Chapter 31 I said you were next to me...
The wind brushed past her ears, ruffling the ends of her newly cut hair. Her blunt-cut black hair remained almost perfectly still in the wind, calm and straight, like an invisible barrier.
Zheng Xiaotian stood to the side, his hands in his pockets, without saying a word. He knew that the line of defense she had built up over the past two years, with her body covered in wounds, was one that no one could easily breach.
On the other end of the phone, Xia Zhongming's voice came again, his tone still direct and without any emotional softening: "When are you coming home? I need to have a serious talk with you."
Her gaze fell on the snow, where a footprint, still intact, stretched from her feet into the distance. She said softly, "I understand. I'll be there this afternoon." She then put away her phone, her expression noticeably tense.
After hanging up the phone, Xia Zhiyao put her phone in her pocket, stood there, and stared blankly at the snow-covered streets in the distance.
Zheng Xiaotian leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping over her. He suddenly spoke, his tone as casual as ever: "So you ran away without telling your dad back then?"
"Yes," she answered crisply, without any attempt to hide her feelings.
"Not even a single word?" He narrowed his eyes, his voice low but tinged with disbelief. "Resigned? Didn't even say so?"
Xia Zhiyao turned her head, glancing at him indifferently, as if she saw through his feigned surprise: "Do you tell your dad everything?"
Her tone was somewhat cold, "You sleep with a different person every night, and you tell him that too?"
Zheng Xiaotian was taken aback, and the smile that had been on his lips froze for half a second. Then he chuckled softly, shrugged, and simply admitted, "He knows about these things even if I don't say anything. It's not that I'm transparent; he has people watching me all along."
At this point, he paused slightly, his gaze drifting to the side, as if unwilling to delve deeper into the matter at this moment: "But I'm different from you. My family's situation... it's complicated in some ways, but it can be explained in just a few words."
He paused, a bitter smile playing on his lips: "Never mind, I'll tell you slowly later."
Xia Zhiyao listened, her expression slightly hardening. She vaguely knew some of the Zheng family's illustrious history, and only now did she realize that her words had been too sharp.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, her tone unusually gentle. "I was too harsh just now."
Zheng Xiaotian looked at her, and what flashed across his eyes was not annoyance at being offended, but a faint, understandable weariness.
He tilted his head and glanced at her, feigning nonchalance: "Alright, I'll remember your apology. Treat me to a few more meals later as compensation for your emotional distress."
She looked up at him, blinked, and a hint of a smile appeared in her eyes: "Coffee doesn't count."
"Coffee is nothing," Zheng Xiaotian laughed and cursed. "I'm emotionally wounded right now, I need a little wine to heal."
He changed the subject, waving his hand with a smile, his tone light and slightly sincere: "But I also feel sorry for your dad—such a capable daughter, running away just like that, quitting just like that, who wouldn't go crazy?"
His gaze lingered on her profile for a few seconds, his smile slowly fading as he lowered his voice: "But the fact that your dad is calling now means he still cares."
“Yes.” Xia Zhiyao looked at the street corner and uttered softly, “The premise of caring is that I still have value to him.” Her tone was so calm as to be almost indifferent, as if she were stating a perfectly clear logic, rather than talking about her father.
She took a step forward, her toes sinking into the snow, leaving a clear imprint.
“People are all the same,” she said jarringly. “Once you get used to measuring everything by interests, it’s hard to acknowledge the emotional aspect.”
As she spoke, she suddenly smiled, a slight upturn of her lips, but the smile lacked warmth: "He's not the only one who did that."
Zheng Xiaotian didn't refute, but put his hands in his pockets and chuckled softly: "Then just treat him like a client, right? Reporting requirements, discussing KPIs, negotiating returns, that's all you're good at."
Xia Zhiyao listened and sighed softly, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief: "If only I could really treat him as a client."
She paused, then slowly added, "You, as the client, can still make demands, but your own father will only tell you that you must win."
As Xia Zhiyao stood in front of that familiar yet distant door, the wind ruffled her short hair, which had just been dyed back to dark brown, making it a little messy. Strands of hair clung to her lips, and she subconsciously raised her hand to brush them away, her fingertips icy cold.
Xia Zhongming stood at the door, his white shirt crisp and clean, covered by a dark blue cashmere jacket, the cuffs neatly rolled up a finger's width, looking just like someone who had stepped off the cover of a financial magazine. The difference was that he didn't have the professional smile he wore in front of the camera; his brow was furrowed, and his eyes held an undisguised anger.
"Dad," she called softly.
He didn't respond, but stepped aside, turned around and walked straight to the living room, where he sat down on the sofa.
"Tell me your plans," he finally spoke, his voice carrying an undeniable pressure. "I learned about your resignation from President Shen; your mother heard about your trip to New York from Zhou Yue's mother. What exactly are you trying to do?"
There was no scolding, not even a harsh word, yet the words seemed to be coated with ice, chilling you to the bone.
Xia Zhiyao paused for two seconds in the entryway, put down her bag, and slowly walked to the opposite side of him. She carefully chose her words, her throat tightening slightly: "I just... want to rest for a while."
