Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 14

Someone nearby asked in a teasing tone, “Mr. Cheng, who’s this?”
Jiang Zhi’er lifted her gaze quietly.
Only then did she notice the man standing beside Cheng Jingwei—immaculately dressed in a suit and tie, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was playfully mocking, the kind of smirk that seemed deliberately mean-spirited.
She didn’t even know him. So why did he sound so intent on embarrassing her? Jiang Zhi’er silently complained in her heart.
Cheng Jingwei’s lazy reply followed. “A child from home—she’s going through her rebellious phase.”
“…”
Jiang Zhi’er froze, then quickly lowered her head, mortified.
Cheng Jingwei tilted his head slightly toward the man. “I’ll come by later.”
After the man left, Cheng Jingwei reached out, resting a hand on the top of Jiang Zhi’er’s head and pulling her close. His gaze dropped for two seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, in a low voice, he said coldly, “Go wash your face. Come to the private room afterward. I’ll take you home when we’re done here.”
He turned to leave.
Cheng Jiayao, ever the loyal fool, tried to speak up for her. “Second Uncle, Er’er—”
Cheng Jingwei raised a hand and cut him off calmly. “I’ll deal with you later.”
“…”
Cheng Jiayao, usually wild and untamed—someone even his own parents couldn’t control—instantly fell silent. He feared Cheng Jingwei like no one else.
Jiang Zhi’er’s face darkened as she slipped backstage. Borrowing some makeup remover from the bassist’s sister, she looked into the mirror—and froze.
So this was why everyone had been jokingly calling her “Punk Er’er” before the performance.
Her once clean, innocent face was now covered in a soft smoky look: thick eyeliner, gray-violet eyeshadow, and a glossy nude lipstick that shimmered faintly under the lights.
It wasn’t ugly—actually, it was beautiful.
But… it wasn’t her.
And Cheng Jingwei had seen it.
Oh, she wished she could dig a hole and bury herself in it.
The bassist’s sister walked over, beaming. “Well? Looks great, doesn’t it? With skills like mine, if I ever quit bass, I could totally make a living as a makeup artist!”
Jiang Zhi’er looked on the verge of tears.
Just then, Lin Ling rushed in. “Er’er, your Second Uncle—is he Mr. Cheng too? You and A-Yao are really related?”
The bassist gasped. “Seriously?”
They’d all known Jiang Zhi’er and Cheng Jiayao were close, but now it made sense—they must be from the same well-off circle.
“Do you know your Second Uncle, too?”
“Know him? He’s our boss!”
“…Huh?” Jiang Zhi’er blinked in confusion. “Did he invest in your band, too?”
She hadn’t expected that.
“This bar belongs to your Second Uncle,” Lin Ling said. “It’s the most expensive one in all of Nancheng. Didn’t you know? Why else do you think A-Yao brought you here?”
“…”
Jiang Zhi’er turned to see Cheng Jiayao, who was trying very hard to sneak away.
She had refused to take Cheng Jiayao’s money because she didn’t want to use Cheng Jingwei’s funds to buy him a birthday gift. And yet… the salary she earned here came from Cheng Jingwei anyway.
Catching her glare, Cheng Jiayao raised both hands in surrender. “I just thought this place paid better—and since it’s my Second Uncle’s, it’s safe! If I’d taken you to some other bar and got caught, I’d be dead.”
“…”
After all that effort, everything had gone in circles.
The bar was one of Cheng Jingwei’s investments from the previous year. Unlike other nightlife spots filled with frivolity, his was quiet, elegant, and refined. The second floor had private rooms for meetings or business discussions.
With the city’s top bartenders and a renowned resident band, business had flourished since opening night.
Cheng Jingwei walked upstairs and entered a private room.
Xu Zhiyan, who was pouring tea, smiled. “That was quick. I thought you’d be down there scolding her for a while.”
“Hard to scold someone in public,” Cheng Jingwei replied lightly, hanging up his coat.
Xu Zhiyan had known him since childhood; they’d even worked together abroad. In this world of careful masks and hidden motives, theirs was one of the few genuine friendships.
“You’ve never raised a kid before,” Xu Zhiyan said with a laugh. “Ah Wei, a few years ago, I wouldn’t have believed you’d take on a responsibility like that.”
Cheng Jingwei sipped his tea, silent for a while.
“So,” Xu Zhiyan asked, “what’s it like, raising a child?”
“Not bad,” he said at last.
“Really?” Xu Zhiyan raised a brow.
“Besides the generation gap,” Cheng Jingwei sighed, “it’s difficult to understand a young girl’s mind.”
He recalled the sight of Jiang Zhi’er earlier—her heavy makeup and awkward self-consciousness. She’d looked too young for such a look, yet even under the smoky colors, her expression had been pure, innocent, unmistakably herself.
His lips twitched slightly.
Xu Zhiyan chuckled. “Imagine that—something even President Cheng finds hard to figure out.”
A waiter came with the menu.
Thinking of Jiang Zhi’er, Cheng Jingwei didn’t order wine—just a pot of Pu’er tea. Xu Zhiyan ordered a Negroni.
Soon after, there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Jiang Zhi’er stepped in, her makeup gone, her fair face glowing with a soft, rosy tint. Her eyes were clear as lake water, framed by long lashes that trembled faintly. She looked warm, gentle—utterly disarming.
Xu Zhiyan blinked, almost failing to recognize her.
So this was the “rebellious child.” Now he understood why Cheng Jingwei had said raising her wasn’t so bad.
“Come in, come in,” Xu Zhiyan said warmly.
Jiang Zhi’er entered quietly, heart racing, and sat down beside Cheng Jingwei. “Second Uncle,” she said softly.
That coward Cheng Jiayao had, of course, already disappeared.
