Prime City in July brought stifling rain.
Su Mi buried herself in the soft leather seat of Su Ciyu’s usual business nanny car, legs tucked up as she tilted her head to watch the fine, dense rain streaks on the window.
It had rained all last night, so the tomb-sweeping was postponed to the afternoon. Scattered light rain still fell during the drive, tapping tap-tap-tap-tap on the car window.
The high-performance vehicle glided silently. The cemetery was in the suburbs outside the capital, a full hour’s drive away under normal conditions.
On the left side of the back seat, Su Ciyu continued handling work on her light brain, occasionally tapping the armrest irritably with her fingertips before unleashing a clack-clack barrage at whoever was on the other end.
Su Mi yawned.
It had been a while since she’d seen Shen Han, not since the donation ceremony at Prime City University.
She wasn’t sure if that last meeting counted as pleasant.
Maybe she hadn’t acted it well enough. Shen Han hadn’t seemed particularly happy even when Su Mi fed her those sweet words.
Su Mi gazed at the rain-streaked window, and that day’s image of Shen Han’s face surfaced in her mind again.
They had left the noisy crowd and stepped out onto the balcony outside the conference room.
The sunlight blazed, and Shen Han squinted as she lowered her head to look at her, asking what she thought of the place.
What was there to think? Su Mi naturally felt awe and keen interest toward the school and its programs.
But attending the donation ceremony and being introduced around—that was something the original host would have loved. Su Mi, though, didn’t know how to muster that kind of affection for it.
It wasn’t any particular emotion.
She just wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
To be honest, it was because deep down, she knew none of it belonged to her. So she felt nothing beyond a touch of reverence, like gazing up at someone else’s world.
This was how Su Mi had always managed her emotions. She didn’t see anything wrong with keeping a bit of distance from the outside world in her heart—it kept fate’s twists from disrupting her too much.
But Shen Han seemed to care a lot about her reaction.
Su Mi found it odd. Hadn’t the antagonist arranged for her to transfer here in the first place precisely so she could keep an eye on the female lead at school?
She hesitated, then played the part, exaggerating her five points of interest into eleven with fawning enthusiasm, showering praise and thanks.
And then Shen Han looked unhappy.
Her faint, cloud-like brows drooped slightly, and she gazed down at Su Mi with an inexplicable air of superiority, saying nothing more.
After the ceremony, there were no further plans. Secretary Zhuang drove Su Mi home.
Secretary Zhuang seemed surprised at how quickly they’d arranged for her departure.
Afterward, Su Mi keenly noticed that her messages to Shen Han received only lukewarm replies.
A faint unease stirred. Was Shen Han actually mad at her? Or had she underperformed somehow, dimming her shine a bit?
But she felt too awkward to head straight to Southern Garden.
In the past, the original host’s visits to Southern Garden were mostly tied to Xu Nanqiao. The rest were either because Shen Han summoned her or she had some gift to deliver.
Now, though, the task of driving Xu Nanqiao to Southern Garden had naturally shifted to Southern Garden’s own driver.
Xu Nanqiao had said university was starting soon—no need to trouble her anymore—and Shen Han hadn’t objected.
Su Mi had some free time lately. She previewed university courses at home, played with her little brother, and occasionally met up with Xu Nanqiao to check on the lack of progress.
Now, this tomb-sweeping trip meant seeing Shen Han again.
For a moment, she got cold feet.
She had no idea how Shen Han would act.
Su Mi sighed, thinking Shen Han’s moods were more fickle than July rain.
Anxiety mixed with confusion as the car entered the cemetery. Mountains stretched endlessly, and they stopped at a path entrance midway up one slope.
Su Mi followed Su Ciyu out of the car with an umbrella. The rain had lightened to a drizzle pattering on the umbrella surface.
At the entrance to the mountain path lined with bamboo and cypresses, a few people already waited. Secretary Zhuang stood at the front, umbrella raised, trailed by what looked like assistants and bodyguards.
Shen Han wasn’t among them.
When they arrived, Secretary Zhuang greeted them and led the way up.
The light rain drizzled on. The path was well-maintained, flanked by pine forests and bamboo groves. Rain threads whispered through, punctuated by occasional plips, filling the air with the fresh scent of damp grass and wood.
It wasn’t as muggy here as in the city. Breezes came from all sides, making it feel more like a serene retreat than a graveyard.
Soon, they reached a platform ringed by trees. The tombs lay nearby, but only bodyguards stood around—no one else.
Shen Han wasn’t there?
