Chapter 47: Three Days

“Se Se… she still hasn’t gotten better.”

When Cen Li spoke, Lu Huaiyan hadn’t lifted his eyes the entire time. He just kept his gaze lowered, staring at the wine in his glass.

It wasn’t until that sentence landed that he slowly raised his eyes and fixed them on Cen Li.

“Seven years ago, after she was rescued, there was a period where she strongly resisted being touched by others. She also became very sensitive to certain smells and sounds. She would even feel sick when I touched her. The doctor said it was the aftermath of the kidnapping — she had PTSD.” Cen Li looked at Lu Huaiyan. “I told you Se Se once liked you. Do you know how I found out?”

Lu Huaiyan still didn’t speak.

Cen Li continued on his own: “In that photo you saw in the study, Se Se was standing between us. She leaned toward you — even when her elbow touched yours, she didn’t pull away. The next day, she asked to go visit Grandpa Lu. That’s when I knew… she liked you.”

It was from that day onward that Jiang Se stopped seeing the doctor even recommended by Ji Yunyi, as if she had completely returned to normal.

Lu Huaiyan let out a light laugh. “You think she liked me back then?”

Cen Li nodded. “She liked you for two years.”

“That wasn’t ‘liking’,” Lu Huaiyan’s mocking smile faded, “That was her trying to survive. She liked going to my grandfather’s place, liked the scent of agarwood there, because when I carried her out that day, I smelled of it. Her so-called ‘liking’ me was only because I was the one who carried her out. She was building a fantasy lighthouse for herself, desperately, blindly trying to escape the pain she was in.”

Cen Li was stunned for a moment. “Lighthouse?”

Lu Huaiyan looked at him and calmly countered, words sharp as a blade: “What I really find strange is this — why, at that time, did she choose to make me, a near-stranger, her lighthouse, instead of turning to you — her so-called ‘closest family’?”

As his words fell, a memory suddenly surfaced in Cen Li’s mind — what his aunt had once told him:

“Because Se Se never forgave any of you. Not even you, Ah Li.”

“She was angry at us,” Cen Li closed his eyes, “Back then… Se Se was kidnapped for three days.”

Lu Huaiyan’s hand holding the wine glass froze.

Three days.

His jaw slowly tensed. He asked, word by word:

“So you only went to Grandfather two days after she disappeared?”

He paused, then sneered:

“You didn’t even call the police, did you? Why? Because it happened at the oil painting institute and you were afraid of a scandal?”

Cen Li’s eyes flew open. “Ah Yan!”

Lu Huaiyan stared at him, reading his expression. After a moment, he let out a knowing smile:

“So I was right. Even now you all keep it so secret — that scandal had something to do with your mother, didn’t it? And Jiang Se happened to witness it?”

Cen Li remained silent, his thin lips pressed tightly together.

Lu Huaiyan slowly turned the glass in his hand, his gaze growing colder:

“Did you give up on her back then? Use the time that could have saved her life… to handle your mother’s scandal?”

“No! I didn’t give up on her. Ah Yan, I admit I wasn’t a good brother, but I wasn’t heartless enough to leave her to die knowing she’d been kidnapped.” Cen Li’s voice was hoarse.

“That afternoon, my mother and her student were in the studio. She had turned off all the institute’s security cameras. Se Se saw something, and fled through the back door. Not long after she left, the wife of that artist came looking for her at the institute.”

What followed was complete chaos.

Cen Li had known both his parents had their own lovers, but he never expected Ji Yunyi’s lover to be her own student — and even less that Se Se and the artist’s wife would show up at the painting institute within minutes of each other that day.

The artist’s wife caused a huge scene. Cen Li and Ji Yunyi were both occupied dealing with the scandal. It wasn’t until he returned to the Cen house that he realized… Se Se had never come home.

“My mother said Se Se was just being petty and refusing to come home to spite her. By then, 24 hours had already passed. Later, we received a call from Zhao Zhicheng, asking us to prepare the ransom. That’s when I knew something had happened to Se Se. I had already started looking for her by then, but you know… it had been raining non-stop those few days.”

