Chapter 72-Part 1

When Ji Ran reached the lobby downstairs, Pei Yuan was already nowhere to be seen. However, Kevin stood in the lobby, clearly waiting for her.

As Ji Ran walked over slowly, Kevin nodded slightly, “Miss Ranran, President Pei asked me to take you over.”

Seeing Ji Ran’s red, tear-filled eyes and her silent demeanor, Kevin sighed softly in his heart. Although he hadn’t overheard Pei Yuan’s words, given his understanding of her, the conversation likely hadn’t been gentle.

Ji Ran followed Kevin to the hospital’s underground parking lot.

They stopped next to Pei Yuan’s car, and after Kevin opened the front passenger door for her, he said softly, “Miss Ranran, please get in.”

“Thank you.”

Ji Ran nodded slightly.

No matter the situation, her politeness was unwavering.

After getting into the car, Pei Yuan sat on the other side of the back seat.

The dim lighting of the parking lot, combined with the tinted car windows blocking out external light, cast the cabin into a quiet and dark atmosphere.

Soon, the car slowly drove out of the hospital parking lot.

Ji Ran turned her head to look out the window.

It was the liveliest time of night in Jiangdu, with neon lights strung together like a sea of vibrant colors.

As the car moved forward, the glow of the streetlights flickered past one after another, resembling a montage from a classic film.

Eventually, Pei Yuan couldn’t hold back.

She wasn’t someone who easily lost her composure, but this matter felt as though it was slipping out of her control—a feeling she couldn’t tolerate.

Turning her head to look at Ji Ran, Pei Yuan said directly, “Ranran, I will never approve of your relationship.”

“It’s not because you’re too young right now. Even in the future, I won’t agree. When you grow up and go to university, if you want to fall in love, I won’t stop you. But not with him—Shen Zhi is not acceptable.”

Ji Ran remained silent, her gaze still fixed outside the window.

Pei Yuan was someone who usually stated the outcome without bothering to explain herself, but this time, she surprisingly gave a reason.

“Even if he didn’t inherit his mother’s mental illness, do you know anything about his family? The Hengchi Group will eventually become an arena for fierce competition. Old Master Shen has three sons. There will be endless fights over the inheritance.”

Pei Yuan wasn’t exaggerating.

Hengchi Group was indeed an empire that many envied.

However, with its vast wealth and powerful legacy came internal family strife.

History was filled with examples of similar inheritance battles, and the Hengchi family was no exception.

Calling it an arena wasn’t an overstatement.

Pei Yuan spoke earnestly, “You are different. You are my only daughter, my only heir. Everything the Pei family has will be yours. Even on your father’s side, as unreliable as he might be, no one can take away what belongs to you.”

“Ranran, your life has infinite possibilities. You can live your life smoothly, free from worry.”

There was no denying it—everything Pei Yuan said was true.

Ji Ran was born privileged.

As the only child, no one could compete with her.

Whether it was the Pei family or the Ji family, most of their legacy would eventually belong to her.

She didn’t need to worry about money, nor would she need to fight tooth and nail with anyone.

Pei Yuan’s strict control over her was precisely because she didn’t want Ji Ran to become a spoiled and aimless rich child.

Finally, Ji Ran spoke, her voice hoarse, stripped of its usual sweetness, sounding rough like frosted glass, “What if Shen Zhi doesn’t want the Shen family’s inheritance? What if he doesn’t want to fight?”

He had told her before—he didn’t want anything from the Shen family.

But before her words even faded, Pei Yuan let out a cold laugh through her nose, clearly mocking Ji Ran’s naivety.

She said, “Even if he doesn’t want it, do you think his father won’t fight for it? Shen Zhi is his only son. No matter how strained their relationship is, blood ties are unbreakable.”

“And even if he truly has nothing, why would I hand over my daughter to someone with empty hands?”

Ji Ran turned to look at her.

