Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 19

Cheng Jiayao snapped out of his impulsive madness the moment he heard Cheng Jingwei’s voice.
He had been half-kneeling, but now, startled, he dropped fully to his knees. The rose slipped from his arms, nearly falling to the floor.
He looked at the phone blankly, then turned to Jiang Zhier. Silently, with just his lips moving, he asked: When did the call start?
“…It’s been on the whole time.”
Cheng Jingwei understood and spoke directly:
“Cheng Jiayao, answer the call.”
He even used his full name.
“…”
Cheng Jiayao didn’t know why he suddenly felt afraid — afraid to pick up. Maybe because he knew he was being an idiot. If he dared behave this way toward Jiang Zhier, his second uncle would be furious.
He was the Cheng family’s unruly eldest son. His parents couldn’t control him — but his second uncle? That was a different story.
Still kneeling, Cheng Jiayao sat upright, respectfully reaching to retrieve the dropped phone.
Out of courtesy, Jiang Zhier stepped aside, avoiding what felt like a formal bow.
Cheng Jiayao drew a deep breath.
“…Second Uncle.”
“Who in the Cheng family taught you to break into a girl’s house this late at night?”
“…No one.”
“Then why did you confess to Er’er?”
Even someone as shameless as Cheng Jiayao struggled to stay calm discussing such a thing with an elder. Scratching the back of his head, he mumbled awkwardly,
“Second Uncle… I confessed because I like Er’er. Otherwise, why would I joke around with my sister like that?”
The man’s laugh was cold.
“You know she’s your sister.”
“…”
Jiang Zhier closed her eyes, lifted her chin slightly, and took a long breath.
What on earth was happening?
Just moments ago, she was contemplating how to hide this from Cheng Jingwei — and now her private girlish emotions had been exposed and crushed before they could even bloom. Peace? That concept no longer existed.
“No… She’s not my biological sister,” Cheng Jiayao protested. “Liking her isn’t incest — it just means our relationship could be closer!”
“…”
Incest.
A closer relationship.
His wording was so ridiculous that Jiang Zhier almost blacked out on the spot.
She lunged to grab the phone and end this disaster, but the man’s voice came again — stern, authoritative:
“Fine then. Tell me — what exactly do you like about her?”
Cheng Jiayao glanced toward Jiang Zhier.
What did he like about her?
He had never given it much thought. He changed girlfriends so quickly there was never time to think — it was always just surface attraction. But Jiang Zhier was different. She was the one he never planned to get involved with — yet he couldn’t help but keep talking to her.
“Second Uncle,” he said helplessly, “this is between us. Telling you I like her doesn’t prove anything.”
“If you say you want to pursue her, then you need to convince me first.”
This time, the meaning hit him clearly —
If you want permission to pursue my girl, show your sincerity.
So, still kneeling upright, hands pressed to his thighs like he was being formally interviewed, he began:
“I think Er’er is different from any girl I’ve ever met. I can’t explain what’s different — she’s just… captivating. From the first time I took her racing, to later discovering she can play the drums — I’ve always found her interesting. And she’s also very, very beautiful. I will definitely treat her well!”
Seeing Cheng Jiayao pledging loyalty to Cheng Jingwei of all people, Jiang Zhier no longer knew whether to laugh or cry.
Everything was a complete mess.
“I heard your dad plans to send you abroad after the college entrance exam?” Cheng Jingwei asked suddenly.
“Huh? Yes,” Cheng Jiayao replied. “But I’ve already decided — I’ll convince him to let me stay another year—”
Before he could finish, a crisp metallic click sounded — the flick of a lighter from the other end.
The sharp noise in the quiet stopped Cheng Jiayao mid-sentence.
After handling this chaos in the middle of the night, Cheng Jingwei’s voice carried exhaustion as he exhaled a slow breath of smoke. “Seems I’ll need to tell your father to send you abroad even sooner.”
Cheng Jiayao was stunned speechless.
