Chapter 687: The Secret of the Wheat Ears Is Discovered by Father

Hot oil was blasted with ginger, garlic, dried chili peppers, star anise, and cinnamon bark, then the river snails were stir-fried over high heat, followed by rice wine and soy sauce for seasoning.

Then beer was poured in and simmered for fifteen minutes.

Finally, a large handful of purple perilla leaves were added to enhance the aroma.

Li Heng noticed that the Ma family’s seasonings were all from Weihao Mei Company, so he asked Ma’s mother: “Auntie, how are these seasonings? Are they good?”

Upon hearing this, Mai Sui, Zhou Shihe, and Sun Manning all turned to look at the soy sauce in his hand.

Mai Sui and Sun Manning showed no reaction, but Zhou Shihe fell into thought.

Ma’s mother replied: “A longtime friend who runs a restaurant recommended this to us—it’s a new seasoning, he said it’s excellent. We’ve been using it and it’s quite good.”

Li Heng asked: “Is Weihao Mei Company well-known around here?”

Ma’s mother told him: “Very well-known. Walk anywhere in the county or city—you’ll see their ads and signs everywhere. They run promotions every few days, giving away eggs or aluminum basins with purchases. Extremely popular.”

These tactics were taught to Huang Zhaoyi by Li Heng; he never expected her to execute them so effectively.

Sun Manning picked up the soy sauce and examined it closely, asking: “Hey, wait a minute—why are you so interested in Weihao Mei Company, Big Rich?”

Mai Sui and Ma’s mother also looked puzzled.

Zhou Shihe, however, withdrew her gaze and quietly flipped through the pages of her book. She was now almost certain: this was Huang Zhaoyi’s company.

Since learning her daughter had fallen for Li Heng—and since hearing her daughter admit she’d kissed him—Zhou’s mother returned to Yuhang and did one thing: she quietly hired someone to investigate Li Heng’s background.

She didn’t realize it until she dug deeper—and then she was stunned.

Quietly, this young man had so many women outside—he wasn’t just entangled with Yu’s precious daughter, but also had drawn in Huang’s famous youngest daughter, and rumors said he’d even opened a seasoning company in Xiangnan.

After receiving the investigation report, Zhou’s mother said nothing to anyone—not her husband, not her family. After a night of careful thought and weighing options, she called her daughter and recounted everything about Li Heng, exactly as it was.

Throughout, she stuck to facts—no embellishment, no personal bias.

She did this to hear her daughter’s true feelings and thoughts.

To her surprise, her daughter remained calm—no sign of anger. Finally, Zhou’s mother couldn’t help asking: “Shihe, aren’t you even surprised?”

Zhou Shihe replied: “He was always fickle—now he’s just gone from three to seven.”

Zhou’s mother realized: “You already knew?”

Zhou Shihe gave a soft “mm-hmm.” “Yes, he confessed to me.”

Zhou’s mother frowned. “You’re just accepting this so easily?”

Zhou Shihe said calmly: “I was angry at first. Every time he got another woman, I slapped him.”

Zhou’s mother asked: “What did he do?”

Zhou Shihe said: “He didn’t fight back.”

Zhou’s mother pressed: “So what are you going to do about it?”

Zhou Shihe thought for a long while, then asked: “Mom, can I ask you something?”

Zhou’s mother said: “Go ahead.”

Zhou Shihe gazed out the window, looking far away: “Is it good or bad when a man is this fickle?”

Zhou’s mother said: “It depends on the man.”

Zhou Shihe stayed silent, waiting for more.

Zhou’s mother sipped tea and sat on the sofa: “If a man has no talent, fickle behavior is a sin—it can ruin a marriage, or even destroy a family.”

Since ancient times, affairs have led to deaths; in a way, they’re tied to fickleness.

But if a man is highly capable and doesn’t destroy other families, his fickleness is merely a moral flaw—it doesn’t affect his standing in others’ eyes. As long as he doesn’t bring outside women home, many will turn a blind eye.”

Zhou Shihe asked without emotion: “What about writers?”

