Chapter 9 Undercurrents "I like her."...
Everyone took their seats, and the waiter quickly brought out a new set of cutlery.
The round table wasn't very big; there was still some room for two people, but it felt a bit cramped for three. If you put your arms on the table, you might bump into things while cutting the steak.
Lan Jia sat upright with her hands on her knees, occasionally exchanging glances with Qiao Zimu while keeping an eye on the person beside her, glancing at him cautiously from time to time, busy with both ends like a thief.
Meng Cenjun slowly laid out the napkin, turning a blind eye to everything.
After confirming the menu, the waiter recommended braised sea bass with olives, a shrimp and arugula salad, and Greek dishes, among others. For dessert, there were panna cotta and Boston cream cake, which Lan Jia loved, but she had no interest in cravings at the moment; she was only focused on getting through this ordeal.
Meng Cenjun has now also learned the art of surprise, and decided to come along on a whim, not knowing what her intentions are.
Upon hearing the menu, Qiao Zimu instinctively thought of Lan Jia's dietary restrictions and was about to inform the waiter when he remembered her real brother was present. He couldn't help but glance at him, only to find that he didn't intend to speak, remaining seated as if he were simply there to eat and not deliberately trying to cause trouble. Hesitantly, he looked again, only to find that Lan Jia's expression had suddenly shifted to one of scrutiny, sharp as ice.
He immediately realized that this lunch was still a trap. They had come to test him.
Qiao Zimu immediately straightened up and carefully conveyed Lan Jia's usual habits and preferences to the kitchen. He then glanced across the room, his expression softening slightly.
As the dishes were served, considering that Lan Jia's hand injury had not yet healed, he took extra care of her and looked after her in every possible way.
Lan Jia was caught in the middle of the two, already feeling awkward. Watching the food being cut into small pieces and served to her one dish after another, she had no choice but to bury her head in her food and finish eating.
The meal was eaten in complete silence, yet undercurrents were running deep. Lan Jia eventually noticed as well, carefully nibbling at her cake with a silver spoon, utterly bewildered: Why was Qiao Zimu suddenly being so attentive? And why was Meng Cenjun so silent?
After dessert, the waiter came over and cleared the plates. Lan Jia wiped her hands before she heard Meng Cenjun speak to her: "Have you finished eating?"
Lan Jia nodded, unaware of what was going on.
"Go back to your room first."
Lan Jia hesitated. This meant they wanted to leave Qiao Zimu alone, but she didn't understand what the two of them had to say to each other. And why did they have to keep it from her?
Since Meng Cenjun had given the order, she dared not disobey. So she reluctantly got up, gave Qiao Zimu a "good luck" look, and shuffled forward, looking back every few steps. Meng Cenjun frowned and stared at her. Lan Jia was embarrassed and immediately fled the scene.
Qiao Zimu sat upright, his hands clenched tightly under the table, his palms slightly sweaty.
Meng Cenjun remained unhurried and ignored him, simply having a bottle of red wine brought over. Qiao Zimu knew he was deliberately trying to wear him down, giving him a show of force before discussing serious matters, as was customary. Having navigated the business world for many years, he had truly mastered this tactic to perfection.
Two stemmed wine glasses stood on the snow-white tablecloth, the crimson liquid stark against the eye, adding another layer of psychological pressure. Meng Cenjun held the glass, gently swirling it, her fingers brushing against the glass, pale in the reflection of the wine, yet bearing the subtle marks of practice.
Qiao Zimu then noticed a silver ring on his pinky finger, its luster understated. He examined it closely and quickly recognized it as the one Lan Jia had bought on the island, and a complex mix of emotions welled up within him.
He was right beside her at the time, but she was being secretive and wouldn't tell him who she gave it to. Looking back now, it seems ridiculous. If not him, who else could she have given it to?
Between siblings, it's perfectly reasonable and the most natural and intimate close relationship.
He was like a weak blade of grass growing in a narrow crack, forever only able to enviously watch the two flowers growing towards the sun in the flowerbed.
Seeing that the effect was about right, Meng Cenjun put down her wine glass and got straight to the point: "What are your thoughts on Lan Jia?"
Qiao Zimu thought to himself: In the end, I still have to get past him. There's no point in beating around the bush now, so I can only muster my courage and honestly accept his questioning.
"I like her."
"Oh?" Meng Cenjun seemed both angry and not angry, then asked, "She has many suitors, so what makes you different?"
Since Lan Jia started school, she has attracted a lot of attention, with a constant stream of advances from all sides, forcing him to personally prune the branches around her.
Qiao Zimu's throat moved slightly: "We were childhood sweethearts, innocent and carefree since we were little."
"Hmm." He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, casually. "You've kept quite a few things from her."
Qiao Zimu understood what he meant and secretly broke out in a cold sweat. From childhood to adulthood, he and Lan Jia had attended the same school. Whenever her heart wavered, he would intentionally or unintentionally leak the information to Meng Cenjun, letting him handle it, while he secretly profited. In a sense, he and Meng Cenjun were a different kind of wolf and jackal, one in the open and one in the shadows, one powerful and one weak.
He cared about Lan Jia's opinion of him, so he allowed her to control his life. This unequal, mutually beneficial relationship continued peacefully for many years. But now that he had suddenly overturned the table, would Meng Cenjun treat him the same way he treated his other suitors? He wasn't sure, but he had to gamble—gamble that Meng Cenjun wouldn't bother to expose his dark thoughts.
