Chapter 58: Night-scented Lily in Old Dreams

The bottle’s neck is for opening the folds, and the wine is meant to feed her mouth, not her stomach. 

He cradled the rounded bottom, leaning down, reaching a point where he felt lost. But it was too dark, full of blind spots; only by reaching the bottom could he discover he was in a dead end.

He had to backtrack a bit, unwilling to give up, and pushed a little further, seemingly uncovering a bit of ground.

This place was too dark; as the car moved downward, it crashed into the sound of water. It felt like being in the middle of the sea, far yet near, with rolling waves. He was outside the waves, and the gurgling tide filled her veins, the chill congealing at the nerve endings.

The water was cold; her pulse was hot. The opposing temperatures clashed, and Ji Zhen Tang couldn’t tell if she was too hot or freezing; her whole body was trembling.

Zhong Yu Bai looked into her eyes and asked, “Is it too cold?”

While he expressed concern, he didn’t ease off the accelerator at all. It was just a stretch of confused road, and he kept driving back and forth in the mud, spinning for a long time.

She grasped his wrist and asked why he was going so fast, “Are you angry?”

Zhong Yu Bai released his grip on the steering wheel and smacked down with his palm. The ground of the dead end suddenly caved in, and she collapsed among the ruins of her limbs.

“I’m not angry.”

He backed out, and she slowly found herself back in the light. With a sigh of relief, she collapsed into his arms.

Every time she was with him, it felt like doing flexibility training. 

Ji Zhen Tang was like a beginner dancer, needing to stretch her ligaments, lying on the marble table, enduring a tight, painful sensation.

She trembled and said through clenched teeth, “You’re angry.”

Zhong Yu Bai chuckled lightly and pinched her cheek, “Why would I be angry with you?”

Ji Zhen Tang wasn’t quite sure, staring blankly at him. After a while, she found it amusing and curled her lips into a smile.

But the next moment, her features tightened, and she couldn’t smile.

“I was thinking, what should I do to keep you?”

Zhong Yu Bai held her hand, making the tips of her fingers burn. He asked, “Is this not enough?”

He blocked the path in the dark, rainy night—not violently, but very forcefully—leaving her no way out and unable to make a sound.

“Is it enough?” he asked again.

Ji Zhen Tang pressed her lips together, remaining silent. After a long pause, she finally sighed, “Fine, fine, fine. Ah, I was just joking! Can’t you see that? I’ve never realized you could be so childish.”

The word “childish” made him chuckle.

Zhong Yu Bai wrapped one arm around her while the other dealt with the situation. “I guessed it.”

She curled her legs up on the sofa, holding a cup of herbal tea. She gulped down a few sips as if she hadn’t had water in hundreds of years, looking up at the man approaching under the light. “I will graduate; I need to think about my future.”

Instead of sitting next to her, he chose her solitary seat, wrapping one arm around her knee and picking her up.

Once Zhong Yu Bai sat down, he placed Ji Zhen Tang on his lap and said, “Isn’t it good to stay here?”

“It’s quite nice, but I’m a naturally wandering person. I always feel like life is full of uncertainties, and I don’t know where my final destination will be.”

Ji Zhen Tang lowered her head, pondering. “I finally have the courage to break away from my father, but I’m also thinking about whether I need to stay in a place I don’t really like.”

Zhong Yu Bai was somewhat surprised and asked, “Why don’t you like it here?”

Ji Zhen Tang was sitting sideways on his lap, leaning against the armrest of the sofa in a lazy manner. “I’ve always felt it lacks warmth, like there are sad memories everywhere I go. For example, when I was young, it snowed, and I got lost on Yuelan Street. In the end, a police officer brought me home. Plus, I’m not particularly wealthy, so I haven’t experienced the joys of a glamorous life.”

She added thoughtfully, “At least not before I met you. I’ve always been just a little ant struggling to survive.”

Zhong Yu Bai said, “It seems you’ve suffered a lot.”

