Chapter 28: A Visit from Aunt

Standing at the door were, as expected, Aunt Wang Meifeng and her son, Wang Hao, who had just graduated from university and wore an expression of haughty arrogance. Wang Meifeng carried a fruit basket that clearly looked like a discounted supermarket purchase. Her face was plastered with an overly enthusiastic smile, yet her eyes were darting around the room like searchlights the moment she stepped inside.

"Oh my! Lingling! It’s been so long, your auntie has missed you to death!" Zhang Guifang’s voice was booming. She pushed her way in without invitation, her gaze sweeping over the cozy but by no means luxurious living room, a flicker of imperceptible disdain crossing her eyes. Upon seeing Yu Jianbang and Li Xiulan sitting on the sofa, she let out an exaggerated gasp. "Big Sister! Brother-in-law! You’re here too! What a coincidence! Haohao and I were just in the neighborhood for some business and thought we’d stop by to see Lingling." Her gaze shifted to Zhao Chen, who had just walked over. She looked him up and down, lingering for several seconds on his "budget" shirt and jeans, her lips curling slightly.

"Auntie, Haohao, come in and sit," Yu Ling said, suppressing her discomfort. Wang Hao followed behind, offering only a perfunctory greeting to his aunt and uncle. He didn't even give Zhao Chen a glance, instead pulling out his phone to play games.

Wang Meifeng placed the tacky fruit basket carelessly on the entryway cabinet—a surface Zhao Chen had meticulously cleaned that morning—and plopped down on the sofa, claiming the best seat. She took Li Xiulan’s hand, feigning intimacy while quickly steering the conversation toward Yu Ling.

"Big Sister, I don't mean to pry," Zhang Guifang said, patting the back of Li Xiulan’s hand with a tone of exaggerated regret, "but I told you back then, Lingling has such good qualities—she’s beautiful, a college graduate, and works in a big city; she should have found someone local with a house and a car! Look at her now..." She intentionally drew out her tone, her eyes glancing meaningfully at Zhao Chen. "Living in a rented place, struggling to make ends meet—it’s such a grievance for our Lingling! A girl only has a few years of youth; she can’t afford to waste them!"

Yu Ling’s expression darkened instantly. Yu Jianbang furrowed his brows, but out of respect for family, he didn't snap. Li Xiulan’s smile froze on her face, and she looked awkwardly between her daughter and son-in-law.

Zhao Chen walked over with a plate of sliced fruit, a gentle smile still on his face, as if he hadn't heard the thorns in Wang Meifeng’s words. He placed the fruit on the coffee table and said politely, "Auntie, Haohao, have some fruit."

Wang Meifeng seemed not to hear him, continuing her performance with her sights set directly on Zhao Chen. "Little Zhao, I speak plainly, so don't mind me. Which company do you work for? How much... do you make a month? Is it enough for Lingling to spend? I hear the cost of living in big cities is very high!" As she spoke, she crossed her legs, her fingers painted with bright red polish tapping on her knee in a condescending manner.

Wang Hao looked up right on cue, letting out a scoff with the typical sharp-tongued arrogance of a young man. "Mom, do you even have to ask? Looking at him, he’s probably just a low-level code monkey, ten thousand a month at most. What’s that good for? With him, Sister Lingling probably can’t even afford a decent bag. My girlfriend’s bags cost tens of thousands!" He flicked his wrist, displaying a designer watch that was clearly a knock-off, oozing a sense of superiority.

The atmosphere in the living room plummeted to freezing. Yu Ling was trembling with rage, her fingers tightly gripping the hem of her shirt. Yu Jianbang’s face was livid, and he was about to speak up.

But Zhao Chen, who had remained silent, suddenly laughed. It wasn't a cold laugh, but one that held a touch of bashfulness and embarrassment, as if he were a young man asked an awkward question by an elder. He scratched his head, acting like a green graduate, his tone sincere and slightly silly.

"Auntie is right to lecture me. My work is just about making a living with skills; it’s hard-earned money, and I really can't compare to Haohao’s girlfriend." He paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and shifted the topic abruptly, his tone becoming unusually earnest and tinged with the urgency of someone worried for others. "By the way, Auntie! You and Haohao haven't invested in any high-yield schemes lately, have you? I was reading the news these past two days, and it scared me to death!"

