Chapter 59: He Is A Springtime
Ji Zhen Tang felt a mix of emotions—she didn’t know where to start remembering, nor did she want to bring up anything that might sadden him. After circling around her thoughts, she finally settled on a conventional question, “Have you been well all these years?”
Zhong Yu Bai thought for a moment before replying simply, “Well enough.”
As he spoke, his hand gently brushed the side of her ear, his gaze lowered to read the emotions in her eyes. Though it was his pain being uncovered, he was still careful to protect her scars, worried she’d overthink it.
Ji Zhen Tang was about to say more, but at that moment, the car arrived at Yuyun Tower.
“We’re here,” Ding Jialing announced.
She paused her words and followed him out of the car.
The tea lounge run by Shen Shu was open until nine at night, close to closing time. The flower hall’s traditional performance had just ended, and most of the crowd had left, leaving a floor scattered with melon seed shells as someone swept up.
Zhong Yu Bai led Ji Zhen Tang through the ornate entrance, hearing the casual banter of patrons leaving. Past that, it was quiet within the building.
Shen Shu approached them, politely greeting Zhong Yu Bai as “Mr. Zhong.”
Zhong Yu Bai nodded slightly and said, “Let’s find a spot to rest. She just finished a performance and is a bit tired.”
Soon they were seated in a cozy private room, sipping tea. Ji Zhen Tang, holding the folded menu, glanced at the names of the teas and stifled a yawn, tossing the menu aside within seconds. “Oh, I’d rather have a drink.”
Leaning back, Zhong Yu Bai rested his arm along the back of the sofa, his gaze soft as he looked at her. “You like drinking that much?”
She replied, “I just don’t enjoy tea.”
Finally, Shen Shu sent over two bottles of plum wine freshly taken from the fridge. Her eyes lit up—no fancy tea could compare; a slightly sweet wine was her real favorite. Zhong Yu Bai opened the bottle and poured her some, a brief thought crossing his mind as he gently rubbed a finger around the bottle’s rim.
After the waiter left, he asked if she’d been feeling unwell that day, recalling that in the rush to get an answer on whether she’d stay or leave, he hadn’t asked about her feelings.
Ji Zhen Tang looked up at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she laughed, “If I were upset, I’d have made a scene! Yelling, ‘Help! Murder!’, anything but letting you have your way.”
A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth, relieved. “Good to know.”
He poured more wine into her glass.
“If I do anything that bothers you, just let me know directly,” he said.
Zhong Yu Bai liked to think he wasn’t too thoughtless, but he was, after all, a man. He worried he might overlook something, sensitive as she was, and wouldn’t always know how to anticipate every detail.
Even a clean-shaven face could sometimes prick the softest skin.
He had once told her that aside from her, nothing ever left him feeling helpless.
That wasn’t a lie.
Ji Zhen Tang found herself captivated by his elegant, slender fingers, a bit lost in thought.
Then the glass was full.
“You sly foxes sure know how to play around,” she said, smirking. “You know, I think I’ll buy some fun new gadgets myself.” She leaned back, sinking comfortably into the crook of his arm.
When it came to this, she never acted shy or reserved.
It was a bit warm in the room, so Zhong Yu Bai took off his suit jacket, leaving him in a crisp white shirt and a deep gray vest that perfectly accentuated the defined lines of his waist and abdomen.
It reminded her of the first time she’d seen him at the Zhong family home—
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t their first meeting but a reunion. He’d been wearing this same outfit, even the same color tie—though now the tie had a small mark that was hers.
As she lay nestled in his arms, she could feel the solid strength of his support.
And, in the corner of her eye, the little fish brooch that held her secret.
Ji Zhen Tang had searched some “unspeakable” terms, and heard Zhong Yu Bai remark, “I learned that move from a book.”
She was stunned and quickly asked, “What book?”
He replied casually, “Just those books you recommended.”
In an instant, her face flushed crimson—he had actually read the novels she’d shared with him while drunk!
Zhong Yu Bai poured her a drink, handed her a sophisticated cup of tea for himself, and took a sip. “I picked up a few things here and there,” he said.
“You read them all?” she asked in disbelief.
“Skimmed them,” he replied, completely unfazed by her wide-eyed shock. “I wanted to see what you’re into.”
Her eyes widened even further. “You’re so busy with a million things, yet you actually took the time to read… er… such, um—”
Before she could finish, he covered her mouth just as a waiter entered with snacks.
When the waiter left and shut the door behind him, Zhong Yu Bai let out a chuckle and released his hand, speaking softly. “I want to read anything you enjoy. When I can’t see you, I wonder what thoughts go through your mind as you read those words.”