Zhou’s mother replied objectively: “If a writer has works recognized by society, people will gossip about his fickleness—but nothing more.”

“If his works are acclaimed, win over most people, and have the potential to be remembered for generations, then his fickleness becomes legend—people will admire him and call him charming and elegant.”

Zhou Shihe asked: “In your eyes, which category does Li Heng belong to?”

Zhou’s mother picked up her teacup, took two small sips, and said calmly: “In literature, he’s among the very top. But he’s too young—he needs a major literary award to silence the critics.”

Zhou Shihe asked: “Many literary critics say he’s guaranteed a spot in the next Mao Dun Literature Prize—what do you think?”

Zhou’s mother pondered, then said: “I agree with that view.”

Zhou Shihe said: “Some leaders in the Writers’ Association dislike his work, especially ‘Bai Luyuan.’”

Zhou’s mother laughed: “Forget other forces. Just the fact that his teacher is Master Ba—anyone trying to target him must first weigh their own weight.”

Zhou Shihe asked bluntly: “If he were to become your son-in-law, could you accept it?”

At this, Zhou’s mother stopped laughing.

Long silence. Long silence. Then Zhou’s mother said: “You still haven’t given up?”

Zhou Shihe replied: “Only if he marries me and takes me home.”

Zhou’s mother reminded her: “From what happened on Dragon Boat Festival, right now, your position in his heart still doesn’t surpass Song Yu. Yu Shuheng hasn’t even moved yet, and Huang’s youngest daughter is a strong rival. And Xiao Han—she’s probably not as simple as she seems. She’s currently Li Heng’s official girlfriend.”

Zhou Shihe said: “Eliminate Huang Zhaoyi.”

Zhou’s mother was startled: “Why?”

Zhou Shihe hesitated for ten seconds, then told her everything about Li Heng and Huang Zhaoyi.

Zhou’s mother asked: “Drugged? Could that daughter of the Liu family really do that?”

Zhou Shihe stayed silent.

Zhou’s mother asked: “Did Li Heng tell you himself?”

Zhou Shihe gave a soft “mm-hmm.”

Zhou’s mother thought for a moment, then asked: “Are you serious?”

Zhou Shihe said quietly: “I don’t know.”

Zhou’s mother pressed: “What do you mean?”

Her mother was open-minded; Zhou Shihe didn’t hide anything about marriage: “We’re in a cooling-off period. If he can move me again in the future, I’ll consider marrying him.”

Zhou’s mother asked: “Cooling-off period? His women are all stunning—especially Song Yu. Do you really believe he’ll come crawling back to you?”

Zhou Shihe replied gently: “Isn’t that exactly what you’d hope for—if he doesn’t come chasing me?”

Zhou’s mother didn’t deny it. Subjectively, she didn’t want such an outstanding daughter to marry Li Heng—but she wouldn’t say it outright. She respected her daughter.

At this point, mother and daughter fell silent over the phone.

After five full minutes, Zhou’s mother set down her half-finished cup of tea and spoke slowly: “Since childhood, you’ve never disappointed me or your father. I believe in you—I believe in your charm. I wish you success and happiness.”

Zhou Shihe’s cherry lips parted slightly, wanting to thank her mother—but she never spoke the words.

…

Facing Sun Manning’s question, Li Heng teased: “I’ll keep it secret for now—you’ll find out later.”

“Pfft! Fine, don’t tell me—I don’t care anyway,” Sun Manning scoffed.

Dinner was cooked by Li Heng himself: besides the snails, he made five meat dishes, one green vegetable, and one soup.

Mai Dong returned from Shaodong County, bringing several cases of beer. He burst in and called out to Li Heng: “Your snails smell amazing—I could smell them outside! No plans tonight? Let’s drink some beer?”

Li Heng didn’t refuse. He smiled: “Sure, I’ll have a drink with Uncle.”

Everyone sat down. Ma’s mother ate the snails first. She didn’t know how to suck them out, tried several times and failed—but that didn’t stop her from loving them. She used a toothpick to pick out over ten snail meats and popped them into her mouth, then praised: “The perilla leaves are perfect—this skill could open a shop and guarantee endless repeat customers.”

