Chapter 115: Lunar New Year

Snowflakes swirled through the air as the biting north wind howled past their ears. Wen Zhou wrapped Qingyou tightly in his black coat, their kiss not lasting long. The cold outside was unbearable; he carefully held her close, his nose brushing against hers. “Qingyou, let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispered, then turned to call toward the car, “Uncle Chang, Bei and Nan, we’re heading back!”

Wen Zhou and Qingyou walked ahead, with Chang and the two Fus following behind, keeping a respectful distance. Qingyou’s earlobes were reddened by the cold. Wen Zhou, concerned, wrapped the scarf he’d brought around her neck. “Is everything taken care of?”

She sniffled softly. “Yes, it’s all settled.”

He didn’t press further, simply holding her as they stepped inside.

The New Year’s Eve feast was already prepared, with several of Qingyou’s favorite dishes personally cooked by Wen Zhou, worried that the household staff’s cooking might unsettle her palate.

Qingyou turned to Chang and the Fus who had just come in. “Join us for dinner.”

Nan and Bei exchanged glances, about to decline, but a sharp look from their boss silenced them. They silently pulled out chairs and sat down together.

Chang, who usually spent every New Year’s Eve with Qingyou, was naturally not a stranger and didn’t refuse.

After dinner, as the clock neared ten, the villa began to fill with lively chatter.

First came Yan Miao and Yan Shaoqin, carrying gifts. Qingyou hadn’t seen Miao in a while and was delighted to see her. “Miao Miao, Yan Shao, what brings you here?”

Wen Zhou’s expression tightened, his sharp brows furrowing as he eyed Yan Shaoqin warily. “What are you doing here?”

Shaoqin, irritated by the couple’s attitude—especially Wen Zhou’s—snorted coldly and, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, barged past him without a care.

Behind him, Miao smiled brightly, explaining, “We came to pay our New Year’s respects and keep vigil. Gu Bai and Liang Muchuan will be here soon, too.”

Leaning close to Qingyou’s ear with a conspiratorial grin, she added, “Usually, my brother and the others play mahjong at Liang Muchuan’s every New Year’s Eve. But since Wen Zhou’s leg isn’t good this year, they all decided to come to your place instead.”

Qingyou blinked in surprise. “Every year?”

“Yes,” Miao said, walking along. “Though little Fu always leaves early—usually gone by just after eleven.”

Qingyou awkwardly rubbed her earlobe, beginning to understand why Wen Zhou vanished from the gatherings so promptly each year.

Miao set down her gifts and gave Qingyou an excited hug. “Qingyou, I’ve missed you so much!”

Her brother’s gatherings usually excluded her, but upon hearing this was at Qingyou’s home, Miao had insisted on tagging along. Her brother relented.

Qingyou smiled gently and lifted her hands to return the embrace, but suddenly an arm shot out, blocking them both.

Wen Zhou slipped in, shielding Qingyou behind him, and said lazily, “She’s mine.”

Miao blinked, puzzled.

He added nonchalantly, “Keep your distance.”

Miao’s lips twitched in silent exasperation as she glanced at Qingyou, silently pleading for support.

But Qingyou’s eyes twinkled with a faint smile, clearly not intending to intervene.

Miao pouted, a little envious. Qingyou had always sided with her before.

She wanted to scold Wen Zhou but lacked the courage, so she muttered a few curses in her mind and stomped off to find her brother.

Qingyou sighed. “Why do you get jealous of everyone?”

Wen Zhou cupped her face and kissed her hard, the sound ringing out. “I don’t care. You’re mine, and no one else can touch you.”

Qingyou wiped her face with a handkerchief, instantly drawing his displeasure.

His voice deepened, “You’re rejecting me again.”

She casually grabbed a candy from the cabinet by the entrance, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth, coaxing him like a child. “Sweet?”

“Sweet,” Wen Zhou murmured, savoring it. Yet, in his heart, nothing was sweeter than Qingyou’s lips.

Thinking of this, a flicker of frustration burned inside him. He had no idea whose idea it was to hold a vigil at his home tonight. He had planned to welcome the New Year with Qingyou in bed, with all the trappings ready, but now everything was ruined.

Wen Zhou wore a stern expression as if someone owed him eight million, yet he noticed Qingyou seemed genuinely happy. Not wanting to spoil her mood, he held back from kicking everyone out.

In truth, Qingyou believed Wen Zhou must enjoy these annual gatherings with his friends, and naturally, she welcomed his companions.

The doorbell rang again. Liang Muchuan, Xu Zezhan, and Gu Bai arrived together, unburdened by gifts unlike Yan Shaoqin.

Gu Bai beamed and immediately pulled Wen Zhou into a bear hug. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Wen Zhou pushed him away with disdain. “The doctor said it’ll take another half a month.”

“Damn!” Gu Bai swore. “That long?”

Wen Zhou shot him a cold glare. “Don’t curse in front of my girlfriend.”

Gu Bai blinked, baffled, then turned to Xu and Liang, who were slipping into their slippers. “Did you hear that? Can he even talk normally?”

Zezhan chuckled. “Cut the crap. Let’s get the mahjong going. Tonight, I have to win back that piece of land in Jiaobei Wen Zhou took from me last year.”

Gu Bai rubbed his hands. “Yeah, where’s the table? Let’s set it up.”

Leaning against the wall, Liang Muchuan remained quiet, his gaze distant.

Outside, fireworks crackled. Wen Zhou asked, “Why aren’t Guan Nan and Jiang Zhiyuan coming?”

Gu Bai explained, “They formed a separate group. Said no one’s coming home sober tonight. You think everyone’s like us, traveling miles just to keep company with an injured guy?”

The cold outside made Zezhan reach out and close the door. His phone chimed with a WeChat notification, which he opened casually.

It was a picture sent by Shen Guannan.

A woman’s silhouette, the background appearing to be a bar.

Soon after, Shen Guannan sent another message.

“Isn’t this Wen Zhou’s little aunt?”

Zezhan froze, thinking Shen Guannan must have sent it by mistake. But looking closely, the blurry figure did indeed resemble Qingyou.

But wasn’t Qingyou right here?

He glanced up at Qingyou, who was chatting with Yan Miao, his brow furrowed deeply.

Could it be… a ghost?