The mood shifted dramatically at his question, and everyone was stunned.

Zhao Chen took out his phone—a very ordinary domestic brand model—and clumsily swiped at the screen. His brows were furrowed, and his tone was filled with apprehension. "That 'Jinxin Wealth' thing! The news says it’s a massive scam! They specifically target the elderly! They promised an annual return of thirty or forty percent, but then they swindled billions and vanished! So many seniors like you, Auntie, who have scrimped and saved all your lives, had your entire retirement funds stolen! Oh, the scene was just heartbreaking, people wailing and crying!" As he spoke, he held his phone up to Wang Meifeng, showing a shocking headline from a local news app regarding the collapse of "Jinxin Wealth."

The triumph and spite on Wang Meifeng’s face froze instantly, as if she had been punched in the face. The color drained from her skin, and her eyes were filled with sheer terror. She stared at Zhao Chen’s screen, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

Wang Hao’s phone-playing hand also froze. His face turned ghastly pale, and he looked away, avoiding eye contact.

Zhao Chen seemed completely oblivious to their distress, remaining immersed in his own "worry." His tone grew heavier. "And that 'Overseas Mine Primary Shares' thing! That’s a scam, too! They talk about Australian gold mines and African diamond mines, but it’s actually just a pyramid scheme! So many people have been ruined, even mortgaging their homes! The police say these cases are the hardest to recover money from! Auntie, you, Uncle, and Haohao, you must keep your eyes peeled and not get fooled by these flashy things! It’s not easy to save up a bit of money!" He spoke with deep concern, his eyes sincere and filled with a heartfelt anxiety for his relatives' finances—the very picture of a well-meaning, blunt, and simple-minded junior.

"I... we..." Wang Meifeng’s face was ash-white, cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. She cast a terrified glance at her son, Wang Hao, who looked equally ashen. Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she bolted from the sofa, her voice cracking. "That... Big Sister! Brother-in-law! Lingling! Little Zhao! I... I suddenly remembered I might have left the gas stove on at home! I have to go check! Haohao! Let’s go!"

She babbled incoherently, grabbed the bewildered Wang Hao, and fled as if escaping a disaster, forgetting even the tacky fruit basket. Their frantic retreat was pathetic, leaving behind not a shred of the earlier arrogance or superiority.

*Bang!* The door slammed shut.

The living room fell silent.

Yu Jianbang and Li Xiulan looked at each other, still unable to process the sudden turn of events. Yu Ling, however, stood dumbfounded, her heart churning with shock. Zhao Chen... how did he know that her aunt’s family had been swindled by "Jinxin Wealth"? And how did he know about Wang Hao’s obsession with "overseas mines"? His words, which seemed naively concerned, were in fact lethal, striking precisely at the deepest wounds of Zhang Guifang and her son. This wasn't "bluntness"; it was a soft blade that killed without a drop of blood. It was the highest level of "playing the pig to eat the tiger."

She looked at Zhao Chen. He had already put his phone away, and the look of concern for the world had vanished, replaced by his usual gentle, harmless smile, as if he had just been chatting about a social news story. He picked up a slice of apple and handed it to the still-bewildered Li Xiulan, his tone light and natural. "Mom, have an apple. Auntie’s memory... my goodness, she’s always in such a rush."

Looking at his mild, gentle, and courteous face, and then at the lingering confusion—and growing approval—on her parents' faces regarding Zhao Chen’s "honesty" and "concern for relatives," a chill mixed with an indescribable sense of shock surged from her feet to her head. This man... was terrifying. His mind was as deep as the sea, and his methods... silent, yet hitting the mark every time.

Yu Ling’s parents were retired teachers from a middle school in Yicheng, a third-tier city. The school had organized a tour for retired staff near Haicheng, so they had come early to visit their daughter and son-in-law. Reassured by the visit and offering a thousand parting instructions, they said goodbye to the couple to join their group.

After seeing off her parents, who were completely satisfied and full of praise for their son-in-law, the door of 1601 closed gently, isolating them from the outside world. The living room instantly became quiet, save for the city lights outside the window and the warm yellow glow of the ceiling light.

The earlier warmth and bustle faded like the tide, leaving behind only the silence of the room and an faint, lingering sense of awkwardness. Yu Ling leaned against the wall of the entryway, letting out a long, silent breath. Her nerves, taut all day, finally relaxed, replaced by a wave of crushing fatigue. Acting was truly exhausting. Especially in front of her parents, alongside this man who was a walking riddle, playing out a drama titled "Quiet Years."

