Chapter 67 Happiness

Chapter 67 Happiness

That night, the hotel room door opened, and as soon as a tall, beautiful woman stepped inside, Zhao Mingshi, who had opened the door, pulled her into an eager embrace. His hands fumbling impatiently with her hemline, slipping underneath...

At the Western-style house, Zhao Guangqian, Zhao Guangyuan, and Su Lan had been discussing the situation with the two children for quite some time.

Zhao Guangqian hadn’t expected that Jiang Luo would refuse to come back since April and would cut off contact with the family.

Being away on business, he had always assumed that since the family’s conditions were good and the silk mill’s were poor, Jiang Luo would be more than willing to return.

Zhao Guangqian was so worried that he kept frowning after dinner, chain-smoking.

On the sofa across the coffee table, Zhao Guangyuan was also anxious, wearing a pained expression and sighing constantly.

Su Lan had already cried once, her eyes swollen and red.

Zhao Shuo sat to the side, unable to get a word in, his expression rather helpless.

Zhao Guangqian spoke up, "Did you go to Jiang Luo’s place?"

Zhao Shuo: "Yes, he wasn’t there."

"I asked his company’s staff, and they said he took an early vacation and won’t be back until after the Lunar New Year."

Zhao Guangqian smoked, puzzled: "A vacation? Where did he go?"

Zhao Shuo: "I'm not sure. I asked, but his company’s people don’t know either."

Zhao Guangqian speculated: "Did he go back to the silk mill, to his adoptive parents, to be filial to them?"

Zhao Guangyuan: "No way."

Only then did they bring up Jiang Jianmin and Zhang Xiangping’s character and the previous incident where Jiang Luo’s truck was smashed.

It was better left unmentioned, but once they did, Zhao Guangqian’s brow furrowed deeply and he said, "With adoptive parents like that, you still couldn’t bring him back?"

Are you useless?

"He’s been transporting goods, dealing in resale, and running a company all on his own. You two both hold leadership positions—can’t you use your brains to find a way? Offer him money when he needs it, use your connections, and win him over?"

Are you really that dumb!?

Zhao Guangqian immediately turned to Zhao Shuo: "Do you have his number? Does he have a mobile phone too?"

"Call him. Now."

"Call! I’ll talk to him!"

Zhao Shuo hesitated, checking his watch: "Dad, it’s pretty late now. Let's do it tomorrow."

"You just got home; you should rest first."

"Whatever it is, we can talk tomorrow."

Zhao Guangqian barked at him: "Who's the father here, you or me? Are you calling or not?"

He handed over his mobile phone, in a tone that brooked no argument: "Dial the number! Don’t make me say it again!"

Zhao Shuo had no choice but to take the mobile phone and press Jiang Luo’s number.

"Beep—beep—" It connected.

But no one answered.

Zhao Shuo said helplessly: "Dad, no one’s picking up."

He added: "I already called twice this afternoon after you got back."

"Probably on vacation, doesn't want to be disturbed, wants to rest, so he’s just ignoring the phone."

Zhao Guangqian wasn’t easily fooled, his voice thundered: "If we can’t reach him by phone, we should at least know where he is, right?"

"It’s the New Year—if he’s not here and doesn’t get along with his adoptive parents, where could he go? Praying at a temple or vacationing in the States!?"

Zhao Guangqian grew angrier the more they talked, snapping: "What kind of parents and brother have you been!?"

"A good kid, left out there all alone during the New Year!?"

"Every family is getting together, and he’s by himself?"

"You don’t feel sorry for him, but you're all worried about the one you raised for eighteen years who isn’t even yours?"

Zhao Guangqian reached out, his broad palm banged hard on the coffee table: "There’s no sense in neglecting your own flesh and blood to care for someone else’s!"

"Either go bring Jiang Luo back to celebrate the Lunar New Year together!"

"Or let's just cancel the New Year altogether!"

Meanwhile, in Suzhou, Jiang Luo didn’t answer the phone because his mobile phone was tossed carelessly in Huo Zongzhuo’s car.

He was on vacation, having put work aside—why bother with calls? Whatever it was could wait until after the New Year.

Jiang Luo was at Huo Zongzhuo’s home, fitting in like a fish in water—

Besides bringing some fruits and pastries picked up last minute, Jiang Luo had specially brought a winter coat he made himself for Huo Zongzhuo’s mother.

Jiang Luo took out the coat, personally helped her put it on, and showered her with sweet compliments, making her especially happy.

