Chapter 11: An Unnatural Jealousy

Meng Zhenyue was not surprised by Yun Jing’s return. Someone had to come back to clean up the mess, and she had to come see her daughter sooner or later.

Yun Jing was about to turn thirty-seven. She wore a custom V-neck suit, with straight shoulders and a slim waist, the archetype of a powerful businesswoman. She rarely smiled.

Standing beside Meng Zhenyue, whose presence carried a languid allure, the two of them looked unexpectedly well matched. She maintained herself well; she didn’t look like someone with an eighteen-year-old daughter, more like an unmarried elite.

When they had first met, Yun Jing had asked Meng Zhenyue to guess her age. Meng Zhenyue had said at most thirty-three, which had made Yun Jing laugh.

Later, when Yun Jing revealed her real age, Meng Zhenyue had marveled to her friends: as expected of a wealthy woman, time did not seem to erode her.

Yun Jing’s gaze swept over Yun Zhixue, who sat upright, her presence faintly oppressive. “Explain what happened.”

Her tone was far from gentle.

Yun Zhixue spoke concisely, without embellishment, her voice stiff. In short, Du Mingxiao liked her.

“Did you reject him?”

Yun Zhixue had simply ignored him.

“If you didn’t agree and didn’t respond, that counts as rejection,” Meng Zhenyue said. She lifted her chin toward Yun Zhixue and traced a circle in the air with her finger. Obediently, Yun Zhixue turned around.

“Have a look,” Meng Zhenyue said. “They pinned your daughter to the ground and cut off that beautiful long hair of hers.”

Yun Zhixue trembled. Her arms tensed as she stood with her back to Yun Jing, shaking slightly. The hair that once fell below her waist had been hacked into uneven layers. Even carefully braided, the damage could not be concealed.

Yun Jing’s expression darkened instantly. Her brows knotted together, her eyes fixed on the ends of her daughter’s hair as anger surged within them. However distant she might be with Yun Zhixue, she could not tolerate her child being bullied.

Sensing it, Meng Zhenyue said gently, “That’s enough. Go read.”

Yun Zhixue took her schoolbag to the dining table. Yun Jing continued, “Go upstairs.”

Yun Zhixue moved slowly, lingering for several minutes before reaching the stairs. At the turn of the staircase, she paused.

“Pour some tea,” Yun Jing ordered coldly.

The assistant hurried to prepare it, unfamiliar with the tea set. Porcelain clinked sharply. Yun Jing’s dark eyes flicked over, irritation nearly tangible.

“You had someone do it? Why didn’t you ask me?” Yun Jing thought she had acted impulsively, immaturely.

“I hit them, so I’ll deal with it,” Meng Zhenyue replied lightly. “If I see them again, I’ll still hit them. I can’t stand seeing a little girl bullied. It’s a pity I can’t do worse.”

She continued calmly, “The school can check the surveillance footage. They wouldn’t dare delete it. If they really try to make it disappear, take it higher up, then from top to bottom they’ll all have to be replaced. If they’re smart, they’ll deal with those who enabled the bullying and dig out the perpetrators. That’s the only way this ends.”

Yun Jing looked surprised. “You didn’t answer my calls these past few days because you were busy with this?”

“I was the one who hit them. Of course I should solve it. Otherwise I’d just leave a mess behind and cause trouble for the child.”

Her composed, thorough handling of the matter overturned Yunjing’s impression of her. There was admiration in her gaze now.

“I should correct you,” Meng Zhenyue added. “I wasn’t ignoring your calls because of this.”

“Oh? Then why?”

Meng Zhenyue’s expression shifted slightly. “Your daughter’s been bullied for so long. As her mother, you knew nothing?”

The sudden reproach caught Yun Jing off guard. The smile on her face stiffened.

“I thought letting me meet your daughter early meant you treasured her, so we could adjust in advance.” Meng Zhenyue’s tone was lazy, not overtly accusatory, yet disappointment lingered beneath it. “Do you know she called you twice that day?”

Yun Jing did know. She had been in a business meeting and hung up. Later she handed the phone to her secretary. When told there were no further calls, she never called back.

Meng Zhenyue’s voice softened. She rubbed her fingers together irritably. “Imagine how desperate she must have been. Desperate enough to…” She exhaled heavily, recalling Yun Zhixue’s pale face.

A resilient girl suddenly folding in on herself, thinking of death. So young, what was there in another world worth choosing? “She’s really pitiful.”

Yun Zhixue’s life had indeed been bleak, emotionally barren, suffocated by pressure, her personality darkened by it.

For someone to think of death, they must be living in unbearable pain, unable to see hope.

When Meng Zhenyue went to the school, she had felt genuinely distressed. A child bullied for so long, with not a single person speaking up for her. Alone, perhaps not even keeping herself company. And the only revenge she could imagine was mutual destruction.

So Meng Zhenyue had written her a note, wanting to offer just a sliver of hope. It was a small thing for her, nothing much.

