Chapter 79: Dialing the Phone of Longing Part 1

In recent days, the Hong Kong-Macau media had been eagerly reporting on Jin Xiting’s affair with a lover outside his circle, complete with paparazzi shots of a man and woman entering and leaving places together.

Though the images were blurry, Jin Xiting’s distinctive face was still recognizable.

The earlier media hype portraying the Jing family daughter and Jin Xiting as a perfect golden couple had sunk without a trace. What was once buzzing online now stung with every slap in the face.

Both of them knew that on the surface, they were just actors playing the role of “couple,” and all those flying press releases had been bought by Jin Xiting’s uncle.

“Just a couple of days ago, your uncle was jumping up and down in front of the media, claiming you were pure and upright, with no chance of keeping a woman on the side.” Jing Yan’s cold eyes layered under the light as she let out a disdainful chuckle. “If you love sneaking around so much, then don’t go ruining other young girls.”

The man standing before her didn’t get annoyed at her words. Instead, he smiled playfully. “What if I told you I’m serious about her? Would you believe me?”

Jing Yan snorted lightly, her tone icy. “If you like someone else, instead of flapping your gums here, why not actually do something about it?”

“If the engagement is called off, the casino shares the Jin family gives to the Jing family might be pitifully few. How will you explain that to your dad?”

Jing Yan sipped her red wine, her amber eyes shimmering. “That’s not for you to worry about.”

The Jing family’s businesses were rare in Hong Kong-Macau; most were on the mainland. Jing Taihong wanted to extend his reach, so he thought of the Jin family.

For one, his daughter was of marriageable age. For another, it would bolster the Jing family’s other industries and pave the way for a brighter future. It was truly a win-win.

But Jing Taihong’s four older sons were grown, and the family businesses were mostly managed by Jing Eldest. His fourth son bore a grudge from his second marriage, while the wives of Jing Er and Jing Third were entrenched in the entertainment industry. They seemed uninterested in fighting for the inheritance, but in reality, they were just waiting for him to die so they could divvy it up. And Jing Fuxin was a ticking time bomb at any moment.

Jing Ming liked men. Though he studied architectural engineering, his heart wasn’t in business, which gave Jing Taihong endless headaches.

It was as if heaven was playing a joke on him—Jing Yan met every expectation from start to finish, yet she turned out to be gay too.

Jing Taihong began questioning life itself, wondering if there was something wrong with the family ancestral grave.

Lately, he had been spending time alone in the Jing Family Estate ancestral hall, gazing at the ancestral tablets, praying to the gods and Buddhas while muttering to the ancestors below.

The antique estate complex was laid out in five directions—southeast, northwest, and center—with the grandest southern Nanyuan residence being the most magnificent and spacious. The other directional compounds, also sizable, clustered nearby, embracing the mountains and waters.

Jing Yan walked past the dripping eaves of slate tiles, through an inky landscape miniature waterfall, along a dark stone path, and finally arrived before a row of wooden doors. A man in a suit gently pushed open the door panels for her.

Jing Taihong knelt on a cushion, hands clasped around a thin incense stick, murmuring prayers. Smoke wafted upward from above his head. Jing Yan stopped behind him and called out, “Dad.”

Seeing him struggle to stand, she stepped forward to help him up, watching calmly as he inserted the incense into the golden censer.

Jing Taihong turned slowly, his gaze settling on her. “You’re back. Why didn’t you tell the family? I could’ve had them prepare a meal in advance.”

Jing Yan shook her head. “I’ll skip the meal.”

She helped him to a chair and sat him down. Jing Taihong asked, “Have you heard about the recent stir with the Jin family?”

“I have.” Jing Taihong knew everything, and with the Hong Kong-Macau media blanketing the scandal about Jin Xiting, he could’ve guessed the man’s character with his eyes closed.

That photo of the man and woman arm-in-arm was hard to misinterpret.

After much contemplation, Jing Taihong said, “Lately, I’ll have someone negotiate the cancellation of your engagement with the Jin family.”

Upon hearing this, a flicker of joyful brightness flashed in Jing Yan’s eyes, but she quickly suppressed it, fearing he’d notice.

“Did you arrange it?”

Jing Taihong asked her directly.

Jing Yan stuck to denial, playing dumb. “What do you mean, Dad?”

Jing Taihong chuckled lightly. “Truth be told, the coastal ventures are just icing on the cake for the Jing family—casinos, fisheries, whatever. All I want is for the Jing family to thrive for a century without worry.”

These were the foundations he had built from nothing through blood, sweat, and tears. Even after he was in the ground, he didn’t want to see his descendants destroy the roots.

Jing Taihong stood, and though Jing Yan moved to help, he waved her off. Someone from outside stepped in to assist. She just watched his aging, frail figure pause in place.

