Chapter 51

The heating in Moyunzhai was on full blast, filling the air with a blend of ink and sandalwood scents. As Xie Qingyan pushed open the glass door, the wind chimes tinkled softly, bringing in a gust of winter chill.

Jiang Ci was sitting in his usual spot by the window at the far end, with a copy of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" and a notebook in front of him. One sentence was copied into the notebook: "When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

Hearing the sound, he looked up, the ice in his eyes instantly melting away, revealing a soft smile.

But when she saw Wen Heng enter, her smile faded, replaced by a tacit, solemn expression.

“Jiang Ci,” Wen Heng said, taking off his scarf and exhaling a puff of white breath. His gaze behind his glasses was sharp and concerned. “Your father acted too quickly, leaving no room for maneuver.”

Jiang Ci closed the book, leaned back in his chair, and gave a cold smile: "He's always like this. Ruthless and decisive, eliminating all traces. I should thank him, at least he didn't have me knocked out and shoved onto the plane."

These words were spoken casually, but Xie Qingyan's heart felt as if it had been tightened by a thin thread. He walked behind the counter, put down his schoolbag, and naturally took over Shen's position in minding the shop, but his eyes were always on the street outside the window—this was their unspoken understanding; he was responsible for keeping an eye on the outside so that they could talk business in peace.

Wen Heng glanced at Xie Qingyan's focused profile, then lowered his voice and said to Jiang Ci, "If you have nowhere to go, why don't you come to my house? My house has plenty of guest rooms."

Jiang Ci's gaze also fell on Xie Qingyan, lingering for a moment before turning back, her voice very soft: "I'm afraid of implicating you."

"Afraid of implicating me?" Wen Heng chuckled, raising his hand to lightly punch Jiang Ci's shoulder. "Young Master Jiang, when you pretended to be desperate and asked Qing Yan to take you in, why didn't you think about implicating him? Don't give me that. When did you learn to consider my feelings?"

Jiang Ci neither dodged nor denied it. He lowered his eyes, his fingertips unconsciously tracing a line on the rough wooden table.

“I can tell which is more important,” he said softly, as if stating a simple fact.

Wen Heng was momentarily speechless, then shook his head and smiled. His smile held a mixture of helplessness, understanding, and above all, a sense of relief that it was indeed so. He had long seen it: from the moment Xie Qingyan appeared, a light that would never go out had been lit on Jiang Ci's isolated island. Without Xie Qingyan, Jiang Ci might never have escaped the quagmire left by Tang Li, and would never have learned to grasp at a glimmer of light even in dire straits.

He wasn't surprised that they were together. In this world, there was probably no one else who could understand Jiang Ci's broken pride as well as use that almost clumsy persistence to piece Jiang Ci back together.

"Alright, I didn't come here today to listen to your lovey-dovey antics." Wen Heng suppressed his smile, opened his laptop, and the cold light from the screen illuminated his serious face. "Let's get down to business. The legal team is making good progress. The process for your mother's asset stripping has been initiated and will be completed in at least half a month. That means it will all be over by the end of the year at the latest. Please double-check this list to see if there are any omissions."

On the screen is a detailed list: the names of Ms. Liang Wanqiu's paintings, the dates of their creation, and their estimated market value; the copyright registration information of her design manuscripts; the property certificates for several properties purchased before her marriage... The list is meticulously detailed, clear and cold, yet it carries the story of a woman's once vibrant artistic life.

Jiang Ci's gaze slowly swept over each line of text, and when he saw several entries marked "suspected of being used by Jiang Cheng for commercial projects and profited from without authorization," his eyes suddenly turned icy.

“Don’t forget,” his voice was calm, but beneath the calm surface churned a turbulent undercurrent of magma, “Jiang Cheng used my mother’s money to buy that woman jewelry, real estate, and luxury goods. Every single penny of it must be made back.”

