Zong Yuan returned home around six-thirty in the afternoon. Zong Xiaomo was outside sweeping the garbage. Her long hair fell behind her ears, exuding an aura of scholarly elegance. “Brother, you’re back!”
Zong Yuan hummed in response, putting down the shoulder pole and looking around. “Where’s Mom?”
Zong Xiaomo replied, “I heard a big boss came today and brought a lot of stuff for the villagers. Mom went to join the fun and see if she could get some free goodies.”
Zong Yuan washed his face with a basin of water. He casually tossed his wet tank top into the wash basin, revealing his sun-kissed, toned muscles, which were covered with bits of wheat chaff. Zong Xiaomo picked them off for him. “Brother, your muscles are so hard!”
Zong Yuan replied, “Just exercise more and you’ll be like this.”
Zong Xiaomo pouted. “Seriously, Mom is something else. She runs over to see the boss and you know what? If she spent that time cooking, the meal would be done by now.”
Zong Yuan dipped a towel in the water and roughly dried himself. “I’ll go start the fire; you can rest inside.”
“I’m not tired,” Zong Xiaomo said. “Brother, Mom said you’re not going back to the army. Is that true?”
Zong Yuan paused for a moment before continuing, “Yes, it’s true.”
The original owner had been in the army, hardworking, diligent, passionate, and loyal. However, after a mission where a comrade sacrificed themselves to protect him, he was left with psychological scars. After careful consideration, he chose to leave the military.
Zong Xiaomo nodded. “What a pity.”
Less than ten minutes later, Chen Hongmei happily walked through the door, holding a glass bottle. “Daughter, look what Mom brought back for you!”
Zong Xiaomo took a look and said, “Mom, this is men’s perfume. I can’t use it; give it to Brother.”
Chen Hongmei was surprised. “Perfume is classified by gender?”
She sniffed her hand, which still held the scent of perfume, and truly couldn’t tell the difference. “Men use perfume too?”
“Son, I’ll put it in your room. Oh, after dinner, we need to send some of our peaches and pears, cucumbers, and potatoes to that big boss. We can’t take advantage of him just because he doesn’t want money. It would look a bit shabby without any meat or something substantial at home.”
Zong Yuan replied, “Okay.”
Chen Hongmei directed them to stay inside while she swiftly prepared the meal. On the cutting board, Zong Xiaomo had already chopped the green onions, chilies, and tofu for use.
Zong Yuan stood by the window watching her, lighting a cigarette. The strong smell of smoke wafted through the air and Zong Xiaomo coughed a few times, looking up to see her brother smiling.
“What are you laughing at, Brother?” she asked.
Zong Yuan thought of Fu Xin. He remembered the scene when he had choked on the smoke. But later on, that guy grew fond of the smell of smoke on his lips; as soon as he lit a cigarette, he would invariably come over for a kiss.
Zong Yuan reined in his smile. “It’s nothing.”
He found two baskets, washed the fruits and vegetables they had grown at home, sorted them, and handed one to Zong Xiaomo. “While Mom is cooking, let’s take these over to him. We can come back just in time for dinner.”
He recognized the brand of the perfume. This small gift wouldn’t really mean much, but it was a common trait among wealthy people—they could casually give such things to villagers without caring about their value.
Zong Xiaomo replied, “Okay.”
There was no need to ask for directions; everyone in Pear Village knew each other. When new outsiders moved in, it wouldn’t take half a day for everyone to learn about them.
Along the way, several young girls with two braids rushed past them, shyly leaving behind a soft “Brother Zong Yuan.”
Zong Xiaomo giggled, “Brother, just now, Er Ya ran past us three times and you didn’t even notice.”
Zong Yuan paused in silence. “Which one is Er Ya?”
Zong Xiaomo was speechless.
Well, forgive her brother; with several girls passing by all with similar hairstyles and clothes, it was normal that he didn’t pay attention.
Jiang Shengyan had finished dealing with a crowd of curious onlookers and the smile on his face had faded. He felt utterly exhausted, slumping onto a chair. As soon as he sat down, he felt his stomach rumbling.
Aunt Lin, who helped with the housework, only came by every few days. The fridge and air conditioner hadn’t been installed yet, leaving him with nowhere to eat.
Jiang Shengyan felt a twinge of regret about coming to the countryside. “Am I going to starve to death?”
He rummaged through his suitcase but found nothing edible. Frustrated, he kicked the suitcase aside, sulking to himself.
It was at this moment that Zong Yuan and Zong Xiaomo arrived.
Zong Yuan knocked on the door frame. “Is anyone there?”
Jiang Shengyan heard it but didn’t want to respond. He faintly felt that the voice sounded familiar.
Zong Yuan took his time and knocked three more times. “Is anyone there?”
The voice sounded more and more familiar. Jiang Shengyan quickly walked over, yanked the door open, and looked down from the steps at Zong Yuan. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing standing at my door blocking my sunlight?”
Zong Xiaomo glanced at the sky, where the sun had set and the moon was beginning to rise, her mouth twitching.
Zong Yuan remained expressionless. “I brought you something. Thank you for the stuff you gave our mom.”
Even though Jiang Shengyan didn’t even know what Zong Yuan’s mom looked like, let alone what he had given her, he pretended to look disdainfully at the two baskets and waved a hand dismissively. “What are these things?”
Zong Xiaomo gritted her teeth. What kind of wealthy big boss is this? He has such poor manners.
