Chapter 64: A Li, Do You Intend to Marry Her?

Before Rong Meilin entered the room, Feng Shengzhi finally asked, “Sister-in-law, has An’an started dating?” With just this question, Rong Meilin understood her intent. “Shengzhi, isn’t this a bit inappropriate?” “Sister-in-law, you should go open the door first,” Feng Shengzhi replied, saying little but already resolved in her heart. And her suspicions weren’t unfounded.

Many years ago, on a summer night in the courtyard downstairs, she had accidentally witnessed Rong Xin’an confessing her feelings to A Li. She still remembered—after being rejected by A Li with, “For now, I want to focus on my studies,” Rong Xin’an had asked, “Can you promise not to date anyone during your university years?” A Li had replied with a quiet “Mm.” Soon after, she heard Rong Xin’an say, “Then keep your word!”

While Feng Shengzhi was lost in this memory, Rong Meilin and Rong Xin’an approached. “An’an, greet your aunt.” “Hello, Aunt.” Rong Xin’an wore a pale pink dress, layered with a short white Chanel jacket. Her legs were slender, and her heels were neither too high nor too thin. She stood graceful and elegant, delicate and pure, much like a lotus rising untainted from the mud.

“An’an, you’re here—come, sit.” At a glance, Feng Shengzhi felt genuine delight. The girl from the Lu family was good, too, but since A Li had no interest, she couldn’t hope for much. But Rong Xin’an was different. They had played together as children—not exactly childhood sweethearts, but at least they shared a foundation of affection. At the very least, getting along wouldn’t be difficult.

Moreover, Rong Xin’an had once confessed to A Li. Even if he had chosen to reject her, it didn’t mean her feelings hadn’t stirred something within him. From another perspective, if Rong Xin’an dared to confess, she must have felt some confidence. A girl wouldn’t pursue a boy if she knew he disliked her. With these thoughts, Feng Shengzhi grew ever more convinced that this was possible.

Her joy only increased when, after a few minutes of conversation, Rong Xin’an proactively asked about A Li. That shimmering shyness was impossible to miss, and Feng Shengzhi quickly exchanged a knowing glance with Rong Meilin. Rong Meilin, unaware of the past confession, didn’t read as deeply, simply responding with a patient, reassuring look before asking Rong Xin’an about her plans for work after returning to the country.

Just as the three women were engrossed in conversation, the door was knocked for the third time. Feng Shengzhi’s heart skipped—she was almost certain her son had returned. She was right. Wen Yanli was standing outside the door. He hadn’t expected the person opening the door to be Rong Xin’an, whom he hadn’t seen in years.

Their eyes met, and a storm rose within Rong Xin’an. The winds that swept across her face carried all the secret, magnificent tremors of youth—admiration, longing, and the pursuit of his gaze. The man’s features were refined as jade, with a prominent nose and sharply defined, beautiful features like those from a meticulous painting. His deep eyes shone like stars in the night, and his lips, shaped like a treasure, bore a healthy shade of pink.

Compared to their university days, he was even more mature and striking, heroic and magnetic. Her heart skipped a beat. Composing herself, Rong Xin’an extended her hand graciously. “Wen Yanli, it’s been a long time.”

Wen Yanli hesitated for a moment, then offered his bandaged hand. “Long time no see.” “…Your hand…” Rong Xin’an’s hand hovered midair, startled. “Are you alright?” He withdrew his hand. “It’s nothing.” Then he glanced behind her. Rong Xin’an quickly stepped back, making room for him to enter. “Aunt Feng and Aunt Shengzhi are talking on the terrace.”

When the two young people approached, Rong Meilin, knowing her nephew and his mother would need a private conversation, quickly found an excuse and left with Rong Xin’an. Wen Yanli saw them out, closed the door, and returned to sit opposite his mother on the terrace.

Even after this series of actions, he hadn’t decided how to begin. Of course, it wasn’t because he doubted his own feelings. He simply didn’t know how to persuade the person sitting across from him.

Feng Shengzhi felt similarly. What had happened yesterday afternoon at the hotel entrance was something she had never imagined. No precedent, no experience, and even now she couldn’t find the right words to resolve things. If she could, she’d rather not have followed him yesterday—spying, slapping, when had she become such an unreasonable mother?

Wen Yanli finally spoke after hearing his mother let out a barely audible sigh, almost as if it were accidental. “Mom, I’m sorry.” Feng Shengzhi felt a sourness surge to her eyes. She knew she’d made mistakes, but most importantly, she couldn’t push her son away at this moment. That would have the opposite effect.

So she sighed again. “I need to apologize, too. I made mistakes.” She looked directly at her son. “I’m sorry, A Li.”

