Chapter 33: Value Part 2

Yan Mian eyed the sudden gesture, her gaze dropping.

“Mm.” She nodded and set the ice cream down on the little table.

Zhu Lin returned to Rong City once more, picking the same spot as before.

This time, though, both of them were remarkably calm. Zhu Lexing felt none of her prior nervousness, and Yan Mian had no need to fret over baseless worries.

At the elevator, Zhu Lexing hit the button like always, and Yan Mian stepped in first.

She spoke up abruptly. “It’s exactly like last time.”

Zhu Lexing glanced her way.

Yan Mian continued, “You did the exact same thing last time—right here, you said those words to me. Remember?”

Zhu Lexing: “…”

Is this the reckoning? Zhu Lexing felt a bit nervous and subconsciously blurted out “I,” but she had never given any thought to what might come after that.

The private room held more than just Liu Su, Zhu Lin, and Jiang Yue. This time, they had also invited several relatives from the Zhu Family.

Zhu Lexing gazed at the unfamiliar faces all beaming with forced smiles, then glanced at Zhu Lin in the seat of honor, who was clearly savoring his sense of control. She perfunctorily echoed their self-introductions, calling out greetings as they expected.

Zhu Lin immediately launched into talk about Zhu Lexing, lavishing praise on her achievements. Once he had rattled off the few genuine honors she had earned, he seamlessly transitioned into boasting about himself.

The familiar setting made Zhu Lexing furrow her brow.

The only saving grace was Liu Su’s presence, which kept the atmosphere from growing too stifling. Whenever she casually mentioned something from the set, Zhu Lexing and Yan Mian would look up at her.

In contrast to Liu Su’s effortless poise, Jiang Yue came across as far more ill at ease. Her outfit was far more extravagant than Liu Su’s, yet her expressions and gestures were rigid and constrained. She had been the one orchestrating the evening’s flow, but with just a few exchanges, the mood had veered sharply from her expectations.

Once every gaze had fully shifted away from her and everyone focused solely on Liu Su, Jiang Yue rose to her feet.

She claimed she was going to check on the food, but her expression was visibly icy to all present.

Even those who noticed showed no inclination to stir trouble in front of Liu Su. Beneath the veneer of harmony, Zhu Lexing knew Yan Mian was in for another round of torment.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Yan Mian glanced at her phone and offered a faint smile.

She gave no reason for excusing herself or mention of where she was headed, yet Liu Su arched a brow ever so slightly, as if sensing something amiss.

Not long after, Zhu Lexing stood and slipped away as well.

Perhaps having learned from Zhu Lexing’s abrupt intervention last time, Jiang Yue and Yan Mian had chosen the restroom over the corridor for their talk this time.

The air hung heavy with the scent of pheromone inhibitors.

Pheromones were the core instinct for Alphas and Omegas alike. When that instinct was suppressed, it naturally bred resistance to the inhibitors.

Zhu Lexing hadn’t differentiated on her previous visit, so the effect hadn’t been strong. Retracing her steps now, she instinctively frowned, a wave of irritability washing over her.

Rather than entering the restroom, Zhu Lexing instructed the System to begin “listening” instead.

As expected, Jiang Yue’s opening words only amplified Zhu Lexing’s growing agitation.

“Mianmian,” Jiang Yue said. “Be honest with Mom. Has Zhu Lexing done anything to you since differentiating?”

Her voice remained as soft and subdued as ever, as if she were trying to evade notice.

Perhaps it dated back to her husband’s death, when she and Yan Mian had lived in cramped, thin-walled tenements with poor soundproofing. From then on, she had spoken in hushed tones every day, doing her utmost to minimize her presence—and teaching Yan Mian to do the same, to stay quiet and unassuming.

Thus, Yan Mian had clung to those “principles” her mother espoused, living by them right up to the present.

Even though they made every day an exquisite agony, Yan Mian instinctively dismissed any complaint.

She had endured this way for over a decade. What difference would continuing make? Besides, her life now was already far better than before.

Yan Mian thought she had talked herself into acceptance.

But seeing the anxiety etched on Jiang Yue’s face, her throat tightened, and she averted her eyes. “No.”

“I’ve told you,” she said with a frown. “Zhu Lexing and I… we’re just friends.”

The word slipped out unbidden, startling even Yan Mian herself.

Why did she think of Zhu Lexing as a friend?

Yet given their current relationship, what else could they be if not friends?

“Friends?”

Jiang Yue stared at her as if she’d heard the punchline to a bad joke. “You see her as a friend? What has she done to you? Haven’t you been complaining to me about it nonstop? How did it suddenly become friendship?”

“Mianmian.” Jiang Yue gripped Yan Mian’s shoulders, repeating the words like a litany. “You have to know your place. Someone like her isn’t from our world. Did you see Liu Su? That’s what she’ll become—like Liu Su. And you’ll end up like I was earlier, just a prop in the background. Doesn’t that humiliate you?”

It was merely a gathering, a dinner, a spot in the limelight others admired.

Why must that be humiliating?

Just one door away.

The more Zhu Lexing listened, the more twisted it all seemed.

What kind of full-blown manipulation session was this? If the tough approach failed, switch to soft persuasion; if insults didn’t land, try sweet-talking instead—

Yan Mian’s composure was remarkable; her mental fortitude far exceeded the norm.

Even now, Zhu Lexing couldn’t fathom Jiang Yue’s mindset.

To her, Jiang Yue seemed like someone perpetually at odds with the world. The original work offered scant details on her past, but as a widow raising a daughter alone, her insecurity and ambition to rise were hardly surprising.

But why choose the path of self-sacrifice? Wasn’t it enough to chase her own ascent? Why drag Yan Mian into it?

