Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 6

Jiang Zhier was stunned for a moment, then her cheeks quickly flushed as her heart began to pound.
“No, no,” the young woman, who couldn’t take a joke, stammered. “This is my card. I have money. From now on, when I live with you, Uncle, I can use the rent on this card, as well as pay the driver and nanny’s salaries.”
Then she realized she had phrased it poorly.
It sounded as if she were trying to distance herself from him, making him seem heartless.
Before she could explain further, the man had already taken the card, holding it between his fingers.
“How much is on it?”
“Seventeen thousand.”
Her sudden seriousness made Cheng Jingwei laugh again.
But seventeen thousand wasn’t much for a child of the Jiang family.
After all, Cheng Jiayao could easily afford a motorcycle worth over a million.
Jiang Zhier also knew that the money in her card was not enough to cover much. The driver and nanny hired by Cheng Jingwei must be paid generously. “I’ll earn money after I graduate from high school,” she added softly.
Before Cheng Jingwei could reply, Cheng Jiayao burst in.
“Second Uncle!” The young man rushed in and nearly skidded to his knees before him. “You have to save me!”
“Speak human language.”
“My mom froze my card. I’m starving!”
“You won’t starve. Order whatever you want.”
Cheng Jiayao wasn’t really there for a free meal. “Second Uncle, I really need your help! I finally managed to get my hands on a Bugatti Veyron—only about four hundred exist worldwide! I have to pay the balance tomorrow, or I’ll lose my deposit!”
“Why did your mother freeze your card?”
Cheng Jiayao faltered. “She’s just… worrying. She thinks I’ll get into trouble if I keep racing.”
Cheng Jingwei chuckled. “So, you’re asking me to offend your mother now?”
Cheng Jiayao raised four fingers to his forehead. “Our club has great safety measures. Nothing will happen, I swear! Besides, it’s a limited edition—super rare. I can even make millions reselling it. It’s an investment!”
“How much?”
“More than two thousand.”
Jiang Zhier was sipping cream soup. She froze, then realized he had left out the word ten thousand.
More than twenty million.
Even though she knew the Cheng family had been wealthy for generations, she had never imagined it
to be this extravagant.
She lowered her gaze to the bank card resting at the corner of the table.
It held only one hundred seventy-eight thousand. Even Cheng Jingwei might find that amusing.
Seeing that his uncle seemed to be considering it, Cheng Jiayao pressed on. “Second Uncle, please! If you buy me this car, you’re my real dad! Jiang Zhier will be my real sister! I’ll treat you both well, I promise!”
“…”
Jiang Zhier was stunned.
She was confused by his tangled relationships.
He looked at her again and winked desperately, signaling for her to plead on his behalf.
That’s when Jiang Zhier realized what the “favor” he had asked her to remember was for.
But she didn’t dare to ask Cheng Jingwei for money.
The man leaned lazily back in his chair, laughing as he scolded, “No one has a son as useless as you.”
Cheng Jiayao grinned. “Maybe, but my sister’s smart! Investing in me is like investing in her—we’ll both be filial to you!”
“Thank you for letting me have a son and a daughter before turning thirty,” Cheng Jingwei replied dryly.
Too lazy to argue further with this hopeless nephew, he picked up his phone and transferred the money. Just before entering the final digit of the password, he said, “Be careful when racing. Don’t go on public roads, or I’ll tell your parents.”
Cheng Jiayao nodded eagerly. “I will! I swear!”
When the transfer notification chimed, Cheng Jiayao practically threw his arms around Cheng Jingwei, almost kissing him, but the man blocked him just in time. Cheng Jiayao blew him a kiss instead, and Cheng Jingwei waved him off in exasperation.
Jiang Zhier couldn’t help but smile at his expression.
Cheng Jiayao, ever the opportunist, stood up. “I’ll go pay the bill. This meal’s on me!”
A meal in exchange for twenty-five million — quite a bargain.
After he left, Cheng Jingwei looked up at the girl across from him.
“See? You’re reluctant to spend my money, but sooner or later, that guy will benefit from it.”
“How can that be compared?” Jiang Zhier said softly. “He’s your nephew. I…”
I am nothing.
The girl took a deep breath. Thinking back to her uncle and aunt in the principal’s office earlier, she said quietly, “I just feel that once I spend their money, I lose the right to blame them for what they’ve done to me.”