Reclining on the sofa, eyes on the slowly awakening city outside his floor-to-ceiling window, Cheng Jingwei spoke calmly, “Jiayao, you can’t pursue Er’er. Not as long as I have a say in the matter.”
His tone was warm, composed — and absolute.
“Why? Based on what?!”
Cheng Jiayao genuinely didn’t understand.
Growing up with the world revolving around him had given him a dangerous illusion — that being the Cheng family’s favored young master made him inherently desirable. People should be proud to be with him. When had he ever been denied anything?
“What exactly do you think qualifies you to be with Er’er?” Cheng Jingwei asked. “Just because your surname is Cheng?”
Cheng Jiayao fell silent.
Because the truth stung — that was what he thought. He was Cheng Jiayao. He was enough for most girls. Why wouldn’t he be enough for her?
Cheng Jingwei let out a quiet laugh and spoke with calm clarity.
“Jiayao, that is the thing that means the least to me.”
“If you hadn’t been born into the Cheng family, you’d just be a handsome troublemaker on the streets. You wouldn’t have the chance to gild yourself by studying abroad, and you certainly wouldn’t have met Zhier.”
“I asked what you liked about her, and you told me she’s interesting and beautiful — the most superficial traits. Anyone can see those. That’s not enough to make her the only one you like.”
He continued, his tone steady,
“I’ve never interfered with how you’ve lived. I’ve never opposed your wasteful hobbies because you are a Cheng. But if you want to be with Zhier — absolutely not. Because she is the little girl of my family.”
It was rare for Cheng Jingwei to speak at such length.
Cheng Jiayao was stunned.
But he couldn’t argue — not against this.
In the end, he still listened. After a long pause, he asked quietly,
“What if I change?”
A soft chuckle.
“So your head’s cooled off now?”
Cheng Jiayao pressed his lips together, unable to refute it.
“Change first. Then we’ll talk,” Cheng Jingwei said.
“And more importantly, it’s Zhier who gets the final say.”
After a few more words, Cheng Jingwei instructed someone to bring Jiayao home and warned him not to disturb the girl’s rest again.
Before leaving, Jiayao left the roses behind. He handed them to Aunt Chu, asking her to find a vase. At the door, he glanced back at Jiang Zhier — clearly wanting to say more — but in the end, he only managed a quiet:
“Good night.”
Then he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Jiang Zhier remained frozen for a few seconds, only returning to herself when Aunt Chu said she would fetch a vase.
She looked down — the call was still connected.
Cheng Jingwei hadn’t hung up.
Jiang Zhier lifted the phone again, pressing it to her ear. Tentatively, she called out,
“Second Uncle?”
“Jiayao’s gone?”
“Yeah.”
“You heard everything I said just now, didn’t you?”
“…Yeah.”
“If you like Cheng Jiayao, I won’t approve.”
Jiang Zhier’s eyes flew wide open. She immediately denied it, flustered,
“I don’t like him. He’s not the one I like!”
She held her breath — and silence stretched across the line.
Her heartbeat was the only sound she could hear.
After a moment, Cheng Jingwei asked, his voice lower, almost intrigued,
“So you do like someone?”
“… ”
“A classmate?”
“…No.”
“Then who is it?”
“… ”
Still, she didn’t speak.
A soft chuckle came through the receiver.
“I told you, as long as he’s a decent person, Second Uncle isn’t the old-fashioned type who forbids early romance.”
Even if, ever since he began to truly care about her, he found himself becoming impossibly picky about whoever might stand by her side.
But in truth, Cheng Jingwei saw himself as fairly open-minded — definitely not the type to tear apart two people for no reason.
Jiang Zhier puffed her cheeks slightly and murmured,
“I’m just scared you’ll scold me.”
Cheng Jingwei raised an eyebrow.
“Zhier, the way you’re saying that… is the person you like so shameful?”
“…”
You’re shameful.
You’re the shameful one.
She screamed it in her heart.
But despite her internal indignation, she didn’t dare voice even a fraction of it. In the end, she could only whisper weakly,
“Can I… not say who it is yet?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t push further. Instead, he added,
“Just remember one thing — no one is worth you wronging yourself for.”
