Zhou Ruo An’s engagement ceremony happened to fall on the same day as Lin Yi’s trial.
It was already late spring. Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the leaves and scattered across the garden path, the mottled patches of light and shadow swaying gently with the breeze. Zhou Ruo An leaned against a pillar on the west side of the corridor, his phone pressed tightly to his ear as he deliberately lowered his voice.
“The lawyer is certain he can be released that day?” His fingers unconsciously rubbed the carved grapevine pattern on the corridor pillar.
On the other end of the phone, Ren Yu answered with precision, “The lawyer said there’s a ninety percent chance. The chain of evidence has already…”
As he listened to the report over the phone, Zhou Ruo An’s gaze passed over the blooming rose bushes and landed on Third Miss in the center of the garden. She was leaning sideways against an ironwork bench, her onion-green velvet gown giving off a cold sheen beneath the sunlight, her expression so indifferent that it was as though she were watching some absurd farce.
Zhou Ruo An clicked his tongue, looked away, and turned his back to the garden as he said to Ren Yu over the phone, “When Lin Yi gets out, tell him I’ve gone abroad for an inspection trip.” His voice lowered another few degrees. “Remember, no matter what, don’t mention the engagement.”
When he shifted his angle, he caught sight of another familiar figure. In the distance, Uncle Zhong, the Third Branch’s butler who had been temporarily borrowed to manage the wedding banquet, was directing the florist to adjust the decorations on the archway. The old man’s gray-white temples glinted silver, and the pocket watch chain on his chest swayed lightly with his movements as always. Zhou Ruo An narrowed his eyes slightly, once again remembering how, one year ago, when he had been facing the danger of his true identity being exposed by Zhou Zhe, this butler—who was usually distant and indifferent toward him—had somehow, whether intentionally or unintentionally, warned him before he stepped into the trap.
Someone suddenly pushed open a window on the second floor, forcibly pulling Zhou Ruo An’s gaze away from the old butler. Following the relief-carved wall upward, at the window in the farthest corner of the second floor, Zhou Ruo An’s fiancée, Xu Yi Han, was leaning against the windowsill and lighting a cigarette.
The gauze curtain fluttered gently in the spring breeze, just like the wisp of smoke beside the woman’s lips. Her gaze collided with Zhou Ruo An’s in the garden, and then the corner of her mouth lifted slightly, the thin, harsh smile filled entirely with mockery toward both their fates.
While lifting his chin slightly in acknowledgment of the woman, Zhou Ruo An replied to Ren Yu on the phone, “When he gets out, take him to the restaurant he usually goes to and let him eat something good. Then buy him a new set of clothes to change into, to get rid of the bad luck.”
Elio’s Notes: At this point, I don’t even know how to explain how they reconciled. ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ
The moment he finished speaking, slow footsteps suddenly came from behind him. Zhou Ruo An pressed his lips closer to the receiver and repeated once more, “No matter what, don’t mention the engagement. That’s all. I’m hanging up.”
After ending the call, the footsteps had already drawn near. Zhou Ruo An turned and saw Zhou Ran Ming’s secretary. The man bowed slightly, the eyes behind his lenses revealing no emotion. “General Manager Zhou, Chairman Zhou would like you to come over.” The path he stepped aside to reveal led directly toward the reception room in the deepest part of the residence.
……
Inside the sealed study, the air conditioner emitted a faint hum. Zhou Ran Ming undid the button of his suit jacket and sat down on the leather sofa. “Regarding the new project in the south of the city, what are the attitudes of those old fellows on the board right now?”
Zhou Ruo An stood before the wine cabinet and poured himself a glass of mineral water. “I spoke privately with several of the directors. They have some concerns about the risk assessment.”
“What concerns?”
“Most of that land is zoned as industrial land. Only a small portion is commercial land, so it won’t be of much use to Shengkai’s development.” Zhou Ruo An turned around, the glass cup refracting fragmented light beneath the lamp. “When Director Li brought this up yesterday, he was so angry that he slammed his thermos down. He said you…”
Zhou Ran Ming lifted his drooping eyelids. “What did he say about me?”
“That you’re short-sighted.”
A flash of viciousness passed through Zhou Ran Ming’s eyes, vanishing in an instant. He sneered, “Jin Hui’s voting rights are in your hands. As long as you and I vote in favor, they have no right to speak.”
Lifting his gaze, the man seated on the sofa looked at Zhou Ruo An. “State your position?”
Zhou Ruo An smiled and sat down opposite him. “Naturally, I stand on Uncle’s side. It’s just…” He deliberately slowed his speech. “I’m following you so I can eat meat, not gnaw on bones. I don’t want to watch Shengkai decline because of a single project.”
“Heh.” Zhou Ran Ming suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Zhou Ruo An, have you forgotten that you’re only an impostor?”