There was no surveillance footage, and it was storming — all traces had been washed away by the rain.

Cen Li had searched tirelessly for an entire day. As the hours ticked by, his father finally went to the Lu family to ask Grandpa Lu for help.

They had thought Se Se was just throwing a tantrum, and so they missed the most critical 24 hours to rescue her.

To keep the scandal at the painting institute under wraps, they chose not to call the police. It wasn’t until nearly 48 hours had passed that they were forced to go to Grandpa Lu.

Lu Huaiyan frowned, staring at Cen Li. Behind the lenses, his eyes grew colder and sharper, brimming with a chilling fury.

“Although she was kidnapped for three days, Se Se wasn’t physically harmed. She did see a psychologist for a while afterward, but she seemed emotionally stable. I thought she was fine. I really thought she was fine…” Cen Li’s voice was dry and hoarse, “I never realized she was still seeing a therapist… still on medication… still not—healed.”

Lu Huaiyan asked him, “Do you know what she went through during those three days?”

Cen Li shook his head. “Se Se never talks about it. The only time she ever lost control emotionally… was the day Zhao Zhicheng died. She once had a huge argument with my mother, saying there were still people involved in the kidnapping who hadn’t been caught. Ah Yan—”

“Shut up.” Lu Huaiyan cut him off, his voice cold and hard as iron. “I know what you’re trying to say, Cen Li. But you have no right to say it.”

Cen Li opened his mouth, “Ah Yan—”

“Cen Li, remember this: not all wounds are visible. And some of the ones on her that can’t be seen… are because of you.” Lu Huaiyan lowered his lashes, the shadows beneath his eyes deepening, his expression indifferent.

“Don’t try to ease your guilt through me. You’d better live with that guilt for the rest of your life.”

“Now, before my fist lands on your face — get out.”

—

The door opened, then shut again. A flash of bright white light briefly lit up the dim card room.

For a moment, the light illuminated the quiet, brooding features of the man inside.

In that instant, Lu Huaiyan thought of many chaotic, disjointed images.

Behind the bar, when he’d asked her if she was done making a scene — and the mocking, combative look in her eyes.

At the old Cen family house, when she gripped a shard of glass and told him, one word at a time:

“I can walk out of here on my own.”

And that night when she told him Zhao Zhicheng had killed the two kidnappers because of Zhang Yue.

Because of Zhang Yue.

In that moment, Lu Huaiyan suddenly understood everything.

What she endured during those three days she was kidnapped. Why Zhao Zhicheng had to kill those two men. Why she showed mercy toward Zhang Yue.

Someone with her personality would never show kindness to someone for no reason.

The ice in his glass had melted into water.

A heavy weight seemed to press down on Lu Huaiyan’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

As if he couldn’t bear to wait another second, he abruptly set the glass down and strode out of the room.

—

At 1 a.m., Jiang Se was still wandering along the Fuchun River. When she checked her phone, she realized she had walked 20,000 steps.

Twenty thousand steps…

Yu Shiying and Jiang Chuan had clearly wanted to make up for all the New Year’s Eves she had missed over the past 23 years. They had practically eaten and walked their way around the entire riverfront. Just from the tea shop “Banri Xian,” she had two salty milk teas.

Fireworks still exploded overhead with sharp whistles and booming bursts. Jiang Se spent another half hour walking with them and even accepted a skewer of candied strawberries from Yu Shiying.

By the time she returned to Liyuan Street, it was nearly 2 a.m. She didn’t stay the night there — after picking a few small golden kumquats and stuffing them into her pocket, she headed back to Xiangshu Alley.

Tonight, the city was bustling with noise; the streets were full of night owls unwilling to head home.

Just as Jiang Se stepped out the door, her phone buzzed inside her coat. She took it out to check — it was a New Year’s greeting from Fu Yun on WeChat.

For the past two years, he had always messaged her at this exact time.

Just like before, it was a very formal and polished message. It looked like a mass-sent template, but the beginning was clearly personalized: “Se Se.”

