Zhou Yaru: “???”
What was that supposed to mean? Yuan Xi was angry? She'd left in such a hurry she hadn’t taken anything? And why was the speaker using the tone of a husband worrying about his runaway wife and children? Who was Pei’s boss — Mr. Pei or Mr. Yan? Who was Yan’s mysterious fiancé? Who was Yuan Xi’s secret betrothed?!
The tangled relationships made Zhou Yaru’s head swim. Her gaze drifted to Yan Yincheng’s left hand. He wore a men’s diamond ring on his middle finger — almost identical to the one Xu Zixi had been wearing before. Her first impression was that they were a matched set.
A jolt of astonishment ran through her. Curiosity overtook caution; she tested the waters.
“Mr. Yan,” she asked, “may I be so bold — what exactly is your relationship with Yuan Xi?”
She expected silence. Instead, he answered plainly.
“I’m the father of her two children. I’m also…her fiancé.” He said it with a stubborn certainty; in his mind the engagement contract they’d signed still counted.
Zhou Yaru sucked in a breath and clutched at her pounding chest. If she remembered correctly, Yuan Xi’s children were three years old. That meant their father was the very man who had once humiliated Yan Zhen back in Fengcheng — the man who had put an affair on Yan Zhen. But Mr. Yan was Yan Zhen’s uncle.
Her brain tried to sort the moral knots and the family angles. This was a relationship that needed time to digest.
Yan Yincheng asked, “Miss Zhou, can you help me?”
Zhou Yaru blinked and pushed the bank card back across the table with some ceremony. “Mr. Yan, Yuan Xi is my friend. What you’ve told me is what any friend should do. You don’t have to pay me. Also, if you truly regret what you did and want to make amends, you should apologize to her in person.”
“I’m not yet in a position to stand before her,” Yan said. “I’m going back to Fengcheng to handle something. Once it’s taken care of I’ll return and apologize properly. Before then, I need someone to be with her, someone who won’t let anyone hurt her again.”
He pushed the card forward once more. “She’s suffered so much hatred in her life. You’re the first person I know who’s willing to stake everything to protect her. In Haicheng, you’re the only one I can trust. Please—take this.”
Zhou Yaru looked at him closely. Yesterday she had gone online and looked him up. Yan Yincheng — the third Yan of Fengcheng’s Yan Corporation. Blind, yet in three short years he’d become the company’s second-largest shareholder and the keeper of every product formula. A man like that would be arrogant anywhere; yet in Haicheng, for one person, he’d grown oddly humbled.
She didn’t know exactly what had happened between him and Yuan Xi back in Fengcheng, but her nature was straightforward and reciprocal: if someone did her a kindness, she’d repay it. Before yesterday, she’d thought that Pei Mingyuan — Yuan Xi’s boss — despite having a silly, troublemaking sister like Pei Weiwei, would be sharp enough to protect Yuan Xi. After what she’d seen, her opinion had changed. Yan, who’d once snapped into the role of major shareholder in a fit of temper and had the power to force Pei Weiwei out of the company — that kind of person appealed to her sense of justice more than Pei Mingyuan. Heart mattered more than titles.
So she was willing to help.
She refused the card a second time. “Mr. Yan, if I took your money, my care for Yuan Xi would feel tainted. I don’t want our relationship to turn into a transaction. But I promise — I will take care of and protect her. Go take care of what you must.”
They talked for a long time after that. Yan Yincheng ran through the little quirks and preferences of the mother and her two children — what they liked to eat, how they slept, the small habits that make up a household. Worried she might forget, Zhou Yaru took out a pen and wrote everything down. When he finished she realized she’d filled three pages.
His attention to detail was terrifying. He even knew which foot Yuan Xi tended to lead with when she walked. But he was blind — how could he notice such things?
Zhou Yaru’s willingness to cooperate washed Yan’s last worries about leaving away. He said sincerely, “Thank you, Miss Zhou. And please keep everything we spoke about today confidential. I don’t want her carrying any burden of knowing this.”
Zhou Yaru closed the notebook and smiled. “Alright, Mr. Yan.”
Outside, Hu Yuankang and four or five men crouched in the shadow of a wall, clutching burlap sacks and wooden clubs, eyes fixed on the café. A yellow-haired thug came back and reported to Hu, “Boss Hu, I saw it — that man handed the woman a bank card inside the café. I’ll stake my life on it: there’s more between them than meets the eye.”
Hu spat disdainfully. “That pretty boy — not only did he cheat on the lady, he’s cozying up to her friend too. Today I’ll teach him a lesson.”
Another lookout rushed back. “Boss! The woman left first. Shall I grab her?”
Hu smacked the kid on the head. “Don’t worry about the girl. The target’s the pretty boy. Keep eyes on him.”
They slunk around, using cars for cover and following quietly. A while later the lookout came back, breathless. “Boss! The pretty boy’s coming out!”
Hu grinned, signaling his men to spread out. They slipped from the shadow and began to tail the people stepping out of the café.
Yan Yincheng intended to follow his original plan and head to the airport. He’d only gone a few steps into the parking lot when he heard commotion behind him.
He stopped and turned toward where the noises came from. Years of tacit coordination kicked in: Wei Shu, reading the same signs, stepped in front of Yan with his bodyguards and called out toward the hiding spot, “Who’s there? Show yourselves!”
Hu froze. How had they been spotted so quickly? They were still ten meters off, yet exposure forced Hu’s hand. He, too, emerged from behind the cars, swaggering with his goons.
Wei Shu frowned. “Third Master, that’s Hu — the driver from Miss Yuan’s circle. He’s brought men, and they’re carrying clubs. They look hostile.”
Hu didn’t bother with talk. He waved his men forward. “Get him!”
Wei Shu’s face took on a steel edge. “Protect the Third Master!”
A pack of men surged forward, clubs raised. Wei Shu and the bodyguards met them head-on.
The two sides were evenly matched in numbers, which left a wide open space around Yan. Hu seized the moment. Slinging a burlap sack, he slunk around the skirmish toward Yan, imagining dragging a sack over him and beating him helpless. Excitement surged through him as he lunged — and then his wrist went rigid, the world spun, and he hit the ground hard.
The sack fell from Hu’s hand. He heard an ugly crack and an excruciating pain shoot through his shoulder blade. For a moment darkness crowded his vision. Revenge didn’t matter now; he clutched his arm and howled.
“Ow—my arm! It hurts! It hurts more than when the lady humiliated me last time!”
He tried to make sense of it: the man he’d thought blind moved like anyone trained and skilled. Why was this happening? Why did so many people want to wrench his arm off? His men were no match. Within two moves, they were wrestled to the ground and pinned hard.
Yan Yincheng calmly took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his fingers. He looked down at Hu writhing on the pavement and said, “You came to hit me?”
Hu didn’t expect to be overpowered by a blind man. He forced himself up through the pain and spat, “So what if I beat you? A pretty-face like you deserves it. You scam women, so I’m going to break your legs — cripple you so you can’t go out and cheat anyone ever again!”
“You’re loyal to her,” Yan observed coolly. “In your own way, you are faithful.”