The rain had eased a bit more, though water droplets still plipped from the trees now and then. Su Mi clung to Su Ciyu’s arm, staying under her umbrella’s edge, and stopped at a distance to watch Secretary Zhuang approach first to pay respects.
Puzzled, she leaned close to her mother and whispered, “Why does Secretary Zhuang have to pay respects too?”
Did he have family ties to the Shen Family?
But Su Ciyu replied, “He’s representing Shen Han.”
Su Mi blinked.
Huh?
Why? She voiced it: “Shen Han isn’t coming?”
Su Ciyu shook her head and said flatly, “She isn’t.”
The implication seemed to be that she never came to pay respects.
Su Mi paused, curiosity flooding her.
But she didn’t know where to begin asking.
In Su Mi’s understanding, the anniversary of one’s parents’ passing was a major occasion.
Yet Su Ciyu and Secretary Zhuang acted as if Shen Han’s absence was entirely routine.
Did Shen Han have a bad relationship with her parents?
Su Mi tactfully held her questions at the tomb. Her gaze shifted to Secretary Zhuang.
The Shen parents’ tomb was spotlessly clean. Secretary Zhuang placed a bouquet in front, lit three incense sticks, stood quietly for a moment, then turned to Su Ciyu.
Su Ciyu said, “Let’s go.”
Su Mi followed her over and took three incense sticks from a bodyguard, waiting for Su Ciyu to pay respects first.
She let her eyes wander politely.
It was a joint tomb. The stele bore only their names—no dates of death, no photo.
Sacrifice offerings sat before it, along with a bouquet of white roses.
Su Mi glanced over and noted the names.
Shen Shiwan, Ning Siyue.
Pretty names. She’d never heard of a Ning family in Prime City—maybe from somewhere else?
Su Mi committed the names to memory, planning to ask around later.
Su Ciyu lingered at the tomb for a good while before inserting her incense into the furnace ahead, wiping the corner of her eye, and stepping back under Su Mi’s umbrella.
Her voice was a bit hoarse as she murmured, “Go on. Just pay your respects.”
Su Mi stood before the tomb, incense in hand, and bowed sincerely three times.
Lacking experience, she mumbled inwardly, stumbling over the words.
Um…
Hello, Uncle and Aunt. I’m Su Ciyu’s daughter, here with her to visit you. I hope you’re doing well on the other side.
And if you can see, please watch over Shen Han from up there. She’s not been in a great state lately. I hope she can be happy soon, shake off her heart demons, get everything she wishes for, and live a normal life.
I’ll do my best to help her! Though I’m pretty useless and don’t amount to much in her eyes, so my help is pretty small.
Whispering secretly to you… she seems to have someone she likes. She always perks up around that person. I don’t know if there’s a matchmaking deity up there, but if so, could you put in a good word? She doesn’t seem to get it in that department.
Ah, no offense—she’s an incredibly outstanding and capable person now, holding down the fort as Shen Corporation’s big president. She stands out from the crowd wherever she goes. Everyone admires her. You raised her so, so well…
Su Mi rambled on with more bits and pieces before bowing respectfully three times and inserting her incense.
She murmured a silent goodbye to Uncle and Aunt.
Su Ciyu held the umbrella over her head.
“Let’s go. Down the mountain.”
The rain picked up again. As they descended the steps, Su Mi glanced back.
The bodyguards still stood with umbrellas. In the midst of lush green, the solemn tomb stood alone amid the dense rain curtain.
She wondered if those incense sticks had gone out.
But the white roses would look beautiful washed by the rain.
Su Mi didn’t dwell on it and linked arms with Su Ciyu to head down the path.
Secretary Zhuang waited below.
In his proper black suit, he smiled at them and said, “President Su, heading back to Southern Garden for dinner together today as well?”
Su Ciyu confirmed.
Secretary Zhuang nodded, said he’d lead the way, and got into the car ahead.
Back in Su Ciyu’s business car, Su Mi exhaled and nestled into the seat.
After hesitating, she voiced the question that had nagged her: “Why… are there only two names on the tombstone?”
In the dramas she watched, they always included “beloved daughter of XXX” or “devoted wife of XXX,” plus birth and death dates, signed at the bottom.
The Shen tomb was grand and dignified, but the stele held only those two lonely lines of names. Was that a wealthy family custom in this world?
Su Ciyu said, “Shen Han had it done that way.”
Su Mi said, “Oh… Can I ask when they passed?”
Su Ciyu glanced at her and said flatly, “Around when you were nine or ten.”
