Chapter 11

Rong Ci listened, nearly laughing.

Lin Wu and Feng Tingshen met only after her marriage to Feng Tingshen.

Lin Wu knows about her and Feng Tingshen’s relationship; she doesn’t believe Lin Lihai doesn’t know Feng Tingshen is her other daughter’s husband!

He definitely knows.

Yet he still shamelessly tries to bring Lin Wu and Feng Tingshen together.

Clearly, in Lin Lihai’s heart, how utterly indifferent he is toward his own daughter!

Feng Tingshen agreed.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries; Rong Ci waited until she saw Feng Tingshen see Lin Lihai off into his car and the car drive away before getting in her own.

With Feng Tingshen’s current status and position, only a handful of elderly Feng family members could elicit such deference from him.

But Feng Tingshen clearly respects Lin Lihai.

Simply because he is Lin Wu’s father.

Thinking of this, she recalled how Feng Tingshen had treated her grandmother and uncle and auntie—cold, indifferent.

And even when she had carefully mentioned it to him in the past, he refused outright to help her uncle…

Yet his attitude toward those Lin Wu cares about is entirely different.

His treatment of her versus his treatment of Lin Wu is worlds apart.

This is the difference between love and no love.

Soon after, Feng Tingshen left too.

Much later, Rong Ci turned and entered Yanhao.

In the afternoon, after work, Rong Ci went home to collect the gifts she had prepared for the Feng family’s grandmother and grandfather, then drove to the Feng ancestral home.

The Feng ancestral home lies near the outskirts of Ducheng, where mountains are clear and waters are green, the environment tranquil—perfect for the elderly.

Its only drawback is its distance from the city center.

Rong Ci drove for an hour and a half before arriving at the ancestral home.

She parked, lifted the gifts, and had not yet stepped inside when she heard her daughter Feng Jingxin’s cheerful laughter.

Feng’s grandmother, facing the entrance, noticed her immediately and smiled broadly: “Xiao Ci is here? Quick, come sit by Grandma.”

But only Feng’s grandmother smiled; Feng Tingshen’s mother, her mother-in-law, and Feng Tinglin and her son’s smiles faded the moment they saw her.

Rong Ci noticed, but no longer cared as she once had.

She pretended not to see, smiled, handed the gifts to the butler who came forward, then walked toward the grandmother: “Grandma.”

“Ah!” The grandmother beamed, pulling Rong Ci down beside her, then frowned: “Why have you lost so much weight? Has Tingshen been mistreating you?”

Rong Ci lowered her eyes and shook her head: “No, I’ve just been busy lately.”

This was half-true, half-false.

Feng Tingshen hadn’t mistreated her, but her mood had often been affected by him.

Besides, for the past half-month, every day after work she had focused entirely on studying artificial intelligence, often working until dawn.

That was also why she had lost weight during this period.

Before the grandmother could speak, Feng Tinglin scoffed: “You say that like no one realizes how vital your job is—as if the entire Feng Corporation couldn’t function without you.”

Sang Qian, Feng Tingshen’s mother, sat nearby, exuding the elegance of a noblewoman.

She sipped her tea and said coldly: “If your job at the Feng Corporation is too tiring, just quit. After all, no one’s begging you to work there.”

Feng Tinglin laughed: “Exactly! Someone probably can’t bear to leave—”

The grandmother couldn’t stand others criticizing Rong Ci and opened her mouth to speak—but Rong Ci spoke first: “I’ve already submitted my resignation. After completing the handover, I’ll leave the Feng Corporation.”

At these words, Sang Qian and Feng Tinglin both froze.

The grandmother frowned: “Xiao Ci—”

“Mom’s here?”

Feng Jingxin had just taken the elevator upstairs.

Now she came down, saw Rong Ci, and was delighted—after all, she hadn’t seen her mother in over half a month.

She interrupted the grandmother’s words and rushed into Rong Ci’s arms: “Mom!”

Rong Ci paused, gently hugged her, murmured “Mm,” but said nothing more.

The grandmother didn’t truly want Rong Ci to leave the Feng Corporation.

But seeing Feng Jingxin, she let the previous topic drop and smiled at Rong Ci: “Xiao Ci, Grandma hasn’t had tea you brewed in ages—could you brew two cups for me?”

Since childhood, Rong Ci had been raised by her grandmother; as a girl, she was quiet and composed, patient, and naturally gifted—over the years, her tea art had become excellent.

“Of course, but dinner’s almost ready…”

Feng Tinglin preferred coffee and disliked tea.

She also disliked watching Rong Ci demonstrate tea art and cut in: “Yes, we’ll eat soon—once Tingshen and Tingyi get back…”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Feng Tingshen returned.

Upon entering, he greeted the grandmother and Sang Qian first.

Seeing Rong Ci, he glanced at her briefly, then looked away, sitting alone on a sofa far from her.

Feng Jingxin saw Feng Tingshen and immediately left Rong Ci’s arms, running over: “Dad!”

“Mm.” Feng Tingshen hugged her, glanced around, and was about to speak when Feng Tingyi arrived.

Feng Tingyi, much younger than Feng Tinglin and Feng Tingshen, was still a minor, bright and cheerful; he entered, leapt lightly over the sofa arm, and landed neatly on it.

Seeing so many people, he grinned: “Are you all waiting for me?”

Feng Tinglin tapped his head: “Yes, we’re all starving waiting for you!”

Feng Tingshen was quiet and reserved, Feng Tinglin was hot-tempered, and Feng Tingyi was the family’s joy—closer to his parents.

His arrival brought a visible smile to Sang Qian’s otherwise cold face; the grandmother grew even happier. Seeing it was late and everyone was hungry, she ordered the meal served.

There were only nine people; they moved to the small dining room.

Seating order: grandmother, Feng Tingshen, Feng Jingxin, and Rong Ci.

The grandmother smiled and waved to Feng Jingxin: “Xinxin, switch seats with your father—let him sit with your mother.”

The grandmother always went out of her way to bring Rong Ci and Feng Tingshen together.

Everyone else was used to it.

And all thought the grandmother was wasting her effort.

After all, no matter how hard she tried, over the years Feng Tingshen’s attitude toward Rong Ci had never changed.

Knowing full well that the grandmother’s efforts were useless, Feng Tinglin sneered and didn’t even bother to join in—she simply sat wherever she pleased.

Though Feng Tingshen disliked the grandmother’s arrangements, as long as it wasn’t a major matter, he never embarrassed her.

So he said nothing.

That was tacit approval.

Rong Ci no longer felt joy at the grandmother’s matchmaking, as she once had.

Her expression was calm; when she looked at the grandmother, her smile was gentle: “It’s fine, Grandma. Let’s just sit like this.”