Chapter 2: Small Schemes

“Darling, when a husband and wife quarrel, what’s the point in staying this angry? Look, I just got back from the construction site and came straight to apologize. Why not spare me some dignity and come home with me?” A mischievous smile danced at the corner of Yang Changfeng’s lips.

Caught off guard by his sudden embrace, Chen Aijia instinctively struggled, but he held her so tightly that her entire body pressed against his. As the faint fragrance from the woman in his arms drifted to his senses, Yang Changfeng’s smile deepened. He wrapped his arms around her waist, deliberately leaning in closer, feeling the fullness of her chest pressed against him. He couldn’t help but marvel—this sensation alone was proof enough that she was, indeed, a 34D.

“You…” Chen Aijia’s cheeks flushed as she realized his intent, her almond-shaped eyes widening in outrage, wishing she could devour Yang Changfeng whole.

Everyone present was dumbfounded at the scene. Several people were so stunned that their forks clattered onto their plates, completely unnoticed.

No one could have guessed that this man, dressed so shabbily and looking every inch a migrant worker, was actually the partner of the most beautiful woman in Jiangzhou, Chen Aijia. For many men, this was a soul-crushing blow—Chen Aijia was the dream woman for most of Jiangzhou: not only was she successful, but her beauty was unparalleled.

“My dream girl, and she’s been won over by a man like that?”

“My heart is shattered—Chen Aijia likes a construction worker!”

“Ouch, don’t hit me, honey, I’m just heartbroken. I still love you.”

“My dream girl…”

Every man in the restaurant glared at Yang Changfeng with venomous eyes. In their minds, he was a devil, a demon, a toad who had somehow snared a goddess from the moon palace, and now he paraded it openly, tormenting these hapless dreamers.

In a shadowy corner of the restaurant, a short, shifty-eyed man fixed his gaze on Yang Changfeng and Chen Aijia, hastily pulling out his phone to make a call, whispering an urgent report of all he saw.

“Master Qiao, you’d better come quickly. Some construction worker’s trying to steal your woman!”

“Yes, understood—I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Held tightly in Yang Changfeng’s arms, Chen Aijia was seething with rage. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he could be so shameless and thick-skinned.

Her brows drew together in a furious arc, her anger erupting like a volcano. To be taken advantage of in such a public setting, before so many eyes—she couldn’t forgive it.

A glimmer of cunning flashed in Yang Changfeng’s eyes as he met her icy glare, knowing he had well and truly provoked her. And that suited him just fine. He had no feelings for this woman he’d never met before; if things went awry, it would only serve his purpose.

“Darling, you’re not coming home with me? Or is it that you can’t forgive me yet?” Yang Changfeng’s voice was mournful, but his eyes betrayed his sly amusement.

Trembling with anger, Chen Aijia replied coldly, “You… shut up! I have nothing to do with you, nor will I ever. If you try anything else, I’ll call the police.”

Yang Changfeng was quietly pleased—this was exactly the outcome he wanted. Still, with so many eyes on them, he couldn’t just slink away with his tail between his legs; that would be too humiliating. Now that they were adversaries, he needn’t worry about offending her again.

He stepped forward. Chen Aijia instinctively backed away, wishing she could tear him to pieces, but the murmurs of the crowd forced her to suppress her fury. As long as she could get rid of this man, she’d be free at last.

But Yang Changfeng had other plans. He never expected anything to come of this; he’d only agreed to meet Chen Aijia to silence his nagging aunt. Otherwise, he’d never have come.

“Darling, must we blow things out of proportion? I’ve already admitted my fault. Why don’t we…” With a quick step, Yang Changfeng pulled the stunned Chen Aijia into his arms and planted a swift kiss on her soft, alluring lips before immediately drawing back.

The scene nearly made the onlookers cough up blood. The most beautiful woman in Jiangzhou, Chen Aijia, kissed in public—how could any man who’d dreamed of her bear it?

For a moment, time seemed frozen. Everyone wore the same shocked expression, even Chen Aijia, who stood petrified. Despite being twenty-six, she had little experience with men and had never been this close to anyone, let alone kissed. This was her first kiss.

It was as if a bomb exploded inside her, fury blazing through her veins. Facing this brazen rogue, she raised a hand to slap him, but Yang Changfeng dodged away with a mischievous grin.

“Darling, since you’re upset, I’ll head home first. I’ll make you dinner and keep your side of the bed warm—don’t forget to come home,” he said with a smirk. Before Chen Aijia could react, he turned on his heel and vanished.

“Yang Changfeng, I will never forgive you!” Chen Aijia roared after him.

Hearing her outburst echo behind him, Yang Changfeng felt a surge of satisfaction. At last, he’d dealt with this troublesome matter, and his aunt would be appeased.

After he left, the restaurant descended into chaos. Those who’d witnessed Chen Aijia’s forced kiss were in an uproar. Perhaps this would be tomorrow’s headline in Jiangzhou.

…

Strolling down bustling city streets, Yang Changfeng took in the towering buildings. In ten years, the city had changed beyond recognition—the old streets no longer felt familiar, and the endless stream of traffic had erased all traces of the past.

He caught a taxi to his family’s old house. Standing where he had played as a boy, memories washed over him, recalling the day he left. If not for his parents’ untimely deaths, his life might have taken a different path.

“Dad, Mom, I will find out who was behind your deaths,” he vowed, his gaze turning steely as he looked at the quiet old house. He pulled a childhood family photo from his pocket, sighed softly, and walked away.

He had two purposes in returning to China: to find Xu Jie’er and deliver his brother’s belongings, and to investigate his parents’ deaths. From his pocket, he took the package wrapped in a plum-blossom-embroidered handkerchief—Xu Tian’s last effects. Now, he needed to visit the address Xu Tian had given him before he died, to find Xu Jie’er and her mother.

Yang Changfeng hailed a cab and gave the address. Forty minutes later, he arrived in Jiangzhou’s southern outskirts, in a poor district, his tall figure appearing on a muddy road.

On either side stood dilapidated brick houses, with a few chimneys still puffing smoke in the distance. Stray dogs chased each other playfully, and occasionally, an elderly person would shuffle by.

Taking in the scene, Yang Changfeng remembered Xu Tian’s heartfelt words: for his mother and sister, he feared nothing—not even death, so long as it was worth it. Yang Changfeng could never forget how, in Baghdad, Xu Tian had sacrificed himself, detonating the explosives to protect his comrades.

“Xiao Tian, I’ll take good care of your mother and sister. You have my word.”