She didn’t specify who “they” were.
But Cheng Jingwei understood her meaning and fell silent.
“Little friend,” he said suddenly, his tone light.
Jiang Zhier’s heart skipped a beat, pounding wildly.
His eyes were warm yet cool—deep, steady, like a pool concealing countless treasures. Whatever he said always sounded like an undeniable truth.
“Your life,” he said, “is meant to be experienced. Whether you’re with your grandmother or with me, it should be a journey—not a cage of rules. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes, and don’t strive for perfection. Relax and move forward. You’ll naturally become the person you want to be.”
“Besides,” he added with a faint smile, “your second uncle has no bad habits and earns a decent income—more than enough to support you. I don’t believe in that old idea of ‘raising a son to provide for your old age.’”
Cheng Jingwei rubbed the top of her head casually. “So, Er’er, don’t feel pressured about spending money.”
Though Jiang Zhier secretly scoffed at his “raising a son” remark, her heart still quickened.
After living cautiously under someone else’s roof for so long, it finally felt as if someone had lit a lamp for her—illuminating the once-dark road ahead.
—
When Cheng Jiayao returned after paying the bill, Jiang Zhier spent most of the time just listening to the two of them.
At first, she had assumed Cheng Jiayao was an uneducated playboy who wasted money. But to her surprise, he had purchased land at the foot of a mountain outside the city and built his own racing club. Though it had required massive investment, it was now turning a healthy profit.
Cheng Jingwei listened attentively as he described the club’s operations, occasionally asking detailed questions and offering thoughtful suggestions.
The media often portrayed the relationship between Cheng Jingwei and Cheng Jiayao’s father, Cheng Gan, as irreparable—two brothers locked in a power struggle.
Yet, he seemed genuinely fond of his nephew.
…
As they were leaving, a woman appeared at the doorway. She wore a textured white cashmere coat, her makeup refined, lips red, and large pearl earrings gleaming beneath perfectly styled hair. She was the picture of elegance.
Jiang Zhier’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before the woman exclaimed in surprise, “Felix!”
Cheng Jingwei looked up. “What a coincidence.”
The woman turned to the attendant. “Remember to give Mr. Cheng a free meal.”
“I’ve already paid,” he said calmly.
At that moment, Cheng Jiayao was on the phone, boasting about his Bugatti reservation.
Jiang Zhier stood nearby, watching Cheng Jingwei speak to the woman. They seemed familiar. Only then did she realize that “Felix” was Cheng Jingwei’s English name—and that the woman owned the restaurant.
“Are you busy later?” Cheng Jiayao suddenly asked.
“Ah?”
“Ever tried racing? I’ll take you to see what it’s like.”
Cheng Jingwei overheard and, thinking the girl had few chances to have fun, asked, “Do you want to go?”
The woman beside him leaned forward with a teasing smile. “Is this the daughter you supposedly adopted recently?”
Then she tilted her head and smiled at Jiang Zhier. “Hello, little friend.”
“Hello, sister,” Jiang Zhier replied politely.
The woman laughed, turning to Cheng Jingwei with a teasing smile. “Since I’m the elder sister, in terms of seniority, should I also call you Second Uncle?”
Cheng Jingwei glanced at the well-behaved girl beside him, the corners of his lips curving upward, but he said nothing.
Just then, Cheng Jiayao’s phone rang again. A friend was calling to hurry him along, so he asked Jiang Zhier once more, “Are you coming?”
“Yeah.” Jiang Zhier lowered her head, suppressing the sour feeling rising in her chest.
Men have their own world, she thought. She should be sensible enough to understand that.
“Let’s go,” Cheng Jiayao said.
As soon as they stepped out the door, a deep voice sounded behind them.
“Cheng Jiayao.”
He turned around.
Cheng Jingwei raised his chin slightly toward Jiang Zhier. “Return her exactly as you took her.”
Cheng Jiayao waved carelessly. “Don’t worry, I promise not a single hair will be missing.”
Watching them leave, Fan Meng leaned lazily against the wall, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and smiling. “Felix, you really are a laughingstock.”
Cheng Jingwei didn’t look at her. He simply lowered his head and lit a cigarette.
He stood in the dim light, his long black coat almost blending into the darkness. He slowly exhaled a stream of bluish-white smoke, saying nothing.