"Don't worry." Wen Heng pushed up his glasses, his tone carrying the confidence and sharpness of a Wen family heir. "The Wen family's legal team is top-notch in handling these kinds of inheritance disputes. What's rightfully yours, no one can take away; what's not rightfully theirs, they'll pay a price for taking even a fraction of it."

"Okay." Jiang Ci nodded, without saying much thanks. Some trust and entrustment already transcended words. "I trust you to handle things."

Time slipped away quietly amidst the turning of pages and hushed discussions. The sky outside the window changed from a bright gray-white to a somber leaden gray, as twilight descended.

Just as Wen Heng was about to summarize the next step of the plan, the bookstore door was pushed open again, and several students walked in, bringing with them a gust of cold wind and laughter.

Xie Qingyan immediately coughed lightly twice.

Wen Heng reacted quickly, closing the notebook smoothly and naturally. He stood up, his voice regaining its usual gentle and clear tone: "That's all for today. I'll organize the data when I get back. Contact me anytime if you need anything."

He nodded to Jiang Ci, smiled at Xie Qingyan behind the counter, put on his scarf, and calmly pushed open the door to walk into the deepening twilight.

The moment Xie Qingyan gave the signal, Jiang Ci had already put on the oversized hoodie and mask, slightly hunched his back, and shrank into the shadow cast by the bookshelf, reopening his copy of *Thus Spoke Zarathustra*. On the latest page, he underlined a sentence: "What mortals cannot destroy me, but make me stronger."

Unless you look for it intentionally, no one would notice that in the quietest corner of this bookstore, there is a boy who is silently declaring war on the whole world.

Night completely enveloped the city, and the neon lights of the commercial streets lit up one after another. The cold wind grew fierce, swirling up the fallen leaves on the ground and making a rustling sound.

Suddenly, someone across the street shouted in surprise:

"It's snowing!"

Like a magic spell, the once quiet street was instantly ignited by a light, restless energy.

"It really is snow!"

"First snow! It's the first snow!"

"Quick, take a picture!"

Xie Qingyan was deep in thought, pondering a complex biological genetics problem, his pen hovering over the paper. The shout pierced through the glass door and reached his ears. He paused, instinctively looking up at the door.

A gust of wind happened to carry a few glittering, hexagonal ice crystals, which hit the glass door and then slid off.

A particularly playful snowflake drifted in through the crack of the door being pushed open and closed by a customer, its trajectory as light as a dream, and finally, it gently landed on the back of Xie Qingyan's hand holding the pen.

Slightly cool. A very light touch.

Then, at the temperature of his skin, the snowflake melted at a visible speed, turning into a tiny, crystal-clear droplet of water that rested on his fair skin, reflecting the warm yellow light from above.

Xie Qingyan stared at the drop of water, somewhat lost in thought.

Having traveled through time, he had witnessed many modern wonders, but snow seemed to be the first time he had encountered it so vividly. Snow also fell in the capital of Dajing, a different kind of desolate yet magnificent beauty. The snow before him, however, carried the romance and hustle and bustle of the city lights.

“Jiang Ci,” he turned his head, his voice filled with a joy he himself was unaware of, “it’s snowing.”

In the shadow of the bookshelf, Jiang Ci's fingers, which had been typing on the keyboard, stopped. He saved and encrypted the screenshots that Wen Heng had just sent him, showing the recent unusual fluctuations in Wang Lihua's account, then closed his laptop and stood up.

He walked over to Xie Qingyan, first picking up the woolen gloves draped over the back of the chair and carefully putting them on Xie Qingyan. His fingertips brushed against Xie Qingyan's slightly cool hand, gently pressing on the spot where a drop of snow had melted. Then he took off the scarf, which still carried his body heat and clean scent, and wrapped it tightly around Xie Qingyan's neck, round and round.

Only after he had done all this did he take Xie Qingyan's gloved hand.

"Want to go take a look?"

Xie Qingyan's eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously.

Pushing open the door, a rush of crisp air, mixed with fine snowflakes, hit me. Because of this unexpected first snow, many people had suddenly appeared on the street; couples cuddled, friends played, children stuck out their tongues trying to catch snowflakes, and everywhere there were raised phone screens and excited chatter.

