Chapter 109 She Is Jealous

The reception area was partitioned by glass. The woman’s arms were wrapped around him, a sight that landed squarely in Linglan’s line of sight. She paused not far away, her gaze helplessly trailing his figure, never intending to witness such a scene.

Until she saw the woman clearly, she had not understood the meaning of beauty and temperament coexisting. Linglan stood transfixed, her eyes unable to look away. If one were to call her pure and moving, there was also a unique, enchanting allure about her; if one were to call her mature and exquisite, there was a streak of purity flowing in her eyes.

Though she and the woman were of the same age, Leng Tingyu’s temperament and features were impeccable, a near-perfect fusion of a young girl’s spirit and a mature woman’s grace. These two contrasting styles, while contradictory, existed in such harmony within Leng Tingyu that even other women could not help but steal a second glance.

Mo Zhicheng merely cast a sideways glance at the woman beside him. Upon hearing her playful remark, he did not continue the topic, only asking in a low voice, "Is Godfather doing well?"

Leng Tingyu looked into those eyes, deep as the ocean. The smile at the corners of her lips gradually faded, replaced by a silent, steady gaze directed at him.

Seeing this, Tang Pei, who was nearby, felt it inappropriate to remain in the room. He turned away quietly and pulled the glass door shut. He did not want to see the woman standing not far off, staring blankly at the reception area, her eyes harboring a trace of disappointment—a trace so deep, so very deep, that she herself had not even realized it.

Linglan’s vision was blurred by the tall shadow at the door. When she finally pulled her thoughts back, she did not know how long she had stood there or how long she had watched. Yet, the space in her chest felt as if it were hollowing out, bit by bit—a sensation she could neither describe nor grasp.

Even during the seventeen years she had spent harboring a secret love for Young Master Ye, she had never felt such despair. That secret love had been a silent guardianship, finding happiness in his happiness. But this moment felt different; it was as if she possessed something and yet feared losing it, a mysterious, burgeoning impulse to fight for it.

She looked at Tang Pei’s silence; in her memory, he had never been this way. Linglan felt her hands clenching tightly. Looking down, she realized her nails were digging into her skin, yet she could not even feel the pain.

Quietly lowering her gaze, she turned and left, leaving behind a solitary figure that lingered in Tang Pei’s eyes, refusing to fade. He knew she was hurting.

Inside the room, Leng Tingyu had one arm draped over Mo Zhicheng’s shoulders, watching his eyes as he awaited her reply. The woman laughed heartily: "The old man is enjoying his twilight years now. He’s older, and he’s let go of everything."

"Is he pressuring you to get married again?"

The smile at the corners of Leng Tingyu’s lips stiffened slightly: "I am the old man’s youngest daughter. He has cherished me most since I was a child; his feelings for me are different from those for my sister and brothers. I know he hopes I will marry soon, so that in his lifetime, he can see me happy with his own eyes and have no regrets. Zhicheng-ge, the foundation of the family business now relies entirely on you. He trusts you more than he trusts my eldest brother; he knows my brother isn't cut out for business, and he fears that one day, the Leng family will be swallowed whole by the corporate world."

Mo Zhicheng’s lips curled into a faint, detached smile: "That is why I suggested earlier that you return home to take over sooner."

Leng Tingyu smiled, sidestepping his remark, and said inexplicably: "Zhicheng-ge, I will wait for you!"

The phrase "wait for you," which she had often brought up nonchalantly, was delivered today with such earnestness, devoid of any jest.

"What?" He raised his brows. The woman looked at him with resolve: "Wait for you to succeed in your revenge!" She never spoke the final thought aloud, silently murmuring in her heart: *When the day comes, may I marry you?*

This earned a deeper smile from Mo Zhicheng. Leng Tingyu watched him, unable to resist or push him away. She believed that no one in this world understood Mo Zhicheng better than she did, and therefore, she could afford to wait.

Pulling her thoughts back, Leng Tingyu smiled sweetly. She buried her head against his shoulder and whispered: "I have missed Nanjian for so, so long."

Since Mo Zhicheng first entered the Leng family, when he was seventeen and she was eight, she had always been the carefree girl in his memory. He had always treated her like a younger sister, indulging her willfulness and letting her lean on him.

***

Before Tang Pei entered the office, he had deliberately checked on Ye Linglan, though from his position, he could only see her back.

