Chapter 18

The afternoon air had gradually cooled, no longer as oppressively hot as before. The youth stood on the stairs, the hem of his white T-shirt fluttering slightly in the breeze, revealing a slender, boyish waist.

A trace of confusion flickered in his eyes.

—Wasn’t this still just a kid?

Shen Nanzhi furrowed her delicate brows, arms crossed as she tilted her head up to look at him. Her voice was soft yet laced with authority as she beckoned. “Come down.”

Qi Jing had just woken up and was still a bit groggy, but his feet were already moving down the stairs. Before he fully registered it, he found himself standing right in front of the woman.

“You’re Qi Jing?” Shen Nanzhi gave him a once-over, arms still folded. He was quite handsome, true, but not so much that he needed to be bundled up like this.

Two years now, and the Old Estate still only knew his name.

This was unprecedented—he’d actually brought someone home.

The youth stood ramrod straight, his expression pure and innocent. He nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“What’s your name?” Qi Jing asked curiously.

Shen Nanzhi lifted her chin, her gaze flickering away for a moment, as if her status was something too lofty to casually mention, yet perfect for asserting dominance.

She agonized over it for a moment.

Her high heels clicked once as she circled from Qi Jing’s left to his right, blocking the light from the doorway. A faint, elegant fragrance drifted over.

“Shen Nanzhi.”