Wen Yanli felt conflicted. Naturally, he couldn’t blame his mother, so her apology was unnecessary. But he couldn’t guarantee his next words wouldn’t anger her again. He knew, even if his mother apologized, it didn’t mean she’d changed her opinion of Song Mi, nor would she suddenly approve of their relationship.

“Mom,” he said, knowing full well what the consequences would be, but today he had to make his stance clear. “I’m apologizing not just for yesterday.”

Even if he didn’t say it outright, Feng Shengzhi knew what he was about to confess. If he were so quick to change his mind and end things with Song Mi, yesterday would never have happened. No one knows a son better than his mother! Precisely because of this, she needed to stay calm and patient. She would never allow herself another lapse as impulsive as yesterday.

So, she said nothing more, only looked at him with anxious, helpless eyes.

“The afternoon before last, she was stabbed by Lu Zhizhi and had several stitches in her back,” Wen Yanli stated plainly, not seeking pity—Song Mi didn’t need it. He spoke the truth, only to lead into what he had to say next. “Once she’s a bit better and returns to Jinzhou, I plan to move in and take care of her.”

Feng Shengzhi was still reeling from the previous shock when another bombshell exploded in her ears. “You…you want to live with her?” Wen Yanli replied with a single word. “Yes.” His expression was calm, his gaze unwavering and resolute. Anyone would see that he had already made up his mind, and nothing would change it.

Feng Shengzhi struggled to control her emotions, determined not to get angry, to be patient, to strategize. But at this moment, she found herself on the verge of losing control once more. Still, she pressed down her tone. “A Li, do you intend to marry her? Make her your wife, build a family, let her become a part of ours?”

Wen Yanli looked at his mother, lips pressed into a thin line, silent.

For the next two or three minutes, he didn’t speak. Because this question couldn’t be answered by him alone. Marriage, building a family—it required both parties’ willingness. At this stage, the question was meaningless and didn’t warrant a response.

“I don’t know,” Wen Yanli’s voice was indifferent, as if discussing something trivial. “What you’re asking isn’t something I’m considering right now. My priority is her health.”

Hearing this, Feng Shengzhi’s tightly clenched heart eased a bit. Thank goodness. It hadn’t reached the point of ‘I must marry her.’ Her son still had his senses. But she still couldn’t accept them living together. Once they started sharing a home, meals, and nights, it would be even harder to insert someone like Rong Xin’an.

Yet Song Mi was injured now. She didn’t particularly sympathize, but couldn’t find a suitable reason to oppose it. If she insisted on her opposition, it would simply repeat the mistakes of the past month, and she’d earn a reputation for being cold-hearted and callous in her son’s eyes. That was not a good strategy.

For a moment, the atmosphere froze. Feng Shengzhi decided to say nothing, her face clouded, looking at him as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t.

Wen Yanli remained silent as well.

Eventually, his mother spoke first. “A Li, your own hand is injured—how will you take care of her? And you have to work. If you’re worried about her health, you could hire a nanny, a caregiver, even a private doctor. That shouldn’t be difficult.”

Feng Shengzhi had only thought of this reason after seeing his bandaged hand, but she tried to sound reasonable, maintaining the objective concern expected from an elder. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

Seeing her son lower his gaze, deep in thought, Feng Shengzhi pressed on. “I also hope you’ll be cautious about your relationship, and not rush into decisions. I still feel that Song Mi…”

“Mom,” Wen Yanli suddenly looked up. “I want to see her every day.”

…

At half past two in the afternoon, Song Mi held a video conference. The West Suburb Renovation Project, with Leather City as its focal point, had a tentative groundbreaking date set for the eighth of next month. Preparatory work from each department was being submitted, and Song Mi needed to review, approve, and issue directives.

Such a major public project—Sihai Group wasn’t the only company favored by the authorities. Besides Huo Qingjue, there were many competitors eyeing this lucrative opportunity. The opening had to be impressive.

Song Mi was most dissatisfied with the conceptual design of the entire Art and Culture Center. So far, every draft she’d seen—from concept to spatial design—had been merely adequate, safe but uninspired. To truly stand out, they were still far from the mark.

The meeting lasted nearly an hour, and Song Mi was barely holding on. After setting the deadline for revised proposals, she adjourned. Lin Shen quickly brought her a glass of warm water. “Miss Song, have some water and rest.”

“Mm.” After drinking, Lin Shen helped her to the bathroom. When she returned and lay down, Qiao Weiwei called. Song Mi didn’t answer. Soon, Qiao Weiwei sent a voice message. It had been half a month since they last saw each other. There were plenty of messages from Qiao Weiwei in her inbox—text and voice alike. Song Mi didn’t think any were urgent, so she hadn’t bothered to check.

