish carpet. The living room was very quiet, with only the ticking sound of the clock marking the passage of time.
"Stop the car," he suddenly shouted, quickly opening the car door
The paper bag was steaming hot, with puffs of hot air rolling and rising, crashing against his chin in waves. The car was heading back towards the garden district; today was the weekend, which should have been a pleasant holiday, yet he had left home. As for the reason, he couldn't quite clarify it himself. He had a bit to drink at noon and vaguely remembered having a quarrel with her. In any case, it was not a significant matter—compared to the emotional knots between them, it hardly qualified as important.
Yu Raoliang said, "I have already ordered Miss Zhou's flower basket, and it will be sent over before the opening of the grand stage"
Mother Wu said: "The young lady has finished her meal and went to bed early"
Feng Liangyan glanced at her and said, "You have a performance tonight, so I will have someone send a flower basket to show support."
As the car drove past the neon-lit streets, he rolled down the window to look outside. In the twilight, a tram approached, filled to the brim with people returning home from work. Perhaps the exhaustion of a long day had already drained their souls, each face expressionless, countless living corpses.
Nan Qin loved to eat chestnuts. When he was studying abroad, he missed the flavors of his hometown and ran several streets to buy some in the Chinese district. Perhaps due to a change in mindset, the snacks from China never tasted as good as he had imagined in the United States. She reluctantly used a few and then discarded them, never mentioning them again.
Liang Yan paid no attention to her soft Wu Nong dialect, while the maid brought over his coat. He shook it out, and the buttons adorned with the national emblem and winged insignia clashed together with a crisp sound. Discussing marriage with a woman who has no family ties is superfluous; he turned away, methodically adjusting his epaulettes, fastening his webbing, and attaching his sword to the belt buckle.
He had a dashing figure, and his appearance in military attire made him even more handsome. The noble consort escorted him to the carriage, raised her arm, resting one elbow on the back of her other hand, and playfully flicked her fingers at him as if playing the piano, saying, "Second Young Master, see you again. Come back when you miss me!" With a light laugh, she added, "If it's not convenient, we can meet at the usual place."
He no longer paid her any attention, put on the gloves he had taken, and walked towards the door. The aide waiting in a corner of the garden immediately drove up, stopping the car at the bottom of the steps. After getting out, the heels of his riding boots clicked together respectfully as he opened the car door for him
After all, she understands the subtleties of social interactions; it is not wise to offend him if one wishes to navigate this circle. Momentarily distracted, ash fell onto her qipao, and she quickly pouted to blow it away. Standing up, she playfully nudged him with her shoulder and half-jokingly teased, "Oh dear, the esteemed second son, is it inappropriate to joke around? How embarrassing! Alright, alright, I haven't heard anything; is that acceptable?" She picked up the white gloves from the tea table and presented them with both hands, smiling, "It looks like the sky is getting dark; it might not be good to return too late, right?"
The tall man on the sofa was still lying there, his military cap pulled down over his face, obscuring his brows and eyes, making it impossible to tell whether he was dreaming or awake. She approached with her arms crossed, a half-smile playing on her delicate phoenix eyes, her gaze flowing like water. With a gentle glance, she exuded a hint of charming innocence. Leaning down, she called to him, "Second Young Master, you’ve been sleeping quite a long time, the sun is about to set. I see your wife doesn’t seem to care about you either, tsk tsk, what a pity! It’s better to stay here with me..."
"You talk too much," he said impatiently as he put on his hat. "I remember we had an agreement; we should not inquire into matters that are not to be questioned. Have you forgotten the rules, Your Highness?"
The person looking up finally removed their hat, revealing arched eyebrows, indifferent lips, and a strikingly handsome face. They raised their wrist to check the time, let out a sigh, and covered their eyes with their hand
She reached out to open the cigarette case on the coffee table, a series of movements that were strikingly beautiful and carefree, placing a slender "Hademen" between her red lips. The golden lighter ignited the cigarette, she took a puff and slowly exhaled, "You have been so devoted to her, yet I have heard the rumors about Nan Qin..." Her voice gradually lowered, eventually trailing off into silence.
Immediately, her phoenix eyes flickered. This person, devoid of feelings and loyalty, is not new to this behavior. Although accustomed to it, there is still a sense of disappointment. How should one put it? Their relationship is difficult to articulate yet remarkably easy to understand. During his single days, they had a few intimate encounters; he provided her with money, and she offered him entertainment, nothing more. However, a fleeting romance is still a romance, albeit not frequent. He sought refuge from the world with her, and she did not charge him for her time, which indicates that she valued him as a person, doesn't it
He stared at her with a gloomy expression, "What did you say?"
The sound of bicycle bells occasionally echoed on the street outside the mansion, a long string of "ding... ding... ding..." passing by, like pebbles thrown into a lake, creating faint ripples. A young voice, with a pitiful tone, hummed softly, "Gardenias and white orchids, sir or madam, buy a flower..." gradually fading away, leaving behind a lingering echo, ultimately reduced to a pale outline, devoid of substantial content
She leaned on the armrest of the sofa and turned to look at him, twisting herself into an S shape, "I am talking to you, what do you mean by pretending to be deaf and mute?"