“Oh, heavens, you have this kind of taste?” Ji Zhen Tang muttered inwardly, feeling deeply embarrassed. She’d been tipsy when she shared those things with him—how mortifying!
Seeing her reluctance, he raised an eyebrow. “You wanted me to read them, or you didn’t?”
She clammed up, cheeks red.
He gave a faint smile, “You’re hard to please.”
In her mind, she couldn’t help but imagine him reading those “spicy” scenes. It was both amusing and surreal, and she clicked her tongue at the thought.
“No need to feel embarrassed; I like to relax sometimes too,” Zhong Yu Bai responded softly, as if sensing her lingering discomfort. “Time spent with you, thinking of you—that’s the most restful part of my day.”
He looked at her then, with a direct gaze that revealed his true desires, saying, “Besides, it’s enjoyable. Food, drink, and desire—why not indulge?”
Ji Zhen Tang wanted to say something, but fumbled for words, finally just taking a sip and nodding, “Yes, yes, right.”
In fact, Ji Zhen Tang sensed how work wore him down, numbing him. In those rare unguarded moments—whether they were sharing intimacy, tea, heart-to-heart conversations, or a few amusing pages in a book, learning some playful tricks—it was the limited, yet deeply cherished leisure he allowed himself.
She was the most precious treasure in this brief moment of leisure.
Ji Zhen Tang lay back in his embrace, taking in the faint tea scent lingering on his lips.
Gazing at the dazzling shadows cast by the ceiling lights, she murmured, “That day, Wang Jiazhi lay on Mr. Yi’s lap like this. She sang a song, and he cried. That was probably the closest they ever came to love.”
Zhong Yu Bai put down his teacup and said, “Some people view love as fleeting, while others see it as a belief. Unequal devotion might just be the root of internal conflict.”
Ji Zhen Tang sat up suddenly and looked at him. “So, do you see it as fleeting or as faith?”
Calmly, Zhong Yu Bai replied, “I simply think love is something that happens, not something to be forced. There’s no need to overthink it, nor should we be careless with it. Just cherish and feel it.”
His words were understated, enigmatic even. But upon reflection, they seemed the truest expression of his deep and steady nature.
To claim undying love, to vow forever—such words would sound immature and overly passionate. For someone as meticulous as Zhong Yu Bai, he would never say that. It’s too insubstantial; what matters is the feeling in the present.
Love is the cranes and roses that fill her life to the brim. Being wrapped in warmth that’s close and impenetrable—that’s what’s real.
In the end, as if recalling something distant, he said quietly, “Love is something that happens; you can’t seek it out. My mother told me that.”
Ji Zhen Tang was startled, gazing at his softened profile.
She thought, “Mother” is truly the softest word in the world.
Even someone as commanding as him, in that moment, seemed to turn into a child.
Zhong Yu Bai had once been a child, though he had likely long forgotten what it felt like to be cherished and embraced.
His name always reminded her of a poem: *“The river’s jade birds pale in color, the green mountains ready to bloom.”*
At that time, Ji Zhen Tang thought to herself, his temperament was clearly like winter—why, then, was he given a name so full of spring?
Now, she finally understood.
She had walked over step by step, from acquaintance to familiarity, to love, and at last, she had walked from his winter into his spring.
It seemed the one who named him knew him better; Zhong Yu Bai truly was a spring.
Ji Zhen Tang said, “Your mother must have been a wonderful person to have raised you so well.”
He gazed at her, smiling gently, saying nothing, his eyes filled with a thousand gentle emotions stirred by thoughts of these two women.
Just then, Shen Shu sent over a photograph.
Afraid of disturbing the couple, he gave Zhong Yu Bai a discreet look before slipping out, but in his haste, he left the sliding door slightly ajar.
Inside, neither of them bothered to close it, merely looking at the photo on the table.
It was taken on her birthday, up in the mountains, sitting amidst a blooming cluster of begonias, immersed in the pure, fleeting beauty of spring. Zhong Yu Bai sat cross-legged with a faint smile; she clung to his arm, grinning playfully.
“Spring is so beautiful,” Ji Zhen Tang couldn’t help but sigh, “I wish we could go through spring all over again.”
Zhong Yu Bai smiled faintly, looked at her, and promised, “Soon—we’ll celebrate your birthday together next year too.”
In an instant, their rest time was over.
He took the photo, stood up, and picked up his suit jacket.
“Wait a second, your collar’s loose,” Ji Zhen Tang said as she stood up with him.