Sun Manning’s mouth and hands were covered in red oil. She nodded her head like a chick pecking grain: “I agree! I agree! Super delicious! Li Heng, you’re so generous—why didn’t you make this sooner? Hiding it like a shy maiden—it’s not right!”

Mai Sui had a good mouth; under Li Heng’s guidance, she quickly mastered the technique of eating snails with her lips.

Zhou Shihe didn’t speak to Li Heng the whole time. She just placed one snail shell on the table, then another, then another—soon, a small mountain of shells piled before her.

When she noticed Li Heng’s gaze on her, she paused, then swept all the shells from the table into the trash bin. After that, she ate other dishes. But when the man’s attention turned to drinking with Mai Sui and Mai Dong, she quietly turned back to the snails—ding, ding—shell after shell fell, not onto the table, but directly into the trash bin beneath.

After a few bottles of beer, Li Heng, under Mai Dong’s persuasion, started drinking baijiu.

Well, mixing them together, he quickly got drunk. How he ate two big bowls of rice? How he got back to his room? He was half-asleep.

Luckily, he didn’t pass out—some clarity remained.

Li Heng lay on the bed, with Mai Sui attending to him. She wiped his hands and feet with a towel and asked gently: “Thirsty? Want some water?”

Li Heng mumbled: “Who’s singing outside? Why’s it so awful?”

Mai Sui smiled sweetly: “It’s Manning—her throat’s hoarse from the spice, and she’s drunk. She’s dancing and singing in her room. Shihe’s watching over her.”

Li Heng stared at her, transfixed, gazing for four or five full minutes.

Mai Sui felt his tender affection. Her right hand unconsciously rested on his left cheek, slowly stroking. At this moment, her eyes were full of gentleness.

Li Heng half-closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying it. In the past, he liked to stroke her face—today, it was reversed: Mai Sui was stroking him.

They looked at each other. The bedroom was silent. Both quietly entered their shared emotional world.

At one moment, Li Heng murmured: “Kiss your husband.”

Surprisingly, Mai Sui didn’t resist. She stared at him for a moment, then slowly leaned down—and in his expectation, gave him a light peck.

Then another playful peck.

Then another, smiling.

…

On the fifth kiss, he caught her lips with perfect precision. After a moment of eye contact, they kissed deeply.

At some point, Mai Dong came upstairs, carrying two bowls of sobering soup.

From afar, he heard Sun Manning yelling wildly. He smiled—he thought this girl was genuine, quite amusing.

Amid the singing, Mai Dong headed toward Li Heng’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar—he pushed it gently, opening a crack.

Just as he was about to speak, just as he was about to push the door open further—he froze.

He was stunned.

He was petrified.

Mai Dong was stunned into silence.

Can you guess what he saw? He saw Sui Bao kissing Li Heng.

At that moment, his daughter sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward half-collapsed atop Li Heng; Li Heng lay on the bed, one arm wrapped around her waist. Both were utterly absorbed, lost in the moment, deeply intoxicated.

As someone who had been there, Mai Dong could tell at once—their intimate movements were practiced, familiar, clearly not the first time.

At the same time, Mai Dong was certain: his daughter was willing.

Because the expression on her face could not be faked.

Mai Dong stood frozen by the door for nearly half a minute, then slowly came to his senses, closing the door with the lightest possible motion, and tiptoed quietly down from the second floor.

At the staircase landing, Mai Dong inexplicably exhaled a long breath, then drank both bowls of sobering soup, patted his slightly bloated belly, and hurried downstairs.

Seeing her husband come down so quickly, Mai’s mother, who had just been about to go upstairs, couldn’t help asking: “Why so fast?”

Mai Dong said: “How long does it take to drink one bowl of sobering soup?”

Mai’s mother asked: “How’s Li Heng?”

Mai Dong said: “He closed his eyes after drinking and was already half-asleep.”