Jiang Luo also chatted with her, showing himself to be charming and adaptable, discussing all kinds of topics freely, truly like a little bird, chattering away. The mother laughed and chatted all afternoon, utterly delighted.

Later, even Aunt Zhao joined in. The four of them sat in the first-floor living room, eating fruit and chatting casually, the room buzzing with laughter. The atmosphere couldn’t have been better. The mother laughed so hard she doubled over, even showing her dentures.

During dinner, the mother kept loading Jiang Luo's plate with food, clearly very fond of him.

Jiang Luo ate while actively steering the conversation, sharing stories from his childhood, like how he couldn’t tell chives from green bristlegrass, mistook green bristlegrass for chives, picked a big handful by the roadside, brought it home, mixed it in the bag of chives, and successfully earned himself two slaps on the butt.

Everyone laughed, chatting and eating joyfully, having such a great time that dinner lasted two hours.

"Mom, I’m heading off to sleep. You should rest early too."

It was very late. After saying goodbye, Jiang Luo left the house with Huo Zongzhuo.

Jiang Luo was clearly still high from the conversation. As soon as the wooden door closed behind them, he turned, walked over, and deliberately bumped Huo Zongzhuo’s shoulder with his own, then turned back, lively and animated: "So, did you suddenly realize that I’m actually quite good with words?"

Huo Zongzhuo smiled lazily, his eyes gentle: "Yeah, I noticed."

Before, Huo Zongzhuo really hadn’t thought Jiang Luo was particularly sociable.

In his eyes, Jiang Luo was more bold, confident, assertive, daring to think and act—he really hadn’t seen Jiang Luo as particularly slick with words.

I just found out today that when Jiang Luo is happy, or when he's willing, he knows how to cheer people up. He's a real smooth talker, able to talk about anything and everything. Just look at how he had the old lady grinning from ear to ear this afternoon.

Huo Zongzhuo led the way, taking Jiang Luo to where he was staying. As they walked, he remarked, "How come this skill of yours only surfaced today?"

Jiang Luo was bouncing along, reaching out to touch the leaves on the roadside trees, occasionally shrugging his shoulders, acting lively and energetic—a clear sign of his good mood and sheer delight.

He replied as they walked, "Well, she's your mom, of course I’d want to make her happy."

"The old lady leads a simple life. Usually, it’s just her and the housekeeper back at home, and you’re often away. Since it’s rare for you to come back for the New Year, I figured I should make her happy."

Huo Zongzhuo: "That thoughtful?"

"Yep."

Jiang Luo said in a drawn-out voice, "It's because you’re good to me."

"You're good to me, so of course I’m happy to cheer up your mom."

Besides, "Since it's almost New Year's, and I'm joining you all to celebrate, of course we should all be happy together."

Jiang Luo walked alongside, swinging his arms as he walked and looking around. "It’s really different here," he noted.

Cobblestone paths, low walls, gray-tiled roofs, small bridges, and streetlights designed like decorative lanterns—a classic Jiangnan style, full of charm and entirely different from Haicheng.

Jiang Luo asked, "Has it always been like this here? Or did the city purposely design it this way?"

Huo Zongzhuo: "Yeah, it’s always been like this."

"Really nice," Jiang Luo said, really liking it. "Even though both Haicheng and Suzhou speak the Wu dialect, and the accents are somewhat similar, scenery-wise, Suzhou is better."

"If I were to retire someday, I’d choose here too."

"Buy a small courtyard, put a wicker chair in it, and lie there every day listening to pop music."

Huo Zongzhuo laughed. "Most people listen to opera here."

Jiang Luo started singing: "Silun Pavilion, quiet writings, Bell and Drum Tower, the long drip of the water clock…"

It was Suzhou *Pingtan*.

Huo Zongzhuo was surprised again. "You know how to sing this too?"

Haha.

Jiang Luo laughed, bragging, "Is there anything I can’t do?"

Their shadows lay long on the ground under the dim streetlights overhead.

The alley was quiet, their laughter echoing on the cobblestone path.

Huo Zongzhuo had walked this road countless times since childhood—its length, how many steps it took, he knew it all too well.

But tonight, with Jiang Luo by his side, he suddenly understood the phrase, "The night dissolves in moonlight."

He began to wish the road weren’t so short, that it wouldn’t end so quickly.

He wanted to walk a bit longer with Jiang Luo, to chat a little more.