Zhou Ran Ming slowly rose to his feet and looked down at him from above. “Your current identity and status were all given to you by me.” He took a step forward. His leather shoes sank soundlessly into the carpet, yet it felt like a threat closing in step by step. “If I can let you stand here today, wearing this expensive suit and receiving everyone’s compliments, then I can also turn you into an impostor whom everyone curses and beats tomorrow, thrown into prison in chains.”
“Of course Uncle can do that.” Zhou Ruo An lifted his eyes and looked at the man standing before him. “But even if I go to prison, as long as I am still Jin Hui’s legal proxy, then without my consent, none of your projects can be pushed through.”
Zhou Ran Ming’s pupils contracted sharply. After pondering for a moment, he slowly sat back down in his original seat, picked up his teacup, and took a sip. Only after his Adam’s apple rolled did he speak. “The tea’s gone cold.”
“I’ll change it for you.” Unlike an opponent locked in a tense standoff, Zhou Ruo An remained as deferential as a junior.
“No need.” Zhou Ran Ming suddenly smiled, deep lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “Xiao An, pinning the crime of being an impostor on you really isn’t weighty enough. But what if…” He slowly leaned closer, his voice so light it seemed to brush past the ear like a feather. “We add the title of murderer?”
Zhou Ruo An’s expression abruptly froze, and his brows furrowed hard. “What are you planning to do?”
Zhou Ran Ming leisurely took a sip of cold tea. “First, you poisoned Jin Hui and successfully obtained the status of his proxy. Then you bribed the caregiver by his side and, while he was unprepared…” He deliberately paused for a moment before lifting the corners of his lips and smiling as he dropped the bombshell. “Killed him.”
Zhou Ruo An’s breathing suddenly grew heavy. He abruptly sprang up and seized Zhou Ran Ming by the collar. “You want to hurt Grandpa Jin?”
Zhou Ran Ming’s collar was pulled crooked, but he remained unhurried, even deepening the smile at the corner of his mouth. Looking directly into Zhou Ruo An’s reddened eyes, he said slowly, “Did you think those little tricks you and Jin Hui played could fool me?” Reaching out, he patted Zhou Ruo An’s cheek a few times with extreme contempt. “From the very beginning, I knew Jin Hui never drank a single mouthful of that medicine. His senility… was all an act.”
As though burned, Zhou Ruo An abruptly released his hand and staggered a large step back. The young man’s pupils contracted violently, and the color drained from his face at a visible speed. “You…”
“That’s right. I wanted to use your hands to get rid of Jin Hui, but you were very naughty and didn’t follow my established plan. But it doesn’t matter. It merely takes a little more effort. No matter what, the result won’t change. You, Zhou Ruo An…” Zhou Ran Ming extended a finger. “Will be the murderer.”
“What are you going to do to Grandpa Jin?”
“Do you think everyone around Jin Hui is his confidant?” Zhou Ran Ming straightened his crooked tie. “True, the people around him are all difficult to pry open…” After smoothing the wrinkles in his suit once more, the man on the sofa looked as amiable as before as he continued, “But it’s not as though there’s no way.”
After saying this, he took out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and after the call connected, said only one sentence: “Move.”
Zhou Ruo An’s face changed abruptly, and he turned to rush toward the door.
“This room,” Zhou Ran Ming’s voice drifted leisurely from behind him, “once you enter, you can’t leave.” As he spoke, he clapped twice. The heavy walnut door opened in response, and two bodyguards in black suits slipped silently inside. One on the left and one on the right, they seized Zhou Ruo An, moving with practiced efficiency as they began searching him.
“Let go!” Zhou Ruo An shouted angrily, but the bodyguards twisted his hands behind his back and pinned him against the wall. His phone was found, and the bodyguard respectfully handed it to Zhou Ran Ming.
Zhou Ran Ming toyed with the phone as he paced to the door. “There are still two hours before the engagement banquet officially begins.” His fingers lightly brushed over the doorframe. “And you will be taken away by the police in front of everyone as a murderer.” As he turned, his leather shoe pressed a shallow indentation into the carpet. “The proxy authority in your hands will naturally become invalid, and Jin Hui’s shares will be managed by a trust institution.”
He paused, revealing a smug smile. “And he, as a ‘dead man,’ will no longer have any decision-making power.”
With a soft sound, the door closed. The windowless room instantly sank into deathly silence, and even the vent of the central air-conditioning stopped operating.
Zhou Ruo An stood where he was, his expensive suit in complete disarray, the loose strands of hair over his forehead soaked with cold sweat. He slowly leaned against the wall and clenched both hands, his knuckles turning white from the force.
On the wall, the second hand of the antique clock moved forward one mark at a time. The clear tick-tock sounded like a funeral bell counting down…
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