Chapter 118: Attitude Shift (Requesting Monthly Tickets!)

Bedroom.

As soon as the door closed, Chen Zijin shed her earlier facade and collapsed onto the bed, sobbing quietly.

She didn’t know why she felt so heartbroken, but she just wanted to cry.

Tears poured like a breached dam, flooding uncontrollably, soon soaking through her thin summer quilt.

“Knock, knock, knock!”

Not long after, a knock came at the door.

“Knock, knock, knock!”

The knocking came again, this time accompanied by Chen Xiaomi’s voice:

“Zijin, open up—Auntie needs to speak with you.”

Chen Zijin wiped her tears with a handkerchief, steadied her emotions, then rose to open the door.

The moment the door opened, the strong Chen Zijin reappeared: “Auntie, what do you need?”

Chen Xiaomi studied her for a moment, then walked into the room and shut the door. “You’ve been crying?”

“No,” Chen Zijin replied, voice trembling with grievance.

Though Chen Xiaomi had once opposed Li Heng’s relationship with her eldest niece, she had always adored this beautiful niece she’d held since infancy, and reached out to smooth her hair.

She asked: “How long does Li Heng plan to stay in Jingcheng this time?”

Chen Zijin said: “Four days.”

Chen Xiaomi was surprised: “He came all this way, just to stay four days?”

“Mm, he has other matters.”

Chen Zijin added: “He’s going to Gansu next.”

Chen Xiaomi asked: “What does he need in Gansu? That remote place?”

Chen Zijin explained Zhao Jing’s situation.

Hearing this, Chen Xiaomi nodded. “I met Zhao Jing when she was young—she was a striking woman. Back then, rumors said she was fond of Li Jianguo. Such a pity—she’s barely middle-aged and already widowed.”

Saying this, Chen Xiaomi sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her niece to sit beside her.

“Your mother was in a bad mood today, but you must understand—she’s your mother, and she only wants what’s best for you.”

“And”

She paused, then continued: “Your sister-in-law comes from a prominent family—she’s always had the temperament of a spoiled daughter.

Your grandfather and father were able to return to work so quickly thanks to the help of your maternal uncle and grandfather. So in this household, unless it’s a fundamental principle, they never oppose your mother. You need to understand that.”

How could she not understand?

Chen Zijin understood perfectly—her mother held such authority at home not only because of her own father and brothers, but also because her father doted on her excessively.

Thus, over the past year, her father had only comforted and advised her—he never truly sided with her.

Sometimes, she even wondered: though her grandfather and father had criticized her mother and aunts’ past actions, they hadn’t truly taken them to heart.

Or perhaps, deep down, they also disapproved of this marriage—but out of face and male pride, they refused to push things to the extreme, to make it look ugly.

Perhaps her mother and three aunts had seen through her grandfather and father’s true feelings, which was why they opposed it so fiercely.

Whenever she thought of this, Chen Zijin felt utterly lost, overwhelmed by a crushing sense of isolation.

Seeing her niece fall silent, Chen Xiaomi sighed and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Since I met Li Heng in Shaoshi, I’ve reread ‘To Live’ more than five times since returning to Jingcheng.

Each time, I read longer, felt deeper. To be honest—I’m not afraid to say it—I now regret how I treated him back then.

He’s a piece of gold with quiet brilliance. Even under the most adverse conditions, he still turned things around. Frankly, I admire him.

Even though I refuse to admit it—even a thousand times—I now love reading his novels, including his new one, ‘Wan Zhu.’”

Chen Zijin stared at her aunt in shock.

Her aunt was so proud—her personality nearly identical to her own. Once she made up her mind, she never turned back, even if it meant breaking her head against a wall.

But now…

What had she just heard?

She had heard her aunt waver, regret—this shattered everything she’d ever believed.

Seeing her niece’s expression, Chen Xiaomi smiled helplessly. “I’m different from your mother and your two aunts. I’m an editor—I live off literature. Li Heng’s work struck me far harder than it did them. I understand his brilliance and genius better.”

Chen Zijin asked: “Auntie, how do you know Li Heng wrote ‘Wan Zhu’?”

Chen Xiaomi didn’t evade: “I’ve kept tabs on him. I have friends at ‘Shouhuo’ magazine. Some things can fool outsiders, but not people like us.”

What did “people like us” mean?

Industry insiders, and those with high social standing—ask around, and people would rush to offer favors.

Chen Zijin immediately grew anxious: “Will that hurt him?”

Chen Xiaomi waved her hand. “Don’t worry. Someone must know his real identity, but not many.”

Hearing this, Chen Zijin’s tense heart instantly eased.

That night, the aunt and niece opened up for the first time, talking freely about Li Heng until late into the night.

Before leaving, Chen Xiaomi spoke earnestly to her eldest niece: “As a woman, I now understand why you love Li Heng so much.

But still, be careful with your methods—don’t directly defy your mother. You’re blood relatives. Learn to yield a little.”

Chen Zijin sat stunned for a moment, then personally saw her aunt out the door.

Meanwhile, in Chen Laoyezi’s room.

