Chapter 629: Great Virtue Does Not Transgress Boundaries; Minor Virtue May Allow Some Leeway

Li Heng felt a lump in his chest and remained silent for a while, only gently kissing her once, then again, his touch tender and delicate; long moments passed before he held her tightly in both arms.

The next day, after breakfast, Chen Zijin went to school—her major courses were too important for her, a perfectionist, to delay.

Seeing his son lost in thought, Li Jianguo, unusually, said to him: “I wrote a piece of calligraphy—take a look and give me your thoughts.”

Li Heng knew his father loved calligraphy; his own skill in writing had been shaped, to some extent, by his father’s influence.

Following his father into the study, Li Heng immediately saw an open sheet of rice paper on the desk, bearing a single line of brush script: “Great virtue does not transgress boundaries; minor virtue may allow some leeway.”

He stared fixedly at the brush script, recognizing it as from the Analects of Confucius.

He understood even more clearly that its deeper meaning was: uphold major principles, but be lenient on minor ones.

In plain terms: as long as your core integrity remains intact, don’t obsess over small details.

The study fell quiet. Then, unexpectedly, Li Jianguo spoke: “Are you troubled by Zijin’s matter?”

Li Heng nodded silently: “Yes, but not entirely.”

Hearing this, Li Jianguo said no more, gave his son a thoughtful pat on the shoulder, and left the study.

As a father, everything he needed to say was already in that piece of calligraphy—if his son understood, so much the better; if not, no amount of words would help.

In Li Jianguo’s view: the girls his son had tangled with were no longer one or two—they were all exceptional, each one a prize beyond reach for most people. But his son was only one man—he couldn’t possibly treat every girl equally.

Besides, people naturally have preferences. Even if these girls were deeply attached to him, he would inevitably, unconsciously, favor some over others.

Just as his son had mentioned several times his desire to marry Song Yu—Song Yu was his greatest weakness, and thus received the lion’s share of his affection.

Compared to Song Yu, Zijin, Xiao Han, Teacher Yu, and even the girl with the wheat ears—all were “unfair victims.” Li Jianguo had yet to see any of these four women capable of swaying his son’s resolve to marry Song Yu.

Thus, regarding his son’s romantic affairs, Li Jianguo dared not interfere too much—only by helping his wife put out fires here and there, and offering this one piece of calligraphy, rich with life’s wisdom, could he comfort his son.

At noon, Yang Ying came by.

Li Heng greeted him: “Huh? It’s barely past eleven—why are you here, Old Rag? Don’t you have class today?”

Yang Ying shrugged: “Class or no class, it’s the same—I’ve already finished my self-study, and it wasn’t hard anyway. I heard you’re leaving this afternoon?”

Li Heng replied: “Yes, flight at three. Did you come to see me about something?”

Yang Ying asked: “Are you going back to Xiangnan? Or straight to Shanghai?”

Li Heng countered: “Why are you asking if I’m going back to Xiangnan?”

Yang Ying shot him a look: “No hidden meaning—don’t overthink it. If I remember right, your grandmother’s birthday is coming up? I thought your family might go back to celebrate.”

Li Heng smiled: “My grandmother went to my aunt’s place in Lengjiang. She called and said it’s not an even-numbered birthday, so no need to come back—she doesn’t want the trouble of travel or cooking for us.”

“That’s just like your grandma,” Yang Ying said. “Since you’re not going back, never mind—I was going to ask you to slip her 1,500 yuan.”

Li Heng extended his hand: “That’s fine—I can have someone deliver it whether I go back or not.”

Yang Ying studied him for a moment, said nothing more, pulled out the 1,500 yuan he’d already prepared, and added: “Give it to her privately.”

Li Heng took the money and said: “This won’t help—your mom will still spend part of it on your dad.”

Yang Ying nodded: “I know that well enough. I just hope she can keep some for herself. We’re mother and daughter—only one lifetime. I’m eating well every day here, while she suffers at home. I just can’t bear it.”

Li Heng thought for a moment and reminded him: “I visited my second sister’s bakery these past few days. Jiao Jiao said your dad might not make it through this planting season—you should prepare yourself.”

Yang Ying said: “I got a letter from my older sister.”

Hearing this, Li Heng was stunned, then realized—the money might be meant for funeral expenses. Old Rag was probably afraid his mother couldn’t afford it and would go into debt, so he’d sent this secretly.