“Sometimes I really wonder,” Fan Meng said softly, “even after all these years, I still can’t see through you. You sideline your brother and suppress the old shareholders, yet you’re so good to those two kids. What’s going on with you?”
“Adult affairs shouldn’t affect them.”
“Jiayao’s fine,” Fan Meng said with a faint smile. “But that little girl—having someone like her around will seriously affect your value among the socialites.”
Cheng Jingwei flicked the ash from his cigarette, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s a good thing.”
Fan Meng froze, momentarily forgetting what she’d planned to say. “But I’ve never seen that Jiang girl before. I didn’t expect her to be so beautiful—like a porcelain doll.”
Cheng Jingwei’s lips curved faintly.
Fan Meng hesitated, then said, “Do you know what people are saying about you lately?”
“What are they saying?”
He had just returned from a business trip and hadn’t yet reconnected with his contacts in Nanshi. There were some rumors he didn’t care to hear.
“Some say you’re trying to build a reassuring image for investors, climbing higher step by step. Others say you’re desperately cozying up to the Jiang family—since they’re on the verge of collapse.”
He asked casually, “And the harsher ones?”
“I told you not to get mad.”
“Go on.”
Fan Meng shrugged. “You’re raising a beautiful teenage girl—do you really expect people to speak kindly? They’re saying you’re grooming yourself a child bride.”
Cheng Jingwei’s expression turned cold.
The Cheng family was large, and rumors had always swirled around him, but he had never cared much before.
He tilted his head slightly. “Who started them?”
Even after knowing him for years, the chill in his eyes startled Fan Meng.
“…Come on, we see each other every day. How do you expect me to survive if I tell you?”
Cheng Jingwei stubbed out his cigarette, not pressing further. “It won’t be hard to find out.”
Fan Meng hadn’t expected him to care about such baseless gossip. “What are you planning to do?”
“From now on, don’t see those people so often.”
“…”
Fan Meng wanted to argue—Is it really that serious? —but she held her tongue.
The French restaurant had a large, beautiful garden.
—
Jiang Zhier, who had a terrible sense of direction, followed Cheng Jiayao through the winding paths, lost in thought, until he stopped beside a bright yellow sports car.
“Get in, sister.”
“…You seem to be in a good mood,” she said, hesitating.
“Do you even have a driver’s license?” she asked warily.
“Nope. Driving without one. If I get caught, I’ll just wait for my Second Uncle to come bail me out.”
Jiang Zhier’s eyes widened.
Cheng Jiayao laughed, opening the door for her. “Get in. I’m serious—I was held back a year, so I’m already eighteen.”
“…”
Cheng Jiayao, accustomed to racecars, drove on public roads like they were a racetrack. Jiang Zhier immediately fastened her seatbelt and sat upright, tense.
After a while, she couldn’t help but speak. “Cheng Jiayao.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“Cheng Jiayao!”
“I can’t hear you.”
“…Brother Jiayao,” she sighed inwardly.
He grinned. “Go ahead.”
Jiang Zhier pursed her lips. “That woman just now—was she my Second Uncle’s girlfriend?”
“Sister Meng? My Second Uncle met her when he studied abroad. They were pretty close. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t.”
Jiang Zhier turned her face away.
Her reflection appeared faintly in the car window. She leaned her forehead against the glass and exhaled softly.
To her, Cheng Jingwei was like Pandora’s box—an irresistible, dangerous allure. Yet she had no idea what to do with the feeling that gripped her.
Her emotions were like a roller coaster.
One moment, she was moved by his gentle words—Your life can be an amusement park.
Next, she was overcome with an ache she couldn’t name.
—
They drove to the racing club at the foot of the mountain.
Halfway there, it began to rain—a gentle drizzle that thickened as they climbed.
“Can we still race in this weather?” Jiang Zhier asked.
Cheng Jiayao slammed the brakes and stopped at the club entrance. “Racing’s even more fun in the rain. Come on.”
The club was crowded, and as they entered, heads turned in their direction.
“Hey, Yao, is that your girlfriend?”
“My sister.”
“Wow, that’s the closest kind of relationship.”
“Sister? Didn’t know your dad was still going strong enough to have another kid!”
They were all so used to teasing that Cheng Jiayao didn’t bother explaining.
After changing into his racing suit, he said to Jiang Zhier, “Sit tight for a bit. I’ll warm up on the indoor track first, then take you for a run.”
