CH 74

In the end, Ji Yao couldn’t return to work at the hospital ahead of schedule.

After the notarization was completed, Jiang Heng confidently moved into Ji Yao’s apartment with his packed belongings, handing over the keys to his own apartment to the interior designer.

The box containing the “partnership documents” was brought along, finding its place on the TV cabinet in Ji Yao’s living room, very conspicuous and with a strong presence. Every time Ji Yao passed by the living room, he couldn’t help but glance at it.

The notarized certificate, along with other documents, was placed in a small box by Jiang Heng. He stared at the box for a long time, lost in thought about something.

After a good half an hour, he finally extended his hand to brush away the non-existent dust on the box, adding a decorative lock that was more symbolic than practical.

The next moment, he suddenly felt a weight on his back, and when he turned his head to look, he realized that Ji Yao had approached silently and embraced him from behind.

“Why did you walk so quietly?” Jiang Heng chuckled. “Trying to sneak up on me?”

“You were so lost in thought and didn’t notice me,” Ji Yao said, extending his arm to flick the lock on the box. He smiled and teased, “What are you thinking about, are you planning something evil?”

“Just thinking, What if you change your mind and leave me in the end? How will I protect my pitiful rights in this partnership?” Jiang Heng added. “And what if your parents pressure me to break up with you? Is this document enough to scare them off?”

Ji Yao raised the corner of his lips, smiling faintly.

Perhaps for Jiang Heng, or perhaps for everyone, everything had to be “traceable” for him to truly feel at ease.

When the notarization was completed, Ji Yao and Jiang Heng had walked out of the notary office side by side. The notarized documents were held in Jiang Heng’s hand, and the pages had already developed slight creases.

Ji Yao knew at the time that Jiang Heng was far from as calm as he appeared to be.

“You worry too much,” Ji Yao muttered. “We cut ties long ago. I suspect my dad has already removed me from the family register.”

Jiang Heng remained silent, and he turned his head, gently capturing Ji Yao’s lips in a kiss.

Ji Yao had more complicated conflicts with his family than Jiang Heng did. He faced oppression and resistance with his father, and he bore the burden of victim-blaming with his mother. Resolving these conflicts and pain was manageable, but the residual familial affection between them was more challenging.

Ji Yao was not like Jiang Heng. Due to his family environment, Jiang Heng had thicker emotional ties to his family. He enjoyed the love and longing that familial bonds brought, and without them, he didn’t see any problems. 

But Ji Yao couldn’t do that.

As Ge Xing had said, Ji Yao couldn’t cut off contact with his aging parents forever. Over the years, he had lived in that family, suppressed but he was used to it. He couldn’t truly cut off ties with his elderly parents. The current separation was just another form of avoidance.

But avoidance was not a long-term solution. Ji Yao would gradually realize that there were not just two extremes in the world but more nuanced ways to balance relationships between them.

Jiang Heng saw Ji Yao confused by the situation, so he intended to help him gradually repair the relationship, but he also believed that this was an opportunity for Ji Yao to heal slowly.

“I haven’t asked you yet, how much wealth do you have?” Ji Yao tapped the small box and raised an eyebrow. “I think I have the right to know.”

“Combining movable and immovable assets, investments, and funds, around two hundred million,” Jiang Heng replied. “Most of it comes from my inheritance from Jiang Yi.”

Jiang Yi’s business had suffered a decline after the divorce, but the business that had thrived for twenty years in Shanghai still had substantial assets. However, Jiang Heng didn’t want to inherit his father’s business, so he decided to sell the company, including its projects and production lines.

Jiang Heng’s feelings toward Jiang Yi were complicated, so aside from buying the apartment, he had deposited the remaining money in the bank and hadn’t touched it since. He chose to start from scratch, being a self-made person.

“Two hundred million…” Ji Yao murmured, taken aback. To Shanghai’s business elite, this might not amount to much, but to Ji Yao, it was a significant figure.

His eyes widened as he looked at the box under the TV cabinet, as if he were staring at a hot potato.

Ji Yao’s tone wavered. “What if I hire an assassin to kill you? I’d become rich overnight.”

“Please, don’t,” Jiang Heng blinked innocently, almost sounding sincere. “Keep me alive. Let me earn more for you. And besides, hiring an assassin for murder will earn you ten years or more in prison, I’d advise you to think it over.”

Ji Yao playfully pushed him and chuckled.

Jiang Heng joined in the laughter and stood up. Extending his hand, he pulled Ji Yao up from the floor.

Jiang Heng said. “Shall we have lunch?”

“Sure,” Ji Yao agreed. “What should we eat? Order takeout?”

“Why order takeout?” Jiang Heng clapped his hands and rolled up his sleeves, heading to the kitchen. He naturally opened Ji Yao’s refrigerator.

Ji Yao had no cooking talent, but there were some emergency supplies in the fridge. Jiang Heng picked up two tomatoes and grabbed a bundle of noodles.

His movements were skillful and natural, as if he had done this many times before. Ji Yao followed him into the kitchen.

“Eggs are in the cupboard,” Ji Yao said.

Jiang Heng bent down, found a fresh carton of eggs in the cupboard, and placed it on the countertop. Together, they prepared to cook.

Ji Yao watched as Jiang Heng effortlessly beat the eggs, asking, “When did you become so skilled at this?”

“Studying abroad in the UK, you have to learn to cook Chinese food or you’ll starve,” Jiang Heng explained. “You know, most of the nearby restaurants were run by Brits, each one with a unique style. Afterward, I finally found an Italian restaurant and ate there for a whole month.”

Ji Yao nodded, listening to him while leaning against the partition door, his attention more on Jiang Heng than the cooking.

“What about—” Ji Yao mumbled, “when we’re seventy and celebrating our birthdays, what flavor of cake should we have?”

Jiang Heng was amused by Ji Yao’s indirect way of seeking reassurance. He moved a few steps to the side, slicing tomatoes while smiling. “We should have a cake I make. How about that?”