As she spoke, she made a wronged expression, nodding pitifully, “See? You’ve spoiled me so much that I can escape my family, yet I’m facing such an ending.”

He said, “This isn’t the ending.”

Zhong Yu Bai thought calmly for a moment and continued, “I can’t keep you, nor should I.”

However—

“You go find your freedom; I will wait for you.”

She looked into his eyes, her gaze drifting past his shoulder, catching the colorful flowers in the porcelain, all carefully selected by him. He knew best what she liked.

He would truly arrange everything in her sight in an orderly manner. An extreme detail-oriented person would fill every corner with affection.

In this home, missing a flower wouldn’t matter much. But adding one more might have a one percent chance of bringing her surprise and joy.

That became his success.

She used to struggle to understand love thoroughly.

Because she had never been loved and had never loved anyone.

Love isn’t that little flutter of excitement felt when hearing Zhong Heng sing, nor is it the reckless rush toward power and money, nor is it the admiration sparked by seeing him commanding the world. It isn’t even that spark of life she stubbornly sought.

Everything concrete is too shallow, too fleeting, too easily shattered.

Love is a belief.

It is me looking back and finding you still there.

And I unconditionally believe that no matter how far I go, how long it takes, crossing rivers, lakes, and seas, enduring the long years, you will watch me leave, bless me, let go of all reluctance, and wait for me to come home.

“Zhong Yu Bai, some say I don’t deserve you, that I cast a spell on you to have you. But no matter what they say, I’m not at all self-deprecating. As long as I have your love, I won’t feel unworthy of you.”

She said, “I know I’m important to you, and you are to me as well. You’ve shown me the best side of love.”

Regardless of how the story began, both contributed some sincerity, and eventually, the small gears were pushed together by too many fates, intentions, or subtle attractions, seamlessly fitting into place.

Unconsciously, they twisted tighter and tighter, ultimately becoming love.

She said he was good at loving.

Zhong Yu Bai held her, gently kissing her lips: “It’s you who taught me.”

He stood at a peak she could not climb, while she carried the vitality he could not return to.

He gave her all his sense of security and tolerance; she lit the way for him, coloring his world. The attraction between people, the resonance, the occurrence of affection, all romantic and abstract, are ineffable.

A hint of perfume lingers behind her ear, slowly flowing into his breath in this infinitely close embrace, a gentle scent of evening primrose.

—

Ji Zhen Tang has a play performance at the end of the month.

She hasn’t given up on this hobby. Whenever a role with a stunning character appears, she becomes the president’s first choice for an actor.

This time, she is to play a nightclub dancer.

She wears a floral dress, heavy makeup, singing on stage: “Give me a kiss, can you?” Zhong Yu Bai sits in the audience, receiving her flirtatious glance, smiling softly.

The stage is tinted with the retro colors of a nostalgic ballroom; she is youthful and beautiful, playing a little beauty reluctant to submit to the big boss.

This role suits her very well.

From testing and fear to letting down defenses, from being forced into it to a mutual downfall, the performance was very well done, rich in detail. The timeline was long, spanning the entire war era, experiencing everything from acquaintance to the pain of displacement, finally culminating in a good ending where they soar together like wings of a bird.

The third master, who supported the actress, fell in love with her.

It’s rare for such romantic tales to have a happy ending.

Zhong Yu Bai sat in the middle, facing the stage. Dim light flickered over his suited form, colorful lights occasionally illuminating his quiet and solemn face. He sat upright, alone, exuding an air of aloofness; his graceful and noble demeanor drew whispers of speculation.

The keywords were always the same: handsome, strong aura—who is he? A big boss, watching his girlfriend?

Who is his girlfriend?

Look, the one in the middle, the most beautiful one, the belle of the art academy.

As the play neared its end, Zhong Yu Bai stood up, leaving early. His phone vibrated in the pocket of his dress pants.

It was a call from Zhong Bingwen.

