Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 21

Tang Peiwen’s mind went blank for a moment. She staggered back, almost falling.
She no longer cared about appearances or her status as a wealthy woman. Panic-stricken, she rushed forward and knelt beside Jiang Zhier’s bed.
“Zhier, Chenchen was wrong. He shouldn’t have hurt you like this—but he’s just too young. He didn’t know allergies could be so serious. He was only… only playing around. For your grandmother’s sake, please don’t be so cruel to your brother. I beg you; I beg you!”
Even Cheng Jiayao couldn’t stand it anymore.
He crossed his arms and sneered, “Young and frivolous, huh? With a mother like you, I think even if Jiang Chen doesn’t go to jail this time, it’s only a matter of time.”
Tang Peiwen dared not talk back anymore. She only kept pleading softly with Jiang Zhier.
She knew Jiang Zhier’s weakness too well—she kept bringing up her grandmother, reminding her that Jiang Chen was her grandson, saying that if the old woman were still alive, she would never allow her grandson to suffer imprisonment.
Jiang Zhier stayed silent at first.
Until Tang Peiwen said, “Are you willing to see her die with her eyes wide open in the afterlife?”
Jiang Zhier turned her head and looked at her quietly.
“Even now, you’re using my grandmother to threaten me?”
Her voice was calm and detached; her long eyelashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks.
She sounded emotionless, yet her words pierced straight through the heart—quiet, sharp, and unyielding.
For some reason, Tang Peiwen suddenly felt she no longer recognized the obedient girl she once knew.
Her back was straighter now; her gaze no longer flickered. She no longer lived cautiously under someone else’s roof.
She had grown a spine of her own—born of pain, shaped by endurance—and her confidence made her unbreakable.
Looking at Jiang Zhier, Tang Peiwen even saw a trace of Cheng Jingwei’s quiet authority in her calm but resolute expression.
As silence fell, Jiang Zhier looked away and said evenly, “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a mango allergy.”
Although Jiang Shibo Company’s growth had slowed in recent years, it was still a major player in the industry. As the future heir, Jiang Chen underwent regular check-ups and allergy testing.
Jiang Zhier had always been tested, too.
They had long known she was severely allergic to mangoes.
From childhood onward, she had never eaten mango or anything containing it.
At family gatherings, the maids were instructed never to serve mangoes or mango desserts.
So, even with such a serious allergy, it had little impact on her daily life.
Until Jiang Chen’s seventh birthday.
She was helping blow out candles and cut the cake—a cantaloupe mousse cake.
Children love sweets, and at that time, little Jiang Zhier had just started losing her baby teeth. Their grandmother usually restricted her sugar intake, so being allowed to eat cake that day had made her happy.
But less than half an hour later, she felt unwell and broke out in hives.
“The cake at Jiang Chen’s seventh birthday party was the first time I ever had an allergic reaction,” Jiang Zhier said softly. “You told me not to tell Grandma, saying she wasn’t in good health—that if she got upset, it might make her worse.”
“So, I didn’t tell her.”
“Even though Jiang Chen had deliberately asked the bakery to mix mango pulp into the cantaloupe mousse. He said he just wanted to ‘see what would happen.’ And you… You brushed it off.”
Her voice trembled. “And this time? Grandma’s already gone—are you still going to use her to threaten me?”
Jiang Zhier’s tone sharpened. “She died with her eyes open—and you dare to say that again?”
“Grandma’s funeral had barely ended before you and Uncle were planning how to introduce sixteen-year-old me to the divorced president of Zhenteng Group. Back then, weren’t you worried Grandma would die with her eyes open?”
“Even earlier—when you locked me in that dark, damp basement because Jiang Chen fell and hit his head trying to steal my things—weren’t you worried my parents would die with regrets?”
“When I was little, whenever Grandma wasn’t home, if I so much as argued with Jiang Chen, you’d make me kneel outside the door to ‘reflect.’ Weren’t you worried my parents would die with regrets then?”
Her voice trembled with emotion.
Her eyes were red, her brow furrowed. In her hospital gown, she looked frail but stubborn—her gaze steady, her tone fierce.
She drew in a shaky breath and forced out the words:
“Jiang Chen threw away the only keepsake my mother left me—her pendant—and you…”
Tears spilled down her face, soaking the blanket.
