Chapter 22

Take twenty-two bites.
“Tao-tao… are you really not staying the night?”
Aunt He didn’t want her to leave. But Ying Tao insisted.
She nodded. “Mm. Aunt Tang called me this afternoon and told me to go home.”
Aunt He sighed. “It was better before. You could stay here as long as you wanted.”
“Auntie He,” Ying Tao asked softly, “is it not good now?”
She looped her arm through Aunt He’s and smiled, acting sweet.
“I can still come see you anytime.”
“As long as you say you miss me, I’ll come even if I have to climb over the wall.”
Aunt He laughed and flicked her forehead. “Only you know how to make me happy. You’re already grown and you’re still talking about climbing walls.”
Ying Tao didn’t care. She only leaned in with a grin.
“You just said the past was better—now you’re saying I’m not proper enough.”
Aunt He couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, alright. I can’t argue with you.”
“If you want to go back, then go back.”
“But if you’re unhappy at home, come over. Auntie He will always keep a room for you.”
“Tao-tao.” Aunt He cupped her cheek gently. “Don’t wrong yourself, okay?”
Ying Tao’s nose stung suddenly.
But she only smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, Auntie. I’m doing well now.”
Aunt He watched her tenderly, a little wistful.
“Back then I only thought you little troublemakers were always running up and down, making noise every day.”
“In the blink of an eye, you’ve all grown up. You can’t keep you even if you want to.”
She was leaving—
And unexpectedly, He Mingye was leaving too.
On the way out, she saw the young man taking a call in the corridor.
He stood sideways with his hands tucked in, and the dim wall lamp traced his clean, sharp profile in shadow.
It was probably a work call.
His reply was careless. “Sure.”
As if sensing her gaze, he hung up and lifted his eyes lazily.
Their eyes crashed together without warning.
Light and dark cut the world into two.
He stood that way in the thick night, letting the darkness swallow him.
Ying Tao paused, her feelings strange and unnameable.
She asked blankly, “Are you leaving?”
“What?” he said from the shadows, his tone carrying a trace of teasing that didn’t feel as casual as before. “Can’t bear to see me go?”
Ying Tao answered on purpose, sharp. “Who can’t bear you? If you’re leaving, then hurry up and go.”
In the dark, there came a faint, fleeting laugh that sounded like mockery.
Gone in an instant—
So fast it almost felt like her imagination.
After all, she stood in the light.
She was stingy with looking back, and too proud to linger.
The rare pauses she made—standing at the mouth of the abyss—were only curiosity.
She stared for a long time, then when dawn was about to break, she turned away cleanly and left.
So she never noticed—
The wind and thunder below the abyss, the undercurrents and storms.
…
He Mingye left.
She stood there for a long time, staring stupidly at his departing back, unable to come back to herself.
After a while, a cold wind swept in. She shivered hard, hunching up as she retreated back into the Ying house.
That hiding lasted until almost the end of the year.
Lu Ziyue sent her news too.
The show would be pushed to after the New Year. After all, it was almost Spring Festival—there were too many things at the station, too few hands.
Their camera crew and editors had been temporarily borrowed to shoot another variety show.
When Lu Ziyue told her this, she was eating out.
Hearing he’d basically become a one-man army, Ying Tao sent him a little “pat pat” sticker to show sympathy.
Lu Ziyue replied with a sigh, then added:
“Actually, that’s not the most important part.”
“The most important thing is that the gymnastics queen we invited—Wen Yalan, Coach Wen—has been busy with intensive training these past two months and can’t spare time.”
“So we discussed it and can only arrange around her schedule first.”
Seeing the name Wen Yalan, the fingers that had been typing froze.
“Ying Tao.” Ying Zhaohui scolded with displeasure. “Playing on your phone while eating—do you have any manners?”
Old Madam Zhou, on the other hand, laughed cheerfully.
“It’s fine. Young people love to play around—it’s in their nature.”
“Isn’t my Lubai a mess too? Always out wandering with his pack of dubious friends.”
“His parents and I can go ten days, half a month, and barely see his face.”
Ying Tao frowned, inexplicably uncomfortable.
Zhou Lubai was unreliable, yes—
But not to the point of being disgusting.
And compared to most Jingbei second-gens, he was already pretty well-behaved.
Besides, what about He Mingye and Shen Minglin—how were they “dubious friends”?
He Mingye might be in entertainment, but Mingcheng Capital, founded by him and Shen Minglin, had its hands everywhere.