—
In the days that followed, Jiang Zhier didn’t call Cheng Jingwei again.
He was buried beneath an overwhelming workload.
Rumors surrounding Chengzhen Group grew increasingly outrageous. People mocked that “wealth never lasts beyond three generations,” claiming that Cheng Jingwei was too young, too academic, and that the company would inevitably start to crumble under his leadership.
Chengzhen Group had gone public through its iconic hotel business, later expanding into venture capital. With an iron-strong financial foundation, it branched into real estate, technology, healthcare, dining, and media — its influence stretching around the world. If one pillar wavered, it would set off a global chain reaction. Malicious speculation and attacks poured in like a tidal wave.
Yet Cheng Jingwei didn’t make a single public statement.
Everyone assumed it was because he lacked the capability — that he had already been crushed by responsibility.
At school, people began looking at Jiang Zhier with a mix of curiosity, mockery, and pity.
But Jiang Zhier was never anxious.
She believed without a doubt that Cheng Jingwei would reverse the situation.
She knew his silence never meant retreat — it meant he was racing against time to stabilize the corporation by his own hands.
He wouldn’t cover things up. He wouldn’t hide.
He would overturn everything openly and decisively.
…
On the twelfth day in California, Cheng Jingwei finally boarded a plane home.
Inside the spacious cabin of the private jet, Cheng Jingwei sat before his laptop, replying to the final question raised by the media. After typing the last punctuation mark, he sent the document to Xu Yin.
Only then did he remove his glasses, press the heels of his palms over his eyes, and exhale a long breath.
Just as he leaned back, Xu Yin called.
“Mr. Cheng, Fang Hongzhi has booked a flight from Shanghai to Switzerland. He’s already on the way — almost at the highway exit.”
Cheng Jingwei opened his eyes, the darkness in his gaze settling like deep water. His voice was calm, precise — utterly unrelenting:
“Send his criminal record to the Economic Investigation Bureau. Stop him at the highway exit at all costs. And buy out every ticket from Nancy to Europe before 4 p.m. He does not leave the country before I arrive.”
“Yes, sir!”
The call ended.
Cheng Jingwei closed his eyes again, trying to rest.
He hadn’t slept properly in days — his schedule had been flipped upside down, surviving on only a few hours each day. Now that things were finally drawing to a close and he actually could relax, sleep refused to come.
After a moment, he unlocked his phone.
The device automatically connected to the cabin’s Bluetooth. Without much thought, he tapped the first song on his playlist.
Faye Wong — 《Undercurrent》.
The same song he and Jiang Zhier had listened to that night, sharing one set of earphones.
She probably assumed he didn’t understand Cantonese… yet during university, he had spent over six months in Hong Kong while working on a subsidiary project.
Languages had always come easily to him. He spoke several languages fluently — and his Cantonese was more than passable.
Let this smoke rise,
as my body sinks.
Wanting so badly to be near
your heart, your eyes —
Yet my lips and ears
were never meant to be…
My fate.
The more beautiful something is,
the less I dare to touch it.
Faye Wong’s voice — like lingering rain.
The rippling piano — like a fleeting montage in a Wong Kar-wai film.
Like passing through a dark tunnel before the light returns.
This time, he understood the youthful ache embedded in the song.
A song about unspoken love.
More precisely, love that had no place to begin.
A love too heavy, too cautious, too afraid to exist.
His brows knit together.
Half a month ago, he wouldn’t have thought too deeply about it. But now — knowing Jiang Zhier had someone she liked — the song’s meaning had changed entirely.
A love concealed.
A love misaligned.
A love she believed she shouldn’t have.
If she truly harbored such feelings…
Then he couldn’t just ignore it.
What kind of person had she fallen for?
Someone she shouldn’t love?
Someone who made her feel she must lower herself so much she could only love silently, secretly?
If she foolishly fell for someone unworthy, he could accept her stumbling, getting hurt, and learning through the experience.
But he could not, would not accept her entering a relationship already so timid, already wronging herself.