“Ah Yan’s stepmom.”

~~~

Twilight draped the avenue in a slow crawl of traffic. The Chief Assistant, impeccably suited, emerged from an upscale storefront.

He strode through the crowd with long steps and hopped into the car, slightly out of breath.

“Bought them, bought them!”

“Egg tarts, almond biscuits, peanut brittle, Portuguese egg tarts, sawdust pudding…”

Bo Chengyan’s distinct knuckles caught the sunset glow, looking almost sculpted.

“He won’t eat too much tonight. Take half. You’ve worked hard these days.”

The Chief Assistant paused at that, his earlier grumpiness evaporating in an instant. He practically floated as he grinned and took the treats.

If every job was like this…

Buying snacks for the kid was a breeze—and he could pad the expense report, ha…

The traffic inched along amid the bustle of people, a scene utterly unlike the inland crowds.

The avenue gleamed like it was paved in gold—lavish, yet somehow decayed.

“Is ‘Little Wife’ referring to me?”

Qi Jing felt a chill in the shadows and shifted to let the sunset warm his skin.

Much better.

Shen Nanzhi frowned. For some inexplicable reason, it felt like she’d just handed him a legitimate title. Admitting it now would only make him smugger.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Truth be told, Shen Nanzhi was a little bummed. She’d imagined some cunning vixen, but this? Just a kid.

She took a few steps forward, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch his face. “How old are you? Your skin looks so soft…”

Right at the moment of contact—

Her wrist was suddenly seized, halting her an inch from her goal.

Bo Chengyan yanked her back and let go. The woman nearly stumbled, and Auntie steadied her arm.

“Who said you could touch him?” The man’s voice was low and grave.

Qi Jing hadn’t even gotten a look yet—his view was completely blocked as a shadow engulfed him entirely.

His chin was pinched and forcibly turned. The youth’s glassy eyes reflected Bo Chengyan’s silhouette.

They locked eyes for a few seconds.

“What’s the harm in a little look?” The woman’s voice from behind was suddenly flamboyant and coquettish.

It was like she’d flipped a switch, her tone turning syrupy and flirtatious.

Qi Jing froze, his head tilting in confusion.

[Ehh, was that how she was talking earlier?]

“You haven’t been home in ages. Don’t you miss me?”

The youth’s curiosity piqued. He’d never encountered a true “code-switcher” before—how could someone’s voice change so seamlessly?

He couldn’t help but try to peek around.

But his nape was gripped, and his earlobe given a rub.

“Mm.”

Bo Chengyan shot a sidelong glance, his eyelids drooping in clear warning.

He said nothing.

Shen Nanzhi’s words caught in her throat. A shiver ran down her spine—she’d never seen that look in his eyes before.

In her mind, Bo Chengyan was always so mild-mannered. Whether in business or at the Old Estate, he handled everything with perfect courtesy, even toward the cleaning staff.

…

Shen Nanzhi had started out as a bar girl, latching onto the old man of the Bo Family through a scheme.

Unfortunately, she’d been hasty and foolish, picking the worst possible time—the day of the main wife’s funeral.

They’d been found out with barely any effort, right there in a hotel.

Their first encounter had been a messy one.

The young man, in an old sweater, had regarded her coolly. She thought she was finished.

Her father was a gambler drowning in debt. If she didn’t find a new benefactor…

“You want something?”

Those words had been her salvation. She’d become the effortless fifth wife, stepping into her glamorous life.

The memories flashed by. Shen Nanzhi faltered, stammering, “W-well, then… I’ll be going.”

Qi Jing had been blocked from the start and couldn’t see a thing. His neck burned from the pinch as he tried to twist for a look, only to have his face nudged back.

“Why talk to her? She’s a stranger—no need for chit-chat.”

Qi Jing looked up, puzzled. “Isn’t this your house? Aren’t you a stranger too?”

He’d forgotten to say “sir.”

Or even “you,” for that matter.

But no one dwelled on it.

Bo Chengyan released him, then gave his shoulder blade a light push to guide him back inside.

He handed over the bag.

Qi Jing barely watched where he was going, propelled by the nudge on his shoulder, until a sweet, sugary scent hit him.

“For me?”

His eyes lit up as he looked up at Bo Chengyan.

“Mm.”

Qi Jing reached the dining table, where Bo Chengyan naturally pulled out a chair for him. The youth eagerly unpacked the box.

His legs swung happily beneath him.

[Being the little wife isn’t so bad, www… I like it.]

“Little Jing?”

He’d just taken a bite of an egg tart when a large hand nudged his cheek back. Crumbs tumbled onto the table.

Bo Chengyan sounded incredulous. “Who taught you that?”

Qi Jing blinked blankly. Had he said it out loud?

“Never mind.”

“Eat up.”

Bo Chengyan quickly regained his composure.

The Old Estate was quiet—no media hounds nearby, or he wouldn’t have chosen it.

But the staff was a mixed bag, morals varying. Easy for them to lead someone astray.

Just another nickname from the grapevine.

As Qi Jing reached for a second egg tart, Bo Chengyan glanced down. “Try the others too. Have a taste of everything.”

His tone was gentle.

“But if I eat all of them, I’ll be full. Can I skip dinner?”

Bo Chengyan considered. “No—dinner’s healthier.”

“Just a small bite of each to sample the flavors.”

Seated at the chair, Qi Jing looked utterly baffled. Wasn’t that just wasteful?

He shook his head. “Can I save them for dinner tomorrow?”

Bo Chengyan listened patiently, legs crossed. “They’ll spoil, Little Jing.”

The food would go bad.

Qi Jing pondered sadly, then resolved to finish them all today.

A soft chuckle came from beside him.

“Think you’ll have room for dinner?”

“I’ll tough it out. I won’t spoil.”

It was just idle chatter, nothing profound.

In the end, though, Bo Chengyan didn’t let him “spoil.” He had Qi Jing share the leftovers with the villa’s aunties. By dinner’s end, it was already around eight or nine at night.

The bedroom was peacefully quiet.

A fresh batch of clothes had already been prepared for Qi Jing. He’d changed into his pajamas and was about to climb into bed when a knock sounded at the door.

He padded over to answer it, looking up in confusion. “You could’ve just come in.”

Bo Chengyan gazed down at him. “Only in special circumstances.”

Qi Jing’s curiosity flared. “Like what?”

“When you’ve got a fever, or when I need to drop something off without waking you.”

He touched the youth’s forehead, then closed the door with his free hand.

“It’s polite to knock when necessary.”

Bo Chengyan’s voice carried a magnetic timbre.

Qi Jing trailed after him in his silk pajamas, gaze glued unwaveringly to the man’s waist.

The shirt sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing thick, powerful forearms with faint veins.

Even the warm lamplight had enough glow to trace the silhouette through the fabric—far broader than his own.

Qi Jing stared, mesmerized, and swallowed instinctively.