Even Tianyi had been a small game studio Mingcheng propped up—
Back then it was on the edge of bankruptcy. If Mingcheng hadn’t acquired it, how would there be the Tianyi of today?
But Old Madam Zhou seemed to have always disliked He Mingye, thinking he was too wild.
That was true.
Still, hearing the old madam’s barbed “praise,” Ying Tao felt uncomfortable.
She said warmly, “Xiao Bai-ge is… not that bad, right? Didn’t he even open a club?”
Old Madam Zhou laughed. “What club? Just some little thing that can’t be shown on a real stage.”
That racing club had been Zhou Lubai’s baby.
He’d been so excited back then, dragging Shen Minglin and He Mingye into investing.
Even she’d thrown in her bit of savings.
Over the years, it wasn’t exactly glorious—but at least it hadn’t lost money.
The old madam looked down on that “small-time racing club.”
In her eyes, Zhou Lubai was simply not doing proper work.
She smiled. “Compared to my unserious grandson, Tao-tao is already very sensible.”
Ying Zhaohui’s ugly expression eased a little.
He glanced at Old Madam Zhou and picked it up. “What sensible? This girl’s also flighty all day. Hard to teach. Not like Chaoli—he’s never made anyone worry.”
“By the way—why hasn’t Chaoli come yet?”
At the mention of Zhou Chaoli, Old Madam Zhou explained with a smile:
“Something came up at the hospital. He got delayed. Don’t mind him—let’s eat.”
Then she asked again, “Tao-tao, is there anything else you want? Should we order two more dishes?”
Old Madam Zhou was attentive to Ying Tao.
Tang Mingfei, at the same table, was left out.
She shot Ying Tao a dark look.
Ying Tao felt embarrassed to keep looking at her phone.
She smiled awkwardly. “No need, Grandma Zhou.”
Old Madam Zhou looked at her obedient face, and the fondness in her eyes grew less and less hidden.
“Tao-tao, you’re a senior this year, right?”
“Junior,” Ying Tao said. “After the New Year, I’ll be a senior.”
“Oh.” The old madam looked thoughtful. “Then… have you met a boy you like at school?”
“Grandma Zhou—” Tang Mingfei couldn’t hold it back and muttered sourly, “she’s really popular with boys at school. There are plenty chasing her. Obviously—”
“Mingfei.”
Tang Mingfei’s mother frowned and snapped, cutting her off.
Tang Mingfei puffed her cheeks in displeasure, but didn’t dare make trouble again.
Ying Zhaohui’s expression was ugly too.
Dinner was dinner—both girls had no manners, making their family look poorly raised.
Old Madam Zhou didn’t mind. She smiled.
“It’s good if boys chase her. That means our Tao-tao is lovable.”
“Tao-tao, do you have someone you’re seeing now?”
“Why don’t you invite him to dinner? Grandma Zhou can help you take a look for you.”
Ying Tao had been irritated by Tang Mingfei’s snide comments.
But after hearing Old Madam Zhou, she felt even more uncomfortable.
It sounded like she was probing—like there was something under the words.
She was just about to speak, when a familiar voice sounded behind her.
“Sorry. I’m late.”
Zhou Chaoli walked in from outside, his coat draped over his arm.
His shirt and slacks were neat and proper.
In an instant, the stiff, frozen atmosphere in the private room seemed to break.
The elders all asked after him, fussing warmly.
Zhou Chaoli handled it smoothly and explained,
“I came straight from the hospital. Traffic on the East Second Ring was pretty bad.”
Ying Zhaohui laughed. “No matter. Your timing’s perfect—we haven’t started eating yet.”
Tang Mingfei’s mother greeted him warmly and motioned him to sit.
Where he chose to sit was… telling.
There was more than one empty seat.
There was a seat between the old madam and Ying Tao.
And there was also space by Tang Mingfei.
But where he sat was a question in itself.
Zhou Chaoli sat beside Ying Tao.
The movement tugged at everyone’s gaze.
The adults from both families exchanged a look, each weighing their own thoughts.
Ying Tao was uncomfortable too.
If you went far back, she and Zhou Chaoli didn’t actually have deep ties.
In the past, it was mostly her clinging to him.
Back then, she’d been young. She could shamelessly chase after him, and at most people would tease her.
But now it was different.
Age was an invisible shackle.
Their every move needed weighing.
She didn’t want to become the center of gossip.
And besides…
After they’d talked things through last time, she knew it had been her mistake—mistaking the person, giving a whole heart of gratitude to the wrong place.