Resting with her eyes closed, Lin Shen went out and returned with a plate of fruit, feeding her a few pieces. Still unable to sleep, Song Mi idly tapped her phone and opened Qiao Weiwei’s voice messages.

Unexpectedly, there was one about her and Pei Qiuyang… sleeping together! Checking the date, it had been more than a week ago. Song Mi wasn’t usually one for gossip, but suddenly found herself interested and sent Qiao Weiwei a voice reply. “Did you need something?”

Qiao Weiwei replied instantly. “Mi’er, you finally responded!” Then another: “Are you not in Jinzhou?” And another: “Where did you go?”

A few messages later, Qiao Weiwei said she’d come visit. She had been avoiding Pei Qiuyang, hiding out in the capital for days. Finally home, she had to deal with Qiao Yudong’s pestering. According to her, “My brother’s always hovering around me—probably wants your phone number!”

As she said this, Qiao Weiwei was already out the door. But in the courtyard, she ran into Qiao Yudong again. Worse, he seemed to have overheard her voice messages and approached, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s always hovering around you?”

Qiao Weiwei frowned. “Isn’t it you right now?” “It’s barely afternoon and you’re off work?” Qiao Yudong shrugged noncommittally, glancing at her phone. “Are you going out?”

After a car accident years ago, Qiao Weiwei still didn’t like driving. The Qiao family lived far from the city, and with Uncle Wu and Gangzi both out, she was just opening a ride-hailing app, but no driver had accepted the request yet.

Just then, her phone rang—another message from Song Mi. Coincidentally, Qiao Yudong saw the notification, spotting the name Mi’er. Then he overheard part of the voice message, as Qiao Weiwei listened with the phone to her ear, and a few words escaped, caught by Qiao Yudong.

Immediately, his eyes flashed. “Wherever you’re going, I’ll drive you!”

Qiao Weiwei had long since given up resisting her brother’s strange obsession with Song Mi. Not just now—she’d witnessed it firsthand two nights ago. That night, while she wasn’t paying attention, Qiao Yudong had tried to unlock her phone to get Mi’er’s number, failing five times and locking it.

Thinking of this, Qiao Weiwei rolled her eyes and snapped, “You can hear even that?” Caught out, Qiao Yudong wasn’t embarrassed at all, grinning slyly. “Sincerity makes all things possible!”

Qiao Weiwei was exasperated. Even if his marriage with her sister-in-law had been hollow and nominal for years, he was still a married man, wasn’t he? To go to such lengths to pursue her best friend—unbearable!

Today, she was determined to let him suffer a setback and kill his lustful intentions once and for all. With that, her eyes spun, and she pursed her lips. “Fine, you can drive me. Mi’er’s in the capital, and I haven’t seen her in almost half a month—I have to visit her! And since you want her number so desperately, I’ll give you the chance to ask her directly—see if she’ll give it to you!” She marched toward his Maybach. “Save you from acting like a thief and stealing my phone again!”

Qiao Yudong scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. Great. She’d tease him about this for life. Still, being able to see Song Mi, he thought, was worth it.

With that thought, Qiao Yudong’s fox-like eyes narrowed, and a subtle, meaningful smile appeared on his lips. He turned to unlock the car. “Qiao Weiwei, how about a bet?”

Qiao Weiwei was typing. “What kind of bet?”

Qiao Yudong cleared his throat. “If I get Song Mi’s number, will you stop mentioning my attempt to unlock your phone?”

…

Meanwhile, Song Mi was reading Qiao Weiwei’s latest message—a long, densely packed text. The gist was to make a big show of affection in front of Qiao Yudong, so he’d abandon his unsavory intentions. After reading, Song Mi wondered, show affection? With whom? It was nearly half past four, and Lawyer Wen hadn’t returned yet. Who knew how his conversation with his mother was going—probably not well.

While she was distracted, another message came from Qiao Weiwei: What shall we eat later?

That made Song Mi laugh. This was hardly the attitude of someone who, after a drunken night, lost her virginity and hid in the capital out of embarrassment and distress. They were adults, after all, and in this day and age, relationships were spontaneous and fleeting—come together when happy, break apart when bored.

But thinking it over, Qiao Weiwei and Pei Qiuyang seemed like a pair of quarrelsome lovers. Perhaps someone had fallen in love without realizing it.

Just then, there was noise outside and Lin Shen’s voice calling out—the man had returned. Song Mi quickly put down her phone, closed her eyes, and feigned resting.

He came to the bedside soon after. Before he could speak, Song Mi caught a faint scent of perfume—not the youthful sweetness her mother-in-law would wear. Had he met another woman?