What Jing Taihong had just implied was clear: he knew how the Jin family storm had started. Jing Yan had planned to approach him first about dissolving the engagement, but he’d preempted her.

She still couldn’t fathom why Jing Taihong had tricked her into going to Macau back then—to help seal a capital deal between the families. That’s when the media caught her entering and leaving the Jin family casino with Jin Xiting. After the Hong Kong-Macau hype, the fake became real through endless reports.

It was all a setup, blocking her path completely. Everyone was pressuring her.

Her father was obsessed with expanding the businesses. Her mother’s intentions were inscrutable, and Jing Yan wasn’t sure if he knew about that past incident. But her mother wielded it like a weapon, tormenting everyone.

Threatening her, forcing her into a life apart from Dan Wuyan. Leaving her unable to face ignoring the other woman’s feelings.

_

Over the two days Dan Wuyan recuperated in the Hong Kong hospital, Julia bustled about, worried the water was too hot or the food too hard—and most of all, terrified of a call about Ji Fan’s death.

Fortunately, no death knell rang.

Her temperature dropped, and the stomach pain improved markedly. Dan Wuyan discussed discharge with her attending physician, who gave some instructions, and then Julia handled the paperwork.

Work awaited her. Regaining her strength, Dan Wuyan flew back to Switzerland without pause.

The massive company couldn’t go leaderless. Ji Fan’s return was uncertain; last she’d heard, she hadn’t even been officially transferred back, making her arrival date indefinite.

Since the Jin family breached first, the Jing family proposed dissolving the engagement. But the Jin family had a condition: no media involvement; settle it privately.

Jing Taihong wasn’t inflexible, so he agreed. In exchange, the Jin family compensated for emotional distress, reputational damage, and more.

They transferred a portion of casino shares to the Jing family, and the matter was finally settled.

With the arranged marriage resolved, Jing Yan removed the ring in front of Jing’s Mother, placed it back in the jewelry box, and pushed it toward her. “Could I trouble Mom to return this to the Jin family for me?”

A flicker of displeasure crossed the woman’s face before she smoothed it over, her voice cold. “Looks like Jing Taihong really has gone senile to agree to this.”

Jing Yan glanced at her but said nothing more, turning to leave. The voice from behind stopped her. “If you’re going to find her, I won’t stop you. But you should know the consequences better than I do.”

The words were another reminder not to provoke Dan Wuyan again. Dim light gathered under Jing Yan’s long lashes as she strode away in her high heels.

.

Back in Switzerland, Dan Wuyan’s days remained a straight line between work and home.

Ji Fan called with news.

“How about Hong Kong? If Deep Color wants to enter the automotive manufacturing sector, it’s not impossible. Let’s discuss it with the board next Monday.”

“You’re coming back?” Dan Wuyan stood by the window, phone in hand.

Ji Fan laughed. “What’s this? You miss me?”

Dan Wuyan replied, “Not at all.”

Ji Fan turned serious. “The news is reporting a few pneumonia cases lately. Be careful in Switzerland.”

Dan Wuyan paused. “You and President Fu stay safe too.”

Ji Fan was busy; after a couple sentences, she hung up hastily. Dan Wuyan belatedly moved her lips, wanting to ask how she was doing.

Wearing slippers, Dan Wuyan walked to the wall calendar, tore off the top page, and crumpled it into the trash. It was already December; two more months until the New Year.

She leaned against the kitchen island, propping herself on her wrists, sipping hot water with one hand. Suddenly remembering, she pulled out her gastritis meds and swallowed them with the water.

Seeing it was late, Dan Wuyan got into bed. The spacious room had minimalist furniture; the black-and-white decor amplified the loneliness.

She half-sat against the headboard, picking up the modern literature book written by her grandmother that she and Jing Yan had read together. She hadn’t flipped through much before exhaustion overtook her, and she dozed off against the pillows.

Lately, pneumonia rumors had been rampant online. Officials urged the public to take personal precautions and wash hands frequently in public places.

Fengcheng’s PR and planning department posted a tutorial video on the seven-step handwashing method on the company channel, featuring Jing Yan as the instructor.

After all, she was a top graduate from Harvard Medical School, so they trusted her expertise.

The video, once uploaded, hit 100,000 views in under an hour, shocking the PR team.

With the ventilator launch successful, progress on coronary heart disease and other projects underway, the year-end rush, and pneumonia panic online, Jing Yan was scarce in the office as she helped PR with protective videos.

Dan Wuyan spotted Jing Yan’s popular science video on the platform too. While working, she let the familiar voice play from her phone, over and over…

·

Her mother showing up was only a matter of time.

But she hadn’t expected it to be that morning in the cafe downstairs from Fengcheng.

Ji Fan knew Fu Lianzhi didn’t like sweets, so after ordering her a coffee, she got two strawberry cakes and pushed one over. “President Fu, try this? It’s the new item here.”