She couldn’t go on. Biting her lip, she turned her head away.
For over a decade, she had endured quietly, believing she had long grown numb.
But now, every old wound reopened—every grievance turned into a thousand sharp arrows piercing her heart.
She couldn’t speak anymore.
The rain outside grew heavier. The humid air brought her back to those rainy seasons of childhood, filled with sorrow and suffocating silence.
Then, a warm hand gently stroked her head.
Cheng Jingwei stood beside her, tall and composed, his hand resting lightly on her hair before pulling her into his arms. Her tears soaked into his shirt.
He didn’t speak. He simply stayed with her, quietly becoming her shelter.
Jiang Zhier finally found her voice again, choked and trembling. “That pendant… You scolded me for crying, saying I was upsetting you. Even now, you’re still not worried my parents will die with regrets.”
“So—”
She took a deep breath, tears flowing even harder.
Cheng Jingwei’s chest tightened painfully, his heart burning at the sight of her tears.
He didn’t know what he felt—only that he wanted to hold her closer, to protect her from the world.
“How could you say such things?” Jiang Zhier whispered hoarsely, burying her face in his chest. “What right do you have to treat me like this?”
Tang Peiwen had been silent for a long time, stunned by her daughter’s sudden outburst.
Yet she still couldn’t understand.
She couldn’t remember most of what Jiang Zhier said—and even if she did, she saw them as trivial matters.
To her, taking in her husband’s orphaned niece was already a kindness. There was no need for such humiliation.
The ward fell into stillness.
Everyone’s faces were tense, their emotions mixed.
Jiang Guilai’s family glanced nervously at Cheng Jingwei, waiting for his decision.
Cheng Jiayao’s eyes were full of anger, pain, and confusion—the man before him was a stranger now.
Cheng Jingwei lowered his head, his palm gently cupping Jiang Zhier’s tear-streaked face. His fingertips brushed away her tears as he said in a low, magnetic voice,
“Zhier, you decide how to deal with her.”
Those who knew Cheng Jingwei understood—he despised anyone who used his name and power to bully others.
Even his most trusted subordinates knew their limits and never dared to cross them.
Yet now, he handed all that power to Jiang Zhier.
He wanted to be her protector—truly.
Even if it went against everything he had stood for until now.
Jiang Zhier looked up at him. Meeting his gaze, she seemed to draw strength from it—an unshakable courage rising within her.
For the first time, she held real power in her hands. She didn’t even realize how much weight it carried; she only felt ashamed of her own “bad” thoughts.
She whispered, “Call the police. I don’t want to let it go like I did ten years ago.”
Cheng Jingwei simply said, “Okay.”
The rain grew heavier as night fell.
The ward was dim and quiet. Jiang Zhier drifted off to sleep to the sound of falling rain.
She didn’t know how long it had been when she heard soft rustling.
The IV drip had finished. The nurse removed the needle, while Cheng Jingwei stood nearby, his head lowered, watching closely. When the nurse left, he took Jiang Zhier’s hand and pressed it gently against the puncture site.
Her hand rested on his—warm and steady.
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Second Uncle,” she murmured.
He looked up. “Hmm? Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, lying on her side to face him. “You should rest too—you just got back from a business trip.”
“It’s fine. I slept on the plane.” Cheng Jingwei asked, “Are you still feeling unwell?”
“No, I’m okay.”
He rolled up her sleeve; the rashes had faded significantly. The special medication was working well—she’d likely be discharged after a final check-up tomorrow morning.
“Besides mangoes, do you have any other allergies?” he asked.
“I’m also allergic to peanuts, but not as severely.”
“I didn’t know that. I’ll tell the housekeeper to be careful about your meals.”
Jiang Zhier smiled faintly. “Aunt Chu already asked me about food restrictions when she came, so we haven’t used peanut oil at home.”
“That’s good.”
Cheng Jingwei ruffled her hair lightly, his fingers brushing her brow. “Sleep a little longer.”
After all that had happened, Jiang Zhier was exhausted, but she still couldn’t fall asleep.
A heavy thought weighed on her mind.
After a long pause, she finally asked, “What will happen to Jiang Chen…?”
