Volume One, Chapter 20: The Leading Man in a Spring Dream

When she saw the license plate from the capital city, Shen Zhaowu was momentarily stunned, fragments of her dream surfacing in her mind at the most inappropriate time. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those shameful images. The thought that she might see Zhou Jingdu again made her want to flee. In her past life, hadn’t her three brothers bound her and sent her off to the Zhou family? How could Zhou Jingdu show up in Haicheng, let alone in her home?

As soon as this idea arose, she dismissed it. Zhou Jingdu, with his violent and reclusive temperament, rarely showed his face; during her three years at the Zhou household, she could count on one hand the times she’d seen him. How could he possibly appear at the Shen residence?

Anxiously, Shen Zhaowu stepped inside. The living room was so silent that a pin drop would have been thunderous; only Jiang Yao hid behind Shen Hanchuan, softly sobbing. Shattered teacups littered the floor.

Yue Zhi, seeing Shen Zhaowu’s face, paused in surprise—he recognized her as the young woman harassed by Guang Laiqian at Blue Sea Bar. He still could not fathom why, but that day his master had actually asked about the events at the bar. Yue Zhi had reported everything, down to how he’d dealt with the scoundrel. His master had said nothing more, but Yue Zhi sensed something was different, though he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Not seeing the man from her dream finally allowed Shen Zhaowu to breathe; the weight on her chest eased, and a faint smile appeared. “Why do you both look so grim, big brother, second brother? What’s happened?”

Seeing Yue Zhi, she could already guess what was going on. Likely, her brothers had made the same choice as in her last life: make her take the blame for Jiang Yao.

Sure enough, when their sister returned, Shen Hanchuan turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look, and with some struggle, said, “This is my sister, Shen Zhaowu. She made a mistake. Though we are her family, we can’t blindly shield her. Take her away.”

“But—” Shen Hanchuan stood protectively in front of Jiang Yao, the picture of a good brother. “The Zhou family must not target my brother’s company anymore, nor trouble A-Yao! Otherwise, I won’t let it go!”

Yue Zhi’s lips twitched. He wasn’t that idle, honestly... No one understood better than Yue Zhi how much his master cherished that painting—whoever destroyed that painting would be destroyed in turn. His gaze, tinged with pity, landed on Shen Zhaowu. Such beauty—what a waste. His master would never spare her just because of her looks.

Expressionless, he asked, “Are you sure you’ve got the right person?”

Shen Zhaowu stood quietly, her delicate and beautiful face pale and tranquil, as if she’d expected all this—she accepted it with calm, almost knowing grace. She didn’t even protest.

She was slender, pale-skinned, her body not much sturdier than Jiang Yao’s. Suddenly, Shen Yanzhou felt a stab of pain in his heart, thinking of little Chaochao at three, with her pigtails, pouting and cuddling up, coaxing her big brother to hold her. That tiny, soft body had grown up so quickly. After their parents died, Shen Yanzhou buried himself in work to escape his grief, never noticing when his cheerful, lively little sister had become so quiet. So quiet that it hurt to see.

It struck him, horrifyingly, that for the sake of an outsider, he was sending his own sister away, to be at the mercy of others!

He frowned. “No, it’s not...” It wasn’t Chaochao. The one at fault wasn’t Chaochao...

Yue Zhi looked at him. “Not what?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shen Yanzhou saw Jiang Yao’s tearful, pleading gaze—innocent as a deer, filled with fear and anxiety. The Zhou family’s young master was infamous for cruelty; who knew what coldness and abuse awaited Yao Yao at their hands?

Shen Yanzhou hesitated, then chose silence. “It’s nothing.”

A faint glimmer appeared in Shen Zhaowu’s eyes, like a dying ember in the wind, only to be snuffed out, crushing the last trace of hope. She had always been waiting.

In her past life, she waited three years in the Zhou household for her brothers to bring her home, only for nothing. When she was tormented by kidnappers, she waited for her brothers to save her—she waited for death.

Reborn, she had resigned herself to the day her brothers would cast her out again. But why? Why should she leave her fate in someone else’s hands?

She could sever family ties too.

Shen Zhaowu smiled, never sparing her brothers another glance. She said to Yue Zhi, “I’ll go with you.”

Yue Zhi, unable to help himself, said, “There’s no rush... perhaps you want to say goodbye to your family?”

If his young master became displeased and tossed the girl to Africa to feed the lions, that would be too cruel—she would not even see her family one last time. Not that this family was worth much, Yue Zhi thought privately.

“Let’s go.” Shen Zhaowu turned and left. Behind her, Shen Hanchuan pressed his thin lips together. “Chaochao, if you miss your second brother, call me. I’ll always be there.”

The words made Shen Zhaowu sick. She glanced back.

Standing in the glaring light, her long hair curled like seaweed, strands brushing her exquisitely bright face, her profile was almost unearthly in its beauty. “Don’t disgust me.”

A sharp pain shot through Shen Hanchuan’s chest. He gritted his teeth, spitting out, “Fine! Even if you die out there, don’t expect me to collect your body!”

No brother should ever say such venomous words to his sister. At least, Shen Zhaowu had never seen it.

She only murmured “mm,” so quietly that her next words—“I have no brothers anymore”—were lost to the wind.

Shen Hanchuan didn’t hear her. But at that moment, a panic seized him, as if he’d lost something essential—utterly and irretrievably.

With a lost hand pressed to his heart, he looked up, but Shen Zhaowu had already vanished. He clenched his fists. “Big brother, I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

Shen Yanzhou gave him a long look and said nothing. In truth, he didn’t know. The Zhou family had connections in Haicheng; even Jin Yao’s father was distantly related to Old Master Zhou—someone Shen Yanzhou couldn’t afford to offend. “Let’s hope we weren’t wrong.”

He wasn’t sure if he was comforting Shen Hanchuan or himself.

Yue Zhi took Shen Zhaowu back to the mansion and left.

Shen Zhaowu stood in the study, horrified to realize that this was exactly the scene from her dream!

Thank goodness Zhou Jingdu didn’t know she’d dreamed of him as the leading man; with his cold, vindictive nature, if he ever learned of it, it would be a miracle if she survived in one piece.

Her scalp prickled with fear; even the despair of being abandoned by her brothers faded in comparison. She’d better focus on how to survive under the watchful eyes of that cripple in the wheelchair...

Shen Zhaowu exhaled slowly, mustering her courage to study Zhou Jingdu’s office.

The study was done in a cold, black palette. Priceless scrolls of Chinese painting hung on the walls, and even the fountain pen left carelessly on the desk exuded an aura of wealth.

Zhou Jingdu’s possessions had two traits: they were of the finest quality, and they were expensive.

A low, emotionless voice sounded behind her. “What are you staring at on that desk?”