Zong Yuan grabbed Jiang Shengyan’s wrist firmly. “If you don’t like them, don’t touch them. Have you washed your hands?”
His grip was surprisingly strong. Even after Jiang Shengyan yanked at his wrist a couple of times, he couldn’t break free.
“Let go of me!”
Zong Yuan released his wrist, leaving a circle of red marks on Jiang Shengyan’s fair skin. Jiang Shengyan was furious. “You—”
Before he could finish, a loud gurgling sound came from his stomach.
Both Zong Yuan and Zong Xiaomo turned to look at Jiang Shengyan’s belly.
Zong Xiaomo struggled to hold back her laughter, while Jiang Shengyan’s face turned a dark shade of green. Zong Yuan glanced him up and down, a smirk creeping onto his lips as he clearly found Jiang Shengyan’s predicament amusing. “Sounds like you’re starving.”
Jiang Shengyan grumbled, “Who told this broken place to not even have a restaurant?”
Zong Yuan carried the basket of vegetables as he walked back with his sister, his voice dragging, “Since he doesn’t appreciate these things, let’s just go.”
The only two edible items were safely held in his arms.
Jiang Shengyan felt his teeth itch in frustration. Unable to lose face, he watched as Zong Yuan slowly walked ten steps ahead. With each step the country bumpkin took, he felt hungrier.
After walking about ten steps, Zong Yuan stopped and turned back. “I wonder if this big boss is interested in coming over for a meal with us.”
Jiang Shengyan’s expression brightened, a hint of smugness appearing as he hurried to catch up. “I reluctantly accept your invitation. Also, I’m not called ‘big boss’; I’m Jiang Shengyan.”
“Oh.” Zong Yuan responded casually, not intending to introduce himself to President Jiang.
Seeing Jiang Shengyan’s expression darkening again, Zong Xiaomo tried to mediate, “I’m Zong Xiaomo, and this is my brother, Zong Yuan.”
Jiang Shengyan ignored Zong Xiaomo, glaring at Zong Yuan instead. “Where’s your manners?”
Those were exactly the words Zong Yuan had said earlier that morning.
Zong Yuan found it somewhat amusing; Jiang Shengyan didn’t seem like a big corporate president at all but rather like a fool.
He spoke cheerfully, “Jiang Shengyan, hello, I’m Zong Yuan.”
Zong Yuan’s voice was a standard deep baritone. It was fine when he spoke normally, but if he added even a hint of emotion, it would give anyone listening goosebumps.
Jiang Shengyan shook off the goosebumps and frowned discontentedly. “Can you speak properly?”
Zong Yuan might really be sick.
Zong Xiaomo thought, What’s wrong with my brother’s way of speaking?
When Chen Hongmei took out the golden, crispy steamed buns, she saw the big boss following her son and daughter.
She quickly set down the plate and hurried over, “Oh, what’s going on?”
Zong Xiaomo explained, “Mom, Mr. Jiang just moved here and can’t cook or eat, so my brother invited him to our house for dinner.”
Being called “Mr.” outside was completely normal, but in this mountain village, it felt strange to Jiang Shengyan.
He said, “Just call me by my name.”
Both Chen Hongmei and Zong Xiaomo felt quite awkward. Jiang Shengyan regretted coming over for a free meal. Zong Yuan gestured for him to sit down. “Mom, don’t just stand there. Since we have a guest, make a few more dishes. Little sister, bring out the liquor from my room.”
“Okay!”
“Sure.”
Chen Hongmei moved quickly. Soon, she brought out several bowls of home-cooked dishes, looking a bit shy. “Big boss, please eat. It’s just some simple home cooking and there’s hardly any meat. If I’d known you were coming, I would have killed a chicken. I’m really sorry.”
All of these were homegrown vegetables, unprocessed with chemicals. With Chen Hongmei’s excellent cooking skills, the aroma wafted through the air. You could tell they would be delicious even without tasting them.
Jiang Shengyan swallowed hard. “It’s fine, it looks great.”
He looked around and tugged on Zong Yuan’s shirt hem, his tone slightly commanding. “Sit next to me.”
With only Zong Yuan being male at the table, it wasn’t too big, and though he disliked this Zong Yuan fellow, at least sitting beside someone of the same gender felt less awkward.
The familiar way of tugging at the shirt, with just the right amount of force, momentarily surprised Zong Yuan. By the time he realized it, he was already seated next to Jiang Shengyan.
Jiang Shengyan glanced at Zong Yuan in surprise. “Hey, you’re not too hard to talk to.”
“Get lost,” Zong Yuan instinctively coldly waved away Jiang Shengyan’s hand still gripping his shirt, then quickly realized his reaction. He wiped his face and apologized to the scowling President Jiang, “I’m sorry, I’m just in a bad mood.”
Jiang Shengyan’s breathing became heavier with anger. “So you just act like this when you’re in a bad mood?”
Zong Yuan knocked on the edge of his bowl, equally irritated. “I already said I’m sorry; what else do you want?”
Damn it.
Jiang Shengyan almost exploded. He paraphrased a classic saying, “If ‘sorry’ worked, what would we need police for?”
Zong Yuan couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter at Jiang Shengyan’s retort.
He laughed heartily, his sharp features revealing traces of delight, inexplicably easing Jiang Shengyan’s mood. He maintained a stern expression. “What are you laughing at?”
Zong Yuan poured him a glass of beer. “Boss Jiang, you’re actually quite adorable.”
Hell, adorable my ass.
He gave a middle finger in response, “Here. Take it and don’t mention it.”
