Chapter 11: He Is None Other Than He Jiangyu

After Li Jingche finished speaking, he fixed his gaze on Jian Qing, his handsome face drawing closer. Jian Qing was in no mood for courtesy; that face was already tempting enough, and now that he’d brought it to her lips, she gave him a swift peck at the corner of his mouth, her laughter rippling with delight.

“Mm.”

After the kiss, Li Jingche lowered his eyes slightly. After a long pause, he finally gave a quiet response, as if evaluating the kiss just now. His brows were lowered, an air of savoring and enjoyment about him. A faint blush colored his cheeks, but his expression remained composed. He silently placed the drink the waiter had just brought beside Jian Qing.

Jian Qing watched his face, and seeing his earlier displeasure had faded, she pulled his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “Darling, you really have a good temper.”

Calling him “darling” so casually, how could Li Jingche hold onto any annoyance now? He didn’t smile, but his whole demeanor relaxed markedly. Turning his head, he looked at Jian Qing and asked, “If I’m going to your house today… should I bring anything?”

“There’s no need. Just make sure your face looks good—that’s enough, and it does right now.” Jian Qing’s eyes lingered on him from head to toe, and she couldn’t help but praise her own taste again: “Today, put your mouth to good use. If Ren Yishan comes back, make her so angry she nearly faints. I’ll even give you a bonus.”

Li Jingche said nothing, dividing the exquisite dishes between them, eating contentedly, his left hand resting on his knee, fingers tapping rhythmically.

But nearby, Qin Jin listened to Jian Qing’s words and couldn’t help feeling like he was witnessing his boss being used to help someone else—was this woman taking advantage of Mr. Li?

He smacked his lips, uncertain, wanting to hear more, but Jian Qing and Li Jingche had already finished and were getting up to leave. The man carried the woman’s bag, walking by her side—one tall and strong, the other delicate as water—striding across the soft woven carpet as if it were a red carpet.

Wherever they went, they were a sight to behold.

Jian Qing drove, and as soon as she pulled into the villa garage with Li Jingche, Uncle Qian came over with a word of advice: “Miss Ren said after she got back today that she met He Jiangyu at last night’s party. The master is in a good mood because of it, so Miss Ren will probably try to put you in your place again. Best not to bring these—” He glanced at Li Jingche as he spoke. “Questionable people into the house.”

“She’s met He Jiangyu?” Now it was Jian Qing’s turn to worry.

Her lips pressed together; she let out a small hiss, like a kitten whose tail had just been stepped on. Rubbing her chin, she was ready to turn the car around. “Thank you, Uncle Qian. I’ll take him home first.”

“Why aren’t we getting out?” This time, it was Li Jingche who objected. He pressed down on Jian Qing’s hand, which was on the gearshift.

“Aren’t you supposed to be pretending to be He Jiangyu for me?” she asked.

“But the problem is Ren Yishan saw the real one yesterday. If you go in, you’ll be exposed.”

“The person she met at yesterday’s gathering was me.”

“What?” Jian Qing blinked her beautiful eyes, the corners lifting like a bird’s tail. “You…”

Li Jingche immediately raised three fingers in a vow, looking righteous. “You know my family background isn’t great. Yesterday I was working as a waiter at the He family’s event.”

Jian Qing nodded slowly. She’d hired male staff for her own birthday parties before—paid a bit, but pleasing to the eye.

A wicked smile curled her lips. She was genuinely curious to see Ren Yishan’s reaction when she recognized “Number 33.”

Uncle Qian was lost. Frowning, he leaned in. “Qingqing, what does this mean?”

“Nothing, Uncle Qian.”

The two got out of the car. Jian Qing took a deep breath. She admitted—this was a gamble. But fortune favors the bold!

Li Jingche folded his arms in front of him, freeing an elbow for Jian Qing to link hers through. “Shouldn’t we act a little more intimate?”

