Chapter 239: Straw

**Chapter 239: The Straw**

The wedding ring was simple in design, resting on Wen Xian’s well-defined fingers like a perfect piece of art.

And just as Jiang Zhiyi spaced out for a moment, Wen Xian pulled him up, his fingers pushing firmly between his, pressing tightly against his skin.

Wen Xian: “Let’s go. The mall closes at eleven. We’re running late.”

Jiang Zhiyi: “Wait—”

He never got to finish. Before he could make sense of anything, he was already being tugged upright in a daze. Wen Xian’s palm was warm, pulling him forward. Jiang Zhiyi briefly closed his eyes and gave in to his feelings.

Do whatever you want. Whether it's part of the divorce settlement or leverage in the shareholder battle, there are only two weeks left anyway.

Even if it’s all an act, this is all the time they have left.

So he let Wen Xian lead him quickly through the company hallway, past Assistant Yuan and the other shareholders who stared in shock, then hit the elevator button before pulling him all the way down to the parking garage.

Through the elevator glass, Jiang Zhiyi could clearly see the astonishment on his assistant’s face:

—Damn, boss, aren’t you two about to get divorced?

—Is the divorce even happening anymore?

—Where’s Wen Xian taking you? Should I call the police?

With a slight wave to calm his assistant, Jiang Zhiyi stood pressed close to Wen Xian, his expression complicated.

He didn’t want to upset Wen Xian, so he deliberately kept some distance when entering the elevator. But Wen Xian, still holding his hand, shifted slightly and closed the gap again. After a few attempts, Jiang Zhiyi found himself backed into the corner of the elevator, too worn out to protest.

More people entered the elevator along the way. Wen Xian, who had never bothered with subtlety, made no effort to hide their closeness, as if he had forgotten how much he once despised this marriage and refused to show it off.

They stood hand in hand, the ring symbolizing their union shining conspicuously at the base of their fingers. Any employee who saw them needed only exchange a glance to understand his identity—

—the rarely seen husband of their boss.

Thus, Wen Xian became the target of many curious glances, both open and discreet.

Jiang Zhiyi had always worn his wedding ring, so everyone in the company knew he was married. But his partner had never shown up before.

Though their engagement was public knowledge among Nancheng’s high society, ordinary employees had no idea about the connection between the Wen and Jiang families. Jiang Zhiyi was young and handsome, and during breaks, many would gossip about his wife—was she a modest beauty or a noble lady?

But today, they got their answer—damn, a guy over 188cm tall, wearing a grayish-beige long coat cinched at the waist with a three-finger-wide belt, highlighting his broad shoulders and slim waist like a male model. Looking further up, his face was strikingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones, a high nose bridge, and a clear, defined jawline. He had a touch of exotic charm that made him look like someone straight out of a fashion magazine. Naturally, people couldn’t help but stare.

Jiang Zhiyi prickled with discomfort.

The ring, which only had two weeks left on its clock, seemed to burn on his finger.

But Wen Xian didn’t care about the stares. In the future, he would swagger into Jiang Zhiyi’s company countless times. Later, after getting close with Assistant Yuan, the assistant would jokingly call him “Madam President,” and the name would spread until many followed suit. Wen Xian would always smile and respond happily, then send a teasing glance toward the president. And in the quiet of night, he would press the president into the mattress and whisper, “Mr. President, how’s your hubby doing?”

Unfortunately, by then, the president was usually unable to answer.

Now, Wen Xian led him all the way to the car, opened the passenger door, and bundled Jiang Zhiyi into the seat, casually grabbing the seatbelt. “President Jiang, lift your arms for me.”

Jiang Zhiyi obediently raised his arms, letting Wen Xian strap him securely into the seat.

Wen Xian slid into the driver’s seat, started the navigation. The restaurant wasn’t far—about ten minutes away. With the holiday crowds, the nearby parking was full, so he parked a block away and walked with Jiang Zhiyi.

As the New Year approached, icy wind whipped past their ears. Wen Xian naturally pulled Jiang Zhiyi close, blocking the worst of the wind.

Fortunately, the busiest hours had passed, so they didn’t need to wait for a seat. The two settled into a quiet corner, and a waiter soon approached.

Noticing their rings, he placed the menu in front of them and enthusiastically recommended, “Are you two a couple? This is our special couple’s set meal. It includes a large yogurt beer with a shared straw and a double scoop of ice cream.”

Jiang Zhiyi absentmindedly twisted his ring, his voice icy. “No need. We’re not.”

He and Wen Xian had never been the kind of lovers who could share a couple's straw, nor would Wen Xian ever touch the ice cream he’d eaten.

But Wen Xian had already picked up the menu. “Sure, this looks good.”

Jiang Zhiyi paused and fell silent.

The waiter glanced between their faces, unsure how to proceed. Wen Xian smiled good-naturedly and handed the menu back. “We’ll go with this one. The dishes look wonderful. We are a couple—just working through some things.”

The waiter nodded knowingly, assuming they were just another bickering young couple, and left with the menu.

Jiang Zhiyi began rubbing his ring again.

This was the second time today that Wen Xian had proactively declared their relationship. Jiang Zhiyi couldn’t quite grasp his intentions, but given their strained dynamic, anything said by someone who disliked him would be wrong, so he didn’t respond.

Before long, the food arrived—a large pineapple-flavored fruit beer with only one straw.

Wen Xian took the first sip, then pushed the glass to the center of the table without a word. He remained unperturbed, beginning to serve himself calmly.

“…”

Jiang Zhiyi didn’t move. His gaze lingered on the straw, as if tempted to try. After a long hesitation, he avoided the juice entirely and merely picked at the other dishes.

Wen Xian sighed softly.