Pei Yuan’s face was partially hidden in darkness, her profile sharp and cold.

Suddenly, Ji Ran realized this was a dead-end argument.

If Shen Zhi wanted the Shen family’s inheritance, he would inevitably be drawn into the chaos of the inheritance battle—a scenario Pei Yuan couldn’t accept.

If he didn’t want it, he would become a man with nothing, and Pei Yuan would still not approve of their relationship.

In short, it boiled down to one sentence:

It was impossible for them to be together.

Ji Ran simply stopped speaking.

“I want to go to my grandparents’ house,” she said, noticing the direction the driver was taking.

The driver glanced at Kevin in the passenger seat, clearly unsure what to do.

Kevin turned his head to look at Pei Yuan.

“Take her there,” Pei Yuan said calmly.

The car finally stopped in front of her grandparents’ villa.

Before Ji Ran got out, Pei Yuan turned to her.

“If I catch you sneaking out again at night, I won’t hesitate to keep you under watch for the next few days.”

Ji Ran knew Pei Yuan meant what she said and admitted that sneaking out at night wasn’t appropriate.

She nodded in agreement.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was the 29th of the twelfth lunar month.

Ji Ran’s grandfather pulled her to join him in writing Spring Festival couplets.

Ji Ran had practiced calligraphy since she was young and had excellent brushwork.

Every year, whether for the Ji family or the Pei family, the couplets were written by her.

Her grandfather disliked the commercially sold couplets and preferred ones written by hand.

“Today, Grandpa will personally grind ink for you,” he said cheerfully.

After lunch, the three generations busied themselves.

Ji Ran and her grandmother cut red paper, while her grandfather prepared his treasured ink sticks.

Before grinding the ink, he stared at them for a long while, reluctant to use them.

Her grandmother teased, “Look at him, reluctant to part with his treasures again.”

Ji Ran smiled, knowing her grandfather had a collection of ink sticks, many of them valuable antiques from the Ming and Qing dynasties.

“Grandpa, we can just use regular ink. If you’re hesitant, you should keep them as collectibles.”

But her grandfather shook his head seriously.

“Why keep them if not for use? Their value lies in being used.”

Ji Ran nodded in agreement.

The three of them spent the afternoon cutting paper, grinding ink, and writing couplets.

Ji Ran even wrote an extra set to send to her maternal grandparents.

She also took a few photos and sent them to Shen Zhi.

Though they hadn’t seen each other for a few days, Shen Zhi was still in Jiangdu.

When the photos arrived, Shen Zhi had just finished putting up his family’s couplets.

His sleeves were rolled up, and he picked up his phone to check the photos Ji Ran had sent—clearly proud of her handiwork.

A smile appeared on his face.

At that moment, a gentle hand pulled down his rolled-up sleeves.

Shen Zhi looked up in surprise and saw Yuan Sheng, who softly said, “It’s cold like this.”

Shen Zhi felt a warmth in his chest.

“Mom, are you done painting?”

Yuan Sheng had always loved painting.

The doctors also mentioned that painting was beneficial for her condition, so Shen Zhi had hired a professional teacher to guide her.

Now, she could paint on her own.

There was an art studio at home, specially prepared for her.

Yuan Sheng nodded and curiously glanced at Shen Zhi’s phone.

She noticed he was chatting with someone, and her sharp eyes quickly caught the name Ranran on the screen.

“Is it a girl?” Yuan Sheng asked softly.

In the past few years, Shen Zhi rarely returned to Jiangdu.

When he was initially sent away, his grandparents had accepted money from the Shen family.

Deep down, they always felt guilty, as if they had traded their grandson away for money.

Even if the person he was sent to was his father.

Later, Cheng Hui caused a scene at their home in Jiangdu, which had severely agitated Yuan Sheng.

As a result, Shen Zhi returned home even less frequently.

This winter break, when he finally came back, his grandparents were overjoyed.