Seeing his tie slightly askew, she raised her hand to straighten it. This casual gesture was noticed by a middle-aged man at the doorway.
The man, likely a businessman, immediately donned a flattering smile as he greeted Zhong Yu Bai, “Ah, isn’t this Mr. Zhong! It’s been a while since you’ve visited.”
Peering into the room through the slightly ajar door, he glanced at Ji Zhen Tang, then added, “Is this your young girlfriend? She seems very… domesticated.”
Zhong Yu Bai took hold of her hand, stopping her for a moment, and replied coldly, “Don’t use a word just to label someone.”
This was directed at the man at the door.
The man paused, looking embarrassed. Seeing Zhong Yu Bai’s hint of displeasure, he hurriedly clasped his hands in apology, “I’m sorry, very sorry.”
With a slight nod, Zhong Yu Bai signaled for the server nearby to close the door. Then he turned to Ji Zhen Tang and murmured, “You don’t need to do that in the future.”
She looked at him. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a tie. Who cares?”
He replied, “I just don’t want people to make assumptions, calling it ‘domestic’ or whatever. Out here, you have to guard against certain people’s outdated notions.”
He straightened his collar and put on his jacket. “Let’s go.”
Ji Zhen Tang mentioned that she needed to return to campus, so Zhong Yu Bai offered to take her downstairs. He parked, as usual, at the familiar, dimly lit spot by the apartment complex entrance. Together, they crossed the empty parking lot, walking side by side through the darkness.
Her mind kept returning to that brief, awkward moment when they left the Yuyun Building. This idea of “domesticity” annoyed her, as it invoked images of the idealized, stay-at-home woman.
It wasn’t a compliment; it left her feeling irritated and slightly stifled.
“A new day, a new worry,” he said, pausing under the streetlamp. Facing her with a knowing smile and a touch of lighthearted irony, Zhong Yu Bai said, “So, what’s bothering you now?”
Ji Zhen Tang hesitated before exhaling deeply. Realizing she didn’t want to keep it bottled up, she shared her thoughts, “I was just thinking… my dad always says that the women who marry into your family end up miserable. Is that true?”
He, almost jokingly, replied, “The men don’t fare much better.”
She froze for a moment, then smiled—a little bitterly.
Zhong Yu Bai looked at her, his gaze unreadable.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or if he simply intended to let the silence linger.
But she didn’t feel like waiting any longer.
“Alright then, I’ll head back. Goodnight,” Ji Zhen Tang said, waving as she turned to leave.
The next second, he leaned forward slightly, and she nearly fell into his arms. Zhong Yu Bai didn’t hold her; he simply clasped her hand gently and looked into her eyes. His words were courteous, steady, and measured, his tone calm, his voice deep and magnetic, carrying a heartfelt sincerity that made her feel at ease.
“It’s true. In a family like the Zhong’s, there’s a strong possibility that women in the marriage will face external expectations, even sacrificing a part of themselves.”
“I’ve told you before that I don’t care about societal biases, but I can’t demand that you ignore these opinions with me. So, all I can do is help you realize that, if you’re by my side, and if one day you become my wife—”
“Whether we’re at home or in public, let’s love each other, without labels, without expectations. No demands for you to ‘be understanding’ or ‘be dutiful.’ No constraints, no chains. I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for me.”
Ji Zhen Tang laughed, her bitterness replaced by a touched smile. She said, “It’s the first time I’ve heard you say so many things you *don’t* want.”
Zhong Yu Bai replied earnestly, “Because I’ve seen them endure these things, willingly or not, and the cost is painful.”
Ji Zhen Tang nodded emphatically.
She understood his meaning clearly.
After a moment’s thought, Zhong Yu Bai raised a hand and gently held her cheek, speaking softly, “Remember what I said today. No matter what we become in the future, don’t lose your vigilance or your ability to resist.
“Before becoming Mrs. Zhong, you are, first and foremost, Ji Zhen Tang. Your name should always come before mine. I’ll protect you, but you need to stay strong.”
“That’s the lesson my parents’ experience taught me. When risks come, we should protect love, not abandon it.”
“I love you, so you won’t become like them.”
He remembered well the lessons from Zhong Bingwen, who had once shared his own mistakes. But that didn’t mean he was willing to separate from her.
Separation is never the best way.
Ji Zhen Tang, touched, felt her cheeks flush. She looked away, laughing playfully, “Oh, becoming Mrs. Zhong—there’s a long way to go for that!”
She turned her head, embarrassed, to hide her blushing cheeks from his view.
Zhong Yu Bai chuckled and took her hand, gently rubbing the small blue ring on her finger.