In the end, she broke her own rule and lit a cigarette. Through the white haze, her voice remained calm. “Even if you don’t love her, for the sake of that bit of shared blood, treat her better.”

As an outsider, she had tempered her tone. Even so, she had crossed a line.

A lover criticizing one’s parenting was bound to grate. Yun Jing let out a cold laugh. “I didn’t realize you liked children this much.” Behind her glasses, there was no trace of guilt.

She might be angered by her daughter’s suffering, but she would never apologize for her own indifference. Love and indifference were always clearly separated for her.

“I don’t like children,” Meng Zhenyue said honestly. “They’re noisy and troublesome. But I don’t dislike obedient ones. And your daughter looks very much like you. Very beautiful.”

Yun Jing laughed softly. Meng Zhenyue’s deft touch in conversation smoothed away her raised defenses in an instant.

Meng Zhenyue shot her a sideways glance.

“Du Cheng is suppressing your studio?” Yun Jing asked, the implication clear, she could help.

Meng Zhenyue smiled without answering. She lifted her hand slightly and exhaled smoke toward Yun Jing. The haze veiled Yun Jing’s face; she seemed to enjoy it, narrowing her eyes.

Yun Jing had always been experienced in love, flirtatious, detached. This was the first time she had met an equal, someone dangerously captivating. She smiled. “Fine.”

Her gaze fell to the watch on Meng Zhenyue’s wrist. It was unusual; her wrists were usually bare. The watch lent her a colder, mechanical air.

“Who gave you that?”

Meng Zhenyue rarely wore watches, complaining they made checking the time inconvenient. Now she lifted her wrist. The hands pointed to 23:14.

“From a little lover,” she said deliberately.

Yun Jing frowned. “Who?”

“Guess.”

As they held each other’s gaze, the secretary brought over a vibrating phone. Yun Jing hung up, but it rang again.

When she looked up, Meng Zhenyue had stepped aside. She used to model part-time before opening her studio to focus on music. As she moved to leave, Yun Jing caught the hem of her clothes.

With the snowflake watch on her wrist and a cigarette between her fingers, Meng Zhenyue lightly brushed Yun Jing’s chin. “President Yun, lift your head.”

Yun Jing complied. Meng Zhenyue leaned down slightly. “Don’t forget, you lied to me.”

“You seem to like her very much now,” Yun Jing’s voice drifted softly through the room, like a feather suspended midair.

Silence fell. Even the assistant stopped shuffling papers. Only the ticking of the watch marked time.

From the corner of the staircase, a pair of eyes silently took in the scene. Yun Zhixue gripped the railing tightly. Seeing Meng Zhenyue so close to her mother, her heart felt seized by an invisible hand, squeezing until she could barely breathe.

‘It hurts…’

Why did seeing Meng Zhenyue touch her mother make her throat ache?

So glaring. So unbearable.

She knew the answer.

Meng Zhenyue would say she liked her. She would.

Meng Zhenyue smiled, her voice soft. “If you resolve this matter, I’ll like you even more.”

The words pierced Yun Zhixue’s ears like a thin needle.

Her mother let out a low laugh. Meng Zhenyue walked toward the stairs. Yun Zhixue dared not linger any longer and hurried upstairs.

Her books were wrinkled in her tight grip. A thin layer of sweat formed on her forehead. Her heart pounded wildly, as if it might leap out of her chest.

Yun Zhixue had thought her mother and Meng Zhenyue were merely playing around, that they would eventually tire of each other and break up, like all the others before.

But the way her mother looked at Meng Zhenyue was different from how she had looked at previous lovers. In the past, her mother preferred cold, delicate beauties, holding them as though they were exquisite toys.

Sometimes she would indulge them; sometimes dismiss them. Within three months, someone new would appear.

This time might be different.

Meng Zhenyue was not like those women. She did not seek affection or cling. A single cigarette was enough to unsettle her mother completely.

Her mother seemed addicted to what Meng Zhenyue brought her, like nicotine binding dopamine, pleasure, excitement, exhilaration.

Her mother still had her charms: a well-maintained figure, discipline, wealth, refinement.

Perhaps Meng Zhenyue enjoyed her mother’s maturity and success.

A twisted relationship.

They were twisted.

Yun Zhixue lowered her head and bit at her knuckles. She told herself not to care.

Downstairs, footsteps sounded, followed by the opening of a door.

Yun Zhixue crouched, staring ahead.

Something felt wrong.

Meng Zhenyue entered a room, her mother following behind.

And perhaps the most distorted one of all was becoming herself.

An unnatural jealousy had taken root in her heart.

She was jealous that her mother could stand so close to Meng Zhenyue so easily, jealous that she could walk into her room without hesitation.

Even jealous of the cigarette that had rested between Meng Zhenyue’s fingers.

No.

She must not let Meng Zhenyue like Yun Jing more.