Xie Qingyan was infected by the lively scene, but he was also a little puzzled. He tilted his head slightly and leaned closer to Jiang Ci to ask, "Why can a snowfall make so many people so happy?" In his mind, snow was a sign of severe cold, a lonely feeling of "the sky is about to snow in the evening, and there is no one to drink a cup of wine with," or a desolate feeling of "a thousand mountains where no birds fly and ten thousand paths where no human tracks are found." He had never associated it with such joyful happiness.

Just as Jiang Ci was about to explain, a young couple walked by, embracing each other.

The girl excitedly told the boy, "Did you know? Legend has it that if you kiss your loved one when the first snow falls, you will receive an eternal blessing and never be separated!"

The boy seemed amused, yet also indulgent: "Really? Is this another scene from one of those Korean dramas that you girls love to watch?"

"If I say it's true, then it's true!" The girl playfully punched him, and the two laughed and joked as they walked away.

Xie Qingyan heard every word clearly. First snow, a kiss, an eternal blessing. These unfamiliar words, combined together, resonated strangely and movingly within him. He subconsciously turned his head, wanting to ask Jiang Ci to verify the credibility of this beautiful legend.

Unexpectedly, her lips touched another warm spot.

Jiang Ci had bent down at some point and kissed him amidst the swirling, tiny snowflakes.

The world's voices faded away at that moment.

The hustle and bustle of the street, the whistling of the wind through the treetops, and the distant honking of cars all blurred into a distant background.

Xie Qingyan's senses were filled only with the clear and soft touch on her lips, the coolness of snowflakes falling on her cheeks and eyelashes, and Jiang Ci's warm breath that was so close to her.

The snowflakes were icy, but the kiss was burning hot. The heat traveled from their pressed lips all the way into his heart, almost melting him completely. He closed his eyes, responding awkwardly but wholeheartedly, his gloved fingers unconsciously clenching the fabric of Jiang Ci's shirt.

Jiang Ci slowly pulled away when he was almost out of air, but his forehead was still pressed affectionately against his.

Snowflakes continued to fall, landing on their hair, shoulders, and their slightly flushed, still-breathless faces. Fortunately, passersby were all drawn to the rare first snowfall, and no one noticed that under the eaves of this secluded bookstore, two teenagers had just exchanged a kiss strong enough to ward off the entire winter chill.

"Jiang Ci, I..." Xie Qingyan opened his eyes, his pupils misty with tears and lingering palpitations. He wanted to say something, but found words so inadequate. It wasn't their first kiss, yet every time, his heart pounded wildly like the first time, a sweet dizziness washing over him.

Jiang Ci looked at him, a rare sight of him completely devoid of his usual calm and composure, his flustered appearance. The smile in his eyes was like the surface of a lake being rippled by a spring breeze, spreading out in layers, astonishingly bright, as if he had gathered all the dim starlight in the sky into the depths of his eyes.

“We kissed under the first snow,” Jiang Ci said softly, his voice slightly hoarse from the kiss, but with a rock-solid certainty. “So, according to legend, we will be together forever.”

As Xie Qingyan gazed at the dazzling starlight in his eyes, all his unease and shyness subsided, leaving only a continuous, honey-like sweetness that welled up from the softest part of his heart, so sweet that his fingertips trembled slightly.

He didn't say anything, but simply gripped Jiang Ci's hand tighter and nodded emphatically.

Back in the cozy bookstore, Xie Qingyan tried to get back into the biology exam, but found he couldn't concentrate at all.

Each option in the multiple-choice question twisted and transformed into the two characters "Jiang Ci" in his eyes; the complex genetic map, with its intersecting lines, seemed to become the curve of Jiang Ci's eyes when he smiled; even the DNA double helix structure in the question stem inexplicably reminded him of the intertwined breaths and heartbeats when the two of them kissed in the snow.

His usually proud composure crumbled completely in the face of Jiang Ci's name.