He ventured: “You’re not going back, then?”

Yang Ying said: “No.”

Li Heng nodded, understanding, and dropped the subject.

But Yang Ying asked him: “You spent a week in Beijing—just leaving like that? Aren’t you going to visit Song Yu at Peking University?”

Li Heng replied: “This trip was specifically to accompany Zijin. Next time—I’ll go see Song Yu next time.”

Yang Ying shook her head: “You—you’re too greedy. I’m afraid Song Yu will find out you were in Beijing.”

Li Heng looked at her.

Yang Ying revealed: “The day before yesterday, I ran into Xiao Feng. She asked me if you were in Beijing.”

Before Li Heng could respond, she continued: “I thought—if Xiao Feng knows you’re here, how could Song Yu not?”

Li Heng asked: “What did you tell her?”

Yang Ying said: “We’re not fools. If Xiao Feng asked, hiding it wouldn’t help—I told her the truth.”

Li Heng: “...”

He wasn’t overly worried about Song Yu.

Because he knew her too well—and he’d never hidden anything from her.

Seeing his silence, Yang Ying tactfully changed the subject: “By the way, I’ve got gossip—Liu Li is dating someone.”

Li Heng asked: “His senior?”

Yang Ying shook her head: “No—his senior was too controlling; Liu Li couldn’t handle it. His girlfriend is from Hengyang—same hometown as us in Xiangnan.”

Hearing this, he couldn’t help thinking: it seems my rebirth has indeed stirred the butterfly’s wings—last life, Liu Li remained devoted to Chen Lijun and never dated in college.

This life, Chen Lijun wrote him several letters, cutting off any lingering hope—he’s finally started dating.

Li Heng asked curiously: “Is the girl pretty?”

Yang Ying replied bluntly: “Are you stupid? Liu Li’s looks aren’t exactly top-tier—do you really expect him to find someone as stunning as you?”

Listen to that—listen to that—was she complimenting him or insulting him?

Li Heng was speechless.

After lunch, Old Rag left.

Li Heng didn’t linger—he packed up and headed to the airport.

On the plane, unlike past trips where he slept, he stared out the window at the white clouds, turning over in his mind Li Jianguo’s brush script: “Great virtue does not transgress boundaries; minor virtue may allow some leeway.”

As soon as he exited the terminal, he saw Huang Zhaoyi waiting.

Large earrings, a white lace collar over a black outfit, her tall figure and radiant aura embodied the phrase: “Brows like autumn water, skin like jade kissed by a gentle breeze.”

But today, the great actress looked solemn—beneath the solemnity lay a trace of unease. The closer Li Heng walked through the crowd, the heavier her anxiety grew.

Ten steps, five steps… three, two.

Li Heng stopped two steps away, studied her quietly, then finally spoke: “Why are you wearing a mask today?”

Huang Zhaoyi said: “I have a cold.”

Li Heng asked anxiously: “Is it serious?”

Huang Zhaoyi replied: “Not too bad.”

Li Heng nodded, followed her out of the airport, and got into the private car.

As soon as they were seated, he ordered: “Take off the mask. Let me see you.”

Huang Zhaoyi obeyed, removed the mask, turned toward him—her posture resembled an ancient concubine facing her emperor: hopeful, yet tense.

After a moment of eye contact, Li Heng reached out his right hand, gently tilted her beautiful chin, and sighed: “We’ve known each other nearly two years—you’re still as beautiful as ever.”

Huang Zhaoyi sat stiffly, not daring to move: “This time, I was careless.”

Li Heng asked: “Careless about what?”

Huang Zhaoyi studied him for a moment; seeing no anger, she dared to continue: “I was absorbed in work and didn’t expect my mother to go to Gulou.”

A few days ago, after receiving a call from her older sister Huang Xuping, learning that her mother had visited the Li family at Gulou, Huang Zhaoyi’s face turned deathly pale—she felt as if her heart had died.

She had fought so hard to get onto Li Heng’s bed, to slowly improve his attitude toward her, to finally raise her head before him.

But her mother’s reckless move shattered her life, disrupted her peace, and forced her dignity back down.

She was terrified to see Li Heng now, terrified he’d say: “I can’t handle your Huang family—we’re done.”

She was terrified he would abandon her.