Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four: Ambiguity

Time quickly turned to night; Wang Yan arrived early at the restaurant where he’d agreed to meet Gu Jia, thinking it was poor form to make guests wait.

Wang Yan told the staff they were two men, one woman, and a child, asking them to arrange accordingly—best to leave such matters to professionals.

Not long after, Gu Jia and her family arrived.

Wang Yan sat inside the private room, watching them enter, then rose to greet them: “Mr. Xu, good to see you again. We’ve got to have a proper chat tonight.”

“No need for formality, no need at all. I’m Xu Huanshan—just call me Huanshan.”

Wang Yan laughed. “Good, good. Let’s all drop the formalities. I’m Wang Yan—call me by my name.”

He turned to Gu Jia. “Come on, Gu Jia, let Ziyuan sit down.”

Wang Yan signaled a server to bring tea. He’d already instructed them to start serving dishes as soon as the three arrived.

Once everyone was seated, Wang Yan said: “I heard this restaurant is decent—good reputation.”

“It’s my first time here too—I just let them decide. Don’t pick on me, okay?”

Xu Huanshan replied: “Wang Yan, you’re too polite. How could we pick on you? The food doesn’t matter—we’re here to make friends.”

Gu Jia, busy with the child, nodded in agreement.

The dishes came quickly—before they’d even finished their tea and small talk, the food was already on the table.

No meal is complete without wine. This spread of Chinese dishes demanded baijiu—otherwise, eating felt incomplete.

Wang Yan ordered two bottles of Wuliangye. He didn’t use the tiny wine cups—too small, pointless. Instead, he used tall stemmed glasses. He poured wine for Xu Huanshan and himself, but didn’t pour for Gu Jia—after all, she had a child to care for. Unexpectedly, Gu Jia was a socialite who insisted on having a drink. Wang Yan offered a token toast and then poured her just a small glass.

“Let me raise a toast—to our gathering tonight, and to getting to know each other.”

Gu Jia and Xu Huanshan raised their glasses. The three clinked and drained their drinks in one go.

“Eat, eat—try the dishes, see how they are.”

Wang Yan urged them enthusiastically.

After eating a while and exchanging idle chatter, Wang Yan toasted Xu Huanshan and asked: “I still don’t know what you do for a living.”

Xu Huanshan answered: “My family runs fireworks—handling all kinds of celebrations. Gu Jia’s a full-time homemaker, taking care of Ziyuan.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll check if any of my friends need fireworks—I’ll hook you up.”

Though unsure if it was genuine, the couple thanked him profusely.

Gu Jia, tending to the child’s meal, asked: “Wang Yan, I heard from the property staff you work in finance? What exactly do you do?”

Gu Jia was cautious—she only mentioned what the property staff had said about Wang Yan being in finance.

In a high-end complex like Junyuefu, management was strict. Property staff were gossip-prone—if Wang Yan had blown up, those nosy ones wouldn’t have escaped.

Wang Yan guessed those same people had mentioned him, and she’d later asked Zhong Xiaoqin for confirmation.

“Nothing special—just trading stocks and such. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me.”

He didn’t say anything about investing money—he knew it was taboo to speak too deeply too soon. Saying that would make him sound like a con artist.

He had no intention of helping Gu Jia.

To Wang Yan, this story world was real—these people had flesh, blood, and their own thoughts.

The tension between Gu Jia and Xu Huanshan stemmed partly from Gu Jia’s strong personality, and partly from events after they moved to Junyuefu.

If he smoothed things over for her, and they grew even closer, what place would he have?

He had to wait until Xu Huanshan met Lin Youyou before taking any action.

His main task now was to subtly curry favor—to build himself up in Gu Jia’s mind.

So throughout the meal, Wang Yan showed no restraint. His wit flowed, the atmosphere sparkled, and there was none of the awkwardness typical of first meetings.

Xu Huanshan’s drinking capacity couldn’t compare to Wang Yan’s. After half a jin, he was clearly drunk. Under Wang Yan’s deliberate guidance, Xu Huanshan slung an arm around him, calling him brother.

Yet he never neglected his primary target—Gu Jia was never ignored.

He showed extreme fondness for Xu Ziyuan, treating the child as an equal in conversation. Children, with low visibility, crave recognition.

Children are highly perceptive. Xu Ziyuan sensed Wang Yan was different—he called him “Uncle Wang” with unusual warmth.

To get close to a mother who adores her child, starting with the child is the most efficient method. Wang Yan was certain: once home, Xu Ziyuan would talk about him constantly.

Gu Jia clearly noticed Xu Ziyuan’s happiness—normally a struggle to eat, now he finished two bowls.

Watching the two men, arms around each other, babbling nonsense, Gu Jia felt the vast difference between Xu Huanshan and Wang Yan.

In her life, she’d never met anyone like Wang Yan.

