They traded stories from the old days for a while, tearing through each other's embarrassing moments, and slowly realized that their so-called irreconcilable feud was nothing more than childish grudges and teenage pride. In the end, Tan sighed.
"We've been at each other's throats for more than twenty years, and you settle it with a few glasses of wine. Honestly, I feel a bit… unsatisfied."
"Fine," Chen Jin replied. "I'll give you a chance to balance the scales."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Remember the bidding for Plot 103? You guys were dead set on winning it, but in the end we took it at thirteen billion. I'll sell it to you now at the last price you offered that day. What do you say?"
Tan blinked, then snorted.
"So that's the game. You're here to squeeze money out of me."
"Squeezing money, yes. Calculating against you, no," Chen Jin said frankly. "Those parcels I'm holding? Everyone's been eyeing them. If I put out the word, there will be a line at my door tomorrow morning, all desperate to get a bite."
"That logic I don't disagree with," Tan said. "But let's be honest: you're only offering now because you need cash. If you weren't in trouble, would we still be stuck in this stalemate?"
"You're wrong," Chen Jin countered, voice steady. "This is just the catalyst. Things I couldn't swallow my pride to do before, I can force myself to do now. I may not like certain things about you, but I respect your way of doing business. We shouldn't be wasting our energy fighting each other. One more enemy is never as good as one more ally."
He paused, then added,
"I'm convinced that if we join forces, there won't be room for anyone else in City B's real estate market."
—
In the middle of the night, Lin Wan woke with a start to the thud of something in the living room. She padded out and turned on the light—only to see that Chen Jin had tripped over the sofa.
She didn't even have to get close to smell the alcohol on him. His steps were unsteady as he staggered toward her, and she instinctively went forward to support him.
Chen Jin leaned heavily on her, dumping half his weight onto her shoulder without hesitation. He gave her a vague, drunken smile.
"Still awake? Waiting for me?"
As he spoke, his hand reached up, trying to touch her face. Lin Wan dodged, frowning.
"Why did you drink so much?"
"Because I'm happy," he drawled, smiling foolishly as he stretched out the words. Then he waved a hand, grumbling,
"That bastard Tan—next time he falls into my hands, I'll throw him into a vat of liquor and let him soak…"
His rant was abruptly cut short. His expression shifted, and he shoved her aside, striding toward the bathroom. Even then, he remembered to shut the door behind him.
The sounds of retching and flushing drifted out. Lin Wan stood there in a daze for a moment, then ran to the kitchen. By the time she came back with what she wanted, the bathroom had gone quiet. She waited at the door for a few seconds, then, still uneasy, pushed it open.
Chen Jin was bracing his hands on the sink, staring blankly at his own reflection. When he heard the door, he turned. Water still clung to his face and hair, droplets sliding down, his expression lost, as if he had no idea who she was.
Lin Wan held out the bottle of milk.
"Drink this."
He took it and obediently gulped it down in a few big swallows, then handed the empty bottle back to her as naturally as if this were routine. Sniffing, he muttered,
"I need a shower. I reek."
He peeled off his suit jacket and shoved it into her arms. She had no choice but to catch it. When she saw him wrestling with his tie—drunk fingers clumsy, only pulling it tighter and tighter, his brows knitting as if he were about to strangle himself—she said,
"I'll do it."
She regretted the offer the moment it left her mouth. After fumbling for a while without success, she regretted it even more. His breath, thick with alcohol and cigarettes and now milk, brushed against her face, inexplicably making her nervous. Her fingers grew even clumsier.
Seeing her struggle, Chen Jin sensibly sat down on the washroom lid. Lin Wan stood between his legs, head lowered, and finally managed to pry the knot open with her fingernails. She exhaled in relief, smiling.
"There. Done."
She lifted her head—and found herself captured by eyes soft as water. Beneath the faint bloodshot veins, something else flowed between black and white—unguarded, utterly sincere.
Before she could recover, Chen Jin's arms wrapped around her waist. He pressed his face against her stomach and rubbed his head there like a spoiled child.
"Wanwan, you're so good to me…"
Startled by the sudden embrace, Lin Wan's hands flew up in surrender, palms open. She didn't even notice the posture, her voice hoarse.
"Let go."
"Just let me hold you for a bit. Just a bit," he mumbled, words blurred. His arms tightened again, pulling her waist flush against him. His breath, warm through the thin fabric of her pajamas, seemed to scorch her skin. Lin Wan could hear a pounding heartbeat—she didn't know if it was his or her own.
His unconscious murmurs were like sleep-talking. Only she understood what he was saying. Two simple words—yet they outweighed all the love declarations in the world. And they weren't just sweet talk. They tugged at something soft and hidden deep inside her, stirring a tenderness she recognized with a start.
It was maternal.
At that moment, she had the illusion that she was cradling a wayward child of her own.
Only when a light snore rose from her chest did Lin Wan finally chuckle. She lifted a hand and brushed his damp hair.
"Weren't you going to shower?" she muttered helplessly. "How did you end up falling asleep instead?"
—
The next morning, sunlight slipped through the narrow gap in the half-drawn curtains. Lin Wan opened her eyes and nearly jumped—Chen Jin's face was right in front of hers, their foreheads touching.
He still carried the faint smell of alcohol in his breath, mixed with the mint of toothpaste. She remembered how she'd shaken him awake the night before and told him to wash up, and how he'd obediently brushed his teeth, then opened his mouth like a child and breathed at her, asking her to check.
Lin Wan sighed inwardly and tried to shift away, only to realize her right hand was trapped in his grasp, completely numb. She vaguely recalled that they'd fallen asleep in exactly this position.
Her movement woke him. He let out a low hum. Even with his eyes closed, years of living together had taught her to recognize the difference—he was awake, just refusing to face reality.
She sighed silently—at her own inability to pull free, and at his refusal to let go.
Pushing her thoughts down, she spoke in a calm voice.
"Chen Jin, let go."
The hand holding hers jerked, then tightened, squeezing hard enough to hurt. His breathing quickened, shorter and shorter.
Lin Wan knew she'd angered him again. In an instant, countless scenes of being "disciplined" at dawn flashed through her mind. The grip on her hand grew stronger. She wanted to spring up and escape—but somewhere deep down, another voice whispered:
He won't. He won't hurt you anymore.
His breathing gradually slowed, returning to normal. Only then did he speak, his morning voice low and rough.
"In a few days, it'll be your birthday. Stay with me for one more. I have a present for you."
Her eyes stung. Heat surged up and filled her lashes before she even realized she was crying. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard, refusing to let the tears betray her.
After a long silence, a single word finally broke free.
"Okay."
The word was thick with bitterness, so unfamiliar it sounded like it came from someone else's throat.