Volume One, Chapter 17: I Want to Move Out

Wen Li and Jiang Chen have known each other since childhood; their first meeting was at the Wen family’s old residence during Grandfather Wen’s birthday banquet.

She remembered that day vividly—Jiang Chen wore a newly tailored Hanfu embroidered in traditional Chinese style. In one hand, he held a rabbit-shaped lantern; in the other, a Suzhou-style pastry stamped with the character for “longevity.” Standing silently beneath a corridor entwined with wisteria vines, he watched her quietly.

Suddenly, he spoke up, “You’re really beautiful. I’ll give you a piece of pastry. Would you like to come with me?”

Wen Li was taken aback, staring at him blankly, frightened. Her rosy cheeks soon streaked with tears, rain-like.

Seeing Wen Li cry, Jiang Chen was startled too. Flustered, he dropped the lantern and, with hands smeared in pastry crumbs, clumsily wiped her tear-streaked face.

This only made Wen Li cry harder. Soon, Jiang Chen began to cry as well.

Their cries caught the attention of a group of onlookers.

“Jiang Chen, you made the little lady cry; you have to take responsibility.”

“Yes, why not just take her home with you?”

Before that day, the second young miss of the Wen family had been an inconspicuous presence, barely noticed by anyone.

Later, Jiang Chen took great care of her, treating her delicately.

People joked that the young master of the Jiang family had, with just a piece of pastry at the Wen family’s birthday banquet, won over the young lady—a deal too good to be true.

Jiang Chen had long since become one of Wen Li’s habits, and habits are hard to change.

So when his lips met hers, Wen Li, who initially tried to resist, gradually stopped struggling and finally began to return his affection.

It was a clear and conscious surrender.

Until a tear slipped down her cheek onto his hand, he cupped her face gently and whispered, “Why are you crying? Didn’t you say you didn’t like me?”

Carefully wiping away the uneven tears at her eyes, the uneven breaths lingering near his ear hardly suggested innocence.

Wen Li shook her head, her long, curled lashes fluttering repeatedly. “I didn’t.”

She neither cried nor disliked him.

Feeling guilty, her eyes reddened again. Taking a half-step back, she said, “Jiang Chen, we’ve already broken up.”

He pressed closer, relentless. “Fine. Just say you don’t like me anymore, and I’ll agree.”

Before she could answer, he pulled her into his arms again. “I didn’t hear that, so it doesn’t count.”

Indeed, he had never heard the words “break up” or “cancel the engagement” from Wen Li’s lips.

The last words they exchanged before Wen Li went abroad were Jiang Chen’s soft, “Good night,” pressed against the phone receiver.

***

Wen Li fell asleep, too exhausted to respond.

Over the years, Jiang Chen’s desperate pursuit sought only one answer and explanation—to mask the helplessness left by the cruel abandonment.

But now, it all seemed less important.

He feared she would leave again the day after the wedding, so he staged a harmless car accident.

He cared if she was entangled with another man, even if the rumors were baseless, so he had Shen Yuzhi arrange a welcome banquet.

He loved her deeply and couldn’t bear to be without her.

That feeling was like a whale stranded on the shore after the tide receded—forgotten and left to suffer under the blazing sun, its tail still submerged in the sea, unnoticed.

Bathed by the shallow waves, it neared death, yearning desperately for the next rushing tide.

And he believed he had waited long enough.

So Jiang Chen said, “Wen Li, please don’t be angry with me anymore, okay?”

“I’ll apologize—to you, no matter what has happened before or after. I can always apologize to you.”

He would always treasure Wen Li as a precious gem.

He added, “Let’s make up.”

Wen Li, dazed, murmured, “No matter what happened, really?”

When Jiang Chen gave a confirming reply, Wen Li responded, “Okay.”

She decided to trust Jiang Chen, to gamble on the overflowing love and the purest heart they shared.

The next morning, when Wen Li woke, Wen Yang noticed she looked unwell, her eyes swollen. Concerned, he asked, “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Wen Li shook her head faintly, stirring the pumpkin porridge in her bowl with a spoon, sipping it slowly.

The taste was bland. She picked up her chopsticks to try some side dishes to whet her appetite. Sitting across from her, Shen Jingshu twisted the round table with her slender, elegant fingers and said, “So timid and petty, full of faults.”

Wen Li’s hand holding the chopsticks froze mid-air.

Indeed, one can dislike someone without any reason at all.

Wen Li had been pondering how best to speak up, but now she saw no reason to hesitate or struggle.

“I want to move out.”

“And after the New Year, I won’t be returning to Germany.”

***

Without hesitation or timidity, Wen Li finished speaking and quietly looked at Shen Jingshu.

Shen Jingshu said, “What did you say?”

“I said I won’t go back to Germany, nor will I live in the Wen family,” Wen Li repeated firmly.

The next moment, the elegant matriarch of the Wen family, Shen Jingshu, rose from her seat and flung the steaming porridge in front of her straight onto Wen Li.

Wen Li’s hand shot up to block it, but it was too late. Half a bowl of soggy porridge splattered across her face.

It looked chilling.

“Mom, let’s talk this through,” Wen Yang stood up, offering tissues to Wen Li while trying to mediate. “A Li, you’re you. You know how much this hurts Mom’s heart. Why say such things just to provoke her?”

Every time, Wen Yang played the peacemaker.

Wen Huaimin and Grandfather Wen watched coldly from the sidelines, choosing to remain silent.

Shen Jingshu had just redone her nails—simple, understated French style, fitting her temperament.

Wen Li recalled the night before the engagement banquet when Shen Jingshu had slapped her. The blow was so forceful that the camellia decoration on her nail fell off, inadvertently scratching Wen Li’s face.

Wen Li had collapsed to the floor, blood and tears mingling on one side of her face, just as disheveled as today.

Meanwhile, Shen Jingshu was fussing over the nail, cursing her as a cursed child come to collect debts.

Wen Li thought that any lingering hope for even a trace of maternal love from Shen Jingshu had vanished that day.

Just like now, looking at the whole Wen family, Wen Li suddenly felt a sense of release.

So she did not choose to swallow her pride or pretend all was well. Instead, she stood up and said, “Sorry to have dampened everyone’s mood so early in the morning. It won’t happen again.”

As she left the dining room, Wen Li turned to Shen Jingshu and said, “I’m grateful you gave birth to me and raised me, but that’s not a card you can use to control my life. No one should pay for your miserable past.”

Maybe Wen Li once thought otherwise, but from now on, she never would again.