Zhao Chen also shed the impeccable, gentle smile he wore for his in-laws, his brow tinged with an imperceptible weariness. He walked over to Yu Ling, not getting too close, just watching her quietly with complex eyes, tinged with a cautious probing and the calm of someone awaiting judgment.

Silence spread between them.

Finally, it was Yu Ling who spoke first, her voice low and raspy, heavy with fatigue and confusion. "Zhao Chen... who are you, really?" She raised her head, looking directly into his deep, amber eyes, trying to find a crack in the facade. "You... you did very well tonight, so well that it scares me. So well that... I feel like I’ve never truly known the real you." Her words held no anger, only deep bewilderment and a sense of powerlessness at being kept in the dark.

Zhao Chen’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He didn't avoid her gaze; his eyes were honest, yet carried a heavy sense of helplessness. "Lingling," he whispered her name, his voice possessing a strange, soothing power. "I am still me. The Zhao Chen who wants to fry eggs for you, pick you up from work, and protect you from any grievance. That has never changed."

He paused, taking a small step forward to close the distance, his voice dropping lower. "As for the rest... I admit, I have hidden things. Many things." He confessed candidly, his eyes earnest. "But I can guarantee that what I have hidden is not out of malice, and it will never harm you in the slightest. On the contrary, Lingling, it is precisely to protect the peace we have now, to protect you from being swept up in those... disturbances you don't wish to encounter, that I chose this temporary disguise."

He glanced around the living room—the temporarily replaced simple furniture, the discounted supermarket coasters—all of which spoke of his efforts to maintain this "ordinariness."

"Just like tonight," he continued, his tone carrying a trace of self-deprecation, "if Mom and Dad knew the truth, they might be shocked, they might be overjoyed, but what would follow would be endless worry, speculation, and perhaps even... troubles beyond our control. They would worry that you couldn't handle such a life, worry that you’d be wronged, worry that this relationship would change. Lingling, do you want to see them like that? Do you want our relationship to be burdened from the very beginning with those heavy, extraneous things?"

He reached out, this time slowly and firmly, and gently took Yu Ling’s cool hand. His palm was warm and dry, holding her with an unquestionable strength.

"Give me some time, Lingling." He gazed into her eyes, each word clear and solemn. "When the time is truly right—a time when you can understand and accept everything without any interference—I will tell you everything. Without reservation. But for now..."

He squeezed her hand slightly, his eyes filled with a promise that felt almost sacred and a tenderness so thick it could not be dissolved.

"Please believe that all my intentions and my ultimate goal are simply you. Protecting you, making you feel secure, making you happy, and keeping you free from the storms—that is my 'identity,' my only and eternal identity: your husband, Zhao Chen."

His words were low and powerful, like a warm current, attempting to melt the ice and doubt in Yu Ling’s heart. Under the warm light, his eyes were clear, reflecting her slightly pale face, swirling with complex emotions—sincerity, helplessness, pleading, but deep within, a profound and burning love she could not deny.

Yu Ling’s heart was seared by that scorching gaze and solemn promise. All her anger, suspicion, and fear seemed powerless in this moment. She looked at him, this man who was a riddle, the man who put on an apron for her, blocked rumors for her, and carefully wove a "normal" world for her. His palm was so warm, his eyes so true...

Fatigue washed over her like a tide again, drowning out those sharp emotions. She was too tired, too tired to distinguish or tear things apart. Perhaps... perhaps she really did need some time? Perhaps believing in the warmth in his eyes was the only piece of driftwood she could grasp?

She did not pull her hand away, nor did she nod. She simply lowered her eyes in exhaustion, her long lashes casting a small shadow, her voice as light as a sigh. "...I’m tired, Zhao Chen."

Watching her tired and fragile appearance, Zhao Chen felt as though something had gripped his heart tightly. He said nothing more, just squeezed her hand a bit tighter, then let go naturally and reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulders, his movements gentle yet filled with an undeniable protectiveness.

"Alright, let's rest." His voice was low and gentle, as if coaxing a frightened child. He guided her, step by step, toward the bedroom, using his own body to shield her from the silence of the living room that remained full of secrets.