Her phone vibrated incessantly. Linglan was momentarily distracted, pulling her thoughts back. Seeing the flickering light, a flash of joy crossed her eyes, but upon seeing the name on the screen, she realized her expectations had fallen through. She stood stunned—what exactly had she been waiting for, in this strange turn of fate?

Linglan let out a soft sigh, steadied herself, and read the text message Tang Pei had sent: *Leng Tingyu is President Mo’s younger sister.*

A simple sentence, effortlessly piercing the concerns hidden in her heart. She turned back to look at Tang Pei’s office, but the blinds were already tightly drawn. Below the text was an image—a cartoon adhesive bandage.

Linglan smiled helplessly: *Why an adhesive bandage?*

Only later did she realize that the bandage was for the wounded spot; he had seen through the trace of disappointment in her heart. Linglan sighed deeply, deleted the message, and sent: *Thank you, I’m fine!*

She was fine. She was truly fine.

When it was time to get off work, Linglan waited for Mo Zhicheng in the underground parking lot as usual. She checked the time; usually, he would be by her side at this hour. After waiting for a while, she received his call instead.

The screen flickered. Perhaps thinking of that embrace again, a stifling frustration rose in her, and she let the phone ring incessantly in her palm.

*—I really want to ask you, do you have any feelings for me at all?*

The man’s voice sang on the loop, relentless. The lyrics she had once craved now left her in a daze. After who knows how long, she finally steadied her breathing and answered: "Hello!" There was no trace of sorrow in her tone; she was merely feigning composure.

"I’ve asked the driver to take you home first." Mo Zhicheng stood by the window, gazing at the myriad neon lights winding beneath his feet.

Linglan froze, her body stiffening, unable to move. Yet, she feigned calm and smiled with her lips: "Alright!" She asked with polite detachment, "Are you entertaining tonight?"

Mo Zhicheng, standing by the window, reached out and traced a bell on the glass. On the clear pane, the character for "Lan" was faintly visible. The man’s handwriting was vigorous and powerful. He smiled faintly and said to her, "My sister is back. I’m spending some time with her."

"Mm."

After a few perfunctory pleasantries, Linglan hung up. She defied his instructions and did not let the driver take her home, instead wandering alone through the bustling streets.

The nightlife in Night City had only just begun. Linglan strolled along. The horizon was stained like ink, scattered with stars that twinkled like solitary, cold jewels—a stark contrast to the bustling, neon-lit city below.

She stepped onto the curb, extending her arms to carefully navigate her way down the path. Despite every cautious step, her body swayed unsteadily, and she stumbled. She had never realized before that being alone could be so dull, and so lonely.

She did not seek out Young Master Ye, for her heart was in chaos. She opened her arms, letting the winter wind wake her, yet she found herself lost bit by bit. Just like before, she boarded the last bus. Sitting in the back row, she looked sideways, taking in the entire city’s song and dance.

It turned out that your joy and sorrow, warmth and loneliness, confusion and hesitation, had nothing to do with this cold city.

Back at the villa, Mo Zhicheng had not yet returned. Two hours passed, and there was still no word from him. She curled up on the sofa, browsing the internet out of boredom, when a news dialog box popped up on the screen. Amidst the miscellaneous headlines, she caught sight of a topic on relationships—*5 Classic Signs a Woman is Jealous, How Many Do You Have?*

Driven by some strange impulse, she clicked on it, unable to stop herself from scrolling down:

1. Being sharp-tongued and merciless.
When you see your lover acting intimate with another woman, you feel uncomfortable, subconsciously developing a strong sense of exclusivity and possessiveness. Most will vent their jealousy through a different manner of speaking, typically by being particularly sharp-tongued, sarcastic, and biting.
—*I don't want your money!*
The memory of that reply flashed through her mind, and she froze, feeling a scorching heat rising to her face.

2. Showing strong possessiveness.
When your lover is intimate with a woman more outstanding than you, you feel sad due to a lack of security and confidence. Especially when a stronger rival appears, out of self-protection, the simplest method is to separate the rival from the man you like.

3. Avoiding him when jealous.

4. Pretending not to care, acting overly polite to create distance.

5. Deliberately acting cheerful in his presence.

Linglan stared at the computer screen, dazed. She had hit all five. What did this mean?