Feverish Spring Night - Chapter 9

Jiang Zhi’er looked up blankly, staring at the pink envelope for a full ten seconds.
“What’s this?”
The man’s tone was calm but firm. “It should be your love letter.”
“…”
Jiang Zhi’er’s face flushed hot. She quickly snatched the letter back, afraid he might misunderstand. “No, this isn’t— I’m not in a relationship.”
Cheng Jingwei hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from the little girl, whose face was now bright red.
After all, Cheng Jiayao was surrounded by girls so often that he could barely remember their faces. Having studied abroad for years, he didn’t find dating at that age particularly strange.
“It’s fine to be in a relationship. Your second uncle isn’t some old-fashioned man,” he said with a faint smile. Still, as an elder, he added gently, “Just make sure you protect yourself.”
Jiang Zhi’er’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.
Along with embarrassment, a hint of frustration rose in her chest.
“I really don’t,” she muttered.
Cheng Jingwei only smiled, dropping the subject as he began checking problems in her textbook. “How many days until your final exams?”
“Two weeks.”
“I’m not busy these days. I can help you review physics.”
Her earlier gloom lifted instantly. Her heart beat faster. “Okay.”
Over the next few days, Jiang Zhi’er began redoing her physics exercises ahead of time.
The student who sat behind her happened to be the class physics representative, so every day before going home, Jiang Zhi’er would ask questions, jot them down in pencil, and later erase them all.
When Shao Xu asked why she erased them, she explained that rewriting helped her remember better.
In truth, she only did it so Cheng Jingwei could explain the questions to her again.
She was afraid he’d think she was slow, so she forced herself to go through the repetition.
For the next week, Cheng Jingwei came home early as well.
At first, Jiang Zhi’er did her homework at the dining table. But when Cheng Jingwei noticed that the dim lighting strained her eyes, he told her to use his study instead.
The large study was lined with walnut bookcases, filled mostly with English books that bore the marks of frequent reading.
Cheng Jingwei sat in his office chair, while Jiang Zhi’er sat across from him.
He worked quietly on his computer or reviewed documents as she spread her papers across half the desk.
He often brewed his own pour-over coffee—Golden Mandheling, smooth yet layered, with a balance of bitterness and sweetness.
That day, he ground an extra cup and handed it to Jiang Zhi’er.
She took a sip, frowned, and almost spat it out.
He smiled and offered a tissue. “Not used to it?”
“It’s so bitter.”
“Maybe you’re still too young to handle bitterness,” he teased lightly.
Jiang Zhi’er didn’t want him to think of her as “young.” Determined, she lifted the cup again and took a big gulp, as if proving something to herself—or to him.
The bitter liquid burned her throat, and she began coughing uncontrollably.
Cheng Jingwei stood up and patted her back. “If you don’t like it, pour it out. Why drink so much at once?”
Her lips were tinted a soft brown, her face flushed from coughing.
Frustrated, she muttered, “I just want to grow up faster.”
Cheng Jingwei couldn’t help but laugh. To him, it was amusing how a sip of coffee could lead to such a declaration.
“It’s normal,” he said. “Children always want to grow up, and when they do, they wish they could go back.”
He called Aunt Chu to bring milk from the refrigerator. Mixing it into her cup, he added a sugar cube for good measure. “Try this. A latte.”
This time, Jiang Zhi’er took a cautious sip.
The bitterness was muted, replaced by the mellow aroma of milk and a hint of sweetness that lingered on her tongue.
She held the cup in both hands, milk foam clinging to her upper lip, and smiled with narrowed eyes. “It’s delicious.”
Cheng Jingwei chuckled softly.
That week, Jiang Zhi’er was truly happy.
Even the dullest physics problems seemed filled with joy.
Cheng Jingwei would make her lattes and patiently explain every question. Even half an hour a day was enough to make her smile in her sleep.
At sixteen, she felt proud to occupy thirty minutes of his time each day—
and she secretly hoped that, little by little, this closeness would narrow the distance between them.
But the gap carved by time and experience could not be closed so easily.
For someone like Cheng Jingwei, even half an hour a day was a rare luxury.
Then came the news—he was leaving on another business trip abroad.
When Jiang Zhi’er heard, she couldn’t hide her disappointment. She hunched over her desk, pretending to focus on her work.
Cheng Jingwei ended his phone call by the window, turned, and gently patted her back. “Sit up straight.”
Days spent together had made her less self-conscious around him. She straightened a little. “Uncle, how long will you be gone?”
“It depends. Maybe ten days.”
Ten days.
He’d only spent seven days teaching her—three and a half hours in total. Two movies’ worth of time.
“I’ve found you a great physics tutor,” he said suddenly.
She blinked, confused. “What?”
“Finals are coming up. I’ll give you his number. You can schedule after school, and take breaks when you need to.”
She hadn’t expected him to think of her even while he’d be away.
“This teacher… is the tuition expensive?”
He smiled faintly. “Of course I’ll pay. I don’t do business at a loss.”