Su Mi counted on her fingers. The body was eighteen and a half now—that put it eight or nine years ago.
Pretty distant.
A thought flashed, and Su Mi frowned. Didn’t that mean Shen Han had lost her parents in her early teens?
Imagining it, she felt an inexplicable pang of shared sorrow. Shen Han had probably still been in school then. No matter how mature or calm she seemed, it must have been devastating.
As Su Mi speculated, Su Ciyu said, “Once we get to Southern Garden, don’t bring this up in front of them.”
Su Mi obediently said oh.
On the way back, Su Ciyu seemed in no mood to work.
Su Mi idly fiddled with her light brain alone, searching the two names.
Not much useful info. In Shen Group’s public disclosures, Shen Shiwan appeared as former chairwoman, with distant photos too blurry to make out her features. She looked like a beautiful woman.
As for Ning Siyue, the only link was as an alumnus of Lolan Academy.
No surprise there—Lolan Academy dominated private education in Prime City, graduating 99% of the elite offspring. Su Mi wasn’t shocked.
On the highway, the rain finally tapered off.
Once in the city, Su Ciyu even got out to buy a bag of lotus pods from a roadside granny.
Packed in a plastic bag, they were still damp, fresh-picked and fragrant.
This elite who belonged in places with four-figure per-head tabs handled it naturally, carrying the simple plastic bag back to the spacious business rear seat and setting it on the beige console between chairs.
She asked Su Mi, “Want to try? They’re fresh.”
Su Mi found it novel—not the lotus pods, but Su Ciyu doing something like this.
She blinked, then obediently took a handful and started shelling the grains inside.
With no long nails, peeling the outer shells was easy. She popped one straight into her mouth.
Only when the bitterness hit did she realize she’d forgotten to remove the lotus heart.
She grimaced, making Su Ciyu chuckle and hand her a bottle of water.
Su Mi gulped down the bitterness and tried again, removing the heart this time. The sweet, fragrant taste bloomed in her mouth.
Su Ciyu slowly ate grains from one pod herself, then suddenly said, “Xiao Wan loved these the most.”
Xiao Wan… ah, Shen Shiwan.
Su Mi knew they were childhood besties and replied, “Really?”
Curious, but Su Ciyu said no more.
The car entered Southern Garden. The weather had fully cleared.
The outdoor air remained a bit muggy. The butler greeted them at the door with a beaming smile, saying President Su hadn’t been around in ages.
Su Mi’s ears caught it, and she felt a twinge of guilt.
If she remembered right, her mother had come just last month?
She sneaked a glance at the butler, who looked perfectly normal, as if oblivious.
Su Ciyu strode into Southern Garden like it was her own home, heading straight to the kitchen to check dinner prep.
Su Mi stayed in the living room, alone with the butler and Secretary Zhuang, quietly awkward for a bit.
She touched her face, remembered someone, and asked: “Where’s Shen Han?”
The housekeeper kept her smile unchanged and pointed upstairs: “Miss Shen is resting upstairs.”
Su Mi: “Resting?”
She curiously glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall.
It was already past four o’clock, nearly time for dinner.
Su Mi had never seen Shen Han resting at this hour.
It was understandable, though. It seemed Shen Han was still saddened by the death anniversary of her parents. She hadn’t gone to pay respects, probably afraid it would stir up more grief at the familiar scenes—perfectly comprehensible.
Would she…?
Su Mi worriedly pulled up the Blackening Value for a look, only to find it surprisingly stable.
Still, she ought to go upstairs later to check, to express her concern as a little lackey.
It was a rare trip to Southern Garden; best to also probe whether Shen Han was still mad at her…
Su Mi thought hesitantly when Su Ciyu walked out from the dining room.
With a faint smile, she said: “Mama Zhang’s cooking is still so delicious. I secretly tasted a piece earlier, and it’s the same flavor as before.”
The housekeeper smiled: “Miss Su has the same tastes as you. Every time she comes to Southern Garden, she loves Mama Zhang’s dishes. Lately she hasn’t come at all, and Mama Zhang even asked why Miss Su isn’t coming to eat anymore.”
Su Mi: …Oh ho.
She felt guilty, pursed her lips timidly without daring to speak, and stealthily gauged the expressions of everyone present.
But Su Ciyu and the housekeeper both acted as if nothing had happened, displaying the superb pretense of adults.
Su Ciyu smiled and chimed in: “It’s because after finishing her exams lately, she went wild playing at home—not stepping out the front gate or the back door, and refusing to go anywhere when asked.”