“Yes, there’s no rush,” he said softly.
Every time he said, “No rush,” it was as though time itself slowed down in the calm confidence of his words.
Zhong Yu Bai continued, “When you’ve found your life’s direction, we can talk about other things. Important matters need to be handled one by one, in order; otherwise, they won’t be right.”
Ji Zhen Tang looked into his thoughtful eyes and murmured an agreement.
In the face of such a major confession, she felt the urge to escape. Without saying goodnight again, she turned and ran into the dormitory.
“I’m off!” Her voice echoed in his ears.
Zhong Yu Bai stood under the streetlamp, watching her for a long time.
—
Zhong Yu Bai was efficient with his work, meticulously scheduling each meeting down to the minute, leaving no room for error. So, the next day, during a break in his work, he made a quick, purposeful visit to the old Zhong family residence on the western side, with no intention of staying long.
It was just one part of his tasks.
He was merely going through the motions, visiting his nephew, who had suffered a minor concussion, as the “culprit.”
The day was bright and clear, and Xue Jinyun was in the kitchen of the old mansion, sorting vegetables. When Zhong Yu Bai entered, he noticed her sitting with her back to the light on a small stool. A glimpse of the silver in her dark hair gave him pause.
She was different from Chi Ying. When Xue Jinyun married into the Zhong family, she was a high-society young lady, a fitting match for his second brother. But the way things had ended up for her drew sympathy from everyone.
Was it his fault? Zhong Yu Bai didn’t see it that way. Yet he was reminded of what he’d said to Ji Zhen Tang the previous night.
In the Zhong family, marriage after marriage seemed to be managed into a ruinous state.
No wonder Ji Zhen Tang was frightened. Looking back at these tragic outcomes, he thought the toll of love and marriage in his family was indeed steep. But that wouldn’t be enough to deter him from love or marriage.
Zhong Yu seemed to be recovering well; he was no longer bandaged and was working on his computer in the study.
Zhong Yu Bai knocked twice on the door.
“What’s keeping you busy?” he asked, catching Zhong Yu’s side-eye glance of surprise as he forced a smile.
Zhong Yu sneered, “Thanks to you, I found some work in Boyang to keep myself busy for now.”
Zhong Yu Bai stepped into the room and said with polite warmth, “We haven’t had a proper catch-up since you returned.”
“How would we catch up?” Zhong Yu laughed, pointing to the uninjured side of his forehead. “Do I get a matching blow on this side too?”
Zhong Yu Bai’s smile faded.
He moved closer, towering over the man seated in front of him.
Zhong Yu might have healed on the outside, but his inner wounds were clearly still raw: “Now that you’ve made it big, don’t forget whose blood you sucked to climb your way to Boyang. I only came back to claim a little of what’s mine—what’s so unreasonable about that?!”
They’d put on a pretense during the Mid-Autumn Festival, but today the knives were out.
Zhong Yu Bai listened quietly.
Finally, he gave a slight nod. “Tell me what you want. I’ll consider it.”
Zhong Yu took a deep breath, glancing at him, and suddenly noticed a small red fish brooch on Zhong Yu Bai’s collar.
Switching topics abruptly, he pointed at the brooch and remarked, “Nice touch. A girl must’ve given that to you?”
Without waiting for an answer, Zhong Yu reached out to take a closer look at it.
But Zhong Yu Bai’s expression hardened as he gripped Zhong Yu’s wrist.
“You—!” Zhong Yu didn’t shout despite the pain this time; he’d grown adept at enduring it. Gritting his teeth, he yanked his hand back.
Zhong Yu Bai didn’t actually intend to make things difficult for him. However, the moment he let his guard down, that hand stretched over again, determined to take his brooch. Zhong Yu Bai’s inscrutable eyes fixed on him; though they didn’t show malice, they were as deep and cold as an abyss, as if they could pull someone in.
“Do you really need to be taught to stop when it’s wise to stop?”
Zhong Yu’s wrist was restrained once more, his face pale. He attempted to stand, but Zhong Yu Bai gave him a push forward, sending him falling back into his seat.
“…”
Zhong Yu Bai left the room and, while heading downstairs, pulled out a clean tissue to wipe away the slight moisture from where he’d touched someone else’s palm.
Downstairs, he encountered a foreign doctor, Doctor George, with striking green eyes. Doctor George greeted him with a slight nod.
Zhong Yu Bai didn’t pause, continuing down the stairs, and nodded towards the study as he passed, saying lightly, “The young master’s wrist is dislocated. Go set it.”
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