Chapter Fourteen: He Is a Surefire Investment

Ye Mian hurriedly ran home. She couldn't truly empathize with the humiliation Jiang Chen had just experienced, but she wanted to do something for him—even if it was only to hold an umbrella for him.

She kicked off her shoes and dashed barefoot through the door, rifling through a drawer for gauze. Snatching up the umbrella from the porch, she didn’t care about the rain streaming down her face as she plunged back out into the storm.

The wind lashed her cheeks with rain. In normal times, she would have walked slowly, wary of the slippery ground. But tonight, she ran even faster than when she’d come, her heart set on reaching Jiang Chen as quickly as possible.

Because of the downpour, the fire had been brought under control; no one called for help anymore. The crowd hadn’t dispersed. They stood in silence, watching the rain douse the smoke-stained building, unsure how to comfort the teenage boy who stood at its center.

A home, gone in just a few years—now not even a shell remained.

Ye Mian squeezed through the crowd, brushing raindrops from her face, and held the umbrella above Jiang Chen’s head.

“Jiang Chen, take the umbrella.” She placed it in his hand, then unwrapped the gauze and wound it around the wound on his arm, her expression serious and efficient.

Once the gauze was in place, the bleeding stopped. Ye Mian let out a breath of relief and stood beside him, gazing at the charred, ruined building. Even in the pouring rain, ashes drifted far away.

In her memory, Jiang Chen was always getting hurt. In just half a month, this was already the third time. Her feelings were tangled, and she even forgot what she’d meant to say to him.

Jiang Chen said nothing either. His gaze was gentle and calm, watching quietly as she wrapped the bandage.

Ye Mian looked up and saw how intently he watched her. She gently took the umbrella from his hand. “Does it hurt? Let me hold the umbrella for you.”

Jiang Chen lowered his eyes, his voice soft. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Ye Mian knew it couldn’t be painless, but a strange feeling gripped her heart, leaving her unsettled. She turned to look at Dong Yulian.

Dong Yulian was sitting up now, still in a sorry state. She clutched her skirt tightly, and though the rain poured down, it was clear she was trembling all over, unable to bear the crowd’s accusatory stares.

Gritting her teeth, she got to her feet. Tottering on her high heels, she said to Jiang Chen, “A-Chen, after living together so long, I admit I was wrong this time. I’ll wash the clothes clean and return the photos—the girl gave them back to you, didn’t she? Let’s just forget about this…”

Jiang Chen straightened, his long lashes lowered. He looked at her, his eyes clouded with unreadable emotion.

“What kind of look is that?” Dong Yulian seemed shaken by his gaze, shivering as regret gnawed at her for her foolishness—why wear his mother’s clothes today, of all days, when she knew Jiang Chen would return?

Jiang Chen stared at Dong Yulian without a word, his eyes chilling, the air around him growing cold. “Clothes you’ve worn are dirty, no matter how much you wash them.”

It was the harshest thing he’d said all night.

Ye Mian clenched her fists as memories from her previous life surged back.

In the next moment, she saw Dong Yulian stagger toward Jiang Chen, raising her hand to hit him, each blow harder than the last, her anger boiling over.

“You little lunatic! You’re the real troublemaker! Why are they blaming me? Go on, I’m not afraid of you anymore! Worst case, I’ll die! Your useless father fancied me, I blame him! He left so little money, wouldn’t even give me the house after all this time—I wasted years on you people! The whole Jiang family owes me!”

He didn’t dodge—maybe he simply stood there and let her hit him, only pulling Ye Mian aside.

Her long nails raked across his jaw, leaving vivid red marks.

Ye Mian’s heart lurched as she stared at him, stunned. Her mind went blank. The anger she already felt surged, sweeping away her reason.

She flung the umbrella aside and seized Dong Yulian’s hand, shoving her away with all her strength.

Caught off guard, Dong Yulian’s high heel twisted beneath her. She shrieked, her voice piercing, “What are you doing? Why did you push me?”

Ye Mian stepped in front of Jiang Chen, her gentle voice laced with menace. “If it weren’t against the law, I’d hit you myself.”

“This isn’t even your business.” Dong Yulian’s tone toward Ye Mian wasn’t as vicious. “Do you even know what this little lunatic has done?”

“I don’t care what he’s done,” Ye Mian cut her off, her eyes red with fury at the scene before her. “Aunt Dong, you’re old enough to know better. If you don’t want people to scold you, stop doing things that disgrace yourself.”

It was infuriating.

What did she mean by “playing games”? Though it was true, Dong Yulian found the words hard to bear. Soaked and wild-eyed in the rain, she yanked off her high heels, ready to throw them at Ye Mian.

Jiang Chen noticed and pulled Ye Mian behind him.

But before anything more could happen, a man at Dong Yulian’s side grabbed her and dragged her away with quick, forceful motions.

“All right, enough. Let’s go—you’ve made enough of a scene,” he snapped, clearly embarrassed.

Dong Yulian cried out in pain as he pulled her, but she calmed down. The crowd’s disgusted, contemptuous stares drained her bravado. She slipped her heels back on and let herself be led away, humiliated.

The tension eased immediately. With the woman’s departure, most of the onlookers dispersed.

Jiang Chen’s eyes were lowered, his expression hidden in shadow. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Ye Mian felt a bit embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

She glanced at the ruined house, now uninhabitable, and asked decisively, “Jiang Chen, do you have anywhere else to go?”

Their eyes met.

The storm was so fierce, even the setting sun was blotted out; darkness had fallen.

In the dim, rainy night, Jiang Chen looked up at her, a gentle smile in his voice. “I do.”

She studied his soft, handsome features. “Really?”

But she remembered Dong Yulian claiming his father had left him not a cent.

Jiang Chen’s smile only deepened. “Really.”

He stepped forward, picked up the umbrella Ye Mian had dropped, rinsed the handle clean in the rain, opened it, and handed it back to her. “Take this. It’s late—hurry home.”

Still uneasy, Ye Mian dug into her bag and pulled out her white coin purse, finding several hundred yuan inside.

Without thinking, she pressed the money into his hand. “Consider this a loan. No rush to pay me back.”

Before Jiang Chen could reply, she took the umbrella and hurried off into the rain.

Last time, she’d tried to give him the coin purse as compensation for his medical expenses. He’d refused.

This time, she told herself it was a sure investment. After all, Jiang Chen’s future was dazzling—one day, with just a flick of his finger, he could buy everything she’d ever dreamed of. He’d never miss that little bit of money.