Driver Old Huang was watching his young master when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone dash out of the car, nearly losing composure as he ran across the street and rushed into a shop.
He stared, wide-eyed, because that figure was none other than Mr. Yi!
In Old Huang’s impression, Mr. Yi was always calm and composed, with a constant, subtle smile. Rationality was ingrained in his bones, and he rarely showed genuine emotions.
But at this moment, that figure seemed a bit disheveled and panicked.
“Dad, why did you come over? Weren’t you waiting in the car? I was just…” Almost done.
Before Yi Ci could finish, Yi Hansheng had already brushed past him and was heading straight into the shop.
Yi Ci: “?”
Jiang Da stood at the machine, expertly spreading the batter, cracking an egg, spreading it evenly, brushing on sauce, adding fillings…
Suddenly, a shadow loomed nearby—a man about his height. Jiang Da said politely, “If you’re buying a pancake, please line up outside. Thank you.”
Yi Hansheng looked him up and down. Honestly, the man was quite ordinary, the kind you’d find anywhere on the street.
“Who wrote your sign?”
Jiang Da was momentarily stunned. “…Huh?”
Yi Hansheng repeated with unprecedented patience, “The sign—those four characters ‘Jiang’s Pancakes’—who wrote them?”
Inside, however, he could hardly contain his excitement and thrill, ready to burst out any second.
Those characters…
Bold yet graceful, like ironwork mixed with silver strokes.
He had seen this handwriting countless times when he was younger, executed with ease by that person.
Back then, he had even gone out of his way to consult experts on how to grind ink—how to control the pressure, from which angle, the ratio of water, what kind of water…
The writing was just like the person, as cool and radiant as the moon, unique in all the world!
Even after twenty years, Yi Hansheng was sure he couldn’t be mistaken!
“Oh, you mean that sign? My daughter ordered it from an ad company. Not bad, huh?” Although Jiang Da found it strange, he answered honestly.
But Yi Hansheng wasn’t satisfied. “I’m asking about the calligraphy! Those brushstrokes—who did them?”
“Uh, the ad company, I think,” Jiang Da replied, somewhat confused.
He didn’t understand why this well-dressed, distinguished customer was so fixated on his shop sign.
The sign… looked fine, didn’t it?
“This calligraphy…” Yi Hansheng forced himself to remain calm. “It looks a lot like a friend’s handwriting, no, it’s exactly the same. We lost touch over twenty years ago, so can you tell me where she is?”
Jiang Da finally understood. But—
“I’d love to help, but I really don’t know.”
Yi Hansheng frowned.
“The sign was already like this when we got it,” Jiang Da replied with a sincere expression.
Yi Hansheng pondered a moment. “Which ad company did you order from?”
Jiang Da provided the company’s name, “…should be that one.”
“Thank you.” Yi Hansheng took out his wallet and handed Jiang Da all the cash inside.
Startled, Jiang Da asked, “What’s this for?”
“A small token. If you find out anything else, please let me know. Here’s my business card with my number on it.”
Jiang Da returned the cash but kept the card. “No need for money. I’ll call if I hear anything.”
Not forcing the issue, Yi Hansheng returned to the car, a bit lost.
He glanced out the window again, the “Jiang’s Pancakes” sign stirring up emotions that made his eyes misty.
Old Huang sat in the driver’s seat, watching the unusual display in the rearview mirror, silently keeping his thoughts to himself.
Soon, Yi Ci returned with a half-eaten pancake, nibbling as he walked.
As he opened the car door, he met his father’s blazing gaze. Uh…
He glanced at the remaining pancake in his hand and asked, “Do you want a bite?”
Yi Hansheng’s mouth twitched. “Get in.”
“Oh.” Yi Ci got in and sat, munching away as long as his dad didn’t demand his pancake.
“When did this shop open?”
“Hmm?” Yi Ci turned, puzzled, cheeks still full. “Why do you ask?”
Yi Hansheng replied, “Just chatting.”
“Last semester.”
“So it hasn’t been around long?”
“Not exactly… They used to have a street cart across the way but later moved into this shop.”
The man seemed thoughtful. “Do you go often?”
