Chapter 24

Take twenty-four bites.
Maybe on purpose, the moon was oddly cooperative—peeking out from behind the clouds.
A thin veil seemed to fall over everything, soft as gauze, and the light on the ground shimmered like water.
Moonlight stretched far, illuminating where the man stood.
He looked like he’d come straight from the venue, not even having had time to change out of his stage outfit.
The smoky-gray silk shirt lay on him like satin.
The collar was folded open; silver dark-thread embroidery caught and broke the light into scattered glints.
Ying Tao stared at him, surprised, her expression blank with shock—like she hadn’t expected him to show up.
In the half-bright, half-shadowed light, his face showed nothing.
He gave a laugh that sounded like mockery and not mockery.
“Disappointed?” he said. “The one who came isn’t the person you wanted to see.”
“…”
Not really.
She’d simply gone by common sense:
If someone came looking for her, besides Zhou Chaoli, who else could it be?
Ying Tao was curious. “How did you even find this place?”
“Oh.” He answered coldly. “Coincidence.”
“?”
Ying Tao’s expression turned complicated. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”
He Mingye didn’t say it out loud.
But that look of his was… strangely suggestive.
As if saying: Aren’t you?
“…”
Fine.
Some people cursed with their mouths.
He Mingye cursed with his face.
Ying Tao cleared her throat twice and said with an innocent look,
“I’m thirsty.”
“So?” he asked.
She sized him up, then held out her hand. “Give me money.”
She said it as if it were perfectly natural, chin tipped up slightly—like she was granting him a chance to perform.
“Why?” He Mingye looked at her lazily, his expression unreadable. “What are you to me?”
Ying Tao stared at him like he was brain-dead.
But her expression also looked a little troubled.
“Do you really need me to say it that clearly?”
He looked at her, emotionless. “Yeah?”
Ying Tao crooked a finger, signaling him to come closer.
He Mingye lifted a brow, but did bend down slightly as instructed.
The chain of his glasses dropped, brushing past her fingertips.
Ying Tao tipped her neck back.
The distance shrank.
Her lips neared his ear.
Her soft body tensed like a drawn bowstring.
That sweet peach scent—like a warm sponge soaked in syrup—drifted over.
Her long, smooth hair slid off her narrow shoulder.
The curled ends landed on the back of his hand.
His fingers curled slightly.
She didn’t notice at all.
She only whispered into his ear, soft and slow:
“Because—”
“I’m your dad.”
“A thousand faces, endless transformations.”
“…”
…
“You’re really mad?”
Ying Tao got her way, holding a bottle of oolong milk tea.
She crept closer, trying the same trick again.
Her pinky hooked his lightly and shook.
“Don’t be mad… I was just… trying to cheer you up.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Cheer me up?”
Fine, she admitted it—there had been a gamble in it.
Wasn’t it always like this before?
It was just a joke.
So he was the only one allowed to mess with her?
Whatever.
Since he’d come all this way to find her, she’d wipe the slate clean. She wouldn’t count old grudges.
Ying Tao considered herself generous.
After thinking for a long while, she tested out a solution.
She spoke carefully:
“If you think I took advantage of you… then how about this.”
“You take it back?”
“If that still doesn’t work…”
“I can even call you ‘Dad.’ It’s not like I can’t.”
She nodded seriously, as if she were some little genius.
She’d just be straightforward and coax him.
Since he’d spent money on her, she’d give him face.
Spending money on her meant sugar daddy.
Sugar daddy meant provider.
That wasn’t wrong either.
Ying Tao was very flexible when it came to bending.
She softened her voice and called:
“Dad.”
The moment the word landed, the atmosphere changed abruptly.
He Mingye’s expression turned strange.
Only after she said it did Ying Tao realize the air had become… weird.
What should’ve been a normal form of address suddenly sounded inexplicably intimate.
But if she opened her mouth to explain, it would only look more like she was covering something up.
Just as she was thinking whether to say something to smooth it over, He Mingye’s gaze landed on her, long and meaningful.
“So that’s what you’re into,” he said.
“…”
Seriously.
Now she was wrong no matter what she did.
Ying Tao felt depressed, but she was still curious—
How had He Mingye found her here?
She lifted her eyes at him, hesitating, wanting to ask but holding back.
It was too obvious.
Even if he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t.
He teased, “What? Has the princess got more orders?”
“…”
Ying Tao held it in, but curiosity won in the end.
She asked softly, “How did you know I was here?”
He Mingye glanced at her blandly, then gave a scoff.
“Because,” he said, “I’m your dad.”
“…Enough already.”
Ying Tao was speechless. “I only said it once. You already got revenge. If you keep bringing it up, it just makes you look petty.”
He Mingye lifted a brow. “When did I ever say I was generous?”
“…”
He hadn’t. Not once.
He’d always been the type to pay back every slight.
And he’d never let himself take a loss.
A vindictive, scheming little bastard.
Ying Tao clicked her tongue, disgusted.
“You love arguing so much, why don’t you go get a job at a construction site?”
Then she muttered darkly,
“Someone like you will never get a girlfriend in this life.”
He Mingye’s eyes narrowed, his expression cooling.
“Someone like me?” he asked. “What kind of person am I?”