After finishing three rounds of chess, Chen Laoyezi asked: “Has Li Heng arrived in Jingcheng?”

Chen Gaoyuan reset the board. “He’s here. Brought gifts for you, Elder.”

Chen Laoyezi sipped tea. “Thoughtful.”

Chen Gaoyuan moved his horse first, placing the piece as he recounted the day’s events.

Chen Laoyezi said nothing after listening. After a long silence, he sighed: “Zhong Lan has a good brother—he’s about to be promoted.”

Chen Gaoyuan held his chess piece, looking up. “Confirmed?”

“Nothing in this world is certain until the end. With seventy percent certainty, you’ve already seen hope. Wait—it’s coming soon, likely within these two months,” Chen Laoyezi said.

Chen Gaoyuan fell silent, thought for a while, then advanced a pawn.

The father and son played in silence until nearly the end of the fourth game, when Chen Laoyezi finally spoke: “You’re meeting Li Heng tomorrow?”

Chen Gaoyuan delivered a check. “He came all this way—I must host him on behalf of Jianguo and Rune.”

Hearing this, Chen Laoyezi turned slightly, opened a drawer, and pulled out a copy of ‘To Live,’ handing it to his son:

“This book is good—I’ve read it twice. Tomorrow, when you meet him in person, get his autograph.”

Chen Gaoyuan looked startled.

Though signing a book seemed trivial—a mere gesture for Li Heng—it carried immense weight.

Chen Laoyezi slowly pulled a cigarette from his pack, struck a match, lit it, and took two puffs.

“These two women have been fighting. Have you ever thought about where Zijin got her temperament?”

Chen Gaoyuan laughed bitterly. “I understand.”

The father and son sat facing each other, smoking in silence, when Chen Gaoyuan suddenly said: “Lately, I keep thinking about Jianguo’s framing.”

Chen Laoyezi, understanding the implication, tapped ash from his cigarette. “Not yet.”

After finishing his cigarette, Chen Gaoyuan gathered the chess pieces and rose to leave.

As he reached the door, Chen Laoyezi suddenly pointed to the bookshelf: “Give ‘The Family Letters of Zeng Guofan’ to Li Heng as a return gift. Have your little sister deliver it.”

Chen Gaoyuan walked to the bookshelf, picked up ‘The Family Letters of Zeng Guofan,’ flipped through it, took it with him, and as he stepped outside, the five words—“have your little sister deliver it”—echoed in his mind.

When her husband returned, Zhong Lan instinctively checked the time.

11:13.

She asked: “You’ve been playing chess with Father all this time?”

Chen Gaoyuan grunted.

Zhong Lan asked curiously: “What did you talk about?”

Chen Gaoyuan, always indulgent toward his wife, briefly recounted their conversation.

Zhong Lan reached for the book in his hand, frowned: “This is one of Father’s favorite books—he treasures it dearly. You’re just giving it to Li Heng?”

Chen Gaoyuan thought a moment. “Li Heng is now extremely famous. I asked several respected figures in the literary world—they all praised him highly, saying his talent is extraordinary, that one book has cemented his literary status.

Also, your sister told me today—he’s written a new novel under a pen name, ‘Wan Zhu,’ and it’s still wildly popular. He’s one of today’s hottest writers.

You know Father loves reading—he must have developed a fondness for his talent.”

Chen Gaoyuan didn’t need to say this last part—but he chose to be blunt.

Zhong Lan fell silent.

She flipped listlessly through ‘The Family Letters of Zeng Guofan,’ filled with her notes and reflections, then set it down, pulled the covers over her head, and feigned sleep.

But…

No matter how she pretended to sleep, no matter how hard she forced herself to close her eyes, she lay awake all night, tossing and turning.

Meanwhile, at the hotel.

When Li Heng returned to the second floor, he specifically knocked on Zhang Zhiyong’s door. Inside, a voice called: “Who?”

“Dumbass, it’s me.”

“Li Heng, I’ll kill you! This is Jingcheng—the most solemn, sacred place in the country! If you call me Dumbass again, I’m going to lose it!” Zhang Zhiyong flung the door open, glaring at him.

Li Heng smiled. “Alright, I’ll be careful. Dumbass—when did you get back?”

“Fuck you!” With a slam, Zhang Zhiyong shut the door and headed for the shower.

Seeing this, Li Heng turned and knocked on the English teacher’s door. “Teacher, it’s me.”

A few seconds later, the door cracked open, and the English teacher, freshly changed into her pajamas and ready for bed, squinted at him: “What do you want?”

Li Heng quickly sized her up: “Going to bed this early?”

“I’ve been out all day, I’m tired. Did you just get back from accompanying your girlfriend?” the English teacher asked.

Li Heng nodded: “Have you had dinner yet? I was going to invite you and Fatty out for late-night snacks.”

“My stomach’s full, I’m not eating. You should get some rest too.” With that, the English teacher ignored him and shut the door.

Really, everyone’s getting more and more high-handed—shutting the door in my face without even letting me in. Is this how you treat your friends and family?

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(End of chapter)