Chapter 3: Gentle Warmth

A fine drizzle brushed against her face.

Wen Shuhan closed the car door, her breath scattering into mist before her eyes.

"Aunt Tang."

Chen Zhitang walked over quickly, holding an umbrella. Her plaid dress was poised and elegant; she looked less like an aunt and more like a stern yet well-meaning older sister.

"Oh, let me look at you." Chen Zhitang hadn't seen her in a long time. She quickened her pace for the final few steps, cupping Wen Shuhan’s face with a look of concern. "Why have you grown so thin? Have you been eating properly?"

Wen Shuhan nodded obediently. "Don't worry, Aunt Tang. I'm very healthy."

After a brief exchange, someone else stepped out of the car.

The umbrella in his hand snapped open automatically with a crisp, sharp sound. Rainwater slid down the sharp ribs of the frame, splashing a few droplets onto her ankles.

It felt slightly stinging and cold.

"Oh, perfect." Chen Zhitang glanced behind her shoulder. "Yansi, you and your sister go inside first. I’ll wait at the gate for that brat."

A cold, indifferent "hm" came from behind.

As Aunt Tang left, the canopy over Wen Shuhan’s head changed to black.

The warm, diffused light of the streetlamps cast two overlapping shadows that stretched over the rain-soaked fallen leaves.

After standing still for a moment, Wen Shuhan lowered her eyes and stepped forward.

Their paces were not in sync. He was tall with long legs, and he always walked a beat faster than she did.

Wen Shuhan had been practicing dance all day; her calves ached faintly in the damp, rainy air.

With still some distance to go before the main gate, she sighed softly, her voice barely a whisper: "Slow down..."

Chen Yansi stopped, his hands in his pockets. He had heard her, but he didn't seem to take her plea to heart.

He turned back, and she stopped as well. Looking up, she collided with his calm, ripple-less gaze.

When he looked at someone so quietly, there was always an oppressive sense of condescending scrutiny.

The air remained tense for a few seconds. He tapped the edge of the umbrella handle with his finger, his expression inscrutable. "Why don't you take it?"

"…Then give it to me."

She stepped forward and gripped the middle of the umbrella handle, pulling hard, trying to take it from him.

Unexpectedly, he pulled in the opposite direction.

She stumbled forward, and his cold, sharp scent washed over her.

Chen Yansi held her shoulder effortlessly. For a second, the sound of the rain seemed to vanish completely. Wen Shuhan lost her focus, but quickly regained her balance.

He let go.

"Wen Shuhan." His voice, lazy and weary, fell from above with a hint of mocking irony. "You haven't made much progress in the last two years."

Wen Shuhan, having just been toyed with, was already unhappy, and now she felt even more stifled.

But she was accustomed to a gentle tone, so even when she was angry, she sounded impossibly docile. "Well... I just dance every day. I don't have the time to travel to the other side of the globe to admire the aurora, nor do I have the time to go skiing in Switzerland. Of course I haven't made any progress."

Everything she mentioned were his regular pastimes with his wealthy friends while he was studying for his master's in Europe.

Once the distance between them closed, the familiarity etched into her memory was instantly brought to the surface.

The moonlight cast a layer of obscure shadows across his face. A cufflink at his wrist glinted with a cold hue, and the prominent tendons on the back of his hand made the slender umbrella handle look as if it might snap under his grip.

He chuckled softly.

"You pay a lot of attention to me?"

The tone was casual, yet it somehow felt like an interrogation.

Wen Shuhan felt a flicker of surprise and raised her eyebrows slightly. "You're overthinking it."

The rain had faded until it was almost invisible. She sidestepped him and moved forward.

If it weren't for the requirement to return for family dinners, she and Chen Yansi would likely have no further direct interaction.

Regular family banquets were an unwritten rule of the Chen family.

Although aristocratic families often had their share of unsightly, gossipy power struggles, the Chen family was considered a breath of fresh air.

Yisong was the foundation of the Chen enterprise. Established in New York in the eighties, the group had weathered multiple crushing waves of economic bubbles while others fell. It stood firm, successfully listing on the stock exchange in the new millennium. Its mainland headquarters were in Huaijing, and its business spanned from tech and medicine to entertainment and services. There was nothing Yisong couldn't conquer, and nothing it couldn't master.