He was coming to demand an explanation; several days had passed, and his father still felt a lingering fear: “Hey, you were too impulsive that day. How could you lay hands on a younger person? Luckily, grandma didn’t come to the table; otherwise, she would’ve been frightened into having problems.”

Zhong Yu Bai stepped into the car: “Discipline breeds filial children.”

That sounded somewhat ridiculous, but saying something old-fashioned to his antiquated father wasn’t too out of place.

Zhong Bingwen said, “Xiao Yu was checked out; I heard he has a slight concussion.”

Zhong Yu Bai sat in the dark, waiting silently and unresponsive: “If he doesn’t die, he can just swing it out.”

After saying that, he felt a bit too cold-hearted, so he added a touch of humanity: “Get him the best doctor.”

Dying is fine, being crippled is fine, being blind is fine. But he cannot be foolish.

The Zhong family cannot afford to have another mentally deficient person; it would be a laughingstock. After speaking, the outside became lively as people started to disperse. It took a while for things to quiet down.

While Zhong Yu Bai continued on the phone, he looked outside. When he withdrew his gaze and lowered his head, he suddenly saw Ji Zhen Tang’s begonia hairpin nestled in the crevice of the car seat.

He picked it up with his fingers and examined it for a while.

If he hadn’t accidentally discovered it, he wouldn’t have known how long this thing had been left in his car.

Once is a coincidence; twice is intentional.

It seemed she had been keeping him in mind.

He lightly curled his lips, a faint smile appearing, hard to tell if it was relief or pleasure.

She quickly emerged, changed into a trench coat and jeans, and jumped into his arms, hastily removing her makeup, still showing signs of being a bit disheveled. Perhaps it was too dark to see clearly or maybe she was just eager to see him.

Seeing this, Zhong Yu Bai took a wet wipe from the car and gently wiped the smudged eyeliner from the corners of her eyes.

“You’re outstanding today,” he complimented.

Ji Zhen Tang smiled, showing eight teeth. “Do I look pretty?”

Zhong Yu Bai replied, “Like a fairy descended to earth.”

She laughed aloud, genuinely happy. “Performing in a story with a happy ending feels so much better. You look great too, right? No more taking on those super depressing roles!”

He gently held her waist and eased her back a bit, as she was pressing close enough to make it hard for him to breathe.

With a bit of breathing space, Zhong Yu Bai looked at her, amused at the eager way she tilted her head, waiting for his response. But instead of replying, he suddenly asked softly, “Don’t you realize you lost something?”

Ji Zhen Tang blinked, surprised. “Huh? What did I lose?”

After asking, she froze, drawing in a sharp breath. She patted her trench coat pockets, then checked her pants pockets. “Did you… pick it up?”

Zhong Yu Bai looked at her with a faint smile on his lips.

“Did you pick it up? My hairpin?” she asked, blushing. Seeing his expression, she was sure he’d found something.

Zhong Yu Bai opened his palm, revealing the crabapple blossom hairpin. He asked, “If you brought it, why didn’t you wear it?”

Embarrassed, she quickly snatched the hairpin back, pressing her lips together awkwardly as she thought of an answer. Under his gaze, her cheeks gradually reddened.

“When did you figure it out?” he asked.

She glanced at him quickly, then asked back, “So, when did *you* know?”

After a moment’s thought, Zhong Yu Bai said, “Your mother started working in my family’s home when she was very young. I knew her even before you did.”

Looking down, he gazed tenderly at her lowered face and continued, “I watched you grow from an infant. I taught you how to speak; your fluency in Chinese is partly thanks to me.”

“…”

Although it was a joyful evening, Ji Zhen Tang pouted, her eyes gradually filling with tears as his words brought up memories of her childhood. Caught off guard by the mention of her past, memories started flooding back. She fidgeted with the hairpin in her hand to hide her embarrassment, occasionally sniffing.

She heard him say, “I’ll always remember the way you smile.”