Her father didn't reply. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses and placed them on the coffee table. The lenses reflected a sharp light under the warm yellow lamp. Then he leaned back on the sofa, clasped his hands together, and looked directly at her face, neither angry nor yielding.
This silence is more suffocating than any reprimand.
"Do you think," he said slowly and deliberately, with the clarity and rhythm honed by years of lecturing, "that dyeing your hair, handing in your resignation, traveling around the world, and then coming back to say 'I'm independent' means you've grown up?"
He looked at her calmly, bombarding her with a series of probing questions, his rationality and emotions pressing in on her, pushing her to the brink.
The low hum of the heater, the subtle rustling of the leather sofa, and the crisp clinking of glasses on the coffee table were all amplified at once. She stood there, her back unconsciously straight, as if the slightest slackening would be uprooted by his logic.
"Xia Zhiyao." He called her by her full name, his tone indifferent, yet carrying a silent force, as if it were the inertia formed by years of being accustomed to the podium and the center of power. "Being a person is not about judging direction based on momentary emotions, but on logic and judgment. I have taught you this since you were little."
"You can choose to resign, you can leave that position." His voice was calm and unhurried, "But have you ever thought that if you suddenly disappear, lose contact, or abandon the project, do you think it's just your own problem?"
In that instant, Xia Zhiyao stood ramrod straight, yet it felt as if a stream of icy water was washing over her feet, the chill creeping up her bones.
He turned to look at her, his eyes sharp. "You are my daughter, Xia Zhongming. When something happens to you, people won't be looking at you, they'll be looking at me. You left without saying goodbye, and people will question my upbringing."
He spoke calmly, as if analyzing a case in an advanced seminar, dismantling the so-called "causal chain of social structure" step by step: "You feel you've grown a lot in the past few years? Okay, then let me ask you—do you have a sense of responsibility?"
"Have you ever thought about what you're carrying on your shoulders when you sign every document in the office or give up every decision on a project? Your understanding of social structures, your responsibilities to your family, your maintenance of trust in the industry... Have you even considered these things a little bit?"
Xia Zhiyao knew very well that this was an elite father-style "ideological discipline" that did not rely on scolding or coercion, but rather wrapped people in layers of "knowledge, order, and ethics," and under the narrative of "for your own good," overturned all your choices one by one.
But she remained standing straight and did not back down.
Xia Zhongming's tone remained unchanged, but he suddenly changed the subject, as if lifting a lid that had been pressed down in some corner for a long time: "There is one more thing."
He paused for a moment, seemingly hesitant, but it was more like a deliberate foreshadowing. "I've heard a little about your affairs."
"It's understandable to make mistakes and have fun when you're young, but you're over thirty, Zhiyao, do you still want to get stuck in this kind of thing?"
His gaze fell on her face, scrutinizing his consistently outstanding daughter. "Don't tell me you still don't know about Zhang Luyuan."
"You must know perfectly well who he is and what's behind him, right?" His tone was like stating a formula—calm, precise, and unquestionable. "This kind of relationship should have ended long ago."
Xia Zhiyao's face darkened for a moment, but the deliberately suppressed calm in her eyes suddenly cracked.
She spoke, but her voice was low and cold: "Why do you think I ended up like this?"
The father raised an eyebrow but did not respond.
She suddenly looked at him, her eyes flashing with a light that was almost filled with hatred. Her tone rose abruptly, and she could no longer hold back: "Am I... atoning for your sins?"
“When your father cheated on you, your daughter became entangled with a married man.” Her voice trembled but was firm. “When you betrayed your marriage, abandoned your family, and left my mother behind, did you ever think that your daughter would one day become like you?” After she finished speaking, she seemed to have been hollowed out, standing there with her back stiff.
The father did not reply immediately. His brows furrowed deeply, as if he had finally been pulled down from that sense of moral superiority, but was still trying his best to maintain a calm demeanor.
“Your mother has always had emotional issues,” the father’s voice remained steady, as if explaining a well-established conclusion in a classroom. “Zhiyao, you need to understand that marriage has never had to be rational…”
"Stop talking!" Xia Zhiyao's voice suddenly rose. "Don't put all the blame on her!" She took a step forward, her eyes so sharp they could almost slice through the air. "Her emotional instability is because you drove her crazy!"
The father's brow furrowed even deeper, as if he was restraining his emotions but refusing to back down an inch, while her chest heaved violently, as if the repression and shame of the past ten years had finally found the only crack through which she could breathe.
"You think I disappeared for two months because I was being willful? Because I was running away?" Her voice remained calm, without yelling. "I just... finally didn't want to clean up the mess left by your perfect persona anymore."
She lowered her head, her long eyelashes drooping, temporarily concealing the moisture in her eyes. Her voice was so soft it was almost swallowed by the sound of the heating, yet every word was sharp, "For so many years, I've been playing the role of a 'decent' Xia Zhiyao, so that when others praise you, they can casually say, 'Your daughter is truly outstanding.'"
