While they ate, Shen Wuxiao looked at Jiang Huaiyue and said with a smile, “Yue’er, if it’s not too much trouble, can I hire you as my personal chef?”
He quickly added, “Of course, I’m just saying it casually. If you don’t want to, I won’t force you.”
Jiang Huaiyue glanced at him calmly and replied, “You’ve had your fill, haven’t you?”
Shen Wuxiao nodded with a grin. “True, but I like this kind of warmth. My family’s always been too busy. I honestly can’t remember the last time I ate a meal my mother made.”
He wasn’t lying. In the Shen family, everyone was constantly occupied, and even if he went to the Imperial Capital, it would be nearly impossible to meet anyone face-to-face.
Jiang Huaiyue understood. Many wealthy families were like that—absent, disconnected. Business and power took priority over relationships.
“No need to hire me. If I have time, it’s just a meal. It’s nothing special,” she said in a composed tone.
Shen Wuxiao smiled. “Alright, I won’t be polite, then.”
As he spoke, he stood up slightly and used his chopsticks to place a piece of food into her bowl. “Eat more. You’ve only had rice so far.”
Jiang Huaiyue paused, but said nothing. She quietly continued eating.In the past, if anyone had dared to serve her food like that, she would’ve thrown her bowl aside in anger. But things had changed. Thinking about what had happened between them—even though Shen Wuxiao was unaware—she could no longer treat him as just a stranger.
Shen Wuxiao, on the other hand, was secretly pleased.
This is how it starts… he thought. Once she accepts this, the rest will follow naturally.
After the meal, Shen Wuxiao, lazy by nature, even took the initiative to clean up the dishes. He had thoroughly enjoyed the food—especially since Jiang Huaiyue no longer treated him with the same distance or guarded caution as before.
Instead of going their separate ways after dinner, they both sat down on the sofa.
Shen Wuxiao brought out a tea set and opened a jar. He leaned in and took a deep breath. “Ah, this is the new tea they sent recently. I like this one.”
He picked out a generous amount and began preparing it with practiced hands.
Jiang Huaiyue decided to make small talk to ease the lingering awkwardness. “Many people prefer aged tea. You like new tea?”
Shen Wuxiao kept preparing the brew as he responded, “Yes. It’s all about taste.”
“New tea is harder to steep. The buds are delicate and bright in color, and brewing it properly requires patience. You can’t rush it.”
“Old tea, on the other hand, is easier. It steeps quickly, the flavor is strong, and you don’t have to fuss over it. Just soak it well, and it’s ready to drink.”
He looked at her and smiled meaningfully. “But I’m the type who likes to wait for good things. So I prefer new tea. Of course, old tea has its own charm. It just depends on what you’re looking for.”
Jiang Huaiyue blinked. She felt like something was off. He was talking about tea… yet also not.
Was he implying something else?
“You sound like an expert,” she said, unsure how to respond.
Their conversation soon shifted.
“The two people who came today—they must have been Shen Wuxiao’s subordinates,” Jiang Huaiyue said. “We only exchanged a few words before they came after us. That kind of reaction is too sharp.”
Shen Wuxiao nodded, pretending to agree. “Yes, he’s definitely a mysterious figure. There are all sorts of rumors about him.”
“But hardly anyone’s actually met him. We were careless today—we could’ve been in real danger.”
Jiang Huaiyue frowned. “True. But from the behavior of his men, we can already guess the kind of person he is.”
“Suspicious, cautious, ruthless… those traits are definitely there.”
Shen Wuxiao inwardly applauded her observation. She was right about everything. Suspicious, ruthless, and cold were practically his trademarks. Some even joked he had multiple personalities. Others claimed he suffered from “super-male syndrome.”
“Yeah, the rumors may be exaggerated, but there’s probably truth in them. We should be more careful moving forward,” he said.
Jiang Huaiyue murmured thoughtfully, “Shen Wuxiao… Wuxiao. The falling leaves rustle endlessly… even his name sounds poetic and somber.”
Shen Wuxiao was intrigued. He pushed a teacup toward her. “What do you mean?”
Jiang Huaiyue accepted the cup and took a gentle sip. “The name ‘Wuxiao’ reminds me of the line from a classic seven-character quatrain—‘the boundless fallen leaves rustle and rustle.’”
“It evokes a solemn, melancholic feeling. I get the sense that someone with this name was born with violence in his bones.”
She sighed. “Lin Fan’s brother died by his hand… I suppose it couldn’t have ended any other way.”
Shen Wuxiao simply smiled.
That so-called brother of Lin Fan must’ve been asking for it. Did he think I was just some soft target waiting to be crushed? That’s not how this script works. I’m not some side character meant to be trampled by the protagonist.
The two continued chatting for a while. Time passed quietly, and soon, it was late.
Jiang Huaiyue stood up and said, “It’s getting late. I’ll go rest.”
She turned and headed toward her room. She still had training to do.
The enemy was too powerful. She needed to grow stronger—quickly.
Shen Wuxiao had no intention of leaving. But he didn’t press the issue. He preferred to play the long game.
Twenty minutes later, Jiang Huaiyue returned to her room.
Meanwhile, Shen Wuxiao headed to his own room, grabbed a quilt, and tossed it onto the sofa in the living room. Then he walked into the kitchen and retrieved two large kitchen knives, placing them neatly on the coffee table.
Tonight, he was playing the role of the “loyal protector.”
After everything was set, he turned off the lights, laid down on the sofa, and wrapped himself in the quilt—with both kitchen knives still in his hands.
Inside her room, Jiang Huaiyue sat cross-legged and began cultivating. As a martial artist, daily practice was essential. Like rowing upstream—stop, and you’re pushed back. She couldn’t afford to slack off.
She practiced until one in the morning before getting up and heading to the bathroom. After a refreshing shower, she changed into the nightgown Shen Wuxiao had sent her.
Just as she was about to get into bed, a thought crossed her mind.
Is Young Master Sikong still in the villa? Or did he leave again like last time?
Curious, she opened the door to check.
What she saw made her pause.
There, on the sofa, under the dim light spilling out from her room, Shen Wuxiao lay sprawled out, fast asleep.
What is this guy doing? He has his own room. Why insist on sleeping on the sofa?
She stepped forward quietly to get a closer look.
Shen Wuxiao’s legs were spread wide. One leg was dangling off the back of the sofa, and the blanket had already fallen to the floor.
The scene was so absurd that Jiang Huaiyue couldn’t help but smile.
He’s a grown man… yet sleeps like a child.
She didn’t wake him.
Although it wasn’t winter yet, the sea breeze at night was still chilly in the bay. It wasn’t warm enough to be sleeping uncovered.