Though the branches were numerous, power was centralized. It was understood in the family that whoever held the authority would be the one to wield it.

After all, the pie was so large that even holding onto a scrap was enough to live comfortably for a lifetime. There was nothing worth fighting over. Being an anonymous soldier behind those on the front lines was fine; as long as the relationships were managed well, any association meant profit.

Chen Yansi had spent two years in Europe, and his return to settle into the position was expected.

He was young, certainly, but no one dared to speak ill of him; after all, no one could compare to his intellect and methods.

Chen Yansi taking over the group meant he could decide on all matters, big or small. The younger cousins were the most pleased; they were sharp, and whenever their parents refused something, they would just act spoiled around Chen Yansi, and he would have his assistant arrange it immediately.

But Wen Shuhan knew that he only appeared easygoing because he was too annoyed to deal with them.

He had plenty of money, and for anything that could be solved with cash, he didn't want to waste a single extra word.

Wen Shuhan entered and changed her shoes. A few children were chasing each other in the main hall. One of the younger cousins rushed over to hug her. "Sister Shuhan!"

She accepted the hug and gently patted the child's head.

The door behind her closed, and she heard the sound of an umbrella being folded.

The children’s eyes lit up. "Cousin!"

Chen Yansi couldn't be bothered to respond. He took off his suit jacket, revealing a black silk shirt with an excellent drape, two buttons undone.

He didn't like wearing jewelry. There was no necklace on his neck, only a deep hollow at the base of his throat, covered by the faint shadow cast by his chin. His Adam's apple was also immersed in the darkness.

Wen Shuhan smelled the aggressive, masculine scent at close range and instinctively wanted to leave. She coaxed the children briefly, then used the excuse of going upstairs to see her grandfather to make her exit.

She hadn't gone far when the group of "little money-burners" swarmed Chen Yansi.

"Cousin! I want to go to the front row for my idol's concert in Singapore! And I want a solo photo!"

"Cousin! Can you help me get this out-of-print perfume?"

Chen Yansi didn't seem to be listening. He handed his suit jacket to a young employee and walked inside while scrolling on his phone. The children followed him like clockwork toys.

A few of the older ones noticed his mood and were a bit intimidated, so they shut their mouths, not daring to make more requests.

But one was a bit slow to react and tested fate: "Cousin! I want to take the 'Dawn' out to sea for fishing!"

Upon hearing "Dawn," Wen Shuhan’s steps on the stairs suddenly halted.

"Anything else is fine."

His indifferent voice echoed from not far away, reverberating through the vast living room—

"The 'Dawn' is not."

...

Wen Shuhan knocked on the study door.

A gentle voice came from inside: "Come in."

The door opened. Half a stick of incense was burning in the study, and thin, shallow mist swirled among the various antique ornaments. There was a hint of Zen in the sandalwood.

Chen Ciyuan had undergone heart bypass surgery two years ago and rarely went out afterward. He spent his time copying Buddhist sutras to cultivate his mind.

As usual, Wen Shuhan helped him organize the copied scriptures and stood by the desk, keeping him company.

The old man picked up his brush and went straight to the point. "Hanhan, would you like to move back and live here permanently?"

Wen Shuhan folded the rice paper in slow motion. After a moment of thought, she said softly, "No, Grandpa. I’m doing quite well in my apartment, and it’s convenient for my dance practice."

Chen Ciyuan pondered for a few seconds and smiled helplessly. "Sigh, you moved out right after Yansi went abroad. I always feel a bit empty inside. Now that he’s finally back, you should both stay for a while."

Wen Shuhan paused.

She had always followed the old man's wishes, so she gathered her scattered thoughts and replied, "Yes, I will listen to you."

Chen Ciyuan seemed to sense that her mood was off and asked with concern, "Are you and Yansi still not getting along?"

The air was silent for a few seconds.

"We... are doing fine." Wen Shuhan felt a vague sense of guilt and added, "We’re just not very close."

Hearing this, Chen Ciyuan said meaningfully, "The older Yansi gets, the more he is like his father. His personality is difficult to get along with. Just interact with him normally from now on. If he bullies you, you tell me."

Wen Shuhan was slightly startled and nodded.

The study door was half-ajar, and noise drifted up from downstairs: "Pei Jiayan, you've got some nerve! Is that something you should be playing with?"