After walking Jiang Luo back and returning, he had just pushed open the gate to the courtyard when his mother appeared again under the corridor.

Seeing Huo Zongzhuo, she asked, "Have you settled the young man properly?"

Huo Zongzhuo walked toward her. "Don’t worry, he’s grown up."

His mother smiled. "To me, he looks like a child, still not grown up."

Huo Zongzhuo reached out to support his mother, leading her inside. She held his hand, still smiling. "Now I understand why you like him."

"Seeing him, I like him too."

Huo Zongzhuo listened, thought of Jiang Luo, and couldn’t help but smile.

Bringing Jiang Luo back, introducing him to his mother, spending the New Year together—it was the best decision he’d made recently.

As they went upstairs, his mother went on: "I already prepared a *hongbao* for him, knowing he was coming."

"Now that I think about it, it’s not enough. I need to give him a bigger one."

Perhaps influenced by Jiang Luo, Huo Zongzhuo joked too. "What about me? Do I get one?"

His mother turned in surprise. "You want one too?"

The last time she gave Huo Zongzhuo a *hongbao* was at least ten years ago.

Huo Zongzhuo: "I’m joking."

His mother understood and found it quite amusing. As they climbed the stairs, she said, "Are you copying Jiang Luo? Fine, fine, I’ll prepare one for you too."

"Don’t worry, you’ll get one as well."

At a hotel, Zhao Mingshi was sweating over his senior, working hard…

Meanwhile, after Jiang Luo arrived at his accommodation and Huo Zongzhuo left, he took a stroll around the inside and outside of the house alone.

It was a single-story place with a small courtyard, even more characteristic of Jiangnan style than Huo Zongzhuo’s mother’s old home.

The yard had stone stools, stone chairs, rock gardens, and slender bamboos. Outside, there was a wooden corridor with lanterns hanging underneath—full of special charm. Jiang Luo quite liked it here.

Perhaps because he was away from the city and the stress of business, or perhaps because he’d really enjoyed talking with Huo Zongzhuo and the others today, Jiang Luo felt completely relaxed.

In this state, a thought suddenly occurred to him, making him realize one more thing:

In his previous life, hadn’t his factory burned down?

Because of that, he’d been saddled with huge debts and remained down and out for quite some time.

But soon after, things took a turn for the better:

The person who set the factory on fire was caught, taken into custody, and investigated.

He also wasn’t arrested for the two workers who died in the fire—he just cooperated with the police, gave his statement, and was released.

Wu Dayong from Juxiang Town found him and said the town would help work things out: the loan he’d taken from the bank could be paid back gradually over time. He also mentioned that the district had support programs for local businesses and could provide additional funds. Wu Dayong said the money allocated to Juxiang Town could go to their factory, meaning Jiang Luo got free money—a good amount. Though not enough to rebuild the factory, it was sufficient for him to get back on his feet.

That was why, in his previous life, Jiang Luo didn’t fall into complete ruin after the factory burned down.

Back then, Jiang Luo felt really lucky and was very grateful to the Juxiang town government and to Wu Dayong.

He felt it was an extraordinary favor from fate and heaven just for him.

Back then, he didn’t overthink it, nor could he think of anything else. He took the money and immediately started planning how to turn things around.

Now, suddenly recalling this period, it dawned on him. Looking back from an objective third-person perspective, Jiang Luo logically concluded: Was it really just luck back then?

Two workers burned to death. As the factory’s responsible person, how could he have only cooperated with the public security investigation without being arrested? How did he escape any consequences?

And what was that support policy from the district again?

Since when does free money just get handed out?

Something wasn’t right.

The more Jiang Luo thought about it, the more it felt off.

After sitting by the stone table in the courtyard and thinking for a while, Jiang Luo developed a suspicion, or rather an intuition.

He began to suspect that it wasn’t because he was lucky, or heaven’s pity, but rather…

Because someone had been helping him behind the scenes.

Was that really possible?

And who could that person have been?

That night, lying in bed, Jiang Luo recalled another time in his previous life—when he’d been arrested for tax issues and released after not too long.

When he’d thought about that incident before, Jiang Luo wondered how there could possibly be someone both capable and fond of him, helping behind the scenes.

He thought it absolutely impossible.

In his previous life, he never received anything like love.

But now, piecing together the factory fire and his subsequent reversal, Jiang Luo silently traced the logic and clues, and an idea quickly formed in his mind:

Could there really be such a person?

Who could it be?