“The police are still investigating, but the evidence is solid. His parents have no way out,” Cheng Jingwei said. “He deliberately added an allergen, causing you to go into anaphylactic shock. I’ll have a lawyer press charges for intentional injury. The sentence can be up to three years in prison.”
Jiang Zhier gave a soft hum of acknowledgment but said nothing more.
Cheng Jingwei chuckled. “Regretful?”
“No. I just think… he’s still Grandma’s grandson. I wonder if she would support me if she were alive.”
“She would,” Cheng Jingwei said.
Jiang Zhier looked up at him.
And at that moment, the guilt pressing on her heart began to ease—because finally, someone had told her with certainty: her grandmother would not have been angry with her.
“Grandma Jiang was always discerning and farsighted. She’d understand that this lesson is the least Jiang Chen deserves. If she continued to let things slide, she’d only be encouraging him to commit even more irreparable mistakes in the future,” Cheng Jingwei said softly.
“So Grandma won’t blame you. She’ll only be relieved that her Er’er can finally protect herself.”
Jiang Zhi’er’s tears welled up again.
She didn’t want to appear too vulnerable in front of Cheng Jingwei, yet she couldn’t stop herself from crying.
Cheng Jingwei stood up quietly, went to the bathroom to wet a towel with warm water, then came back to wipe her face—now streaked with ointment and tears.
He wasn’t skilled at comforting a wronged girl, but he spoke with patience and gentleness, telling her not to be afraid or lonely, that he would always be by her side.
And with those words, the deepest, most recurring fear in her heart finally began to ease.
I will always be by your side.
A month later, Cheng Zhen Group had finally returned to normal.
After weeks of internal turmoil, purges, and restructuring, those who needed to be punished were punished, those who deserved reward were rewarded, and the company was reborn as Cheng Zhen Group—truly belonging to Cheng Jingwei.
With Fang Hongzhi serving as a negative example, no one dared to overestimate themselves or risk their future again.
By May, only one matter—and one person—remained unresolved.
Everyone knew it, though no one dared to bring it up.
Until one evening, Cheng Gan walked into the chairman’s office—the same office that had once belonged to his father and now to his younger brother.
At that moment, Cheng Jingwei was preparing for a meeting. Seeing him, he looked up calmly and said, “Big Brother.”
Cheng Gan had come prepared for confrontation, yet he could only give a bitter smile. “Awei, when have you ever treated me like a brother?”
“If you weren’t my brother, do you think you’d still be standing here?”
Cheng Jingwei’s tone was quiet, but it made Cheng Gan break out in a cold sweat.
“What do you want?” Cheng Gan closed his eyes. “Awei, what exactly do you want?”
Calm and unhurried, Cheng Jingwei straightened the documents on his desk. “I’ll have my secretary book a flight. From now on, you’ll settle in France.”
Cheng Gan’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I heard my brother has already arranged for Jiayao to study in France for a few months and even bought an apartment there,” Cheng Jingwei said. “That’ll make things more convenient. As for my sister-in-law and Jiayao, I won’t force them. If they wish to stay in China, they can.”
“…Anything else?”
“Tomorrow, a lawyer will visit. You’ll sign an agreement transferring 18% of the group’s shares—you’ll lose your say in company affairs.
However,” Cheng Jingwei continued, “you’ll still receive the full amount of dividends from that 18% every year.”
He paused. “In return, I’ll erase all evidence of your leaking company secrets.”
Cheng Gan hadn’t expected this to be his brother’s final decision.
That was it.
The value of 18% of Cheng Zhen Group’s shares was immeasurable, but Cheng Gan could not manage a corporation. Jingwei’s offer to continue paying dividends ensured he would live comfortably. He had blocked every escape route—but also left him a way out.
As long as he surrendered, Cheng Jingwei would still spare him.
“What about Jiayao…” Cheng Gan asked quietly.
“Forcing Jiayao abroad wouldn’t be wise. He might grow too indulgent and pick up bad habits,” Jingwei said evenly. “You should thank him for being honest and upright. I can’t bear to see him repeat my mistakes.”
Can’t bear it.
The words echoed in Cheng Gan’s mind. He looked at his younger brother blankly.
All those years living alone abroad had hardened Cheng Jingwei’s heart. Cheng Gan had never expected to hear the phrase “can’t bear it” from him.
Even a man so decisive still had compassion.