As long as Lan Jia continues to believe that he is innocent and harmless, he still has a chance.
Seeing that he was feigning ignorance, Meng Cenjun remained noncommittal about the matter and changed the subject, asking again, "Lan Jia is spoiled, what can you give her?"
When it came to material possessions, Qiao Zimu declared emphatically, "Everything I own will belong to her."
“She doesn’t lack these things.”
"Think about it again."
"If there's anything she wants, I'll do everything I can to make it happen for her."
Meng Cenjun laughed, with a hint of mockery: "When will you be able to stand on your own?"
As fortunate as Qiao Zimu was, he came from a prominent family and lived a life of luxury. He had elders paving the way for him and his parents and siblings protecting him. From childhood to adulthood, everything went smoothly for him, without any setbacks, so naturally his ambitions soared to the heavens.
He knew that Meng Cenjun didn't trust his abilities, and if he considered things from Meng Cenjun's perspective, it was understandable. But seeing him so casually dismiss his answer, Qiao Zimu was still indignant.
He inexplicably thought of his economics professor, an eccentric old man who always used the sharpest, most ruthless methods to effortlessly belittle people into nothingness. He never denied that he had the right to be arrogant, but he particularly loathed that haughty, condescending attitude. Just like now, even if he were to open his heart and lay bare his entire burning sincerity, Meng Cenjun would only look on with disdain.
But how could he accept this? He had held onto this obsession for over a decade; how could he allow himself to be vetoed at the final crucial moment?
Qiao Zimu composed himself, thought it over carefully, and then said with renewed vigor, "Brother Cen Jun, I know that promises without a bet are just empty words, but my feelings for Lan Jia have never changed for a moment." He gritted his teeth, "Please, give me a chance, give me three years, and I will prove to you that no one is more suitable for Lan Jia than me, and no one is a better choice than me."
Meng Cenjun had been observing him, and upon hearing this, she finally became serious. "Are you really that resolute?"
He nodded.
"Just liking it isn't enough."
"I dare not speak lightly of love, but if I had to say, she will always be number one in my heart."
"Even more than your family?"
"yes."
"Until when?"
"forever."
In the brief exchange, Meng Cenjun had essentially seen through him.
He turned the pinky ring, deep in thought.
"One last question."
"If she falls for someone else in the future, will you let her go?"
Qiao Zimu paused, seemingly having never considered this matter before.
But subconsciously, a strong desire rose in his heart, like a ferocious hand, firmly grasping the name Lan Jia.
How could he let go? How could he possibly let go?
Love is inherently selfish, an endless desire, and an extremely terrifying possessiveness. Why should he be the only one to let go? If anyone tries to take away his beloved, he will fight that person to the death.
Seeing that he was hesitant, Meng Cenjun's expression suddenly became very stern, and she said in a deep voice, "Think it over before you speak."
Qiao Zimu clenched his fists tightly, his skin and flesh taut, and his veins bulging.
This is the last question; he cannot surrender.
Stay calm and think things through.
What kind of answer does Meng Cenjun want?
He kept swallowing, but his throat remained incredibly dry, like a cracked, saline wasteland. He could barely utter a single word.
Meng Cenjun stared at him like a beast eyeing its prey.
The pinky ring kept spinning, as if it had a kind of oppressive magic, making him dizzy and nauseous.
He looked away, trying his best to maintain his composure, but his back was soaked with cold sweat.
He couldn't help but think bitterly: Meng Cenjun could easily suppress him with just a few words, so one can only imagine how suffocating and stifling Lan Jia must be living by his side.
Thinking of Lan Jia, he felt a wave of depression and sorrow. He was depressed because no matter how much she suppressed her feelings, she still didn't have the courage to leave Meng Cenjun. He was also saddened because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't warm a heart of stone.
If Meng Cenyun hadn't stood between them? If Meng Cenyun had disappeared... wouldn't everything have been different?
After more than a decade of getting along, he couldn't believe that Lan Jia had no feelings for him at all.
Qiao Zimu's eyes reddened, and a damp, resentful aura surged to his head, clearly indicating that he had already regarded Meng Cenjun as a hypothetical enemy.
He clenched his teeth and breathed heavily. Since groveling was useless, he was determined to fight him to the end.
Seeing his emotional breakdown, Meng Cenjun sneered, leaned back in her chair, and slowly sipped her wine, no longer looking at him directly.
Lan Jia was trapped in her room, flipping through a VOGUE magazine, her heart pounding with anxiety. She was still worried about the restaurant; judging from Meng Cenjun's demeanor, she wondered what tricks he was going to use to torment her this time. She couldn't understand what Qiao Zimu had done to offend him. Was he still holding a grudge against her for urging her to go on this trip? Every time he angered Meng Cenjun, he would drag those around her into it, using extreme methods to teach her a lesson and make her repent.
Recalling the past, she felt both ashamed and anxious. She threw the magazine on the table and ran out the door.
Upon arriving at the restaurant, they realized they were too late; their conversation had already ended.
Meng Cenjun straightened her cuffs, stood up, and started to leave. Seeing her rushing over, she reached out and grabbed her arm, gently scolding, "So reckless."
Lan Jia looked at Qiao Zimu's figure, her face anxious, and pleaded, "Brother..."
Meng Cenjun let go.
When they arrived at Qiao Zimu's side, they saw him sitting motionless like a puppet.
Lan Jia was startled. She nudged his shoulder and asked tentatively, "Xiao Qiao, are you alright?"
He then stiffly turned his head, revealing a pale and frail face.
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