Chapter 179 Si Yuan Has Seen Those Photos
Before they even touched, Meng Huaizhi had already taken her hand.
Jiang Shu sneered, and suddenly raised her other hand.
This time, Meng Huaizhi was caught off guard; a crisp sound rang out, particularly jarring in the empty living room.
Meng Huaizhi is now thirty-eight years old, which is not young, and this is the first time someone has dared to lay a hand on him.
He touched the side of his cheek where he had been hit, but there was no anger in his eyes. Instead, he smiled gently: "So your brother's habit of hitting people is inherited from you."
For a moment, all was quiet.
Jiang Shu remained expressionless, her voice as cold as ice: "Why do you keep disrupting my life? Meng Huaizhi, you were the one who rejected me first."
It was as if she had finally voiced her grievances.
But there was not a trace of flattery.
It was just a question.
Meng Huaizhi raised an eyebrow, his tone languid: "I didn't say I wanted you now."
Jiang Shu's anger flared up instantly, and she grabbed his collar: "Then why did you make things difficult for Zheng Qingyuan? Why did you interfere in Si Yuan and Song Yan's affairs?"
Meng Huaizhi pushed her hand away, slowly sat down, his slender fingers lightly tapping the sofa armrest, his eyes sweeping over her indifferently: "First, because I hate Zheng Qingyuan. Second, because I hate Jiang Wang."
Jiang Shu, who was listening from the side, couldn't help but frown and sneer: "You're really reasonable, Mr. Meng!"
Meng Huaizhi looked up at Jiang Shu, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Third—are you sure you want to marry him?"
Jiang Shu was taken aback.
Meng Huaizhi's gaze was unfathomable: "As your former elder, do you think I would let you marry someone I don't approve of?"
Jiang Shu clenched her fists, her voice filled with suppressed anger: "Meng Huaizhi, you have nothing to do with the Jiang family anymore, my affairs are none of your business!"
For some reason, Meng Huaizhi found the words "it doesn't matter" grating.
He lowered his eyes, his thin lips slightly curved, but there was no real smile.
It's okay... What a nice "it's okay".
He raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as a knife: "What? Is your relationship with Zheng Qingyuan that deep? Does he know you've waited for me for ten years? You've endured all this, is it because you love him, or because you covet the Jiang family's power?"
Jiang Shu felt a tightness in her chest. Before she could retort, Meng Huaizhi said calmly, "Jiang Shu, have you forgotten everything I taught you before? Where is your brain?"
Jiang Shu laughed in exasperation, but her eyes gleamed with stubbornness: "Meng Huaizhi, I remember everything you taught me. The first point is to cut your losses in time."
She spoke slowly and deliberately, as if delivering a verdict: "You know I waited for you for ten years, but I didn't cut my losses in time, which means I didn't learn anything. Why didn't you come out and correct me back then?"
She took a deep breath and said with a firm look in her eyes, "I like Zheng Qingyuan, I just like him!"
Meng Huaizhi's fingers tightened little by little, his knuckles turned white, and his aura grew colder and colder.
like.
Hearing Jiang Shu say that she likes someone else is a really strange feeling.
Jiang Shu has really grown up.
He's becoming increasingly unruly, increasingly frustrating, and increasingly stubborn...
Just as the atmosphere froze, a commotion suddenly came from upstairs.
Jiang Shu subconsciously looked up and saw a golden retriever running down the stairs, standing at the top of the stairs and tilting its head to look at her.
Meng Huaizhi's expression also changed slightly, as if he was somewhat flustered.
They probably didn't expect the dog to suddenly run out.
Jiang Shu was taken aback, feeling that the dog looked familiar.
It had a slight limp in one leg, and its fur was lighter in color than I remembered, but its eyes remained gentle.
Jiang Shu's heart skipped a beat.
The dog she picked up on a rainy night ten years ago.
The little dog had a very serious leg injury.
Her father wouldn't let her keep it, so she cried and left it outside the villa with Jiang Wang. Every night she would sneak out to check on it and give it some food.