Cheng Jingwei glanced down at her, noting her guilty expression. His tone was light. “Say hello.”
She looked up, meeting Xu Zhiyan’s amused smile. “Hello… brother.”
Cheng Jingwei arched a brow. “You call me Uncle, but call him brother?”
Jiang Zhi’er started to correct herself, but Xu Zhiyan waved his hands quickly. “Don’t! She can’t call me uncle—I’m not even thirty yet. Let her call me brother, or I’ll sound ancient.”
Jiang Zhi’er didn’t feel like talking. She pressed her lips together in silence.
Tea and wine arrived soon after.
Cheng Jingwei poured her a cup of Pu’er and set it gently before her. “Have you finished your make-up classes?”
“…”
She felt as if she were being roasted alive.
Knowing she couldn’t hide it, she sat up straight and admitted quietly, “I’m sorry, Second Uncle. I lied.”
Xu Zhiyan nearly spat out his drink.
He’d seen all kinds of spoiled young heirs, but never one so earnest in confessing their mistakes.
“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “Your Second Uncle was just teasing you.”
Jiang Zhi’er looked up. Indeed, there was a faint smile in Cheng Jingwei’s eyes—he hadn’t meant to punish her.
“What were you doing here?” he asked.
“Just… having fun.”
“Jiayao brought you?”
She said nothing.
He already knew. Judging by her familiarity with the band, it was obvious.
Still, Cheng Jingwei didn’t press. Kids liked to play. At least she was somewhere safe—his own establishment.
“Have you eaten?”
She shook her head.
“No matter where you go, remember to eat on time,” he said gently. “Skipping meals will ruin your health.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
Watching this, Xu Zhiyan chuckled. “You know, seeing you like this—I almost don’t recognize you. If you told me tomorrow you were getting married and having kids, I might actually believe it.”
The word married made Jiang Zhi’er’s heart tighten.
Cheng Jingwei laughed softly. “One child is already enough of a handful. I’ve no plans for more.”
Her spoon paused midair. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved—or quietly disappointed.
They didn’t stay long. After wrapping up their discussion, the three went downstairs together.
“Where’s Jiayao?” Cheng Jingwei asked.
“He left.”
Cheng Jingwei snorted lightly.
Xu Zhiyan bent down slightly to wave at Jiang Zhi’er. “Goodbye, sister.”
She replied politely, “Goodbye, brother.”
Cheng Jingwei glanced sideways at the exchange.
Even on this street, under the soft glow of city lights, she seemed to stand out—too pure, too lovely.
For the first time, he realized the “child” he’d been raising had quietly grown into someone who could draw every eye.
He had always told himself that youthful romance was harmless—that he’d simply let her learn from her own mistakes, as long as she didn’t go astray.
But when that possibility stood before him now, he found he couldn’t be as detached as he’d imagined.
“Let’s go,” he said softly.
Under the dim streetlights, he reached out and took her hand.
Jiang Zhi’er froze.
His grip was gentle, proper—yet her heart began to race wildly.
They walked side by side, his long strides forcing her to keep up, her pulse quickening with every step.
When they reached the car, he opened the passenger door for her, then went around to the driver’s side. He fastened his seatbelt, his long, elegant fingers resting on the steering wheel. A hint of his watch gleamed beneath his cuff.
She couldn’t look away.
Then came his sudden question—so unexpected she nearly choked on her breath.
“Are you and Jiayao dating?”
Jiang Zhi’er coughed violently, face turning crimson. She waved her hands desperately. “No!”
Cheng Jingwei stopped calmly at a red light and patted her back.
“Of course not,” she gasped. “He just said that because he saw you walk in!”
“Really?”
“Really!” Her eyes were wide, shimmering with sincerity.
Cheng Jingwei smiled faintly. “That’s good.”
That’s good.
He didn’t want her to fall in love either.
But hadn’t he said before that he didn’t mind if she did?
“Second Uncle.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you not want me to fall in love?” she asked quietly.
She didn’t even know why she was asking—or what answer she hoped for.
“Er’er,” he said softly, “you’re only sixteen.”
“Sixteen isn’t that young. I’m already sixteen and a half.”
Cheng Jingwei chuckled. He’d only ever heard little children count “half” years before.
“When you’re older, you’ll wish to be younger,” he said.
She pouted under her breath. “I wouldn’t.”
“Er’er,” he said gently, “I’m not forbidding you. If you really met someone you liked, I wouldn’t stop you. But Jiayao—he’s different.”
“Why?”
She remembered the mocking voices at her grandmother’s funeral—people whispering that if she managed to hook up with Cheng Jiayao, she’d never have to worry about her future.
Was that what he thought, too? That she wasn’t worthy?
“If it’s Jiayao, I’d have to stop it,” he said calmly. “Because you’re my child now.”
Jiang Zhi’er froze.
His gaze was steady on the road ahead, the car gliding silently through the city lights.
“If I were only Jiayao’s uncle, it wouldn’t matter to me who he dated. But now… I’m also your guardian. If there’s a wall ahead, Er’er, I should warn you before you crash into it.”
He smiled faintly. “I know my nephew’s temperament too well. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Jiang Zhi’er’s hands curled tightly into fists.
Her heart trembled as she whispered, “Would you care who my boyfriend is in the future?”
“Only to make sure he’s decent,” he said casually.
She bit her lip, summoning her courage.
“Then,” she asked carefully, her voice almost a whisper, “would he have to be someone really, really good… like you, Second Uncle?”
He looked at her, slightly startled, then laughed under his breath. “Like me?”
He wanted to tell her she didn’t know what kind of man he really was—that beneath the calm exterior lay ruthlessness and control.
But seeing her young, hopeful face, he swallowed the words and only said lightly:
“If Er’er ever finds a man as old as me one day, I might actually have to step in and break you up.”