Simply because Yan Mian was the one daughter she could freely “control,” “command,” and who would obey without question?

What kind of logic was that?

At some point, the shoulders pinned in her grasp suddenly jerked in resistance.

“…I have the life I want,” Yan Mian said, dodging her gaze. “I don’t find this humiliating at all. Mom, we should head back.”

Long before arriving, Yan Mian had rehearsed endless variations of what Jiang Yue might say.

It unfolded exactly as anticipated—not a syllable different.

The next line would be…

“But Mom loves you so much. Everything I arrange for you is for your own good. Why won’t you just listen to me?”

Yan Mian parted her lips briefly, then pressed them shut again.

She wanted to fire back—for instance, what did these so-called “arrangements” even entail? Had Jiang Yue truly planned anything, or were they just her impulsive whims, forcing Yan Mian to carry them out like some lifeless tool?

But those words meant nothing.

They had all known the answer long ago.

Yan Mian repeated herself: “Okay, I got it, Mom. That’s enough. Time to go back.”

With that, she turned to head out.

Jiang Yue stared at her back. For the first time, she felt this sharp urge to lose the daughter she had always taken such pride in.

She suddenly reached out and seized Yan Mian’s wrist.

But when her eyes met the girl’s calm gaze, all Jiang Yue could manage was a murmur of a question: “Mianmian, are you blaming me? Blaming me for not giving you a life as good as Zhu Lexing’s? If your mom had been Liu Su, you wouldn’t be like this now, would you?”

Outside the door.

Zhu Lexing fell silent. She had wanted to stand up for Yan Mian, but the situation didn’t call for her to step in.

She turned to leave—only for Yan Mian’s response to reach her ears: “No.”

A single word froze Zhu Lexing in place.

She instinctively glanced back, just in time to hear a sharp slap.

The woman had shed her gentle mask entirely. She pinched Yan Mian’s neck without mercy, glaring at the girl’s face. “After a few good days at the Zhu Family, you’ve already forgotten your old life? Before you start acting like some pampered young miss, why don’t you take a good look at where you came from?”

Yan Mian’s breathing grew ragged.

She stared at Jiang Yue’s face but offered no retort to the humiliation. Instead, she said, “As expected.”

Her voice was faint, but Jiang Yue’s grip loosened slightly.

“…As expected of what?”

Yan Mian slumped against the wall, gasping for air. The gaze she fixed on Jiang Yue was as still and lifeless as a pool of dead water.

The door hadn’t even been fully closed; it swung open with a nudge. Zhu Lexing caught sight of the red marks on Yan Mian’s neck and instinctively turned to Jiang Yue.

She had figured Jiang Yue for crazy, sure—even if she didn’t love Yan Mian much and hounded her like some neurotic mess, she wouldn’t lay a hand on her.

Who could have guessed she’d not only strike but do it here, of all places?

Meeting Zhu Lexing’s stare, Jiang Yue recoiled as if she’d spotted some raging beast.

In the next instant, the hysteria vanished. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Mianmian, Mom was just caught up in the moment. Why won’t you ever listen?”

She reached for Zhu Lexing’s sleeve. “Lexing, you get it, right? Sometimes there’s just a little friction between us…”

Zhu Lexing watched the lightning-fast shift in her expression.

Even with all her mental preparation, Zhu Lexing couldn’t suppress a wave of revulsion.

She turned to Yan Mian and extended a hand to help her up.

Yan Mian dodged her gaze. “Zhu Lexing, you should go first.”

Zhu Lexing: ??

Leave them here alone? What kind of sense did that make?

She shook off Jiang Yue’s hand.

“Save the act for someone who buys it.” Jiang Yue stared at her in shock, but Zhu Lexing’s voice stayed ice-cold. “Try pulling this in front of Zhu Lin—show him exactly what you did and how—”

Her hand was caught—gently.

Zhu Lexing went rigid and glanced at Yan Mian beside her.

“…Let’s go,” Yan Mian said. “It’s nothing.”

Zhu Lexing wanted to protest. If this was nothing and that was nothing, then what the hell did count as something for Yan Mian?

Death?

She searched Yan Mian’s face for any flicker of turmoil.

There was nothing. Not a trace.

With a heavy sigh, she said, “This can’t just—”

Yan Mian’s grip shifted from a light hold to interlaced fingers.

Zhu Lexing’s words died in her throat.

Yan Mian’s throat finally stopped burning.

She wiped the dampness from the corner of her eye, blinked slowly, and spoke in a gentle tone: “If whatever I say just makes you unhappy, then yes—that’s the answer to your question from before.”

Jiang Yue clapped a hand over her mouth and flung open the stall door.

“Let’s go,” Yan Mian said.

Zhu Lexing gaped at her in disbelief.

The girl refused to meet her eyes, tugging her toward the exit.

For the first time, Zhu Lexing let herself be led along by Yan Mian.

“You—” she started, stunned.

“Li Nian heard it from Shi Ruofeng,” Yan Mian said.

“‘You can’t make everyone happy, but you can make everyone unhappy.'”

“That sounds like something you said, Zhu Lexing. Where do you come up with all this twisted logic?”

Yan Mian curved her lips at Zhu Lexing in a smile that looked painfully forced. Zhu Lexing couldn’t bring herself to return it.

After a long moment, she murmured, “I… didn’t bring any tissues. If you need to cry, do it on my clothes.”

“…Why?” Yan Mian whispered.

Zhu Lexing replied, “They’re expensive. Might as well cry on something worthwhile.”

She heard the girl laugh.

In the next breath, Zhu Lexing found herself wrapped in a light embrace.