Chapter 29: Change of Place, Change of Mood

Lu Yixue carried a bag of colorful pastries home.

In the villa’s small courtyard, Lu Mingzhu chased butterflies, while Gao Ye’an sat nearby watching.

Hearing the car, Lu Mingzhu immediately abandoned the butterfly she’d just caught, dropped her net pole, and ran toward Lu Yixue. “Mommy, you’re home so early today~”

“Mm, less work today.” Lu Yixue picked up the child and touched foreheads with her.

She was heavy; Lu Yixue’s arms quickly grew sore.

“Mommy, why’d you buy green bean cakes again?” The sensible little one finished cuddling and asked to be put down after spotting the flashy bag. “The ones from this morning weren’t good!”

Lu Yixue hooked the corner of her lip. “So, one more chance. If they’re still bad, we won’t buy them again.”

“Right! Teacher said there’s one-one, two-two, but no three-three, four-four.” Lu Mingzhu mimicked a profound expression, but her chubby little face made everything look cute.

Lu Yixue gently pinched her soft cheek. The child’s skin was smooth and delicate to the touch, unlike…

Her movement paused as Pei Shijin’s face flashed in her mind again, irritating her.

But no one noticed her mood. Lu Yixue closed her eyes briefly and pushed the wandering thoughts aside.

She set down the pastries, picked up Lu Mingzhu’s discarded net pole. “Catching butterflies? Mommy will play with Mingzhu.”

“Yay!”

At the dinner table that evening, Lu Yixue’s green bean cakes were served.

Gao Ye’an took the first piece.

“Grandma, Grandma, is it good?” Lu Mingzhu asked.

Gao Ye’an nodded. “Not bad.”

Soft, glutinous, sweet, with a fresh fragrance that wasn’t cloying.

Lu Mingzhu eagerly leaned over for a bite, then scrunched her face. “But it’s still not as good as before.”

The old cakes had a special scent she loved.

Lu Yixue nodded. “We’ll switch shops from now on.”

Lu Mingzhu glanced at the pretty bag, nodded reluctantly, hoping the new place had pretty bags too.

During storytime, Lu Mingzhu mentioned the green bean cakes to Pei Shijin. “Mama, the ones Gao Grandma and Mommy bought aren’t as good as yours~”

Pei Shijin paused, then laughed. “Then Mama will buy some for you, okay?”

In her over twenty years of life, the green bean cakes she’d made got the most praise. Pei Shijin wondered if she had a talent for cooking.

But secretly making them forever wasn’t practical. She considered handing the recipe to the Lu Family chefs.

That way, she wouldn’t expose herself, and Little Mingzhu could enjoy them.

After much thought, Pei Shijin bought a Chinese pastry cookbook and swapped the green bean cake page with her own recipe.

Compared to most market versions, hers just had three secret ingredients.

She spent three days perfecting the book to make it seamless.

Once done, she mailed it to Lu Mingzhu at kindergarten.

The teacher handed the cookbook to Lu Mingzhu.

She’d expected tasty cakes, but it was just a book—no magic box. Little Mingzhu was baffled.

Did Mama want her to make them? But… Mingzhu couldn’t read all the characters yet.

She’d ask during video call. Little Mingzhu stuffed the book in her bag and went back to class.

After returning home and doing homework, Gao Ye’an tidied her bag and found the cookbook. “From your mama?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lu Mingzhu nodded while writing homework. “Mama clearly said she’d buy green bean cakes. Why’d it turn into a book?”

Gao Ye’an thought for a moment, then called the chef to make some according to the recipe.

So, when Lu Yixue came home for dinner, green bean cakes appeared on the table again.

Lu Yixue didn’t reach for one first. Instead, Lu Mingzhu enthusiastically recommended, “Mommy, these are the good ones~”

The green bean cakes looked plain—square and undecorated.

Lu Yixue had no preference for appearances. She took one and bit off a small piece. It was familiar, yet slightly off.

“Where’d they come from?”

“Auntie Chef made them~” Lu Mingzhu giggled. “Good, right~”

“Why would the family chef suddenly make green bean cakes?” After high school, Lu Yixue no longer had “Zheng Xiaoshi” trailing her, so she hadn’t tasted those homemade ones again.

She’d once had the family chef try; they couldn’t replicate the flavor.

After all these years, had they suddenly figured it out?

“She got a new cookbook,” Gao Ye’an said. “Lots of varieties. She’ll make them for you all gradually.”

Lu Yixue didn’t press further.

Even if she investigated, the recipe would trace back to Pei Shijin.

If Pei Shijin truly stayed away, Lu Yixue wouldn’t dwell on past deceptions and schemes.

After dinner, half an hour later, Lu Yixue took her heat-clearing medicine.

Perhaps she’d built tolerance, because that night, she dreamed of Pei Shijin again.

In the dream, Pei Shijin finally wore the familiar qipao, but with a big-eared dog apron—elegant and virtuous with a touch of playful cuteness.

Lu Yixue sat at the table. As Pei Shijin served dishes, she coldly shook her head. “Don’t want it.”

For every dish Pei Shijin brought, “Lu Yixue” shook her head, like a picky tyrant.

