Tears welled up in Xu Xiangying’s eyes. “Don’t hurt them.”
“Those” naturally referred to her husband and daughter.
“I won’t.”
“I promise.”
“Besides, haven’t you already arranged for Ye Xueqing to give them property and asked Zhou Linchuan to look after your daughter?”
“They’ll live well as long as they give up looking for you.”
His voice was low, his gaze gentle, as he patted her shoulder and added, “We’ll live well too. So, forget about them. We’re the ones meant to be together.”
Xu Xiangying didn’t reply, lifting her foot slightly; the silver chain around her ankle was a silent mockery of him. The man noticed and smiled, “I’m sorry. Just bear with it a little longer. Once you fall in love with me, I’ll set you free.”
“I’ll never love you.” Xu Xiangying headbutted him away, her body falling to the side. The soft carpet cushioned her fall, but she was crying. “After treating me like this, you expect me to love you? Lin Jingan, I’m not like you, sick in the head!”
Hearing this, Lin Jingan didn’t get angry; his expression remained tender. “Yes, I am sick, and I have time to wait for you to love me. I can wait. One year, two years, ten years, I can wait. Ah Ying, we have endless time.”
Xu Xiangying closed her eyes, not wanting to look at his vile face.
At the same time, Zhou Linchuan took the father and daughter to the art gallery to meet someone. This man was in his thirties, thin, pale, and listless, sitting in a wheelchair. In Jiang Ruyi’s eyes, he looked like the future Jiang Baiyuan. Who was he? Jiang Baiyuan had the same question.
Zhou Linchuan introduced them: “Mr. Meng, this is Mr. Jiang, and this is his daughter. Mr. Jiang, this is Meng Yuan Chu, the artist Meng.”
Different professions like different worlds. If Jiang Baiyuan was an expert in his field, he would know that this 34-year-old painter is a master in traditional Chinese painting, with one of his pieces auctioned for eighty million. Unfortunately, Jiang Baiyuan was a scientist, and they were strangers to each other, their gazes filled with unfamiliar scrutiny.
No one spoke.
Zhou Linchuan, as the middleman, suggested, “Let’s chat in the lounge.”