Though his appearance was ordinary, his eyes spoke volumes. His posture was always straight, his words always soothing, sometimes casually dropping phrases that provoked deep thought. A fleeting glance could make you feel you’d seen a sleeping tiger—yet upon closer look, everything seemed normal, leaving an air of mystery.

In contrast, Xu Huanshan was a mess.

He couldn’t control his emotions—sometimes, in Gu Jia’s eyes, he acted like a child. Stubborn, rigid, naive about the world, clueless about human nature and social graces.

With Xu Huanshan, she was always the one compromising.

“If only Huanshan were like Wang Yan.”

Unconsciously, she merged the two into one idealized version of Xu Huanshan.

Lost in thought, she froze.

Xu Ziyuan, gobbling food, noticed Gu Jia hadn’t spoken for a while. He tugged at her: “Mom, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking?”

His movement jolted Gu Jia back to reality. She saw Xu Huanshan and Wang Yan both staring at her.

Meeting Wang Yan’s gaze, she remembered her earlier thoughts and felt her cheeks warm. But she’d had a bit of wine—no one would notice.

She explained: “Nothing—I just got distracted.” She glanced at Wang Yan, then returned to soothing the child.

Watching her child devour food, she recalled sweet memories with Xu Huanshan.

“No matter what he’s like, he’s the one I love most in life—I love him exactly as he is.”

She steeled herself, giving herself a mental boost.

Yet she couldn’t help but form a strong, favorable impression of this witty, articulate, poised, and wise man—her likeability toward him skyrocketed.

Wang Yan noticed the look in Gu Jia’s eyes after she spoke—he understood. As the saying goes: it’s not ignorance that hurts, but comparison. The result was obvious—could he, Wang Yan, be compared to anyone?

The meal lasted hours. Wang Yan and Xu Huanshan were both thoroughly drunk.

Wang Yan wasn’t truly drunk—he was still clear-headed, but pretended to be a complete mess. Anyone drinking two jin would be out cold, so Gu Jia never suspected he was faking.

Xu Huanshan, however, was genuinely out. He’d only held seven liang, but Wang Yan had poured him a full one and a half jin—he was unconscious. Wang Yan had drunk more than Xu Huanshan—his role was to push the drinking, a kind of self-sacrifice. He’d consumed about two jin.

The two leaned on each other’s shoulders, slurring nonsense, stumbling, swaying with every step as they headed out.

This left Gu Jia with a heavy burden—she had to care for the child and both drunk men.

But mostly, she focused on Xu Huanshan—Wang Yan was handed over to the staff.

Since they all lived in Junyuefu, Gu Jia couldn’t let Wang Yan go home alone. She arranged a driver, put the two drunk men in the back seat, and sat in the front with Xu Ziyuan, returning to Junyuefu together.

The property staff, seeing Gu Jia with two drunk men and a child, kindly sent two men to help support Wang Yan and Xu Huanshan.

Gu Jia first took Xu Huanshan and the child home, leaving them to the nanny. Then she followed the staff to Wang Yan’s 18th-floor apartment—she couldn’t leave him alone. If anything happened to him, they’d bear responsibility—it would be bad. Besides, she held a strong liking for this new friend.

Arriving at the 18th floor, she saw the smart lock on the door malfunctioning. Though it had a keyhole, since it was smart, who carried keys anymore?

She asked the property staff if there was any solution.

They said there was none—only wait for Wang Yan to wake up or call a locksmith.

Gu Jia had no better option. She told the staff to leave, then supported Wang Yan, asking him for his password.

Old Wang was cunning. Seeing only the two of them, still pretending to be drunk, he seized the chance. He mumbled, slumped backward, staggered to the wall, and slid down, leaning against it.

Gu Jia couldn’t let him collapse on the floor. She stepped forward and struggled to hold him up.

Wang Yan, finding support, instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leaning against the wall, halting his slide.

Feeling the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, the weight pressing on her, the muscle against her body—Gu Jia trembled, her body stiffening.

After a moment, she patted him: “Wang Yan, wake up. We’re home.”

“Wake up, Wang Yan. We’re home. Open the door.”

Wang Yan lifted his head dazedly, looked at Gu Jia, then at the door. He let go of her, staggered upright, walked to the door, and tried to enter the password.

He pressed for a long time—either pressing the wrong keys or hitting outside the password area.

Gu Jia watched, anxious, utterly frustrated.

She stepped forward, supporting him: “Wang Yan, tell me the password—I’ll open it for you.”

Wang Yan turned his head, eyes unfocused: “Who are you?”

Before she could answer, he shook his head, rubbed his eyes, then realized: “Oh… Gu Jia.”

He paused, then said: “Good you’re here—check my front door. It keeps avoiding me, won’t let me in.” He swayed slightly as he spoke.