Hearing this, Mai’s mother nodded and continued toward the stairs.

Mai Dong blocked her path and asked: “What are you going up for?”

Mai’s mother said: “Man Ning has been singing nonstop—I’m worried about her, I’m going to check.”

Right then, Mai Dong’s mind was a swirling mess, yet he forced a smile and shook his head: “They’re young people. Young people have their own world.”

Especially that girl Zhou Shihe—she comes from an extraordinary background. At this hour, she probably doesn’t want to be disturbed. Didn’t you see me come right back down after delivering the sobering soup?”

Hearing her husband’s words, Mai’s mother found them reasonable. She, too, had once been young, had once felt that joy—and yes, like he said, adults shouldn’t meddle.

Mai’s mother said: “Then I’ll go take a bath first. You stay downstairs and keep an ear out. Don’t go visiting. Li Heng’s drunk—there’s no man here, it’s not safe.”

Mai’s mother was a careful person; she never let her daughter stay alone at home.

The reason was simple: her daughter was too beautiful, too alluring, a college student—and in this countryside, she stood out. So she’d always been extra cautious.

And now there was also Zhou Shihe, a girl as heavenly beautiful as an immortal, so Mai’s mother was even more on guard.

Mai Dong nodded and agreed.

In truth, Zhou’s mother had already secretly assigned people to protect Zhou Shihe during her rural stay—but discretion and concealment were their specialties, and ordinary people could never spot them.

Still, Mai Dong had sensed something, yet he kept silent, pretending he knew nothing.

After his wife entered the bathroom, Mai Dong slumped into a chair, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, mechanically stuck one between his lips, lit it with a lighter, and began smoking, puffing away mechanically.

One cigarette.

Two cigarettes.

Three cigarettes.

…

He smoked six or seven in a row without stopping.

Because at that moment, he was a log, a statue—sitting there dumbly, his mind filled only with the image of his daughter kissing Li Heng.

This shattered him.

More than his father’s death.

After all, his father was already in his seventies; birth, aging, sickness, death—no one escapes them. It wasn’t an untimely death, just a peaceful end. He was sad, but he’d long been prepared.

But his only beloved daughter kissing Li Heng—so willingly, so passionately—this shattered his spirit.

Utterly destructive.

In the past, he’d been proud. He’d always believed no man in Shaoyang was worthy of his daughter, none could match her—until he met Song Yu and Xiao Han, until Li Heng appeared.

But beyond these three, no one else was worthy, none could compare.

Besides, Li Heng’s relationship with Xiao Han and Song Yu had always been murky, complicated. So he’d felt at ease, never once linking Li Heng with his daughter.

After all, his daughter and Song Yu were inseparable, constantly writing letters and calling each other. As a father, he’d never imagined his daughter would fight over a man with her best friend.

After all, Li Heng already had Xiao Han and Song Yu—two heavenly beauties. Who wouldn’t be satisfied? Why would he even look elsewhere?

Besides, there was Zhou Shihe—another woman who could rival Song Yu in beauty. Even if Li Heng wanted to pursue another woman, the first target should clearly be the Zhou girl.

So no matter how you looked at it, no matter how you thought about it, his daughter was safe.

Fine. Until now, Mai Dong had held a pure heart—he’d never doubted Li Heng’s relationship with his daughter, trusted their friendship completely, trusted his daughter utterly.

But that trust was shattered today.

His entire worldview had been destroyed.

Yet the instinct of a man, the instinct of a father, still surged forward to protect his daughter, to guard her privacy, to shield the deepest secret she never wanted anyone to find. That’s why he’d forced himself to drink both bowls of sobering soup at the staircase landing.

He drank Li Heng’s bowl so his wife wouldn’t go upstairs and discover his daughter’s secret affair.

He drank Sun Man Ning’s bowl as a cover—to hide that he’d gone upstairs tonight, and to keep his wife from going up.

Mai Dong knew his wife’s nature well: she spoke sparingly, didn’t bring up old grievances, and after tonight, she’d never mention the sobering soup again.