Now she was even more embarrassed to face Zhou Chaoli.
Ying Tao lowered her head and took a sip of water to hide her unease.
Actually, in past years, it had always been several families gathering together before the New Year.
Only this year was different.
It was only their two families, meeting for a New Year’s Eve dinner.
At first, Ying Tao hadn’t wanted to come.
But Ying Zhaohui had laid down a strict order: she had to attend.
She couldn’t fight it. Under Tang Mingfei’s mother’s persuasion, she had no choice but to come.
During the meal, the adults talked back and forth about politics and official matters.
Ying Zhaohui had moved to a quieter line of work, but he hadn’t completely left the system.
And as for the Zhou family—there was no need to mention them.
Their eldest son was already a division-level political commissar; next year he might climb again.
So the Zhou family had been very alert the past two years.
They rarely interacted with outsiders.
In the past, their door had been crowded with visitors.
But since the eldest son’s promotion, they’d become more cautious, avoiding contact to prevent giving anyone a handle to grab.
“Try this.”
Zhou Chaoli placed a bit of squirrel mandarin fish onto her plate.
His movements were natural.
His manners were polite, nothing out of line.
But that single gesture made the room go quiet.
Everyone looked over at them at once.
Ying Tao didn’t like fish either.
As a child, she always got fish bones stuck.
The worst time, her throat had been torn until it bled—an entire fish bone lodged deep.
When it was pulled out, the bone was streaked with blood.
After that, she developed a psychological shadow.
She kept her distance from “fish.”
He Mingye used to laugh at her for being delicate.
Ying Tao had snapped back, “I’m not like you—so good at picking bones.”
For some reason, thinking of it made her lose her appetite.
She didn’t even feel hungry.
Until the meal ended, she never touched that piece of fish.
Old Madam Zhou watched it all, eyes narrowed in a gentle smile.
“Look at us—chatting about these tedious little matters and boring the kids.”
“How about this: today is the New Year.”
“Young people love liveliness.”
“Chaoli, you take Tao-tao out for a walk. Let her relax.”
“No need to stay here and keep us old folks company.”
Ying Tao wanted to say there was no need.
But Zhou Chaoli, uncharacteristically, agreed.
“Okay.”
“…”
During Spring Festival there weren’t many people.
Most were out gathering for meals.
Ying Tao never liked joining crowds.
Pushed out by the elders from both families, she was now alone with Zhou Chaoli—
And she didn’t know what to say, or what to do.
So she lowered her head and scrolled through Moments.
Miao-miao hadn’t gone home either.
She’d joined Tianyi, and even on New Year’s Eve she was still working overtime.
She posted a photo of her desk and joked bitterly:
“Only refined people talk about bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new. Workhorses don’t bother.”
Seeing how miserable she looked, eating instant noodles, Ying Tao sent her a New Year red packet as consolation.
Miao-miao replied happily:
“Ahhh thank you, boss! Boss is generous!”
“From now on I’d die for you, go through fire and water—ten thousand deaths without regret!”
Ying Tao replied lazily:
“Seen. You may withdraw.”
She kept scrolling and saw a post from Zhou Lubai:
“Old liquor, friends, racing and me—this life is enough.”
The comments were full of friends roasting him.
“Alright, we get it, you have no woman.”
“Everyone has a partner for New Year’s—what do you have?”
“Drinking wine, tasting loneliness.”
There was a whole pile of teasing.
They mocked him for dragging employees to a holiday dinner, calling him the kind of boss who squeezed the working class.
They warned him not to get put on blast online—maybe he’d end up as “my weird boss” and get dug up until there was nothing left.
Ying Tao: “Hahahaha Zhou the Skinner. Name checks out.”
Zhou Lubai: “?”
Like he’d discovered a new continent, he messaged:
“Peach, you took me off your blacklist?”
Ying Tao felt guilty.
It really wasn’t a big deal. Blocking him made her look petty.
She didn’t reply.
But Zhou Lubai got roasted so hard he got angry and posted another Moments, cursing:
“What’s wrong with being a virgin?”
“I’m a virgin and I’m proud—this is called keeping myself clean, you hear me?”
“Besides, I’m not the only one.”
“The Young Master hasn’t broken his fast either, okay?”
In the blink of an eye, there was a long string of comments under it.
“Alright, we get it, you’re still a virgin.”
“Screenshot taken, shared.”
“The Young Master is actually still…? That’s not scientific.”
…
“Pfft—”
Ying Tao almost choked.
