Chapter 98 Part 1

The next day, when Jin Yizhu woke up, Wei Shuyu woke up as well.

She rarely did this. In most cases, Jin Yizhu would leave a kiss on her forehead and get out of bed quietly, but today was different. Wei Shuyu had not slept soundly, and as soon as Jin Yizhu stirred, her dream dissipated.

“…Did I wake you?”

Jin Yizhu paused her movements and asked her very softly:

“Do you want to sleep a bit more?”

Wei Shuyu grabbed her sleeve and unconsciously snuggled into her arms. Her eyes were still closed as she asked, “What time is it?”

“Very early,” Jin Yizhu said. “It’s only seven.”

“Do you have something today?” Wei Shuyu huddled in her arms, her voice sticky and sweet in a way she rarely showed. “You’re up so early.”

The curtains were not fully drawn, and morning light slanted in through the gap, falling on the light beige bedsheets like a layer of soft mist.

The room was utterly quiet, with only the sound of the air conditioning. Between their interlaced breaths, tenderness outweighed any hint of intimacy. A plush rug lay at the foot of the bed, muffling footsteps. The entire bedroom seemed wrapped in a soft, cushioned air—nothing to disturb, everything just right.

“I have something to do. I’ll head to Mid-Levels later.”

Jin Yizhu found her irresistibly cute. She planted a gentle kiss on her forehead and said:

“At yesterday’s meeting, my parents didn’t show up. I need to go see what they’re up to.”

Her tone was flat, as if she were mentioning something trivial.

Wei Shuyu was still half-asleep, groggy and sensing something off, but drowsiness wrapped around her, leaving no extra energy to ponder Jin Yizhu’s words.

“Okay… Will it take long?” she mumbled. “Then I’ll go out for a stroll later too.”

“Want to wait for me to come back so we can go together?”

Jin Yizhu asked. When she looked again, she saw that Wei Shuyu had already closed her eyes and fallen back asleep, though her hand remained obediently in Jin Yizhu’s palm. Jin Yizhu couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Then we’ll talk when you wake up.”

Once Wei Shuyu was asleep, she got out of bed carefully, without making a sound, and quietly went to the walk-in closet.

It was just a trip home, so no need to dress too formally. Jin Yizhu casually picked out a skirt, skipped makeup, simply washed her face and applied skincare, then headed out wearing a mask.

Mary was waiting downstairs. Seeing her without makeup, she was a bit surprised.

In the past, whenever Jin Yizhu went to Mid-Levels, she was always fully dolled up, every strand of hair gleaming with perfection. Mary remembered Jin Yizhu mentioning that Jin Shenghua and He Wanruo preferred her gentle and refined look—long black hair cascading over her shoulders, paired with a Chanel suit—that had been her standard attire for Mid-Levels visits.

Now, it was completely different.

Perhaps with power in her grasp, she no longer needed to fuss over appearances, only her own comfort.

“What is it?”

Jin Yizhu noticed her gaze and glanced at her.

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

Mary smiled and shook her head lightly. “Nothing.”

She turned on the car stereo, and melodious music instantly filled the space. Jin Yizhu’s attention was drawn to the music. She listened to the song while watching the scenery outside the window. The SUV sped through the bustling Central toward Mid-Levels.

Soon, the scenery outside the car window changed. Skyscrapers gradually receded from view, their glass facades replaced by green trees. Neon lights at street corners faded.

The car turned onto the mountain road, the concrete pavement narrowing slightly. Trees grew denser, branches stretching out to interlace overhead, blocking the light. Villas dotted the landscape, nestled amid the woods. Behind ornate iron fences lay manicured lawns and the faint sound of fountains. The whole world seemed to quiet down suddenly.

The familiar scenery on both sides grew even more so, and Jin Yizhu lost interest in looking.

She had grown up on Mid-Levels and was intimately familiar with every patch of shade here. Once, she had chatted and laughed with friends under the trees, wandering all the way to a little café to sit for an afternoon just for a slice of cake. But as time passed, such simple joys became increasingly luxurious.

Friendships were no longer pure, tainted by interests. And at home, undercurrents surged, everyone holding their breath.

Sometimes, Jin Yizhu wondered, what was the point of it all? Were money and power really that important?

She had merely been pushed along by fate, choosing a script among the ambitious power-grabbers and playboy socialites—one that seemed to satisfy everyone else but left her feeling empty.

Until that rainy night in Victoria Harbour, when she looked at the woman beside her and saw a spark in those indifferent eyes.

Jin Yizhu thought, This is what I want.

This is the spark I want.

Closer, closer, until she couldn’t get any closer.

But had she really obtained it?

Mary parked the car at the villa’s entrance and glanced at Jin Yizhu in the rearview mirror.