Such humility…
If taken advantage of, she would be the one to break.
His little girl — bowing her head before love even began?
Unacceptable.
Fatigue disappeared beneath a rising turbulence inside him.
He picked up his phone again and called the driver.
Ever since bringing Jiang Zhier to live with him, Uncle Li had been responsible for her daily transportation. If anyone knew who she met and how she was feeling, it would be him.
But Cheng Jingwei did not reveal his true concern. Instead, his tone was casual:
“How has Er’er been these days? While I’ve been abroad.”
The driver replied,
“Miss Jiang has been well and hasn’t been affected by the rumors. The midterm exams are coming up, and the schoolwork is heavy. Aside from school and the physics tutoring class you arranged, she’s been reviewing at home every day.”
“Has she met anyone else?”
It was a strange question, and the driver paused before answering.
Cheng Jingwei spoke calmly, “The group is going through a sensitive period. If she happens to meet anyone unusual, please report it to me immediately.”
“In the months I’ve been in charge of Miss Jiang’s travel arrangements, her social circle has remained very simple. Aside from occasional outings with school friends or visits to the library, she rarely meets strangers.”
Cheng Jingwei already knew this.
Despite how busy he had been, he understood Jiang Zhier well. She was obedient, sensible, and free from the wild habits common among girls her age in wealthy families. She never needed the elders to keep an eye on her. Even the night he unexpectedly ran into her at the bar… she was there only to buy him a birthday present.
Perhaps—he was just overthinking it.
“Alright, I understand.”
Before hanging up, he asked, “Has she met anyone who made her particularly happy?”
The driver chuckled. “Miss Jiang was very happy this morning when she heard that you’d be returning today, Mr. Cheng.”
…
The plane landed at 3:00 PM Beijing time.
Meanwhile, Fang Hongzhi, heading back toward Nancy Airport from the highway, was growing frantic when he discovered all flights were fully booked. In desperation, he called Cheng Gan, demanding that air traffic control arrange a private jet.
But after five or six calls, not a single one connected.
Enraged, he nearly smashed his phone. Yet, not daring to draw attention to himself, he could only suppress his fury.
He never imagined Cheng Jingwei would act with such swift precision—more ruthless even than the recently deceased Cheng Huaixian. Their months-long scheme had been dismantled in barely two weeks.
He knew that with Cheng Jingwei’s methods, the end was inevitable. Staying in China any longer would mean a fate worse than death.
Fortunately, he had already begun transferring assets overseas.
The day before the scandal erupted, he had arranged for his daughter and grandson to leave the country—far from the impending uproar.
Even if Cheng Jingwei intended to deal with him next, he was still in California, far out of reach. There was time—time to think, time to escape.
Yes. He still had time.
If a plane didn’t work, he could take a ferry.
It would be more tiring, but also safer and less noticeable.
With that in mind, he turned to leave—only to see a group storming through the airport gates, led by Cheng Jingwei’s secretary and followed by the Economic Investigation Team.
Xu Yin, sharp in a trench coat, walked briskly with the air of someone who had just clawed back from disaster.
The sight drew many onlookers—some even took out their phones to record.
Fang Hongzhi tugged his hat lower and attempted to slip away… but Xu Yin approached with a bright, polite smile.
“Mr. Fang—what a coincidence! I’m here to pick up Mr. Cheng and escort him back to China. Where are you planning to vacation?”
Fang Hongzhi froze.
Cheng Jingwei was already back!?
In that moment, he understood—traffic jams, sold-out tickets… none of it was a coincidence. Cheng Jingwei had been pulling the strings all along.
His face twisted with anger. “How dare you! You think you can flaunt your position just because of Cheng Jingwei? What are you trying to do?!”
Xu Yin bowed slightly. “You see right through us, Mr. Fang. Thanks to President Cheng’s orders, we’ve ensured ample security at the airport. We wouldn’t want any incidents during your escort—someone might get hurt.”
“Escort?! When I was young, working tirelessly for the group, your father was nothing! Now you think you can discipline me!?”