Jiang Se replied courteously, returning the greeting.

Fu Yun was now the only heir to the Fu family patriarch, so it was likely he, like Lu Huaiyan, was tied up with endless social engagements tonight.

After sending the reply, she was just about to slip her phone back into her pocket when it suddenly rang.

Jiang Se looked down at the screen and quickly answered. “I thought you’d be busy right now.”

“I am — drinking,” Fu Yun replied with a chuckle. “Just happened to see your message and thought I’d steal a moment to call you. Consider it a little sobering up.”

His voice, like the man himself, was gentle and smooth. Now it carried a slightly hoarse undertone, the kind soaked in alcohol — a soft raspiness.

He asked with a smile, “I had no choice but to come out drinking. But what about you? Why are you still awake? When I saw your reply just now, I thought I was imagining it.”

Jiang Se smiled faintly. “I was out walking along the river with my parents all evening. I’m on my way back to the apartment now.”

Fu Yun let out a light “ah,” his tone lifting slightly at the end, with a hint of delight.

“You seem to be adjusting well to life over there. I ran into Aunt Mingshu a few days ago — she said she’s planning to visit Tongcheng on the third day of the New Year.”

Aunt Cen Mingshu had mentioned those plans. Jiang Se’s serene smile deepened a touch. “She’s probably thinking about my parents’ homemade wine.”

Fu Yun laughed warmly. “If even Aunt Mingshu is craving it, that wine must be something special. I’ll have to try it myself someday.”

“Sure,” Jiang Se replied, “I’ll treat you when the time comes.”

Their relationship, shaped by history, wasn’t particularly close — but it wasn’t distant either. After a few polite exchanges, Fu Yun wished her a good night and hung up.

He set down the phone and took a slow sip of beer, his sharp features cast in a moody calm.

It was a can of cheap beer — green aluminum, labeled with two plain characters: Jia Tu.

The harsh liquid scraped down his throat. Fu Yun squinted slightly.

All these years later, it was still the only beer he liked.

The old man had hired professionals to teach him about wine appreciation, and Fu Yun had indeed drunk his share of fine wines. He’d learned the skills of a proper connoisseur.

At banquets, he could coolly offer a few remarks, and people would look at him with admiration — the image of a refined young gentleman with impeccable taste.

Lowering his hand, Fu Yun gazed past the floor-to-ceiling windows at the snow outside. The cold condensation from the beer bottle crept down to his fingertips.

The girl’s cool, quiet voice still echoed in his ears, and the falling snow outside suddenly reminded him of that night — the snow drifting over Shuangyue Lake.

On the wooden arch bridge, he had leaned down to kiss her. His lips brushed the warmth of hers, then landed on the soft, cool curve of her cheek.

Her long black hair had swept across his nose, carrying a faint citrus scent that drifted into his lungs.

Sweet and cold.

Fu Yun raised the bottle and took another swig of the icy, bitter beer.

He stood shirtless, wearing only a white towel around his waist.

Scars — old, deep, and layered — traced down his chest, stomach, and lower back, disappearing beneath the towel’s edge.

In the reflection of the glass window, a pair of slender hands, painted with bright red nail polish, slithered around his waist like vines.

Zhu Mingli rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered beside his ear, her breath fragrant and soft, “You really went out of your way to call over a cheap knockoff?”

Fu Yun’s eyelids lowered halfway. His dark eyes glanced sideways at her delicate face, gaze turning cold.

Switching the beer to his left hand, he shifted slightly, then used his right hand to grip her neck and slam her hard against the window.

He leaned in close to her ear, voice low and threatening:

“Didn’t I tell you not to mess with her again? Hm? The police are already looking into that jar of candied hawthorn — why can’t you just behave, Mingming?”

The man’s voice was still as gentle as water, but his tone had turned cold — like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

Zhu Mingli loved seeing him like this. Even as he gripped her neck, she wasn’t afraid. She smiled and said, “What’s there to be afraid of? Steward Yu is your man — who could ever find out it was him who swapped the sugar?”