The housekeeper agreed with a few words and asked if Su Ciyu wanted to walk around. It had been a long time since she last came, and Southern Garden hadn’t changed much.
Su Ciyu hesitated a moment and said: “That’s fine too.”
She turned to ask Su Mi: “Want to take a walk?”
No need to stay and handle possibly exposed lies, plus a chance to probe past events—Su Mi naturally agreed right away.
She followed Su Ciyu out of Southern Garden Villa.
Su Ciyu seemed to have no particular destination in mind, strolling idly around the villa grounds. Every so often, she pointed out a spot to Su Mi and reminisced: how she used to love kicking a ball here, climbing trees there…
Su Mi listened attentively, chiming in agreement.
As they chatted, Su Ciyu seemed to grow a bit sentimental anyway.
She let out a faint sigh and, coming to a stop at the swings, unexpectedly took the initiative: “Little Wan… that is, your Aunt Shen, loved sitting on this swing to read the most.”
Su Mi was stunned for a moment.
She suddenly recalled her last encounter with Old Madam Shen.
The rough texture of that hand seemed to linger in her own palm still.
Old Madam Shen had stroked her hand and said something like how Su Ciyu loved swinging on this swing as a child, sitting by the fountain to read.
But from what Su Ciyu was saying, it sounded like Su Ciyu had been the lively, active one growing up, while Shen Shiwan was the quieter type?
She was more inclined to trust her mother’s memories—perhaps Old Madam Shen’s health wasn’t great, and her memory had slipped along with it?
The topic had landed perfectly right here.
Su Mi didn’t hide her curiosity and asked: “What kind of person was Aunt Shen?”
Su Ciyu didn’t answer right away.
She lowered her gaze, grasped the swing’s ropes, and sat down on it.
Su Mi followed suit on the other swing, and the two gently swung for a bit.
Only then did Su Ciyu speak, her tone full of reminiscence: “She was a particularly gentle and kind person.”
Su Mi didn’t rush to break the mood. After a moment, she digested the words herself.
High credibility—judging by the name, the photos, it all lined up.
Su Mi tried a gentler angle: “Was Aunt Shen an Omega? Shen Han took her surname, right?”
In this world, secondary gender seemed to outweigh primary. Like her in the Su Family, following the Alpha Su Ciyu’s surname.
Though plenty of her classmates followed an Omega parent’s surname, or randomly a Beta’s.
But Su Ciyu shook her head: “She was an Alpha.”
Huh.
Su Mi found that genuinely surprising.
She gave it some thought, deciding to ditch her stereotypes.
Shen Han was an Alpha too, and occasionally quite gentle—not every A had to be overbearingly dominant.
She swung her feet, wanting to ask more.
But turning to look at Su Ciyu, the words stuck in her throat.
Su Ciyu had always seemed the picture of a standard Alpha, yet here she was, recalling her friend who passed too young, showing a rare vulnerable side.
Su Mi watched quietly for a moment, thinking it was no wonder Su Ciyu hadn’t come to Southern Garden in ages.
She and Shen Shiwan had grown up together here; of course the familiar sights would stir emotions. Perfectly normal.
Su Mi had no habit of prodding at old wounds. Once Su Ciyu had composed herself, Su Mi softly said: “Mom, want a tissue?”
Su Ciyu smiled and dabbed at the corner of her eye: “No, just feeling a bit sad…”
She trailed off with unspoken words, paused, then continued slowly: “Every year, I can’t help thinking—if during the time she passed, I’d been in Prime City, maybe there wouldn’t have been such regrets.”
After that, Su Ciyu clammed up again. She sighed and said: “I’ll go check my old room. You wander around on your own.”
Su Mi said okay.
She swung idly on the swing for a while, racking her brains, but still couldn’t figure out what regrets Su Ciyu meant.
Southern Garden held no other spots Su Mi cared to visit… except Shen Han’s.
No—that sounded weird.
Su Mi patted her cheeks, shaking off Su Ciyu’s mood, and thought: she needed to go upstairs and check on Shen Han.
What if she was sobbing her heart out?
Su Mi was struck by her own imagination for a second. She hurried back to the car, grabbed two lotus seed pods, then slipped back inside the villa.
The living room stood empty; she had no idea where Secretary Zhuang and the housekeeper had gone—maybe the dining room, judging by the sounds.
Su Mi felt completely at ease now, like returning to her own home as she headed up to the third floor again.
The third floor lay in perfect quiet. Peering down the hall, she spotted a room with the door ajar, spilling a sliver of light.
Su Mi steadied her heartbeat and tiptoed over.