The Jiang Zhiyi of the previous dynasty had been just like this—rigid, inflexible, dull. No one had ever taught him how to maintain normal intimacy or how family members should interact. Though perfectly composed during business negotiations, he became awkward as a teenager in front of Wen Xian.

Fortunately, this time, Wen Xian understood everything and had plenty of patience.

Later, Wen Xian didn’t touch the fruit beer for a long time, as if forgetting it completely. He sipped tea and sampled the desserts, all the while watching from the corner of his eye as Jiang Zhiyi hesitated before lightly pressing his lips to the other end of the straw.

Gingerly, he drew a sip.

Wen Xian pretended not to notice, continuing to eat. It was like indulging a cat testing its territory. Only after Jiang Zhiyi finished did Wen Xian casually pick up the juice and take a big gulp, smiling. “The pineapple juice is fresh. How is it? Good?”

True to form, Jiang Zhiyi grew uncomfortable.

The more awkward he felt, the stonier his face became. He replied woodenly, “It’s alright.”

Wen Xian pushed the last bit toward him. “Then finish it? I’ll go settle the bill.”

Without waiting for a response, he got up and went to pay. When he returned after swiping his card, a glance at the fruit beer confirmed it was empty.

A faint smile tugged at Wen Xian’s lips, quickly concealed. He reached out to Jiang Zhiyi. “Let’s go home.”

From the restaurant, it was already closing time for shops.

Stores along the street were shutting down one by one, their neon signs going dark. The road was deserted, and the air felt even colder. Halfway through their walk, a light drizzle began to fall.

Wen Xian, who had been walking side by side with Jiang Zhiyi, slipped an arm around him naturally. “Wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

Jiang Zhiyi always wore office suits—useless against wind or rain. Fine indoors, unbearable outside.

Yet even so, Jiang Zhiyi said nothing. He was accustomed to bearing every hardship silently, unwilling to reveal even the smallest burden to anyone—even the closest person.

Jiang Zhiyi probably thought that given their current relationship, even if he spoke up, Wen Xian wouldn’t care.

But Wen Xian’s arm stubbornly stretched over anyway, shielding him from half the wind.

Luckily, the car wasn’t far—just a two-minute walk.

Wen Xian nudged Jiang Zhiyi into the car. His fingers brushed through his hair and noticed the dampness at the ends, completely soaked by the rain. When Wen Xian mussed it, Jiang Zhiyi flinched away, annoyed.

Wen Xian almost laughed.

It was cold and clammy to the touch. Tracing down the back of Jiang Zhiyi’s neck, his fingers could still feel goosebumps.

Jiang looked just like he had when Wen Xian first picked up his young boss at the gates of the 33rd Middle School.

Without a word, Wen Xian turned and slipped into the driver’s seat, wordlessly cranking up the AC before peeling off his trench coat.

Coincidentally, the one he wore today was 70% similar to the coat he’d handed Jiang Zhiyi outside the 33rd Middle School.

In that past life, caught in the storm, Wen Xian hadn’t managed to get his little Mr. Jiang into the car.

But today, he could make it right.

Wen Xian murmured softly, “Mr. Jiang, lower your head.”

Jiang Zhiyi froze as Wen Xian’s trench coat came down over him, swallowing him whole. The inner lining, lined with thin fleece, carried Wen Xian’s body heat and the faint citrus scent of his shower gel—as cozy as a sunlit shore. With the heater blasting full force, warmth slowly seeped back into his limbs.

Instinctively, he lifted his hands, fumbling awkwardly with the coat.

Then, a hand settled gently atop his head through the fabric.

Just like back then—again—Wen Xian used the coat like a towel. He gently wiped away the droplets from Jiang Zhiyi’s forehead and hair ends. The soft fleece brushed against his skin, bringing both comfort and awkwardness.

Jiang Zhiyi: “…Wen Xian.”

Wen Xian: “Hmm?”

Jiang Zhiyi: “Wen Xian.”

Wen Xian: “Hmm.”

He continued his motions, murmuring a quiet hum, as if listening intently. But Jiang Zhiyi didn’t continue, as if he had only wanted to call his name for no reason, letting Wen Xian towel him off roughly before wrapping him snugly in the coat.

Taller than him, Wen Xian’s oversized trench coat spread across Jiang Zhiyi like a blanket. Burrowed into it, Jiang Zhiyi silently pulled it tighter.

The heat was downright addictive.

Jiang Zhiyi gave a wry, private smile.

Even this two-week reprieve of kindness still left him hopelessly hooked.

Outside, rain misted the windows. Inside, the stereo played a soothing cello piece, while Wen Xian’s warmth wrapped around him like a crackling fireplace in a blizzard.

Jiang Zhiyi had never ached for the road to stretch longer—just a little longer.

But thirty minutes passed all too quickly. The car rolled into the underground garage. The doors locked with a click, jolting him awake from the daze.

Unaware of the turmoil inside his companion, Wen Xian steered Jiang directly toward the bathroom. “Go shower—unless you want to get sick.”

When the master bath light flickered on and water began to run, Wen Xian snagged fresh clothes and headed for his own shower.

The apartment had more than one bathroom, and Wen Xian was also partially soaked, so they each took a shower separately. Wen Xian finished faster, and by the time he came out, Jiang Zhiyi was still washing.

Years of living together had formed muscle memory, and after sharing a bed with Jiang Zhiyi for so long, Wen Xian absentmindedly got into bed.

The master bedroom had a spacious two-meter-wide bed with a soft Simmons mattress. Wen Xian pulled up the covers to sleep, only to suddenly remember—they were a couple about to divorce...

They were supposed to sleep in separate rooms.

Just then, the sound of running water from the bathroom stopped.