At this point, she slowly raised her head, the brightness and determination in her eyes almost blinding: "You talk to me about responsibility every day, but where is your sense of responsibility? Who will take responsibility for my suffering?"
At this moment, her defenses completely collapsed, like a wild beast that had finally broken free of its chains. Her grievances and anger converged into a silent yet fierce storm, carrying years of chill and resentment, tearing apart her last inch of restraint.
She turned around too suddenly, and her knee slammed into the corner of the coffee table with a "bang." The pain instantly shot through her nerves, and the steaming tea in the cup was knocked over. The scalding water spilled down the table and shattered on the floor with a crackling sound as shards of porcelain flew everywhere.
Then, a sudden wave of dizziness struck without warning. As if all the strength had been drained from her body, her limbs began to go weak, and the lights in front of her gradually blurred and distorted like ripples on water.
She tried to grab the edge of the coffee table, but couldn't grasp anything. In that instant, her face turned pale, and she fell backward, her body falling silently to the hard floor. The moment she hit the floor, the whole world seemed to collapse and sink into darkness as the lights flickered.
Before the light disappeared, the last thing she heard from him was a voice she had never heard before call her name in a panicked, broken, almost choked tone.
“Zhiyao…”
Then, all fell silent.
The ward was very quiet, so quiet that even the sound of the IV drip could be clearly heard. When Xia Zhiyao woke up, her vision blurred as she swept across the white ceiling above her head, and for a moment, she felt somewhat disoriented.
"Hey, you're awake?" A familiar voice came from the bedside, with its usual nonchalant tone, but much lower than usual, as if deliberately suppressed, afraid of disturbing her.
She turned her head slightly and saw Zheng Xiaotian sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other. When he saw that she was awake, a hint of relief flashed across his face.
She was about to speak when her throat became as dry as sandpaper, and she couldn't squeeze out a single sound, before he interrupted her first.
"Tell me what you've been doing?" he said, his tone sounding like he was scolding you, but also like he was trying to hide some kind of worry. "The doctor said you should have been sleeping more these past few days. You haven't adjusted to the time difference, you haven't been eating, you have low blood sugar and are malnourished, and when you get excited you just... *snap*, the power went out."
"You think you're made of iron?"
Xia Zhiyao forced a smile, her voice hoarse as if scraped from the deepest part of her throat: "My dad brought me here?"
“Of course.” Zheng Xiaotian shrugged, his tone finally relaxing a bit. “I called you, and your dad answered, so I came over. He’s been watching over you all afternoon. I saw his hands were shaking, so I told him I was keeping an eye on you.”
She didn't speak, just stared blankly at the light above her head, her eyelashes casting a faint shadow on her pale cheeks. After a moment, she spoke in a low voice, still restrained: "He's not afraid of something happening to me, he's afraid that something happening to me will affect his reputation."
Zheng Xiaotian didn't reply. Instead, he shifted his posture, resting his chin on one hand while looking out at the daylight. He said, seemingly casually but also intentionally, "Actually, he talked to me quite a bit."
Xia Zhiyao turned her head slightly, a hint of doubt flashing in her eyes.
“I told him about you coming to our company to work on the project, how to build the team, how to raise funds, and how to do risk control. I told him everything. Do you know how he responded?”
Zheng Xiaotian chuckled, his tone light and casual, almost like a casual remark: "He said, 'It was done more thoroughly than I expected.'"
“For someone like your dad to praise someone is a remarkable thing.” Zheng Xiaotian raised his eyebrows. “I really think you should listen to his tone at the time. It’s rare that he didn’t have that air of someone standing on a podium.”
She looked at him, a hint of surprise and complexity in her expression. From childhood to adulthood, she had lived within the logical order set by her father. In that standard template, she was always the type who was "smart but emotionally unstable" and "hardworking but not self-disciplined enough".
She never imagined that this unconventional departure and sudden breakdown would instead earn her a genuine sense of recognition.
Zheng Xiaotian noticed a slight change in her expression, as if he had anticipated her reaction. He smiled gently and said, "He does understand you, but don't take every word he says as a knife, and don't always feel like you have to shoulder everything alone."
He spoke softly, yet his words concealed a quiet sense of loyalty and gentleness.
Xia Zhiyao didn't reply, but just stared at him. After a few seconds, she suddenly said, "Give me the phone."
Zheng Xiaotian raised an eyebrow, held the phone in his hand and waved it, but didn't hand it over: "Guess what I just did?"
Seeing his cryptic smile, she felt a sudden pang of anxiety: "What have you done now?"
“Zhang Luyuan called you.” He said casually, “He called once and I didn’t answer, then he called again and I answered.”
"What did you say?" She frowned.
“I said you were asleep next to me.” He grinned, looking as sly as a child who had done something wrong. “I didn’t lie, you really were asleep next to me in the hospital bed. Don’t scold me.”
Xia Zhiyao looked at him for a long time before letting out a soft sigh, her voice low and hoarse: "Why did you scold me? I should thank you. Now that you've said that, he'll probably be quiet for a while."
"I thought he would say something, but he was silent for a few seconds and then hung up."
"Alright, give me your phone."
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