Poor Pei Shijin’s eyes reddened. Finally, she brought a huge platter. “Since nothing pleases you, you’ll have to eat me.”

With a blink, the qipao and apron shredded into strips, adorning her sprawled jade body.

The wicked guest “Lu Yixue” finally smiled in satisfaction.

“Hah~ Hah~” Lu Yixue jolted awake in fright. She sat up abruptly, amber eyes filled with shock and confusion.

Why such a dream?

She had no pica, no such desperation.

Yet the air around her was thick with spring orchid fragrance.

Lu Yixue rubbed her brow. It was only 2 a.m.

She fetched a glass of warm water outside. Once the dream sensations faded, she returned to bed and slept on the other side.

That side was near the window, prone to night chills.

The inner side wasn’t much better. Woken by the alarm, Lu Yixue was mid-dream.

The abrupt cutoff blurred dream and reality. She lay in bed for twenty minutes to recover.

Exhausted, Lu Yixue felt like she’d run five kilometers in her sleep.

Guan Yueying, at the Research Institute for inhibitors, nearly dropped her jaw seeing Lu Yixue. “Did you murder someone or set a fire last night? Such heavy dark circles.”

Lu Yixue’s skin was fair and delicate, cheeks usually pale pink. Today, she was ghostly white with huge under-eye circles—like a vampire.

“Nightmare.” Lu Yixue seemed to grind her molars; Guan Yueying wasn’t sure.

She didn’t know her friend had suffered this for a while, only calmed by medicine, but last night was worse.

“What nightmare? The kidnapping?” Guan Yueying couldn’t imagine what could scare Lu Yixue, who seemed omnipotent.

“No.” Lu Yixue said firmly, but wouldn’t elaborate. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. No need for personal attacks.” Guan Yueying grumbled. “Too much work lately? Too tense? Come travel with me. Change of place, change of mood.”

Lu Yixue refused coldly. “No time.”

The next morning, Guan Yueying and Lu Yixue were at the airport.

Guan Yueying grinned. “See? You ended up coming with me.”

“I’m here on business,” Lu Yixue said flatly.

“La la la, turtle chanting scriptures.” Guan Yueying laughed wildly.

Her assistant nearby stifled a laugh.

Yesterday, Guan Yueying suggested changing places for a mood change; Lu Yixue wasn’t into tourism. But Lu Lingjiang assigned her a business trip, so she agreed.

Coincidentally, same destination: Pearl City.

Two-hour flight. Lu Yixue donned headphones and pulled out her laptop upon boarding. No urgent work, but learning never stopped; she could enrich herself.

Guan Yueying: …

As expected of the overachiever. Guan Yueying could only admire.

She chatted with Lu Yixue’s assistant via text, hoping for gossip.

But the assistant, temporarily assigned by Lu Lingjiang, was tight-lipped and knew little about Lu Yixue. Guan Yueying learned nothing.

Like that insomnia-causing nightmare.

Off the plane, the local branch manager waited.

In the car, Lu Yixue propped her elbow on the window, hand supporting her head, the other rubbing the bridge of her nose to ease fatigue.

Through the window, a bus passed.

A red-background, gold-letter banner caught her eye: “18th Pearl River Delta Qihuang Forum.”

The green bus with red banner looked ugly. Lu Yixue glanced once, then closed her eyes to rest.

She didn’t see Pei Shijin in the same pose by the bus window, checking her phone.

Pei Shijin attended the Qihuang Forum. The clinic was slow, and the academic secretary notified her of changed graduation rules: she needed one academic activity credit from a conference to graduate.

Previously, five lectures and reflections sufficed.

Pei Shijin had written them; now worthless.

She cursed the school but complied for graduation. Pearl City’s forum was perfect for credits.

Neither expected to meet in this city, in such a familiar scene.

The branch manager dropped Lu Yixue’s group at the Lu Corporation hotel, presidential suite.

After setting tomorrow’s pickup, the manager left.

Guan Yueying flopped onto the balcony daybed. “That flight killed my back. Beds are best.”

“You lack exercise,” Lu Yixue stated flatly.

Before Guan Yueying could snap back, Lu Yixue dragged her clean suitcase into a random room.

She drew the curtains: no view, just another window a meter away.

“Swish”—curtains closed again.

The suite had five bedrooms; this one apparently faced another building.

But she’d entered, so no need to switch.

She unpacked, showered, and prepared to nap.

As Lu Yixue emerged from the bathroom, knocking sounded. “Come in.”

“Brought you something good.” Guan Yueying entered with an incense burner. “Calming Incense.”

“Thanks, set it there.” Lu Yixue pointed to the bedside table.

“Sleep well. I’ll take you out later.” Guan Yueying set it down and left.

Soon, the scent reached Lu Yixue’s nose. She sniffed lightly—not great.

But in bed, drowsiness hit fast. She fell into deep sleep.

Shortly after, in the opposite window’s room, someone drew the curtains.

Seeing the facing window, Pei Shijin chuckled.

Her original room’s sink was broken. Front desk offered a free upgrade without mentioning repairs.

So that’s it. She’d heard of Southern “handshake buildings,” first time seeing one.

Just four nights; Pei Shijin wasn’t picky as long as she could sleep.

She left the curtains open. High floor, sunlight streamed in.