And yet—this same brother had once pushed Cheng Yishi down the mountain, framed the innocent Jingwei, and conspired with Fang Hongzhi to undermine the family empire.
With difficulty, Cheng Gan spoke. “Don’t you want to clear your name of the injustice from back then?”
“Clear my name?” Jingwei repeated, laughing quietly. “For whom? My mother died not long after my second brother. My father’s gone too. Even if they were alive, what difference would it make?”
He stood, looking out the window.
Sunlight poured through the glass, softening the edges of his expression.
“What I learned abroad,” he said, “is that people only believe what they want to believe. Sometimes they don’t need the truth—they just need an outlet for their emotions.”
Cheng Gan froze.
He understood.
I no longer need to explain to anyone, nor care about anyone’s opinions or feelings.
From that day on, Cheng Jingwei—the young master of the Cheng family—was gone.
What remained was only Cheng Jingwei himself.
When Cheng Gan finally departed for France, every remaining tie between them was severed.
Jingwei appeared calm, but the silence in his eyes was steeped in loneliness.
Cheng Gan wanted to speak—perhaps to apologize—but Jingwei cut him off.
“If there’s nothing else, go. I have a meeting.”
At his command, the assistant escorted Cheng Gan out.
He stood before the elevator, stunned.
This ending—so quiet, so final—marked the complete end of their brotherhood. A strange mixture of relief and loss washed over him.
Turning back, he saw Jingwei’s silhouette through the blinds—standing by the French windows, back straight, tea in hand. The sunlight blurred his figure, turning him into a faint shadow: solitary, powerful, untouchable.
At that moment, Cheng Gan finally realized that if he hadn’t colluded with Fang Hongzhi and driven things to this point, Cheng Jingwei might truly have let the past go.
He had spent years living in fear, watching Jingwei rise—step by step—building an empire with his own hands.
And now, for the first time, he pitied him.
Just then, the elevator dinged open beside him.
A pretty girl in a school uniform stepped out.
The assistant’s serious demeanor vanished as he smiled, taking her heavy schoolbag. “Er’er’s here! Mr. Cheng has a meeting soon—please have a seat, I’ll get you some dessert.”
Cheng Gan glanced down, meeting the girl’s eyes.
He suddenly remembered—this was the Jiang family girl, the one Jingwei had taken in so publicly at Old Madam Jiang’s funeral.
He had thought it was a mere ploy—to use the Jiang family’s influence.
But now, it didn’t seem that way.
Xu Yin pushed open the door. “President Cheng, Er’er is here.”
Jingwei turned, smiling faintly. “Didn’t you have tutoring today?”
“I wanted to give you something,” Jiang Zhi’er said.
“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow.
She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a transparent bag containing a small potted cactus.
“I did well on the monthly exam. The teacher gave these to the top students,” she said. “You can put it by your computer—it helps block radiation.”
Of course, Jiang Zhi’er knew that was only a myth.
But she wanted to leave something of hers in his office.
Cheng Jingwei understood, but didn’t expose her excuse.
He moved the elegant Podocarpus macrophyllus on his desk aside and placed her cactus there.
“Thank you, Er’er.”
The Podocarpus pot was cloisonné enamel with a dragon motif—ancient and valuable, like something from the British Museum.
By contrast, her cactus was plain, bought from a flower stall, small and ordinary.
Yet seeing it placed upon his rosewood desk, Jiang Zhi’er couldn’t help but lick her lips.
This was how she liked Cheng Jingwei.
And his quiet indulgence only emboldened her further.
The car stopped in front of a private restaurant, its architecture a classic garden-style design. Across the street stood a newly opened milk tea shop that had recently gone viral online — the first of its kind in Nancy — with notoriously long queues.
Jiang Zhier remembered Shao Xu mentioning that their grape-flavored iced drinks were particularly good.
She glanced at the shop again, and Cheng Jingwei caught the look.
“Want some?” he asked.
“Is it okay?”
With so many people queuing, Cheng Jingwei’s time must have been precious.
He smiled casually. “Of course.”
Turning his head, he told the driver to line up and buy it.
Jiang Zhier hesitated. “I heard that shop is so popular because it just opened — everyone’s limited to one drink.”
“Then I’ll buy you one.”
“But… I heard it’s really, really good.”
