Chapter 21: Madam Shang, Wife, Zhizhi

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After breakfast, Jiang Zhi returned to her room. Only then did she remember the document the man had sent to her phone.
During breakfast, preoccupied with Old Master Shang, she hadn’t checked her messages.
She opened her chat with Shang Chi. There it was—a Word document.
Wondering what it contained, she tapped to open it.
Instantly, detailed information about the man’s dietary preferences and hobbies filled the screen.
Jiang Zhi blinked. He wants me to memorize his lifestyle habits?
She recalled how he’d known about her shrimp allergy. Clearly, he’d done thorough homework beforehand to avoid raising the old man’s suspicions.
She skimmed the document quickly.
The initial sections were standard: favorite foods, daily routines. But when she reached clothing sizes, her cheeks warmed.
Was this level of detail necessary? Even his underwear size was specified!

Jiang Zhi packed lightly and returned to No. 7 Villa to gather clothes and toiletries.
Still technically on leave, she spent the afternoon chatting with Old Master Shang at the estate.
The grounds were vast, featuring orchards and vegetable patches. Most of the produce consumed at the residence was homegrown.
Eager to share, Old Master Shang enthusiastically introduced Jiang Zhi to every corner of the estate.

Naturally, this included leading her to the orchard to pick fresh fruit.
Jiang Zhi gathered some cherry tomatoes she liked. Glancing up, she spotted a pear tree nearby.
Remembering the document listing Shang Chi’s fondness for pears, she walked over, picked several, and placed them in her basket.
Old Master Shang observed this, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Picking those for Shang Chi?”
Jiang Zhi recalled the document’s purpose: maintaining the loving-couple facade. She answered openly, “Yes. He likes them. Thought I’d pick some.”
The old man accepted this without question.
Inwardly, however, he marveled at Jiang Zhi’s thoughtfulness and domestic grace. Suddenly, my grandson seems unworthy of her!

·

Evening approached. Shang Chi returned just before dinner.
Jiang Zhi and Old Master Shang were in the living room, engrossed in a game of Go.
Seeing Shang Chi enter, the old man pushed his reading glasses down his nose, peering over the rims. He gestured towards a bowl of fruit on the table with his chin. “Your wife picked these especially for you.”
Shang Chi’s gaze landed on the bowl. The pears, prominently placed on top, glistened invitingly.
He took a few long strides forward, picked up a pear, and looked at Jiang Zhi. His tone was neutral. “For me?”
Jiang Zhi placed her Go stone on the board, then nodded. “Yes.”
As she spoke, she remembered a detail from the document: he liked pears but hated eating the skin.
She stood and walked over to him, reaching for the pear in his hand. “Let me peel it for you?”
Considering someone of his status might have hygiene concerns, she added, “Would you like it sliced too?”
To her surprise, he not only declined but deftly avoided her hand. Instead, his arm snaked around her waist. He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. “No need. Go back to your game with Grandfather.”
Releasing her, he took a decisive bite directly from the pear, skin and all, then turned and walked upstairs.
The entire sequence was fluid, unnervingly natural.
Jiang Zhi stood frozen. His lips had barely grazed her forehead, yet the spot tingled as if electrified.
Old Master Shang, well aware of his grandson’s notoriously picky palate—especially his aversion to pear skin—watched with delight.
Kissing her? Eating the skin? He’s smitten!
Not only did I broker a good match, but my arrogant grandson has finally met his match!
Seeing Jiang Zhi still rooted to the spot, likely puzzled by the skin-eating, the old man beckoned her back to the Go board. He chuckled knowingly, “Splitting a pear (fen li) sounds like ‘separation’ (fen li). That stubborn boy probably ate the skin whole because he’s terrified of being separated from you.”
Jiang Zhi froze again. So that was the hidden meaning?
No wonder he wouldn’t let me slice it.
He really is several steps ahead. A moment’s hesitation, and the act would have crumbled before the old man.

Dinnertime arrived. Shang Chi descended the stairs, his long legs carrying him effortlessly.
He’d removed his suit jacket, leaving only a black dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing powerfully defined forearms.
The pear was nowhere in sight.
He took his place at the dining table beside Jiang Zhi.
Just like the day before, he used his own chopsticks to place food in her bowl.
Under Old Master Shang’s watchful eye, Jiang Zhi had no choice but to eat it. It’s just like yesterday. No point fussing over it now.
After dinner, Shang Chi retreated upstairs to work. Jiang Zhi kept the old man company for a while.
Unlike the previous evening, Old Master Shang didn’t linger in conversation. Instead, he urged her to go upstairs.
As Jiang Zhi turned to leave, he called out, “Zhizhi! That incense from last night… should I have Gen Shu bring some more up for you two?”
Jiang Zhi stiffened. Images from the previous night flooded her mind. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
Struggling for a response, she was saved by Shang Chi descending the stairs, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers.
His voice was low and firm, cutting through the awkwardness. “Grandfather, your grandson is perfectly capable in that department. We don’t need your incense to ‘assist’ us in producing a great-grandchild for you.”
Old Master Shang blinked, processing the implication. Slowly, embarrassment spread across his aged face.
He’d found the incense in his son’s room years ago. The label mentioned “promoting relaxation, sleep, and marital harmony.”
He’d assumed it was simply a mild, romantic mood-setter.

Who knew it was so… potent?!
He covered his fluster with an exaggerated yawn. “Oh, so tired! I’m off to bed. You two rest early!” Snatching up his cane, he practically scurried towards his bedroom, abandoning any pretense of needing the walking stick.
The living room plunged into silence.
Shang Chi took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke, then turned and headed back upstairs.
After a few steps, he paused. Standing on the staircase landing, he looked down at Jiang Zhi, who remained frozen at the bottom, still processing the exchange.
His brow lifted slightly. “Not coming up? Or were you actually hoping to ask Grandfather for some ‘sleep aid’?”
The words snapped Jiang Zhi back to the present. Her face flushed crimson. “No! Don’t say things like that.”
Shang Chi frowned faintly but said nothing more.
Once they were back in the room, he settled onto the sofa. His posture was relaxed, one long leg crossed over the other. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
He lifted his gaze to Jiang Zhi, his tone casual, almost idle. “Madam Shang. Wife. Zhizhi.” He paused. “Which do you prefer I call you?”
Jiang Zhi was momentarily taken aback, but assumed he was choosing a form of address for his grandfather’s benefit.
Frowning slightly, she selected the least overtly intimate option. “Zhizhi is fine.”
A hint of amusement touched Shang Chi’s lips. Light glinted off his gold-rimmed glasses.
His voice, deep and magnetic, carried an undercurrent of unmistakable authority. “Alright. Then I expect Zhizhi to call me A’Chi from now on.” He held her gaze. “Don’t get it wrong.”