Ji Zhen Tang murmured, “So you’ve known all along.”

Zhong Yu Bai replied, “To be exact, it was the first time I took you out for a meal. You loved bak kut teh. Do you still remember?”

She nodded quickly. “Of course, I remember. It was my first time at a fancy hotel. I’ll remember it forever.”

He chuckled.

She asked again, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

With a touch of helplessness, Zhong Yu Bai replied, “All these years, I’ve looked the same. You’ve known me for so long and only once did you say I seemed familiar. How could I be sure you still remembered anything from before you were eight?”

His tone was calm, without any reproach or regret, just a gentle recounting of the events.

“And also,” he continued, “I knew your time with the Chen family wasn’t exactly happy. I thought you’d either forgotten or chosen not to remember. Since that was the case, of course, I’d want to protect you from those old scars.”

Ji Zhen Tang was silent for a long while, then admitted, somewhat ashamed, “I really didn’t remember much, but I did have some vague memories. It was after I saw Dr. Zhu one time—she mentioned the Chen family had business in Singapore—and suddenly, a lot of things came back.”

“Want to say it, but don’t dare?” That’s why she kept carrying this hairpin with her but never took it out to meet him properly.

He had once told her that if she wore this hairpin, he would find her no matter where she was.

But in the end, she only took it out of her pocket twice, and he saw her hesitation clearly.

Zhong Yu Bai leaned down, drawing close to look into her eyes. “Or… did your mom tell you not to hang out with me?”

Ji Zhen Tang froze for a second, momentarily flustered that he’d guessed right. Then she raised her voice, as if worried he wouldn’t believe her. “Don’t worry! I won’t listen to her.”

The reassurance truly seemed to settle him. Zhong Yu Bai smiled gently, “Alright, I won’t worry.”

In the past, he’d gotten used to watching her flustered antics with calm detachment, picking up on her every thought yet allowing her to approach him with her little intentions. Who’d have thought that not long after, a single steadfast “Don’t worry” from her would ease his heart, calming the inner waves.

For a man, going from fondness to affection, to love, is a journey that doesn’t happen overnight.

They drove on, and the night breeze swept in.

Zhong Yu Bai said the night was still young and suggested they go to Yuyun Tower for tea.

Ji Zhen Tang glanced sideways and, in the dim car lights, noticed the small custom-made fish brooch she’d given him pinned to his tie—the only bright spot on him.

She couldn’t help but smile, easing her nervousness, and corrected his previous words: “Actually, it was all very good. When I was young, living in Singapore, there wasn’t really anything unpleasant. Time heals wounds, leaving behind warmth and filtering out the shadows.”

Zhong Yu Bai’s gaze settled on her face, listening as she continued, “Then… was it during that time that your mom… met her end?”

He didn’t hide these sensitive and complex matters from her. Lost in thought for a moment, he began speaking slowly, “She knew too many secrets about some bad people. No matter where she hid, she couldn’t escape them. She got tired, and worried innocent people might get involved, so… she ended it herself.”

Although it was a tragic piece of his past, he spoke of it with detachment, as if flipping a page. His expression was calm, unruffled, as he spoke.

But she couldn’t tell if he had truly “flipped that page.”

With some courage, Ji Zhen Tang asked, “Were the bad people… people from the Zhong family?”

As soon as she asked, her mind flashed back to the message Zhong Bingwen had sent him, mentioning that his and his mother’s experiences should serve as a warning.

She also recalled Zhong Yu Bai once saying that his father had taught him a crucial lesson about relationships: protecting the one you love is just as important as love itself.

In the context of his father’s legacy and the broken fragments of his mother’s story, the word “protection” took on a deeper meaning.

With the past and present connecting like beads on a string, she finally saw things clearly. She understood the hidden endurance, hardships, and careful considerations interwoven in the story.

After a long pause, Zhong Yu Bai finally responded, “Yes, people from the Zhong family.”

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