Chapter 47
Jin Yanbin's threatening call was like a sharp thorn, piercing Xia Wan's frayed nerves. As the project's primary investor, Hongyuan Real Estate held crucial financial sway. If they offended Jin Yanbin, the project could be shut down at any moment, all their previous efforts would be wasted, and the team would face disbandment.
Xia Wan didn't back down, but the pressure was immense. She pulled several all-nighters, leading her team through repeated plans, trying to find a balance between protecting core values and addressing the reasonable demands of residents, a balance that would both maintain a bottom line and satisfy investors. She even personally visited several respected local cultural and historical experts and scholars of ancient architecture preservation to seek their support and endorsement of the historical value of Grandma Zhang's house.
At the same time, she prepared for the worst. She compiled meeting minutes from all key project milestones, expert evaluation reports, and recordings of threatening phone calls from Jin Yanbin, secretly backing them up. If Hongyuan actually withdrew its investment or used connections to exert pressure, she could at least demonstrate her team's professional integrity and dedication, laying down evidence for potential complaints or public opinion campaigns. This foresighted calmness and tenacity were the armor she had honed through countless challenges.
For the time being, the center of the storm maintained an eerie calm. Jin Yanbin's side had refrained from direct pressure, but the project's progress was clearly hindered, and the Hongyuan liaison officer's attitude had become perfunctory and apathetic. The district's stance was ambiguous, neither clearly supporting Xia Wan nor siding with Hongyuan. This suffocating feeling of uncertainty was more torturous than direct conflict.
Xia Wan's fatigue was palpable. After working late one night, she dozed off briefly at her desk. Her phone lit up with a message from Jiang Yu. It wasn't just a simple greeting, but a photo.
The photo shows an open book spread out on the small table above the hospital bed. The pages discuss the "lifang system" in ancient Chinese urban planning and the evolution of commercial space. A pen lies nearby, and in the margins of the pages, a familiar, forceful annotation reads: "The continuity of spatial texture lies in the organic iteration of functions, not in the rigid imitation of form. This is worth learning from."
Then came his message: "Just saw this and it reminded me of your project. Perhaps the vitality of old urban areas lies not in 'restoration' but in 'symbiosis'?"
Xia Wan stared blankly at the photos and text. Jiang Yu didn't directly inquire about the project's progress, nor did he offer any solutions. He simply shared a professional reflection from his reading, a perspective subtly relevant to her current predicament. He accurately grasped the core contradiction of her project concept: preserving historical features while injecting modern vitality.
A wave of warmth quietly flowed into Xia Wan's cold, exhausted heart. He wasn't offering condescending advice, but rather sharing his thoughts as an equal, attempting to offer her some inspiration or comfort using the professional language he understood. This silent understanding and support was more powerful than any comfort.
As she looked at the word "symbiosis," a corner of her heart, clogged with stress and anxiety, seemed to be gently pried open. Yes, she had been so obsessed with preserving the buildings themselves, and with the negotiation over compensation, that she had overlooked something deeper. How could this old neighborhood be revitalized while preserving its historical fabric, allowing the original inhabitants and new businesses to coexist harmoniously, achieving true "symbiosis"?
This thought from her sickbed, like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, created new ripples in Xia Wan's mind. She replied:
"'Symbiosis'... that's a good word. Thank you. I was just chewing on the bone and it gave me some inspiration."
On the other end of the phone, Jiang Yu looked at Xia Wan's reply, and his brows, which had been furrowed for many days, finally relaxed slightly. He could sense the subtle changes in her emotions in her words. He immediately replied:
"Just tough bones and good teeth. Need a whetstone, squeak." A small, clumsy "come on" emoticon was added at the end.
This "come on" expression, emitted by the usually stern Jiang Yu, seemed both strikingly contrasting and... sincere. Xia Wan stared at the screen, her lips unconsciously curling into a shallow, tired yet genuine smile. The heavy pressure in her heart seemed to be relieved a little by this small interaction.
A few days later, a more substantial "grindstone" quietly appeared.