The little girl tilted her head back, her watery eyes blinking as she looked up at him — like a fawn caught in the rain.
“Second Uncle, you should try some too.”
Besides that, unbearably bitter espresso and the alcohol you forbid me from drinking… try something I like. Maybe you’ll like it too, Jiang Zhier thought to herself.
Cheng Jingwei smiled.
Getting someone to buy two drinks wouldn’t have been difficult for him — but when he met Jiang Zhier’s clear, expectant eyes, he suddenly didn’t want to use those methods.
He glanced at his watch, told someone to go to the private restaurant and prepare the food, then went with Jiang Zhier to join the queue across the street.
The line stretched nearly twenty meters, winding along the sidewalk.
They stood at the very end.
Cheng Jingwei’s presence was striking no matter where he was.
In the early summer breeze — when even the cicadas hadn’t yet grown noisy — the man’s tall, lean figure exuded quiet strength. The plain silver watch encircling his wrist, veins faintly visible beneath the skin, seemed to temper the austere air around him, giving him an ascetic kind of grace.
Most of the people in line were girls under twenty, many of whom kept turning to look.
Friends whispered to one another, giggling and praising his looks. Add the extended Rolls-Royce parked across the street, and the speculation only grew wilder.
“Second Uncle,” Jiang Zhier whispered as she stepped closer.
“Hmm?”
She tiptoed and murmured near his ear, “Have you noticed everyone’s looking at you?”
“Yes. Why?”
“What else could it be?” Jiang Zhier bit her lower lip; her voice was tinged with embarrassment. “You’re too eye-catching.”
Cheng Jingwei raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly, as if he found the thought absurd.
He’d had plenty of admirers over the years — especially during his time abroad — and he was aware of his own looks. But most of the girls here were still in school uniforms. Even if they thought he was handsome, they weren’t his type.
“Really!” Jiang Zhier insisted.
“I’m the oldest one here.”
“So what?” she muttered under her breath, glancing away awkwardly.
“These days, everyone likes older guys. There was a Korean drama recently — the male lead was ten years older than the female lead — and all the girls at our school went crazy over it.”
Cheng Jingwei smiled, but then his thoughts shifted.
He suddenly remembered the song Jiang Zhier had been listening to through her headphones that day — and how she’d admitted she liked someone.
A love that was misaligned and couldn’t begin.
Could it be… that the person she liked was—?
He lowered his gaze, taking in the girl’s flushed cheeks and earnest eyes, and his brows drew together.
Could the person she likes be a man several years older than her?
His frown deepened.
He’d thought he wouldn’t care too much about her feelings — that, as an elder, he only needed to guide her, not control her. He didn’t need to shield her from every stumble.
But in that moment, Cheng Jingwei realized he couldn’t quite let go.
It was like teaching her to ride a bicycle — wanting her to balance on her own, yet hesitating to release his hold from behind.
The age gap inevitably brought a difference in status.
If this really was an unrequited love, he feared she’d be wronged — or worse, get hurt.
…
Without realizing it, the queue had moved forward.
Jiang Zhier’s eyes drifted to a flyer taped near the counter:
“Opening Promotion — Second Drink Half Price for Couples.”
Several couples stood ahead of them.
She licked her lips lightly, her heart fluttering.
Finally, it was their turn.
The waiter asked, “What would you two like to order?”
Jiang Zhier ordered a signature strawberry milkshake. Cheng Jingwei chose the least sweet option — oolong lemon tea.
“Thirty-six yuan,” the waiter said.
The couple’s discount wasn’t applied.
After all, Jiang Zhier was in a school uniform, and Cheng Jingwei in a suit — they didn’t look like a couple at all.
“Um…”
Jiang Zhier wasn’t tall, and the counter was high. She placed her hands on the edge and pointed shyly at the flyer. “Is the promotion over?”
The waiter froze, then glanced at them, surprise flickering in her eyes.
Cheng Jingwei followed her gaze to the flyer, his expression calm, only an eyebrow lifting slightly.
“It’s not over,” the waiter said with a teasing smile. “Are you two a couple?”
Jiang Zhier’s heart thudded. Her fingers curled into fists, and she didn’t dare look up at Cheng Jingwei.
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded — as if taking a leap of faith.
“Yes.”