Later, one night, Meng Huaizhi came to see his father and bumped into her in the darkness.
They also ran into that dog.
Jiang Shu said, "Uncle, don't tell my dad."
That became the first secret between her and Meng Huaizhi.
But one day later, the dog was never seen again.
Is it Meng Huaizhi?
The golden retriever slowly walked over, stopped at her feet, and gently rubbed its head against her hand.
Jiang Shu squatted down, her fingers trembling slightly as she stroked its head, her voice so low it was almost inaudible: "...Is it really you?"
Meng Huaizhi did not explain, but stared at her intently without saying a word.
——
On the other side, Si Yuan had already prepared everything for the trip to Nancheng, including business documents.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Song Yan: I've arranged a nanny for you. She'll take good care of you over there.
Si Yuan stared at the line of text, her fingertips pausing for a moment before replying with two words: "No need."
Song Yan quickly replied: It is necessary.
Si Yuan frowned, wanting to say something more, but then felt it was unnecessary.
She planned to go to Nancheng and temporarily leave Jiangwang, but that didn't mean she was willing to accept Song Yan's kindness.
She tossed her phone onto the table, watching the sky outside the window gradually darken, a complex mix of emotions flashing in her eyes.
Nancheng was the safe haven she chose for herself and her child.
She didn't want anyone to interfere, not even Song Yan.
Si Yuan sighed softly, reached out and touched her still-flat stomach, her voice as light as the wind: "Baby, we'll have a new home soon."
"It's okay if no one really loves us, Mom will love you."
A sound suddenly came from outside the door—
What are you saying?
Si Yuan turned around and saw Jiang Wang.
He stood at the door, holding a paper bag in his hand, probably bringing her some food.
The light fell on his eyebrows and eyes, highlighting his well-defined and superior bone structure.
Si Yuan smiled slowly: "It's nothing."
Jiang Wang walked in, placed the paper bag on the table, and his gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds without him noticing.
Si Yuan really doesn't want to say anything more to him now.
He smiled, as if trying to create a relaxed atmosphere: "How about we go to Paris first to see the art exhibition you like?"
Si Yuan looked at him, the corners of her lips curving into a gentle smile: "Okay."
Jiang Wang's eyes brightened, as if he had received some kind of permission. He took a step closer and said in a low, serious voice, "We need to communicate promptly about anything that happens in the future. We will definitely have another child."
He paused, as if carefully choosing his words, but when he spoke, he still sounded humble and cautious: "Si Yuan, I hope you won't hate me."
Si Yuan looked at him quietly, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes.
But what can we do?
She thought not only of his past goodness—his gentle, doting, and domineering love—but also of the cold look in his eyes when he doubted her those days, and the way he hung up without hesitation.
Those things, like tiny cracks, have been etched into her heart.
She nodded, her voice very soft: "It will."
Whether this "there will be" refers to the child or to trust—she herself wasn't sure.
Jiang Wang seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
He picked up the paper bag on the table: "I bought you your favorite osmanthus cake, it's still warm, want to try it?"
Si Yuan took it, took it, and gently took a bite of the osmanthus cake.
The sweetness lingers on the tip of the tongue; it's truly delicious.
The maid knocked on the door, her voice respectful: "Madam, the paintings in the studio have been blown about by the wind. Would you like them tidied up?"
Si Yuan nodded and was about to get up when Jiang Wang spoke up: "I'll go, you get some rest."
He touched Si Yuan's hair.
Jiang Wang arrived at the studio and casually closed the door.
The room was softly lit, and a corner of the sketch on the easel was lifted by the wind, revealing the unfinished scene design.
Jiang Wang smoothed out each painting and re-secured it.
He opened the drawer, intending to put the scattered sketch papers inside, but his fingers touched a stack of hard objects.
He paused for a moment, then pulled out the stack of things—it was a collection of photographs.
In the photo, he is standing at the entrance of a Madrid hotel, with a blonde, blue-eyed woman close to him, the angle deliberately chosen to create an ambiguous atmosphere.
Jiang Wang's eyes instantly turned cold.
Si Yuan has seen these photos.
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