Seven Years of You

Chapter 9

The conference room's LED panels cast clinical light over Jiang Shenghe's notes. Beside him, Jiang Yue-ru discussed merger strategies, her voice steady as Luo Qi's gaze flickered upward at the mention of Dongbo Medical—Pei Shixiao's pet investment.

In Shanghai's humid twilight, Luo Yu's phone slipped through sweat-slicked fingers. "He's here!"

Pei Shixiao's Mercedes purred into the driveway. Cui Peng emerged like poison ivy, her manicured hand grazing his wrist.

"Film it," Luo Xin growled, cracking knuckles.

The camera shook as Cui Peng's forehead met Pei Shixiao's chest. Luo Yu's whimper blended with car horns.

"F*ck*ng b*st*rd!"

Luo Xin's fist connected with a sickening crunch. Cui Peng's scream pierced the smog.

Back in Beijing, Luo Qi replayed the garbled voice note: "Quick, Pei Shixiao's car is here.！" Her coffee went cold.

The elevator doors parted to reveal Luo Qi's tear-streaked face. Jiang Shenghe's finger hovered over the "Close" button.

"Rough day?" His voice betrayed nothing.

"Boyfriend troubles." She forced a brittle smile. "Women cry, you know."

His knuckle whitened against the metal panel. The doors slid shut, sealing her shattered reflection.

In Shanghai's neon-lit alley, Cui Peng's whimper blended with car alarms. Luo Yu's manicured nails raked crimson trails down the other woman's throat. "Homewrecking b*tch!"

Pei Shixiao tasted copper. Luo Xin's fist connected again. "This is for eight years of lies!"

Jiang Shenghe's Mercedes tore through Beijing's night. "Dig up everything on Pei Shixiao," he barked into his phone.

Jiang Sixun's sleep-roughened chuckle carried across oceans. "Since when do you care about love rivals?"

"Since she cried." The admission hung like smoke.

Jiang Shenghe's gaze snagged on Luo Qi's bare left hand. The absence of her engagement ring ignited wildfire hope beneath his ribs.

"Decided to stay at headquarters," she stated, placing the file on his desk.

He nodded, throat tight. The door clicked shut behind her.

In New York, Jiang Sixun's laughter crackled through the speaker. "Your white knight act needs work. Stealing projects to keep Pei Shixiao overseas? Pathetic."

"Efficiency," Jiang Shenghe corrected, flipping through Pei's company reports. "His domestic ventures crumble, his overseas expansions stall—no time for grand gestures."

Sixun snorted. "And when she finds out?"

"Let her hate me." His thumb brushed the file's embossed logo—Weiyuan Medical. "Better than watching him break her again."

Luo Qi's new apartment smelled of fresh paint and betrayal. She unboxed the last dishware set—a wedding gift returned.

Her phone buzzed. Pei Shixiao's latest plea: "Meet me. Please."

She blocked his number, the action smoother than the single malt Jiang Shenghe now poured in his office, toasting shadows on the wall.

The cherry wine glowed amber under moonlight as Jiang Yue-ru lowered her glass. "Transferring her to your team? Subtle."

Jiang Shenghe adjusted his glasses, the courtyard's shadows masking his expression. "She needs stability after the breakup."

His aunt snorted. "Stability or proximity?"

Earlier, in the Mercedes' confined space:

Luo Qi's grip tightened on the steering wheel as Jiang Shenghe's cologne—sandalwood and restraint—filled the cabin. His question hung unanswered between them.

Where do you live?

She gave her new address, a fifth-floor walkup in a crumbling complex. His jaw tightened.

At the Jiang family mansion, Liang Zhen's Chopin étude faltered at her son's arrival. "Dinner tomorrow?"

"Business trip." The lie tasted familiar.

Her piano lid slammed. "Chasing ghosts again?"

Jiang Yue-ru's retirement plans solidified over jasmine tea. "Promote Secretary Ju. She's earned it."

Jiang Shenghe exhaled smoke into the courtyard's peony-scented dusk. "Done."

His phone buzzed—Lu Baisheng's message: "She's free."

The cherry ember glowed brighter.

In Luo Qi's cramped walk-up, unpacked boxes formed a fortress against memories. Luo Yu brandished a heart-shaped egg mold. "New life needs new cookware!"

"Wasteful," Luo Qi muttered, stacking medical bills. The numbers bled crimson: ¥11,340,000.

At the airport, Jiang Shenghe's suit jacket brushed Luo Qi's arm. "Hold this."

His cologne—sandalwood and suppressed yearning—clung to the fabric. She folded the garment carefully, unaware its inner pocket cradled two theater tickets to Haicheng's moonlit beaches.

The beachside lounge chairs creaked under Jiang Shenghe's weight as he stubbed out his cigarette. Luo Qi's silhouette emerged from the twilight—barefoot, hair salt-tangled, the hem of her sundress darkened by surf.

"Had dinner?" His voice carried over the crash of waves.

Luo Qi fumbled with sand-crusted flip-flops. "A snack earlier."

Jiang Shenghe's gaze lingered on her collarbones before snapping upward. "Call Xiao Jiang. Supper's on me."

In the elevator, Luo Qi tugged at her damp T-shirt. Xiao Jiang's reflection betrayed nothing, though the Weiyuan executive chat blazed with updates:

Code Red: Boss treating us to midnight barbecue! Play it COOL.

The spread materialized under palm fronds—lemongrass chicken, chili-lime squid, four lamb chops artfully arranged on Luo Qi's plate.

"Can't finish these," she murmured, pushing a chop toward Xiao Jiang.

Jiang Shenghe's knife hovered. "Give me two." His command left no room for refusal, the remaining chop on her plate a silent edict: Eat.