Jiang Ci packed up his laptop and looked up to see Xie Qingyan frowning and blushing as he stared at the exam paper. A knowing smile flashed across his eyes as he walked over and, without a word, snatched the exam paper that its owner had neglected for so long.

"We'll close in about ten minutes." Jiang Ci glanced at the clock on the wall, took out his earphones from his pocket, and gently put one of them into Xie Qingyan's ear. "Stop watching, take a break."

Before Xie Qingyan could react, a melancholic and ethereal piano prelude slowly flowed into his ears. He rarely listened to modern music, and almost all his spare time was occupied by English listening practice, so this unfamiliar melody made him pause slightly.

Then, a deep and gentle male voice sang:

How much further must it take to enter your heart?

How much longer until I can get closer to you?

The person who is so close yet so far, yet impossible to get close to.

I'm also waiting to meet you.

Xie Qingyan's breath hitched.

The lyrics were like a precise key, instantly unlocking a tightly closed gate in his heart. So close yet so far, unable to openly approach each other—wasn't this a perfect description of their current situation? Hiding in a corner of the bookstore, secretly kissing under the first snow, like two stars forced to hide their light.

The song continued to flow, carrying a cosmic solitude and unwavering persistence:

Traveling around the world is boring, but at least it can be...

Be with you

The moment Xie Qingyan heard those words, she felt her heart being gripped tightly by a soft yet powerful force. The sweetness, excitement, subtle sadness, and uncertainty about the future that had been rising in the snow—all the complex emotions—seemed to find a resonant melody at that moment, bursting forth from their dam.

He suddenly turned his head and looked at Jiang Ci beside him.

Jiang Ci was also looking at him, the other earphone hanging on his ear. Under the warm yellow light, there was a subtle light flowing in his eyes, quiet and deep, like the silent universe sung about in the song.

Xie Qingyan suddenly understood why Jiang Ci wanted him to listen to this song.

He reached out, not to shake Jiang Ci's hand, but to gently touch the earphone cable connecting the two of them, transmitting the same melody. The cool plastic cable felt like it carried an electric current, burning his fingertips.

“Like us,” Xie Qingyan said softly, her voice slightly hoarse.

Jiang Ci didn't answer. He simply lowered his head and, with extreme tenderness, kissed Xie Qingyan's fingertips. Then he raised his eyes and gazed into the deepest recesses of Xie Qingyan's eyes.

“Traveling around the world is boring,” he said, each word like a promise that touched Xie Qingyan’s heart, “but I can stay with you.”

The snow outside the window continues to fall silently. Inside the bookstore, time seems to be stretched out by the singing, frozen into amber.

Unbeknownst to them, on the other side of the same city covered in the first snow, a storm powerful enough to tear apart appearances was quietly arriving at its epicenter, accompanied by an anonymous letter.

The top floor of the Jiang Group headquarters building, the president's office.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, one can overlook the lights of most of the city. At this moment, these lights are blurred and cold in the falling snow, just like the frozen atmosphere inside the office.

Jiang Cheng stood by the window, his back like a hard reef. He held a report that his subordinate had just submitted in his hand, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"Can a living person just vanish into thin air?" His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a dull knife scraping against bone, filled with suppressed rage. "School, internet cafe, library, everywhere he might have gone, search them all! If you still can't find him, you're all fired!"

The assistant standing in front of the desk was sweating profusely, bowing even lower: "President Jiang, our people are watching Xie Qingyan around the clock in shifts. His daily route is very fixed: home, school, and Moyunzhai Bookstore. There are no other unusual contacts. We've also been keeping an eye on Wen Heng; there's definitely no indication that he's met with Young Master Jiang Ci recently."

"I want results, not excuses!" Jiang Cheng whirled around and slammed the report onto the gleaming solid wood table with a dull thud. "I don't care what methods you use! Dig three feet into the ground, and find that rebellious son of yours!"