The echo was hollow. Chen Ciyuan dipped his brush in ink and asked habitually, "What trouble did he cause this time?"

Wen Shuhan finished folding the rice paper.

"I’ll go down and see."

...

By the spiral staircase, Pei Jiayan was being dragged in circles by his mother, his face flushed red. "Mom, Mom! I wasn't playing with a real one! It’s fake! It’s a replica! Cousin is the one who plays with the real ones!"

Chen Zhitang was fed up with this troublesome child. "You're comparing yourself to your cousin?! You don't learn the good things, only the wild ones!"

Wen Shuhan descended the stairs, catching sight of a tall, slender figure standing not far away.

Chen Yansi had changed into a light cotton-linen shirt and loose-fitting, light-colored suit trousers. He was standing in front of a niche, slightly lowering his lashes to light a stick of incense.

A flame flared from his Dupont lighter, licking the inverted incense. He flicked the tail of the incense, the fire extinguished, and white smoke curled around his wrist, blurring the metallic luster of his watch.

—"Sister Shuhan!"

Pei Jiayan, rubbing his ears after escaping disaster, greeted her cheerfully.

Wen Shuhan suddenly snapped back to reality and looked away.

Before long, the family banquet began.

The seat directly opposite her, which had been empty for two years, was occupied by its original owner today.

The topics at the dinner table were nothing more than current events and business, with some trivial humor mixed in, such as Pei Jiayan getting into a fight at school.

An uncle joked, "Oh, they're just kids. They have their own personalities. It's normal not to get along. After some friction, maybe they'll even become friends."

"What are you talking about? The one he fought with was a girl." Chen Zhitang was annoyed. "Tell me, do you have any grace? What kind of skill is it to bully a girl?"

Pei Jiayan cried out in injustice: "What? She was the one who hit me!" He stretched out his arm. "Look! There's a mark!"

"Can't you just let her be?" Chen Zhitang said bluntly, teasing, "Don't learn from your cousin, always bullying little girls."

"Little girl" seemed to be a pointed remark.

Everyone subconsciously looked at the two sitting face-to-face.

The air went inexplicably quiet. Wen Shuhan’s hand holding the spoon paused.

Chen Yansi remained unmoved by this ambiguous topic. Wen Shuhan didn't look up at him either; she casually pinched the handle of her spoon and drank her soup in silence.

The insiders played dumb, and the outsiders were blind. Everyone had always felt that the relationship between these two was awkward, and now they assumed there must be an even more irreconcilable conflict, which was why they had no communication at the table.

The awkwardness didn't last. Chen Ciyuan cleared his throat from the head of the table. "Alright, don't make jokes about the children."

Everyone immediately understood and assumed it was just a clash of temperaments between the young people, and the topic drifted away as lightly as it had come.

A relative at the table asked about a key project in the city, probing Chen Yansi for progress.

He replied to a message on his phone and responded simply, "That project is a government-tendered one; it won't be that fast."

The relative nodded and began chatting about something else.

Wen Shuhan listened quietly, occasionally placing food for the little cousin next to her, without a single eye contact with the person opposite.

When she lowered her head to drink her soup, she felt a slight itch near her ankle.

The touch was the slick, cool texture of suit trousers. The fabric was wrapped around a pair of very long legs that could easily reach over.

Under the table, where it couldn't be seen, the muscles of those legs were surely toned and powerful. She had witnessed both his forceful suppression and his relaxed guidance.

Wen Shuhan’s breathing rhythm skipped a beat, and she looked up at the person across from her.

Chen Yansi remained indifferent, chatting with his relative about the project tender. His gaze swept over her inadvertently, not lingering, as he casually picked up the decanted red wine. His posture was lazy and relaxed, and he was chatting and laughing with his elders.

Was it accidental?

She pursed her lips, pondering for a moment, and decided to retreat, pulling her legs as far in as she could.

Unexpectedly, the person opposite followed her path, the tip of his shoe pressing against her slender ankle, the cool, light touch lingering.

Wen Shuhan’s heart raced.

Is he sick!

The table was filled with harmony; no one knew of the secret entanglement beneath it.

—Clatter.

Pei Jiayan’s chopsticks accidentally fell to the floor.

He let out an "ouch," and Chen Zhitang clicked her tongue. "How are you eating? Pick them up."