“Ahem… Sometimes.”
“And since when do you like pancakes?”
Yi Ci rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed. “It’s like you know what I like to eat or anything…”
Yi Hansheng: “…” Fine, no more doting father figure.
“That sign…”
Yi Ci finished his last bite, mouth still unwiped. “What sign?”
“Never mind.” He’d look into it himself.
“…” Half-baked conversation skills, honestly!
…
Zhong Ziang returned to the Yutian Hua Mansion, where Aunt Liu had already prepared dinner.
“Young master, you’re back! Have a rest, dinner will be ready soon!”
“Where’s my uncle?”
Aunt Liu: “He’s upstairs.”
“Oh.” Zhong Ziang dropped his bag and flopped onto the sofa, satisfied.
Yi Ci, that brute, had gone all out—he ached all over, and his cheekbone was even bruised.
Just then, Xie Dingyuan came downstairs, giving him a scrutinizing look from head to toe. The next second, his brow furrowed.
“Why so late?”
“I played some ball on the court.”
Xie Dingyuan didn’t ask further, just said, “Go take a shower first.”
Zhong Ziang protested, “Dinner’s almost ready… Can’t I eat first and shower later?”
“You’re covered in dust and mud. You still want to eat like that?”
His words were sharp.
Zhong Ziang’s cheeks flushed. “W-why not? I’m clean enough!”
Xie Dingyuan gave him a look of utter disdain.
Pouting, Zhong Ziang slouched his way upstairs, muttering, “I’m totally clean… All Yi Ci’s fault, starting a fight over a game and making Jiang Fuyue mad…”
Xie Dingyuan’s ear twitched. “Wait.”
Zhong Ziang turned back, “Huh?”
“Come eat first.”
“Really?!” His face lit up, and he hurried back. “Old Uncle, did I hear you right?”
Ignoring him, Xie Dingyuan headed straight to the dining room.
Zhong Ziang followed, excited. “Are you serious? I don’t have to shower first? Old Uncle, did your cleanliness obsession ease up?”
Just then, Aunt Liu brought the dishes, and Zhong Ziang shouted, “Smells amazing!” He quickly pulled out a chair to sit down.
Xie Dingyuan shot him a cold look. “Wash your hands first.”
“…Oh.” His hands, which had been reaching for food, quietly retracted.
While washing up, Zhong Ziang stared at his dusty reflection in the mirror, slightly amazed.
Not because he looked disheveled, but because his messy self was being allowed to eat without showering?
What was up with Old Uncle today?
Weird…
And stranger things were still to come.
The quiet at the table was broken only by the sound of clinking dishes, until suddenly—
“Did you get into a fight today?”
Zhong Ziang froze.
Xie Dingyuan took a sip of soup. “What? Can’t talk about it?”
“No…” Wasn’t there a rule about no talking at meals?
Since moving to Linhuai and staying with Xie Dingyuan, he’d never seen his Old uncle make small talk during meals.
Was he really shaken up by something?
Xie Dingyuan frowned, meeting his nephew’s dazed look, seemingly more worried. “Did you get hit on the head?”
Zhong Ziang immediately defended himself. “No way! If anything, I was the one hitting him!”
“Him?”
“Yi Ci, the guy in my class—the one who tried to take advantage of Jiang Fuyue on registration day! Remember?”
A glint of something flashed in Xie Dingyuan’s eyes. “Yes, I remember.”
“Let me tell you, that guy’s awful. I went to the court today to… and then he dragged me off to do homework. I just wanted to hang out with Jiang Fuyue, but he kept staring at her waist and legs, which made me blow up…”
Zhong Ziang, in typical fashion, rambled on, detailing every little thing, including how Yi Ci kept staring at Jiang Fuyue’s waist and legs. His description was vivid.
Xie Dingyuan just listened silently, his profile giving nothing away.
The more Zhong Ziang spoke, the more animated he became, nearly painting Yi Ci as a lecher. Suddenly, a chill swept through the air, prompting him to pull his coat tighter without thinking.
But how could a temperature-controlled villa be cold?
Answer: D! Did everyone guess correctly?