Jiang Zhier nodded.
She sat quietly, a little awkward in this unfamiliar environment.
The club’s young men had seen many pretty women before, but this girl was different.
She wore no makeup, her face bare yet strikingly beautiful.
Raindrops clung to her cheeks, glinting under the light, making her pale skin look almost dewy. Her eyebrows were fine, her eyes bright and round, her dark lashes long and soft—like a small bodhisattva.
“Sister,” someone called.
Jiang Zhier looked up at the boy before her and politely said, “Brother.”
He couldn’t help but laugh.
The others joined in. “Sister, you can’t just call him brother so easily—look at that smirk on his face!”
The boy cursed at them, then sat down beside her. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen?” He looked her over. The girl was slender and delicate, not yet grown, far less sophisticated than the women they usually met—so young, so unguarded.
“Yeah.”
“Cheng Jiayao, you beast!”
“…I’m really not his girlfriend,” she protested.
“Then do you have a boyfriend?”
Before Jiang Zhier could answer, laughter erupted again. “Hey, that’s Brother Yao’s sister! What are you trying to pull, asking that?”
Before the teasing could go further, Cheng Jiayao emerged from the indoor arena, walking over with calm authority. “Whatever you’re thinking,” he said coolly, “I suggest you drop it.”
The laughter swelled again, now directed at him—mocking how protective he was of his “sister.”
He unscrewed a water bottle, took a sip, and tightened the cap. “She belongs to my Second Uncle.”
The group fell silent, glancing at one another in surprise.
Once they realized who she was, the teasing stopped instantly—like a room plunged into cold water.
The rain outside grew heavier. Cheng Jiayao handed Jiang Zhier a racing suit and helmet, then led her out for mountain racing.
The downpour beat fiercely against the open-top car, water streaming down the narrow mountain path.
It was probably the most reckless thing Jiang Zhier had ever done.
A stormy night.
A mountain road.
An open racecar.
Cheng Jiayao hit the accelerator, the roar of the engine tearing through the wind.
“Are you scared?” he shouted.
Jiang Zhier shook her head.
A second later, the car shot forward like an arrow, plunging straight into the storm.
Raindrops spattered across her visor. At first, she shut her eyes against the jolt, but soon she forced them open, watching the blur of the road ahead.
Her breath steadied.
Through the rush of wind and pounding rain—through the rapid thrum of her heart—an image flashed in her mind: the day of the funeral, Cheng Jingwei standing under a black umbrella, quietly shielding her from the storm.
And in that moment, amid the roaring engine and driving rain, she finally understood that heartbeat—a feeling that could never see the light of day.
She had fallen in love with Cheng Jingwei, eleven years her senior.
—
Although the racing suit was waterproof, she was still soaked through.
Cheng Jiayao glanced at her with admiration. “You’re braver than I thought. Not afraid at all.”
The mountain air was colder at night.
After saying goodbye to his friends, he drove Jiang Zhier back first.
If the girl caught a cold, his Second Uncle would never forgive him.
In the car, Jiang Zhier wiped her damp hair with a tissue.
“By the way,” Cheng Jiayao warned, “if Second Uncle asks, don’t tell him I took you to the mountains.”
She nodded. “Mm.”
While waiting at a red light, Cheng Jiayao turned to look at her delicate profile. The red glow of taillights reflected on her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her face—so young, so beautiful.
He froze for a moment, his heartbeat faltering with a strange numbness.
Noticing his gaze, Jiang Zhier asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He quickly looked away, reaching into the back seat. “Oh, right—this is Second Uncle’s suit. The one you asked me to take to the nurse last time.”
Jiang Zhier took it and sifted through it.
Cheng Jiayao said, “There’s no helping it. The fabric’s too delicate — once it’s been rained on, no matter how much you fix it, there’ll still be marks. It’s better to throw it away. Second Uncle definitely won’t wear it again.”
Jiang Zhier thought, even if it’s to be thrown away, that decision shouldn’t be mine.
“I’ll give it to Second Uncle first,” she said softly.
There was no umbrella in the car, and Cheng Jiayao walked her to the door—just three steps away from the eaves.
Jiang Zhier wasn’t completely dry herself, but she unzipped her down jacket, held the suit tightly in her arms, and slipped out of the car quickly, not letting a single drop of rain touch it.
It was as if she were carefully protecting a heart that could never be brought into the light.