His chest heaved violently, his eyes burning with the fury of being defied and a hint of panic he himself was unwilling to admit, a panic that was spiraling out of control. Never before had anyone dared to challenge his authority like this, never! Jiang Ci was the first, so resolute, so thorough, like a slippery fish breaking free from his carefully woven web of control.

This sense of loss of control enraged him more than any attack from a business rival. Jiang Ci was no longer just a disobedient son, but a bomb buried beside him, ready to explode at any moment, living proof that he was not omnipotent. He had to defuse this bomb himself, he absolutely had to!

Just then, the secretary gently knocked on the door and carefully entered, carrying an ordinary brown paper envelope without any markings.

"Mr. Jiang, here is a private letter of yours. There is no sender information. It was delivered directly to the front desk for forwarding."

Jiang Cheng was in a fit of rage, too lazy to even lift his eyelids, and waved his hand impatiently: "Leave it! I don't have time for this boring stuff right now!"

The so-called private letters delivered to his desk every day were nothing more than invitations to various banquets, letters of intent for cooperation, or stepping stones that some people who wanted to curry favor with him had racked their brains to offer. They were all the same and annoying.

The secretary hesitated for a moment, but still gently placed the envelope next to the pile of scattered documents on the table.

To ease the tense atmosphere, the assistant steeled himself and stepped forward, picking up the seemingly ordinary envelope: "Mr. Jiang, shall I take a look at it for you?"

Jiang Cheng snorted coldly, which was taken as tacit approval.

The assistant carefully tore open the seal and pulled out a stack of what looked like photos. His gaze had just fallen on the top photo when his expression changed drastically. His hand trembled, and the photos scattered across the table with a "clatter."

"Mr. Jiang... Mr. Jiang! This... this..." The assistant's voice trembled uncontrollably, his eyes filled with terror, as if he had seen something extremely frightening.

"What's all the fuss about!" Jiang Cheng was even more annoyed by his outburst, and he shouted at him while striding back to the table.

His gaze followed his assistant's trembling fingers and fell on the scattered photos.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

The snowflakes fell silently outside the window, the air vents of the central air conditioning hummed softly inside, and the assistant's heavy, suppressed breathing disappeared.

Jiang Cheng's rage, impatience, and aloof coldness melted away like a snowman exposed to the scorching sun, leaving only an incredulous stiffness.

The photo was taken with exceptional clarity.

Different scenes, different men.

In a secluded booth at a high-end restaurant, Wang Lihua smiled and fed dessert to a middle-aged man in a suit, their manner intimate.

In a dimly lit corner of the underground parking garage, she was kissing a young man in sportswear, her hand even slipping inside his clothes.

In the VIP room of a luxury store, she was arm in arm with a portly man adorned with gold rings, and the two were trying on the same watch.

There was even... an old photo that looked like it was taken many years ago. The background seemed to be a high-end private club. The young Wang Lihua was nestled in the arms of a man with a powerful aura. And that man—Jiang Cheng recognized him—was Xie Rongchang, the industrial tycoon who had died unexpectedly many years ago.

Each photo is like a poisoned slap in the face, landing hard on Jiang Cheng's cheek.

Each photograph silently mocks his utter failure as a man, as a husband, and even as a success.

The air in the office was so heavy it felt like it could crush a person's spine. The assistant was already pale with fright, holding his breath, wishing he could disappear immediately.

Jiang Cheng slowly, extremely slowly, reached out and picked up the topmost photo.

His fingers were very steady, frighteningly so. But upon closer inspection, his fingertips were twitching slightly and uncontrollably.

He stared at Wang Lihua's face in the photo, still beautiful but now appearing incredibly unfamiliar and grotesque, and at the alluring smile he had never seen before as she showed other men.

a long time.

A very faint, yet chilling, creaking sound—the sound of paper being clenched tightly—echoed in the deathly silent office.

The stack of photos was twisted and deformed in Jiang Cheng's hands.

He raised his head, his face expressionless, devoid of even anger. Only a bottomless, soul-chilling cold emanated from his terrifyingly empty eyes.