“What’s the reward, then?”
“Your final physics grade.”
He didn’t truly care about her marks. For people like them, studying wasn’t about changing fate. Even the worst students, like Cheng Jiayao, could live comfortably with good character alone.
Their family’s wealth was bottomless.
But seeing the girl’s downcast face over her physics papers, he offered the only kind of encouragement he could.
Cheng Jingwei had hired a retired physics teacher from No. 1 Middle School—a man so respected that his lecture fees reached tens of thousands of yuan.
He had arranged for the teacher to come to his house, but the teacher was elderly, and Jiang Zhi’er felt it was inappropriate to let outsiders into Cheng Jingwei’s home. So, she went to the teacher instead.
Eager to impress him, she studied relentlessly—staying at the teacher’s home until ten each night, hoping to score high on her finals and make Cheng Jingwei proud.
Before she knew it, the exam arrived.
It was a citywide joint test—relatively easy.
After the physics exam, she let out a long breath.
There were still a few problems she hadn’t solved, but overall, it went well.
Two days of exams passed, and winter vacation was near.
The classroom buzzed with excitement. The homeroom teacher stood at the podium, giving reminders for the holiday, while class representatives handed out homework.
Jiang Zhi’er packed her books quietly and gazed out the window.
It would be her first New Year away from home—
and the first without her grandmother.
When the teacher finished and wished everyone a happy New Year, the room erupted with cheers.
Jiang Zhi’er didn’t rush out with the crowd. She walked slowly, alone.
At the school gate, cars jammed the street. Uncle Li hadn’t messaged to say he’d arrived—unusual for him. Maybe he was stuck in traffic.
Just as she neared the gate, someone called out:
“Er’er!”
She stopped and looked up.
A tall, slender boy approached with a bright smile. “How was the test? Are you free later? There’s a new dessert shop nearby. Want to go?”
If her biggest worry had been the physics exam, her second was this boy.
He Ziyue had pursued her persistently, no matter how many times she refused.
“Sorry, I have something to do. I need to go home.”
“What is it? I can take you.”
“No, the driver’s coming to pick me up.”
He grinned. “Perfect! I’ll just ride with you then.”
“…”
Jiang Zhi’er stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. “He Ziyue, I really don’t like you. I already like someone else.”
He Ziyue froze.
“Who?”
The voice didn’t come from him—it came from behind.
Jiang Zhi’er turned.
Cheng Jiayao was walking toward them, a basketball under his arm. He waved goodbye to his friends, then looked at her curiously. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“…”
Jiang Zhi’er grabbed his sleeve and hurried forward.
He Ziyue stood stunned but didn’t follow.
When they were out of earshot, Jiang Zhi’er let go. “No.”
Cheng Jiayao grinned. “Why are you so shy? I won’t tell anyone.”
“Really, no.”
“Then… is it your brother?”
“…”
She said nothing.
Cheng Jiayao looked down. The little girl’s lips were rosy, her skin pale and luminous. Maybe she’d been studying too much lately—she seemed thinner, her delicate bone structure more defined, her beauty even more striking than before.
Why hadn’t I noticed this side of this little girl before?
She seemed even prettier.
Cheng Jiayao concluded—she’s obsessed with beauty. She must be in love.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll tell my uncle you’re in a relationship.”
Jiang Zhier panicked. “No!”
“Then tell me.”
“But I really don’t.”
“So, they’re not together yet, just… in the talking stage?”
“…No.”
“No way—you’re not secretly in love with her, are you!?”
“…”
This time, Jiang Zhier couldn’t deny it or admit it. He lowered his head, blushing furiously.
That was all the confirmation Cheng Jiayao needed.
He suddenly raised his voice, exclaiming in mock shock, “You really are in a secret crush? No way, Er’er—who even has secret crushes these days!?”
They had already reached the school gate. Desperate to escape his teasing, Jiang Zhier hurried out of the car—but a familiar figure stopped her in her tracks.
Cheng Jingwei had appeared out of nowhere.
He was standing by the car, dressed in a dark grey handmade suit, one hand in his pocket. A rare cigarette burned between his fingers. His usually austere features were softened by the glow of the setting sun—and by something that almost looked like a smile.
A thousand thoughts raced through Jiang Zhier’s mind.
Did he hear?
How much did he hear?
What would he think if he did?
How could she possibly explain?
Their eyes met.
He lifted his cigarette hand slightly. “Er’er, get in the car.”
Her mind was still in chaos. She ran forward instinctively, ready to ask when he had returned to China. But before she could speak, Cheng Jiayao’s voice followed:
“Second Uncle—”
His tone was gleeful, but it sounded ominous.
Jiang Zhier instantly froze, then spun around and clapped her hand over Cheng Jiayao’s mouth with a sharp snap.
A month ago, she would never have imagined daring to do that.
But now she had more courage than she realized.
The little girl glared at him, eyes wide, like a kitten baring its tiny teeth.
“Cheng Jiayao! Shut up!”