Volume One, Chapter 19: Turning the Tables
At this point, there was no reason to continue the conversation. Jiang Ning bypassed Han Fang and headed toward the trash bin, pulling out her phone to text Lu Cheng.
Jiang Ning: Where are you?
Wasn’t it agreed that he would come down two minutes later to bring her a coat?
Lu Cheng didn’t reply, but Han Fang caught up with her, tightly gripping the hand that was about to toss the garbage. “Who is he?”
Jiang Ning paused, then realized who Han Fang meant by “he.” She vaguely sensed his intention, anger gathering in her eyes. “What are you trying to say?”
Han Fang stared at her unblinkingly. “I never knew you had someone like that around you.”
He had suspected Jiang Ning’s impulsive marriage was out of spite, but if there was nothing between them, how could anyone agree to marry her so suddenly? A boyfriend could be faked or even rented, but registering a marriage was different—it had legal consequences. Once divorced, there was the stigma of a second marriage; who would treat marriage so lightly?
Jiang Ning had guessed when Han Fang brought up Lu Cheng that he was about to turn the accusation back on her, and sure enough.
She was so furious she laughed, the beauty in her face tinged with sarcasm.
Han Fang was determined to get a definite answer, tightening his grip. “Tell me, were you two already—”
Before he finished, Jiang Ning forcibly broke free from his hold, grabbed the bulging trash bag with both hands, and smashed it down on his head, gritting her teeth in rage. “Don’t disgust me!”
The bag contained household waste—mostly used paper and food wrappers—so it wasn’t heavy. The key, though, was the milk tea cup inside. Jiang Ning’s swing shoved the straw through the bag, and the garbage spilled over Han Fang, leaving him drenched and pathetic.
Han Fang’s fists clenched, his typically refined and gentle face now rare with agitation.
Jiang Ning’s hands were also balled, ready at any moment.
If the enemy stayed still, so would she; if he moved, she’d run!
Han Fang took deep breaths, forcing down his anger. He brushed the garbage from his hair and persisted, “Tell me, were you two together long before?”
Jiang Ning remained silent, rolling up her sleeves and grinding her teeth.
This time, someone moved faster than she did.
A fist the size of a sandbag flew over, sending Han Fang staggering back three meters before he stopped.
Lu Cheng, having finished, retreated to Jiang Ning’s side and draped a coat over her shoulders. “I could hear the barking from a mile away. So noisy.”
Jiang Ning’s taut nerves relaxed instantly.
The scent of laundry detergent mingled with Lu Cheng’s own, an indescribable, comforting aroma. The coat blocked the wind and seemed to patch the hole in her heart, her body gradually warming, and her spirit finding a soft little nest to rest in amid the storm, instinctively wanting to curl up and absorb its warmth.
Han Fang’s fists remained clenched, ready to retaliate, but lacking the courage. He feared escalating things and having trouble explaining to Zhu Man later, so he gritted his teeth and endured.
He yelled at Jiang Ning, “Are you sure you want to be with someone like him?”
Lu Cheng snorted, “Someone like me? What kind? Go on, enlighten me—I’d like to learn a few more perspectives about myself.”
Han Fang, agitated, spat, “Violent, vulgar!”
Lu Cheng replied, “If you’re dealing with a mad dog, isn’t it better to be violent than let it bite someone? As for vulgarity, you summed it up well—I am both rough and vulgar.”
As he spoke, his words slowed and his tone grew increasingly irreverent.
“You—”
Han Fang tried to retort, but Lu Cheng stepped forward and shoved what looked like a business card into his hand.
“Our Jiang Ning is beautiful and kind. You’d better be sensible and stop embarrassing yourself here. As for your question, I can answer it right now: yes, we had a flash marriage, but it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Stop acting hysterical and flattering yourself. This is our matchmaker’s card—when you’re ready for your second marriage, you can contact her. Great service, plenty of resources, satisfaction guaranteed. Consider it my thanks for your refusal to marry Jiang Ning.”
He wrapped his arm around Jiang Ning and turned away. “Didn’t you say you’d treat us to wedding wine? Let’s do it tomorrow. I’m picky, so choose a good place.”
Jiang Ning obediently nestled into his embrace, not looking back.
Han Fang was stunned, taking a moment to recover his senses. By then, Lu Cheng and Jiang Ning had already walked several meters away.
He was both frustrated and angry, instinctively wanting to chase after them. Just then, his phone rang. The screen displayed “Beloved Wife.”
Han Fang hesitated briefly before answering, “What is it, Manman?”
Zhu Man’s displeasure was evident. “How does buying roasted chestnuts take so long?”
Han Fang glanced at the building’s lobby; Jiang Ning and Lu Cheng had already gone inside. He turned toward the community gate. “Something happened. I’ll tell you when I get back.”
His voice was low, his tone forced into lightness, with just the right touch of distress.
As expected, Zhu Man pressed further, and he went along, “Oh, it’s nothing. I was buying chestnuts for you and ran into a drunk—cut in line and even started a fight. It took a bit longer… No worries, I’ve got the chestnuts, I’ll be home soon.”
With that, Zhu Man’s anger faded, her words full of concern and care.
Han Fang’s face remained dark, but his speech was gentle, doting, and considerate.
Meanwhile, Jiang Ning stepped into the elevator and immediately tossed the coat at Lu Cheng. “Why are you holding yours? It reeks.”
Lu Cheng reached up to ruffle her hair, unable to suppress a smile. “When you need it, it’s armor. When you’re done, it stinks. How can you be like this?”
Jiang Ning shot him a glare, her tone harsh. “What does how I am have to do with you? If you can stand it, fine. If not, you can leave.”
She knew full well that the infuriating one was Han Fang, that Lu Cheng didn’t deserve her anger, but she couldn’t help herself—hurtful words spilled out without a second thought.
Lu Cheng understood she was in a bad mood and said nothing, though the light in his eyes noticeably dimmed.
Jiang Ning felt like a stone weighed on her heart. She took deep breaths, “Sorry” rolling on her tongue but never making it out.
The moment she entered the apartment, she dove into the master bedroom, only emerging at two in the morning when hunger gnawed at her.
The living room was dark except for the glowing TV, which was playing “The Story of Pigsy.”
Lu Cheng sat up from the sofa when he heard her. Jiang Ning switched on the lights. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither spoke—the quiet air was tinged with awkwardness.
After ten seconds or so, Lu Cheng seemed to remember something and reached for the remote, turning off the TV. “Was I disturbing you?”
Jiang Ning shook her head and headed to the kitchen for food.
When she opened the fridge, she almost thought she’d unleashed Pandora’s box.
Neatly arranged vegetables, boxed fruit, a shelf replenished with eggs, several bottles of chili sauce—every inch packed.
She glanced at the freezer. Good heavens—steak, chicken wings, seafood, a full range, like a small grocery store.
Her ice cream cowered in the corner, the box squeezed out of shape.
Clearly, he’d been busy after she retreated to her room.
Jiang Ning rarely cooked—she either ate out or ordered delivery. It wasn’t that she couldn’t; she just saw no need.
For one person, it was hard to measure rice. Cooking took an hour, cleaning half an hour, eating ten minutes—too much time wasted.
Usually, her fridge contained only drinks, fruit, ice cream, and eggs. Tonight, she’d just wanted to fry an egg for her instant noodles.
Lu Cheng spoke quietly from behind her, “What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.”
Jiang Ning leaned her slender waist against the counter, watching as he rolled up his sleeves, ready to get to work. She considered for a moment. “Just cook some noodles.”
Lu Cheng made a “please” gesture toward the kitchen door.
“No problem. Wait outside.”