She coughed twice, and a tissue was offered in front of her.
She froze, took it, and said in a muffled voice, “Thanks.”
Zhou Chaoli hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to walk around?”
“…Mm.”
Anyway, going back now would only earn her a scolding from Ying Zhaohui.
Besides, Auntie He and Uncle He had gone to Nanjing.
She’d heard He Mingye’s uncle had just returned from the United Nations and specifically invited them to spend the New Year in Nanjing.
Before Auntie He left, she had asked whether Ying Tao wanted to go too.
After thinking it over, Ying Tao refused.
When she was little, she could be shameless and carefree.
Now she was grown. Following along would be improper.
More pedestrians gradually filled the streets.
Most were couples in pairs, holding hands, leaning close.
She and Zhou Chaoli walked shoulder to shoulder, but she always kept a certain distance.
Zhou Chaoli tried a few times to say something.
But when his gaze fell on her soft, sweet profile, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
In the end, he could only give a bitter smile.
“Tao-tao… do you feel bored coming out with me?”
Ying Tao blinked, caught off guard by the question.
Looking into those bright eyes, Zhou Chaoli mocked himself lightly.
“We’re far apart in age.”
“When you come out with me, I’m afraid you’ll find me dull.”
“…It’s okay,” Ying Tao said.
Truthfully, she didn’t care who she went out with.
It was just…
Being alone with Zhou Chaoli did feel a little strange.
Zhou Chaoli smiled at himself again and didn’t say more.
When they reached the mall area, some girls waiting in line for ticket checks were huddled together, screaming over their phones.
“Ahhh, gege is out!”
“The Young Master is so handsome!”
The two girls squealed softly.
Ying Tao’s eyes inevitably swept across the phone screen.
When she saw the man in the camera, she froze.
So he’d gone to record this year’s Spring Festival Gala?
It felt like since the day he left, he hadn’t come back.
Which made her earlier worries seem ridiculous—
Because he hadn’t planned to return to the courtyard at all.
…
Ying Tao felt dazed, her thoughts drifting.
She remembered that He Mingye didn’t actually care much for events like this.
Looking back, the last time he’d appeared was three years ago.
Back then she’d been like this too—her mind far away.
She’d been hesitating over whether to confess to Zhou Chaoli, so she hadn’t paid attention to what aired on the gala.
Only when that familiar voice came through did she glance up.
At that time, He Mingye had only debuted not long ago.
But everything about him was already overwhelming, far out of reach.
Of course, doubts followed too—mostly tied to his temper.
“Putting on airs,” “disrespecting seniors”—
With those labels, he’d still walked all the way onto the Spring Festival Gala stage.
So when someone leaked that he’d be recording it, many didn’t believe it.
But on New Year’s Day, when the celebrities’ recorded blessing video came out, the whole internet exploded.
Even among the film stars, he didn’t look inferior.
If anything, he stood out like a crane among chickens—no one could look away from him.
People said He Mingye had “eyes full of feeling.”
Those long phoenix eyes—when he half-smiled, half-didn’t—could hook people until they lost their minds.
It really fit that vulgar saying: even when he looked at a dog, he looked affectionate.
…
Now, before the New Year bell rang, under countless gazes, he stepped onto the Spring Festival Gala stage again.
He sat beside a piano.
A smoky gray shirt with subtle dark patterning, the collar casually open, his throat bone pronounced.
Black slacks, crisp and tailored.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist.
Long fingers pressed on black and white keys, and an improvised piano variation poured out like water.
When the high-definition camera swept across, that sharply defined face came into full view.
His features were deep-set, so he often gave off a sharp, cutting pressure.
Yet his face was also strikingly sculpted—dark, vivid beauty.
That kind of visual impact was lethal.
This time, someone had apparently had a sudden idea and put glasses on him.
Thin silver frames perched on the bridge of his nose, a slender chain hanging naturally.
He looked like a refined villain—cold restraint wrapped around decadence.
Fans outside the screen went insane, screaming in unison.
After the performance, the host kept him behind and said:
“Mingye, please wait a moment. It’s almost the New Year.”
“Do you have any New Year wishes or blessings you’d like to send?”
In the second before the countdown hit zero, the man lifted his thin, cold lids.
His gaze fixed on the camera, deep—like he was looking at someone through it.
Then, he curled his lips lazily, the same reckless ease as always.
The glasses chain swayed faintly, sketching out a picture that was restrained yet decadent.
He spoke slowly, lightly:
“Little shorty—happy New Year.”