As she spoke, her hand slipped inside the towel wrapped around Fu Yun’s waist. “Who told her to come back anyway? A knockoff dares to give me attitude? And you — your father wants you to marry Cen Yu, why didn’t you refuse? That tacky thing from some remote countryside — you actually fancy her? I’m angry, Fu Yun, I’m really angry.”

Though she said she was angry, her voice was soft enough to drip honey. As her hand moved, the white bath towel slipped down from Fu Yun’s waist.

Fu Yun ground his teeth lightly, casting a cold glance at her. He soon loosened his grip on her neck and said in a low voice, “Go spray some perfume.”

Zhu Mingli lifted her eyes to meet his frosty gaze, bit her lip, and walked gracefully to the bedside. She picked up a pale-orange bottle of perfume and sprayed two pumps on her neck.

When she returned, a light citrus-blossom scent wafted from her skin.

Fu Yun leaned lazily against the floor-to-ceiling window and said to her, “My father is currently considering a marriage alliance between you and me. As for your brother — I’ve already taken care of it.”

He lifted a slender finger, casually tucking a strand of her chestnut-dyed waves behind her ear, his tone gentle: “Tomorrow, go straighten your hair and dye it black. For now—”

He raised the bottle of beer, took a sip, and looked down at her from above. With his usual soft-spoken voice, he ordered,

“Open your mouth.”

—

Just as Jiang Se neared her apartment building, she received another call.

It was Guo Qian, calling all the way from Boston to ask how her New Year’s Eve had gone.

Jiang Se recounted everything she’d seen on her twenty-thousand-step walk that night. Guo Qian burst out laughing.

“So Fuchun Street is that fun? Your family sounds so interesting. What a shame I’m not there with you! Oh, right — Se Se, I just overheard my brother saying that Lu Huaiyan had a bit of a fallout with your brother. He even said it might be because of you, and asked if I knew anything about you and Lu Huaiyan. I told him there’s no way!”

Jiang Se pulled a kumquat from a paper bag, popped it into her mouth, and slowly chewed, offering no response.

After a few seconds of silence, Guo Qian raised her voice, sounding scandalized: “Se Se? Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t tell me something really happened between you and Lu Huaiyan?”

Jiang Se had never intended for anything to come of what she had with Lu Huaiyan, so she’d never mentioned it to Guo Qian.

Now that she was being asked, she didn’t feel like lying. She answered honestly, “Sort of.”

As she spoke, she stepped onto the apartment stairs and slowly made her way up to the sixth floor.

The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell had been fixed. With each step she took, a new light flickered on above her.

Just before she reached the sixth floor, Guo Qian finally processed what “sort of” really meant.

She cursed aloud: “Holy sh*t!” and began her rapid-fire interrogation: “When did this happen? Who made the first move? How could you keep this from me all this time?! And—spill it! Did you sleep with him or not?!”

Jiang Se hadn’t brought her headphones when she went out, so her phone was pressed to her face as she talked.

Guo Qian’s excited shouting echoed loudly through the quiet stairwell.

As Jiang Se stepped onto the sixth floor, the light above her lit up — casting a pale glow like rising tide creeping up a quiet shore, gradually revealing the figure leaning by the door.

Everything she’d been about to say caught in her throat at the sight of him.

On the phone, Guo Qian was still pressing: “Don’t even think about dodging me! Tell me the truth — did you sleep with Lu Huaiyan?!”

At first, Lu Huaiyan probably hadn’t heard clearly. He stood leaning against the iron door, eyelids half-lowered, gazing quietly at Jiang Se.

But now he seemed to have caught the tail end of it.

A faint smile began to play at the edges of his sharp, handsome features. He stepped toward her and leaned in close to whisper in her other ear:

“Why aren’t you answering her?”

Jiang Se slowly swallowed the kumquat in her mouth and said calmly,

“Qian Qian, something’s come up. Gotta go.”

Before Guo Qian could call back and bombard her with questions, Jiang Se powered off her phone.

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