Under the pretext of "showing concern for Jinzhou's urban development during Jiang Yu's recovery," Li Mo paid a low-key visit to a senior official at the Municipal Planning Bureau. He also mentioned the unique value and cultural significance of the old city renovation project, as well as the "communication challenges" currently being encountered. Li Mo's words were carefully chosen, not mentioning Hongyuan or Wang Qiang by name. He emphasized only the project's importance to the city's cultural heritage and the professionalism and adherence to principles of project leader Xia Wan and his team.
This supervisor had a prior acquaintance with Jiang Yu's father and was highly impressed by Jiang Yu's abilities and vision. Li Mo's restrained approach allowed him to discern a hidden message. Soon after, Deputy District Mayor Zhang, who was in charge of the project, received a "concerned" call from the Municipal Bureau. The caller "accidentally" mentioned that the project had received attention from senior experts and leaders in the city, and expressed the hope that the district would "steadily advance it, establish its own unique characteristics, and set a new example."
The weight of this phone call was self-evident. Deputy District Mayor Zhang's attitude subtly shifted immediately. At a subsequent project coordination meeting, he stopped trying to smooth things over and made it clear: Plan adjustments must be made based on respecting historical value and protecting the legitimate rights and interests of residents, with the expert review panel's opinions as crucial considerations. While he didn't directly criticize Hongyuan, his words implicitly provided Xia Wan's team with an invisible umbrella of protection.
When Wang Qiang learned about this, he was so angry that he threw the cup. He hadn't expected Xia Wan to have such power behind her! He realized that a head-on confrontation might not work, at least not overtly exerting pressure anymore.
Xia Wan keenly sensed the shift in the meeting's atmosphere and Deputy District Chief Zhang's shift in attitude. She immediately realized Jiang Yu was behind this. Only he had the power and connections to quietly shield her from the pressure from above.
A complex wave of emotions washed over her. Gratitude, the warmth of being protected, but also a subtle... awkwardness. She had always strived to prove she could face the storms on her own, without relying on anyone. But now, Jiang Yu's help, though subtle and respectful, still made her feel a sense of being "protected," which seemed to contradict the equal relationship she sought.
After the meeting, she hesitated again and again, but still sent a message to Jiang Yu:
"The tide turned at today's coordination meeting. Deputy District Chief Zhang's stance has become much clearer. Thank you for your 'sharpening stone.'"
Xia Wan felt a little nervous after sending the message. What kind of response would she receive? A casual, "It's just a small favor"? Or a controlling, "I told you not to force it"?
The phone vibrated immediately. Jiang Yu's reply was unexpectedly candid and... humble:
"The purpose of a whetstone is to sharpen a knife, not to chop bones for it. The knife is always in your hand. Don't thank me, thank yourself for your persistence, which deserves to be seen."
Xia Wan's awkwardness instantly vanished as she read these words, replaced by a comforting feeling of deep understanding and respect. He didn't take credit for it, instead attributing it to her persistence. This gesture perfectly aligned with her desire for "equal support."
A warm current mixed with an indescribable throbbing flowed through Xia Wan's heart. She held her phone, standing in the still slightly chilly early spring breeze, yet she felt warm all over.
The storm Jin Yanbin stirred up, far from destroying anything, was like a tempering experience. It made Xia Wan more resilient under high pressure, and also taught Jiang Yu how to protect the people he cherished in a more mature and respectful way.
With implicit support from the municipal bureau and a change in Deputy District Mayor Zhang's attitude, the project impasse finally showed signs of easing. Although Jin Yanbin was reluctant, he temporarily toned down under pressure, and the efficiency of Hongyuan's liaison staff also "miraculously" improved significantly.
Xia Wan seized the opportunity and led her team to adjust their strategy. Instead of simply negotiating compensation with Grandma Zhang, she shifted her focus to the concrete presentation of a "symbiotic" solution. She personally returned to Grandma Zhang's time-worn house, carrying the newly optimized design drawings and renderings.