Mouth that sharp, heart that small—what girl could put up with him?
Ying Tao grumbled inwardly.
But she couldn’t say that out loud.
Her life was still in his hands.
Dark night, high winds—she was half-blind in the dark.
If he decided not to be human and dumped her here to fend for herself, what then?
She weighed her words for a moment and went with a tactful choice:
“A tall, strong, magnificent man like you… you’re just too hard to satisfy.”
“Not many people can match your frequency.”
“After a while, they’d definitely… not be able to take it.”
He Mingye looked at her in a way that didn’t mean anything good.
“You’ve tried?” he asked.
“…”
That sounded wrong.
The more she said, the more mistakes she made.
She decided to shut up.
Sitting on the bench, she finally relaxed.
She looked at the moon at the edge of the sky—curved like a bowstring, clear and cold.
The day he went abroad to study, the plane cut across the sky.
Clouds were hazy, like thin mist.
On the drive back, she could see a curved moon through the car window too—
Incomplete.
Back then she’d thought: the moon overseas probably wasn’t any different.
It was just a short separation.
He’d soon board a return flight.
So she wasn’t sad.
Just…
A little lonely.
No one argued with her anymore.
No one woke her at dawn.
No one took her home late at night.
If she got lost again…
He wouldn’t come anymore, right?
In a blink, it felt like she’d returned to the past—
To that night she couldn’t sleep.
“You didn’t change your number,” she said softly.
She’d thought that after so long abroad, after so many years apart, he’d have changed it long ago.
When the call still went through, she’d been shocked.
She couldn’t explain why.
Her heart felt unsettled.
The first second the line connected, what she felt wasn’t relief, and it wasn’t happiness—
It was as if her mind snapped loose, and she hung up in a panic.
Like she was instinctively avoiding that hollow, sinking emotion.
She’d never tried again.
Never dialed the number again.
Maybe she was afraid that if it became a dead number, she’d feel a little sad.
After all—being abandoned again didn’t feel good.
She’d always been like this.
Anything she didn’t want to think about, she shoved behind her head and pretended it didn’t exist.
Pretended she didn’t care.
“If I’d known…”
She joked, half-serious,
“I should’ve called you earlier that day.”
“Would’ve saved you from playing dumb and skipping my coming-of-age ceremony.”
“Maybe I could’ve squeezed you for a huge sum.”
“A coming-of-age ceremony, okay? You only get one.”
“And you, as my brother, had the nerve to be absent.”
“Everyone else came. You didn’t.”
“The world out there is so tempting—did you get lost in it overseas?”
She said she didn’t care at all.
She said she didn’t care whether He Mingye came or not.
But the truth was, she cared a little.
She waited and waited, and he never came.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The hands moved little by little.
When they hit zero, it would be a lie to say she wasn’t disappointed.
Zhou Lubai comforted her then:
“Don’t be sad. The Young Master must’ve been held up by something.”
“Tomorrow I’ll take you abroad to find him.”
“I’m not going,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t care if he comes or not.”
“Better if he doesn’t. Saves me having to argue with him.”
“You really don’t care?” Shen Minglin’s gaze was clear. “Then why are you crying?”
“I wasn’t crying,” she protested loudly.
But her eyes were shining with tears.
“Sorry, Peach,” Zhou Lubai said, full of guilt.
“I didn’t know my little uncle already had a girlfriend.”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have taken you to find him. I thought—”
He didn’t finish.
But she understood.
In their eyes, maybe Zhou Chaoli rejecting her had only been about age.
Maybe she still had a chance.
No one expected Zhou Chaoli already had a girlfriend.
Zhou Lubai had waited with her outside Zhou Chaoli’s school for a long time.
It snowed that day.
She only remembered how cold it was—cold enough to make her teeth chatter.
From far away, she watched the two of them come out.
By any fair measure, Zhou Chaoli’s taste was excellent.
His girlfriend had a refined temperament, and she was beautiful—
That rare, intellectual kind of beauty, steeped in the unique charm of a highly educated woman.
Ying Tao could understand why Zhou Chaoli rejected her.
If she were Zhou Chaoli, she would choose that person too.
One was an equal—same thoughts, same values, same frequency.
And she…
She was still just a rash, childish little kid with wild ideas.
Anyone could tell what the choice should be.
There was no comparison.
So she wasn’t sad.
After all, she had never been anyone’s first choice.
…
She didn’t remember much about that night anymore.
Only that it had been chaotic.
And that Shen Minglin had once asked her a question.
He’d asked:
“Peach—think carefully.”
“Are you sad because you found out Zhou Chaoli has a girlfriend…”
“Or because the Young Master didn’t come back?”
She didn’t know.
If she had to be clear about it—
Maybe it was just that disappointment weighed more.
He Mingye hadn’t come back.
That had been his first absence.
She didn’t know if it meant that after she grew up,
They would have to split at a fork in the road and become strangers.
…
“How did you know I didn’t come back?”
He Mingye’s tone was unreadable.
Ying Tao turned to look at him without thinking.
Behind the thin lenses, his eyes seemed to hide a layer of fog that couldn’t be seen through.
He lifted his gaze and gave a faint, mocking curl of his lips.
“When did I ever say,” he asked, “that I wanted to be your brother?”