From the day he arrived, the elderly couple had been busy steaming buns, frying meatballs, and preparing five to six dishes for every meal.

As for Yuan Sheng, her condition had gradually stabilized over the years.

She was no longer as irritable as before, nor did she isolate herself from others.

This time, she was also busy caring for Shen Zhi after his return.

Shen Zhi never told them about his two-day hospital stay, instead saying he was occupied with family matters at the Shen household.

However, Yuan Sheng was the first to notice something was wrong with the way he walked, even though he tried his best to walk naturally.

When Yuan Sheng pulled up his pant leg and saw the frightening bruises, her tears began to fall uncontrollably.

She even insisted on going to the supermarket with her grandmother.

Due to her illness, she had always avoided crowded places.

Not only did she accompany her grandmother to the supermarket, but when she found the bones they bought on the first day weren’t fresh enough, she went to the market again the next day to buy better ones.

Watching Yuan Sheng busy herself for him, Shen Zhi suddenly realized that no matter how many people had called him the son of a lunatic since childhood, he had never once resented Yuan Sheng.

He had always cared about her deeply.

Ranran was right—she was the warmth in his heart, someone he thought of with tenderness and softness.

Shen Zhi nodded in response to Yuan Sheng’s question.

To his surprise, she seemed excited.

She lowered her voice and asked, “Is she a girl you like?”

Shen Zhi looked at Yuan Sheng.

Time had been kind to her.

Despite her illness, her beauty hadn’t faded; instead, it still carried the innocence of a young girl.

She didn’t like others touching her hair, so over the years, she had grown a head of long, beautiful black hair.

At this moment, she leaned closer to look at his phone, her hair cascading like a waterfall, elegant and stunning.

Shen Zhi hadn’t expected her to ask so directly, but because it was her, he didn’t want to lie. He nodded softly and said, “Yes.”

Yuan Sheng gently covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes filled with joy as she said happily, “It’s a girl that Xiao Jing likes!”

She still habitually called him Xiao Jing.

“Next time there’s a chance, I’ll bring her to meet you, okay?”

Shen Zhi squinted slightly, but the happiness in his eyes still leaked out.

Yuan Sheng looked at him.

Xiao Jing was always quiet and reserved; she rarely saw him this happy.

From childhood until now, it seemed like only once had Xiao Jing met a little girl who became his first friend—a friend who would stand up for him.

Back then, when he spoke of that girl, the light in his eyes was just as dazzling as it was now.

Suddenly, Yuan Sheng shook her head.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s enough. Mom doesn’t need to meet her.”

Shen Zhi looked at her, slightly stunned by the abrupt change in her expression.

He knew Yuan Sheng wasn’t opposed to him liking someone; otherwise, she wouldn’t have smiled so warmly while discussing it with him.

Just as he was about to ask further, Yuan Sheng suddenly held his hand tightly and said with utmost seriousness, “Xiao Jing, you must never bring the person you love to meet me. Absolutely not.”

Shen Zhi lowered his eyes, looking at her hand holding his.

Her hand was slender and pale but had surprising strength.

“Why?” Shen Zhi vaguely had an idea but still asked aloud.

Yuan Sheng shook her head.

“Mom is sick. People mustn’t know how I am.”

Yuan Sheng looked like a child who had done something wrong, not daring to lift her head to meet his gaze.

She always felt she owed Xiao Jing.

When he was little, no one wanted to play with him because of her—because she was called a lunatic by everyone.

He had been mocked, ridiculed, and shunned, all because of her.

As she spoke, she kept shaking her head, as if afraid Shen Zhi wouldn’t listen.

An endless sadness suddenly welled up in Shen Zhi’s eyes—for Yuan Sheng and also for himself.

He reached out and hugged her tightly, and all the words Yuan Sheng had wanted to say quieted down in that embrace.

When Shen Zhi hugged her, he realized how frail Yuan Sheng was.

But even as a patient, she still gave her all for her child.