This time, she didn't bring her negotiation team, only Xiao Zhao to take notes. She moved a small stool and sat in the dimly lit main room of Grandma Zhang's house, patiently explaining the plan as if chatting with her family:
"Grandma Zhang, look, this old house won't be demolished for you. It'll be preserved as the core of an 'Old Street Memory Museum' or a unique B&B. I think you're a really good tea brewer. You could open a small tea stall here," Xia Wan patiently explained to Grandma Zhang, flipping through the renderings. "I think your woven cushions are beautiful, too. Or maybe you could open a handicraft workshop!"
"In the future, 'new residential buildings' will be built near us, and they will definitely reserve a larger house with better lighting and ventilation for our residents."
"Our neighborhood office is planning to establish a 'community consultant' to participate in the cultural activities and commercial operations of our subsequent neighborhoods. You 'indigenous residents' can share your experiences and stories with them, and actively participate..."
Xia Wan no longer speaks with cold data, but describes the future in a visual language that Grandma Zhang can understand: her old house is still there and has become a respected place; she has moved into a bright new home and no longer has to worry about leaks and the cold; she can also find new fun and income in a familiar place with her tea-making skills or her ability to tell stories about the old street.
"Grandma, look," Xia Wan pointed at the restored old house entrance in the rendering and the newly built, harmoniously styled community space next to it. "This is still your roots, but it's more alive now. It can also let more people know the story of our old street and the delicious tea you brew."
The stubborn hostility and wariness on Grandma Zhang's wrinkled face gradually softened as Xia Wan spoke calmly and sincerely. Her cloudy eyes gazed at the familiar yet unfamiliar "new home" in the renderings, her fingers unconsciously stroking the edge of the worn table. What mattered most to her wasn't money, but her reluctance to leave the land that had raised her and her fear of the unknown. Xia Wan's proposal touched the softest part of her heart—a longing for her roots and a desire to be respected.
After several such heart-to-heart talks, Grandma Zhang's attitude finally changed fundamentally. Although she didn't sign the agreement immediately, she stopped organizing the boycott and even began to privately persuade several other hesitant neighbors.
The project was finally back on track, moving toward signing and implementation. The heavy burden that had weighed on Xia Wan's heart for days finally fell. A surge of exhaustion washed over him, along with the joy of success.
On a Friday evening, the setting sun painted the sky a warm orange. Xia Wan finished processing her last document and walked out of the design institute building. After days of intense work, she felt a long-awaited sense of relief, but also a sense of exhaustion from overwork.
She did not go home immediately, but for some unknown reason, took a taxi to the hospital.
When I gently pushed open the ward door, Jiang Yu was leaning against the raised bed, reading. The setting sun slanted through the clean glass window, catching Jiang Yu's profile. He lowered his head slightly, absorbed in his book, his thick eyelashes casting a faint shadow beneath his eyes. His expression was focused yet gentle. A few unruly strands of black hair fell across his smooth forehead, gilded with a fluffy golden rim by the setting sun, trembling gently with his subtle breaths.
This scene, without any warning, opened the long-sealed gate deep in Xia Wan's memory.
Ten years ago. A senior year classroom at Jincheng No. 1 Middle School in the northern city.
It was also evening, with the sun setting. With the Gaokao approaching, the air in the classroom was hot and heavy, filled with the scent of books and chalk dust, and the unique, youthful air of sweat and exhaustion. Most of the students had gone to dinner, leaving only a few still buried in their studies.
Xia Wan sat by the window, a thick workbook spread out before her, her mind drifting like the willow catkins outside. Quietly, almost greedily, she cast her gaze towards the tall figure in front of her.
Jiang Yu. He was concentrating on a physics problem, his profile appearing handsome and cold in the setting sun. His slender fingers gripped a pen, rapidly calculating on a piece of scratch paper. A few equally unruly strands of black hair cascaded down over his focused brow, stained a warm, pale gold by the setting sun. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips tightly pursed. He exuded a cold, aloof aura, yet like a magnet, he captivated all of Xia Wan's attention.
Back then, she was as humble as dust, daring only to secretly sketch his outline in this unnoticed corner. Her heart pounded like a deer, a mixture of indescribable sweetness and bitterness. The setting sun's rays filtered through the fine strands of his hair, casting a hazy, throbbing glow in her eyes. It was the most hidden, yet dazzling, light in her entire chaotic, bitter, and oppressive youth.