Gu Jia found his childish words absurd yet endearing. She sighed and asked again: “What’s the password? Tell me—I’ll open it.”

Wang Yan recited a string of numbers.

Gu Jia guided him to the side so he wouldn’t block the door.

After entering the password and opening the door, she looked back—Wang Yan was slumped against the wall, head drooping.

She shook her head helplessly, stepped forward, looped one of his arms over her shoulder, and struggled to drag him inside.

Once you’ve done something once, it becomes natural. At first, she’d been holding his arm—but after his earlier move, she now supported him effortlessly.

Inside the apartment, Gu Jia was stunned.

Few people would be so extreme—only two rooms left, the rest of the 200-square-meter space, except the kitchen, completely demolished. The openness was striking.

Paired with understated, unique, yet harmonious decor—calligraphy on the walls, carefully placed ornaments, indoor landscaping.

It delivered a powerful impact.

Gu Jia was awestruck.

She’d never seen, never imagined, such a design style. It deepened her understanding of Wang Yan.

The bedroom was easy to find—only two rooms: one study, the other the bedroom.

She guided Wang Yan to the bedroom, intending to lay him on the bed.

Wang Yan seized the opportunity and pulled Gu Jia down onto him. She let out a soft “Ah!” and landed atop his chest.

Lying against his chest, she heard the strong thud of his heartbeat, felt the defined contours of his muscles, and saw his face so close—her body grew unexpectedly limp.

After lying there for a while and catching her breath, she pushed herself up using his firm chest.

She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and fed it to Wang Yan. Then, with effort, she adjusted his posture, laid him flat, and pulled the blanket over him.

She did not remove his clothes; as another man’s wife, such an act would be improper. Besides, her heart belonged to her husband and son—she could not betray them.

Gu Jia wandered through Wang Yan’s home, glancing over the interior layout; she was genuinely curious.

Afterward, she returned to the bedroom and sat beside the bed, watching Wang Yan sleep for a while, lost in thought.

Coming out of her daze, she confirmed Wang Yan was unharmed, then turned and left.

She had to return to care for her husband and son.

Hearing the door close, Wang Yan opened his eyes and sat up.

He walked to the balcony, lit a cigarette, stared at the night view outside, and thought about tonight’s events.

To be fair, he was impressed with his own acting—the drunkard routine was spot-on.

This came down to experience: before he had the system, his body wasn’t as strong as now. Every time he drank too much, he’d collapse like a kicked puppy—he knew that state inside and out. He nailed the drunkard’s mannerisms perfectly. Talk about it and you’d cry—life’s just damn hard.

Through that moment of intimacy, he didn’t know about the rest, but his body was clearly fine. Wang Yan distinctly felt Gu Jia’s tremble against his chest—and a faint thrill?

Wang Yan bet Gu Jia wouldn’t sleep well tonight. Women aren’t immune to desire, are they?

He’d now established himself in Gu Jia’s mind. Going forward, he just needed to show up more often.

Xu Huanshan was completely fooled by Wang Yan, even calling him “brother” like an idiot. He didn’t know Wang Yan had always had one clear goal: to be Old Wang, to love married women, to seduce his wife.

Luckily, Wang Yan still had some principles—he feared damaging his future prospects. Had he just taken advantage of the moment and moved in, she’d have resisted only half-heartedly.

After finishing the cigarette, Wang Yan stopped dwelling on useless thoughts, drank some water, and went back to bed.

Gu Jia returned home.

Xu Ziyang was already asleep—children get sleepy easily. If not for his good manners, wanting not to trouble Gu Jia, he’d have fallen asleep at the restaurant.

Xu Huanshan, under the nanny’s care, had just vomited and was now drunk-dancing, muttering nonsense.

Gu Jia told the nanny to go to sleep, then stripped Xu Huanshan’s clothes, wiped his body with a damp towel, trying to sober him up.

After all that effort, she settled Xu Huanshan into bed and turned off the light.

As Wang Yan had predicted.

Listening to the snoring beside her, Gu Jia lay awake, restless and troubled by tonight’s events. She turned it over and over in her mind, unable to calm her agitation.

She gave up thinking about men and women, and began to ponder Wang Yan instead.

People fear overthinking—once you do, you can’t help comparing him to Xu Huanshan.

The result was obvious: the more she compared, the more Xu Huanshan seemed utterly worthless—every single thing fell short.

Women are prone to overthinking. Gu Jia now saw nothing but flaws in Xu Huanshan. Minor habits she’d ignored before now loomed large; old arguments resurfaced; the more she thought, the more unbearable he became.

Fortunately, Gu Jia was a strong woman who could tolerate Xu Huanshan.

Gu Jia got up and took a cold shower, suppressing the ache in her heart. Reason told her not to dwell on useless thoughts. After tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep.

And this—was marriage.