Chapter 3 Heat: Salted Honey.

Chapter 3: Warmth. Salted Honey.

After Liang Yusheng sat down, He Yingzhen asked him about his return to the UK.

His voice sounded above Ji Yuewei’s head. A steady male tone, unhurried, concise, and thus a little cold. He Yingzhen was used to his attitude, and the conversation between mother and son proceeded smoothly.

Ji Yitao didn't interrupt. He was making a salad for He Yingzhen, but halfway through, he realized the dressing was missing, so he got up from the table. He Yingzhen glanced at him; he smiled and pointed toward the kitchen. She redirected the topic to Ji Yitao. She said to Liang Yusheng, "Mr. Ji’s paintings are really nice. Last time you were back, didn’t you ask me about the painting on the living room floor? I was going to show you..."

Ji Yuewei noticed Liang Yusheng’s arm casually resting on the table. The blue veins on the back of his hand were very prominent; his long, slender fingers had no extra movements, as if he was thinking. After a brief pause, Liang Yusheng replied, "Is that so."

"How could it not be. Ask Elle—” He Yingzhen laughed and turned her head.

Liang Yusheng smiled faintly. "I thought you were going to throw it away."

His words carried no extra meaning, because that was truly what he had thought at the time. Now that He Yingzhen was chatting with him, Liang Yusheng just said it casually. But such a conversation was closed off. It existed only between them. Because He Yingzhen also laughed nonchalantly, replying with the same "Is that so," and then explained to Liang Yusheng that it was because she hadn’t had time to unwrap it.

They were both sincere with each other.

If there were no other people at this table.

Because of Ji Yitao’s absence, Liang Yusheng’s words made Ji Yuewei feel an embarrassment and helplessness more acute than ever. And due to a certain desire to distance herself, or to appear indifferent, combined with her habit of controlling her expression and actions, at that moment Ji Yuewei looked as if she hadn’t heard a thing.

But her age wasn’t enough to sustain this facade.

She slowly brought food to her mouth. When she snapped back to reality, she realized it was a piece of ginger.

She coughed from the spiciness. Though she tried hard to control it, her hand tightly covering her mouth, Ji Yuewei’s face still flushed red.

A soft, snow-white tissue appeared in front of her.

The owner of the tissue didn’t look at her, nor did she make a big fuss; the subtle gesture seemed especially considerate.

Ji Yuewei took the tissue. After the coughing stopped, she whispered thanks. Her voice was a little hoarse, just like when she took the tissue—she didn’t look up, her movements minimal, keeping herself cautiously confined to a small square the whole time.

Ji Yitao, back at the table, started promoting the salad he had made. He Yingzhen liked it a lot and then “promoted” it to Liang Yusheng and Ji Yuewei. Liang Yusheng didn’t want to disappoint his mother. When it came to Ji Yuewei, she also took a taste, but the thick dressing felt like a layer of salted honey coating her throat, already raspy from coughing.

Dinner ended, and everyone went back to their own places.

Back in her room, Ji Yuewei picked up her textbook.

At that moment, her ears were still burning from the “chain of accidents” at the dinner table.

She rubbed her ears vigorously and buried herself in the exercises.

The textbooks she brought were all from No. 15 High School, but the course content had already been covered by the end of the second semester of senior two.

As a key high school in Binnan, No. 15 High School was very challenging, especially the self-made exam papers by the teaching research group. Ji Yuewei had three sets with her, given by her homeroom teacher Jiang Yingfei when she processed the transfer. Jiang Yingfei was a math teacher, and Ji Yuewei was quite good at math. When Ji Yuewei transferred to No. 15 High School at the start of the second semester of senior one, she could only catch up in a regular class. But within half a semester, by senior two’s first semester, she entered Jiang Yingfei’s advanced math class. Later, when Ji Yitao said he would take her to study in Hong Kong, Jiang Yingfei gave her these three sets of papers, instructing Ji Yuewei to finish them all. If she had any questions, she could call or message her.

Ji Yuewei understood her teacher’s good intentions—she was worried Ji Yitao would sell her off.

Ji Yitao wouldn’t do that. Ji Yuewei knew her father very well: timid and overly sentimental. But if it were herself, she might be the one to sell Ji Yitao, she thought, distracted.

As night fell, a sudden heavy rainstorm broke out.

This hilltop villa felt like a lone boat in a vast ocean.

Ji Yuewei wore headphones, listening to audio. When the thunder grew loud, a strong gust of wind swung her bedroom window, which hadn’t been fully shut, and with a crash, it slammed against the wall. A few cracking sounds followed, but no glass shattered. Ji Yuewei ran to close the window. The moment her hand touched it, the whole pane cracked, and a sharp pain stung her wrist from a cut. Before she could look closely, the wind gusted like a whirlpool, Ji Yuewei was wrapped up and almost fell.

Elle quickly came to knock and ask. Before long, He Yingzhen also learned of it and arranged for Ji Yuewei to stay in a room on the fourth floor.

Ji Yitao frowned, standing to the side without speaking. He looked more worried than anyone else present; an outsider would think the house was about to collapse tonight.

The storm unsettled everyone.

After Elle and a few servants bustled about to clean up, Ji Yuewei went to ask if there were any band-aids.

Elle was attentive and a little sorry for the girl, so she asked if she had been cut by the glass and whether she needed to go to the hospital.

Ji Yuewei waved her hand, saying no, it was just a small wound; a band-aid would do. Elle then led her to the second floor, and from the top shelf of a row of shelving, she took down the medicine kit.

Not sure if it was because the wound was too deep or something else, Ji Yuewei couldn’t sleep from the pain.

Tomorrow was a critical day; she couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Picking up her phone, Ji Yuewei went back to the second floor, hoping to find some disinfectant to put on the wound.

The rain had quieted down a bit, dripping rhythmically.

Standing by the railing on the second floor, across the dark glass curtain wall, she could see a lighthouse far away.

A long beam of light projected onto the bay and then reflected in front of her, though it was hard to tell its exact origin. The rainy night blurred everything.

Elle was visibly at least 1.8 meters tall. Standing in front of the shelf, Ji Yuewei reached up but only touched the bottom of the medicine kit.

She fetched a dining chair, carefully climbed onto it, and was about to reach for the kit when someone behind her took it down for her and then steadied the chair, saying, "Get down."

Liang Yusheng had appeared from somewhere.

He carried a warmth, very much at odds with this cold, damp rainy night.

He gave Ji Yuewei a glance, as if looking for a reason she was rummaging through the medicine kit, but didn’t find one. He didn’t look further or ask more. Carrying the chair and the medicine kit, he walked back to the dining table. Ji Yuewei followed behind, thanking him. Liang Yusheng said, "You’re welcome." One after the other, their shadows long and short, just a few steps apart, they somehow formed a kind of procession.

Setting things down, Liang Yusheng turned and walked toward the refrigerator.

Ji Yuewei then noticed he was wearing a tracksuit. He opened the fridge, and the light outlined his sweaty back and broad shoulders, his forearm muscles sharply defined from just exercising. The sweat-soaked fabric of his top traced his strong and straight back muscles. Facing the open fridge with its blast of cold air, he tilted his head back and, quite elegantly, chugged an entire bottle of ice water.

Closing the fridge, his gaze shifted, but Ji Yuewei had already lowered her head and was earnestly searching through the kit.

Footsteps passed by her.

Then came the sound of going upstairs.