She remembered how she had clumsily described the heartbeat and light and shadow of that moment in her diary countless times: "He looked so handsome while doing his homework, as if he was glowing. His hair was dyed golden by the sunset, like... like a prince in a fairy tale? So silly. But my heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was about to jump out. He will never know that in this corner of the classroom, there is me, watching him like this..."
Memories and reality unexpectedly overlapped in the afterglow of the sunset at this moment.
Lying on the hospital bed, Jiang Yu was no longer the cold, aloof young man. He had lost considerable weight, his face pale from injury, his brow etched with the marks of time and the life-ordeal he had just endured. His cold, aloof demeanor had been replaced by a deep, warm focus. Yet, the tangled hair, the silhouette of his face framed by the setting sun, the brows slightly furrowed in concentration... a striking resemblance to the figure in the classroom ten years ago!
A surge of grief and throbbing, a decade late, washed over Xia Wan like a surging tide. Ten years of silent observation, ten years of silent worries, ten years of humility and admiration, ten years of separation and reunion, a chaotic beginning and a difficult approach... all the emotions found an outlet in this moment!
Tears welled up without warning, quickly blurring her vision. She turned back sharply, not wanting him to see her losing control. She bit her lower lip tightly and wiped away the tears that had escaped from the corners of her eyes.
Jiang Yu raised his head when he heard the noise and saw Xia Wan at the door. A hint of clear surprise flashed across his deep eyes, and then was replaced by a gentle smile.
"Are you done?" He put down the book, his voice low and gentle.
"Yeah, a phased victory." Xia Wan walked in, mumbling. She put her bag down with a tired and slightly bitter smile on her face. "Grandma Zhang has relented, so the problems with the other families won't be a big deal."
Jiang Yu looked at her slightly red eyes, the dark circles under her eyes, and her thin cheeks, and said with undisguised heartache, "Thank you for your hard work."
"It's not bad, I finally managed to chew it." Xia Wan walked to the bedside, picked up the kettle and poured him a glass of water naturally. This action was the first time since the "space period" that it happened so naturally.
Jiang Yu took the cup, his fingertips brushing against hers. They both paused. A long-lost, warm silence filled the air.
"You... have lost a lot of weight." Jiang Yu's eyes fell on her face with concern.
"Same to you." Xia Wan looked at his slimmer jawline and still pale face. "How's the rehabilitation going? Is it still painful?"
"Much better. I can walk slowly." Jiang Yu moved his right shoulder, his brows slightly furrowed as usual, but his tone was relaxed. "The doctor said I can be discharged next week."
"Really? That's great!" Xia Wan was genuinely happy for him, her eyes lighting up. The ups and downs and pressures of the past few days had almost made her forget to look forward to this good news.
Seeing Xia Wan's eyes light up instantly and her genuine joy filled Jiang Yu's heart. He reached out his hand, and this time, without hesitation, he naturally and with a hint of tentative tenderness, he took Xia Wan's hand, which was placed on the bedside.
Xia Wan's hand trembled slightly, but she didn't break free. She raised her eyes, looked at him, and shook his hand back firmly.
There was no passionate confession, no deliberate explanation. A storm to weather together, a visit after exhaustion, a natural hand-holding, was enough to bring two hearts closer together in the process of settling down, and clearly feel each other's warmth and direction.
"Xia Wan," Jiang Yu's voice was low and solemn, and his fingertips gently stroked the back of her hand, "Now that you've finished chewing the bones, isn't it time to... have a good meal and a good rest?" There was a subtle hint of pampering and request in his tone.
"Yeah. As you say."
Jiang Yu's hands were dry and warm, firmly wrapped around Xia Wan's slightly cool fingers. That sense of strength, penetrating through their skin, reached Xia Wan's weary heart, bringing a long-lost, heavy sense of security. She relaxed, leaning slightly against the back of her chair, but her eyes never left him.
"Xia Wan?" Jiang Yu immediately noticed her strangeness and the slight trembling of her fingertips. He raised his other hand, with a subtle hint of nervousness and worry, and gently stroked her cheek, his fingertips touching a damp, cold surface.