She found it odd but didn’t dare ask. Ever since Jin Yizhu returned from Tokyo, she would occasionally fall silent—mostly in the car, sometimes in a café—staring out the window for long stretches without speaking, her gaze unfocused, her thoughts drifting far away.

At such times, Mary felt she shouldn’t speak.

In Jin Yizhu’s world then, there was no room for her or this world. Mary didn’t know what she was looking at.

“Ah, we’re here?”

The scenery outside the window hadn’t changed for a while, and Jin Yizhu spoke as if awakened.

“Then I’ll get out first. No need to wait. I’ll message you when it’s about done.”

Mary nodded silently and watched her enter the villa.

The Jin family villa had been bought by He Tianhe from an architect—it was a renowned architectural work. Its classical elegance made it look, from the outside, like a small medieval manor. But the grand, ornate carved iron gates, shrouded in tree shade, resembled a beast ready to devour anyone who approached.

Jin Yizhu entered the villa. In the spacious living room, the photo of Zhang Xiwan in full bridal regalia had been removed, replaced by an oil portrait of her standing side by side with He Tianhe. Under the brilliant lights, the oil painting exuded a solemnity beyond the photo, like some divine relic.

Jin Yizhu stared at the portrait for a long time until her heartbeat steadied and she suppressed the surging sadness. Then she asked the housekeeper standing nearby, “Where’s my mom?”

The servant replied, “The Eldest Miss is upstairs. Shall I call her?”

Jin Yizhu frowned. “Why are you calling her Eldest Miss now?”

Eldest Miss—that, as far back as Jin Yizhu could remember, had been her title.

At least in this villa on Mid-Levels, the Eldest Miss had specifically referred to her. They had always called He Wanruo Madam.

“Well…” The housekeeper looked troubled. Jin Yizhu lifted her chin slightly, signaling her to continue, and she said softly, “Actually, Madam wants to divorce Sir. It’s been going on for a while. Starting the day before yesterday, she told us to call her Eldest Miss from now on, like before she got married.”

“…”

Jin Yizhu’s eyelid twitched, and she felt a headache coming on at her temples.

“Mm, then just call me Jin Yizhu from now on.”

The housekeeper nodded without changing expression. “Miss Yizhu, let me take you up. The Eldest Miss hasn’t eaten since last night.”

Jin Yizhu glanced at her. “Is she planning a hunger strike?”

The housekeeper gave a wry smile. She had worked in this villa for decades, watched He Wanruo grow up, then Jin Yizhu. Now that things had turned out this way, she found it hard to accept.

“The Eldest Miss didn’t say she was going on a hunger strike. She just said she has no appetite,” the housekeeper said. “She’s bottling up her anger—can’t vent it, can’t let it go.”

The housekeeper led Jin Yizhu to the second floor and stopped in front of He Tianhe’s study. “Miss Yizhu, please try to talk her around.”

Jin Yizhu smiled faintly. “I talk her around—who talks me around?”

The housekeeper fell silent, realizing her words were inappropriate.

She bowed slightly and went downstairs, leaving the space to Jin Yizhu.

Jin Yizhu knocked symbolically three times. As expected, no one answered, and He Wanruo had no intention of opening the door.

She twisted the doorknob—it was locked. He Wanruo was making a big show of it this time, no wonder the housekeeper was so worried. If she kept the door locked like this, refusing food and drink, wouldn’t it be the housekeeper and other servants who suffered?

As for Jin Shenghua, she hadn’t seen him since arriving.

Jin Yizhu waited a few more minutes. With He Wanruo still not opening, her patience ran out.

She took a key from her handbag and opened the door directly.

The study was as tidy as ever, not a speck of dust daring to settle. Wooden bookshelves lined an entire wall, spines facing out in silent rows. Those were the collection He Tianhe had personally organized in life, now mere neglected decorations.

The ever-burning agarwood incense had stopped; the air held only faint scents of wood and old paper. Half the curtains were drawn, sunlight filtering in to cast blurry shadows on the carpet, but it couldn’t warm the room’s chill desolation.

The desk lamp still sat on the desk. She remembered her grandfather hunched over it, writing neat notes—now piled in drawers, untouched. It was like a world abandoned by its owner, trapped in a temporal fracture, quiet to the point of indifference.

He Wanruo lounged half-reclined in a chaise longue by the window, staring blankly outside.

She wore a silk morning robe, the soft fabric flowing like water down her body. Golden sunlight bathed her, gilding her in a faint halo that made her face resemble an oil painting.

“How did you get in?”

Seeing Jin Yizhu, He Wanruo snapped back to awareness.

“I clearly locked the door…”

“I have a key,” Jin Yizhu said coolly. “This whole building is mine now. I hope you understand that.”

“…Yes, this whole building is yours now.”

He Wanruo’s tone was mournful, as if she had suffered a great injustice.

“This is the place I grew up in…”