“Yes, yes, I spoke out of line—please forgive me.”
Xu Yin’s tone softened immediately, almost servile. “But whether this is a misunderstanding or injustice… you’ll still need to delay your trip and cooperate with the police.”
Fang Hongzhi’s expression turned ugly. “You want to detain me? Where is your evidence?”
Just then, a rapid burst of camera shutters sounded nearby.
Flashlights popped as reporters swarmed in, voices rising into chaotic clamor.
Through the glare, Cheng Jingwei emerged.
Tall, striking—even surrounded by security and cameras—his presence commanded the space. A dark suit beneath a light trench coat sharpened his silhouette. Calm elegance and the composure of a born heir radiated from him.
He ignored the barrage of questions, moving straight toward Fang Hongzhi.
A spike of terror shot through Fang Hongzhi’s chest.
Not even at the height of the economic crisis had he felt fear like this.
Stopping before him, Cheng Jingwei smiled—gentle, polite.
“Uncle Fang. It’s been a while. How have you been?”
Fang Hongzhi could no longer pretend composure. “Cheng Jingwei, what are you planning to do?”
“I could ask you the same.” His tone remained level. “But I believe everything is already clear. I’ve submitted evidence to the police. I must trouble you for your cooperation.”
“No… impossible…” Fang Hongzhi grabbed his arm. “Don’t try to trick me!”
“You watched me grow up—you know my character. My elder brother fought risky battles. But me?” Cheng Jingwei smiled faintly.
“I only fight battles I can win.”
Police stepped forward, restraining Fang Hongzhi and snapping handcuffs over his wrists.
Dragged through the airport, Fang Hongzhi thrashed in disbelief. Decades of power and status—gone in an instant. Even the old chairman would never have dared subject him to such humiliation.
“Cheng Jingwei! You think your hands are clean!? Treat me like this, and who in the group will serve you loyally again?! Soon you’ll have no one left—first your brother, then those dogs around you!”
Cheng Jingwei remained still, one hand in his pocket, chin slightly lifted—calm, unbothered, untouched by the venom.
After a quiet moment, he lowered his gaze and chuckled softly.
“I truly should consult you on earning people’s loyalty.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But don’t worry, Uncle Fang. Your daughter and grandson are waiting at the police station. A warm family reunion.”
Fang Hongzhi stumbled.
“What did you say?!”
Stepping closer, Cheng Jingwei spoke gently, almost kindly,
“You’re fortunate to have them by your side in difficult times. They’ve already begun returning the public funds you transferred overseas. It should help lessen your sentence.”
Fang Hongzhi’s face contorted in rage, every muscle straining.
The cameras kept flashing—
capturing his collapse and vicious curses,
and Cheng Jingwei’s unshakable composure.
With that contrast, rumors lost their teeth.
…
Once the chaos subsided and Fang Hongzhi was driven away, the crowd gradually dispersed. Reporters still clustered around, eager for a statement.
But Cheng Jingwei gave none. The official announcements released hours earlier were enough.
Bodyguards opened a path as he left the airport—expression sharp, cold. No trace of triumph, despite the stunning victory.
As he got into the car, the driver asked if they should go to the company.
He checked the time.
The evidence had already been submitted. Public relations would handle the aftermath. There was no need to rush.
If they left now, they’d arrive just in time to pick up Er’er from school.
He remembered what the driver said—Miss Jiang had been particularly happy to hear he was returning today.
Cheng Jingwei closed his eyes, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Let’s go pick up Er’er.”
After all the scheming and confrontation, there was only one person he wanted to see—the girl with clear, round eyes like a startled fawn… the girl who called him “Second Uncle.”
The Rolls-Royce merged onto the intercity highway.
His phone rang—Cheng Jiayao.
Ever since the last unpleasant incident, Jiayao had avoided contacting him.
“Jiayao,” he answered.
A breathless, panicked voice came through immediately:
“Second Uncle, are you back yet? Er’er—she…”
Cheng Jingwei’s eyes snapped open.
“She’s been taken to the hospital. Please—come quickly.”