"Why are you crying?" His voice was low and urgent.
Xia Wan froze in place at this incoherent question. Then, tears and trembling suddenly erupted, leaving her speechless. She couldn't explain. Should she tell him that a single strand of his hair, now shimmering in the sunset, reminded her of the boy she'd been obsessed with for ten years, someone she'd never dared approach? It reminded her of her own long, humble, secret love?
This worry was too heavy, too personal, and too... inappropriate. Especially at this moment when they had just experienced an estrangement and finally got close again.
She could only bury her face deeper, resting her forehead on the back of his warm hand, her shoulders heaving slightly as she let the scalding tears silently slide down, soaking his fingers. They were tears for her lost youth, for the unknown ten years, and for this moment of seemingly distant yet incredibly real overlap.
Jiang Yu was bewildered by her sudden sadness. He looked at her slightly trembling shoulders, felt the burning wetness on the back of his hand, and felt a sharp grip on his heart. He had never seen Xia Wan so vulnerable and out of control. Even during the most difficult times of the project, she was exhausted and silent.
"Xia Wan..." He called her name awkwardly, his other arm struggling, somewhat stiffly, to wrap around her shoulders, gently embracing her in his arms. He didn't dare use force, so he could only hold her loosely, as if protecting a fragile treasure.
"Tell me, what's wrong?" His voice was filled with unprecedented tenderness and heartache, his chin gently resting on the top of her head. "Is there still a problem with the project? Or... did my mother say something again?"
Xia Wan shook her head vigorously in his embrace, tears falling even harder. She longed for this warm embrace, a decade late, yet was filled with sorrow at its delay. She wanted so badly to tell him it wasn't the project, nor his mother, but simply because... simply because of you, Jiang Yu. Simply because Xia Wan, who had secretly watched you for ten years and now could finally stand by your side, was struck by memories at this moment.
But she couldn't. Not yet, at least. The pain of her father's impending death, mixed with the surging feelings of secret love, left her feeling utterly bewildered. She needed a more private, safer place to sort through these turbulent emotions.
"No... I'm fine..." She finally found her voice, speaking with a heavy nasal tone. She stepped back slightly from his embrace, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, and trying to force a smile that was uglier than crying. "It's just... I just suddenly feel... a little tired. Maybe I've been... too tense lately."
This explanation was weak and Jiang Yu obviously didn't believe it. But he looked at her red eyes and forced smile and didn't ask any further questions. He respected her "space" and understood that she needed to be alone at this moment.
He raised his hand and gently wiped away the remaining tear marks on her cheek with his fingertips. His movements were cautious and full of clumsy tenderness.
"If you're tired, take a good rest." His voice was low and tolerant. "Shall I ask Li Mo to take you home?"
Xia Wan shook her head, took a deep breath, and tried to calm down: "No, I can just take a taxi myself." She stood up, avoiding his concerned gaze, "You... should also rest early. I'll pick you up when you're discharged next week." She took a last look at him bathed in the golden afterglow, and the familiar outline pierced her heart again.
"Okay." Jiang Yu looked at her with deep eyes, full of complete trust and a hint of subtle worry. "Be careful on the road."
Xia Wan left the ward almost as if fleeing. The warmth of the setting sun was locked behind her, and the corridor felt a bit chilly. She leaned against the cold wall, closed her eyes, and let the tears flow silently again.
A vast hole seemed to have been dug in her heart. Filled with the belated, turbulent sorrow and joy of a decade of secret love. The image of the young man, his hair dyed golden in the sunset, and the pale yet gentle man on the hospital bed, repeatedly overlapped and tore at each other in her mind.
The early summer breeze, carrying the sweet fragrance of locust flowers, blew in from the window at the end of the corridor. In the evening of the northern city, the sky was a clear blue, heralding the arrival of a long day.
Xia Wan knew that the secret land of "Ten Years" in her heart had been completely awakened by an unexpected sunset, and could no longer remain quietly buried. It needed a refreshing rain or a thorough exposure to the sun to usher in a true rebirth.
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