Jian Qing took his arm and, standing at the villa’s door, glanced at him. “Don’t be afraid. If you don’t know what to say, just keep your mouth shut and look as cold as possible. The eldest young master of the He family has such status—even if you spat on those two, they’d open their mouths and catch it. Just keep a cold face and leave the rest to me.”

After breaking up with Xiao Yunchen, Jian Qing had stopped yielding. She wasn’t one to go back to old flames, and if the past tried to cling to her like a stubborn bandage, she’d stomp it hard.

As soon as she opened the door, she saw three people on the sofa, basking in laughter.

“Really, Shanshan? Next time, bring He Jiangyu home so we can host him properly,” one said.

“Sure, I’ll get in touch. Qingqing, you’re finally back. Yesterday, if not for you—”

Ren Yishan was all pride, ready to put Jian Qing in her place, but as she looked up at the sound of the door, she saw that familiar face.

Li Jingche’s features were simply too striking; anyone who’d seen him once would remember. Staring at him, Ren Yishan suddenly lost all color, her gaze dropping to Jian Qing’s hand linked through his, her brows knitting together.

“Jian Qing, I’m telling you, it’s just as well you didn’t attend the party yesterday. Your sister has a knack for these things—she’s already met the young master of the He family,” Ren Tianchuan said, rising from the sofa, hands clasped behind his back, every inch the patriarch.

But when he saw Jian Qing had brought home a man he didn’t recognize, his face darkened instantly. “Look at you—never doing anything proper! Bringing in another one of your—”

But before he could finish scolding, Ren Yishan quickly grabbed her father’s arm, unable to speak.

“What’s wrong, Shanshan?”

Ren Yishan’s lips pressed into a tight line; she was caught between a rock and a hard place. She knew Jian Qing had brought home He Jiangyu himself—her father couldn’t afford to offend him. But if she identified the man now, she’d be caught in her own lie. She’d just claimed to have met He Jiangyu and exchanged contacts—now the real person was standing here!

Speechless for a long moment, face ashen, Ren Yishan was trapped.

Xiao Yunchen turned to glare at the man, his temper flaring instantly. “Jian Qing, stop bringing these rent boys home. Aren’t you disgusted?”

“Yunchen! Don’t—”

Ren Yishan’s hand froze in midair, unsure whether to stop him or not.

Jian Qing studied the woman’s expression carefully, confirming that Number 33’s identity was still safe and Ren Yishan truly believed he was He Jiangyu. Satisfied, she cleared her throat. “Xiao Yunchen, you’re in no position to judge. My dear sister met He Jiangyu yesterday? Then tell us—what does he look like? Do you have his contact info? Maybe he can help our family.”

She folded her arms, tilting her chin slightly.

“Jian Qing, is that how you speak to your sister?” Ren Tianchuan, always biased, blew out his mustache in anger, and Jian Qing felt a wave of irritation. She glanced at the man by her side, stubbornly refusing to bow her head, though inside it felt like a knife twisted in her heart.

That was her father! He’d always been prejudiced against her, and Jian Qing had long wanted to know why. Especially now, watching him unconditionally side with another girl, she couldn’t understand—he was willing to back his children, so why wasn’t she one of them?

She hesitated, exhaling slowly to steady herself. “Dad, I think it’s better if we let Ren Yishan answer that.”

Everyone’s gaze shifted to Ren Yishan at Jian Qing’s words. Suddenly, she felt like a piece of pork laid out on the butcher’s block—she hadn’t expected her act to backfire so spectacularly.

Slowly lifting her hand, she forced an awkward, ingratiating smile. “Dad, Yunchen, the man Qingqing brought home… is He Jiangyu.”

As soon as she spoke, the room fell utterly silent.

Ren Tianchuan took a long moment to process this, his eyes scanning Li Jingche from head to toe before stepping forward and extending a hand. “So… you are He Jiangyu.”

Li Jingche remembered Jian Qing’s instructions, saying nothing, simply lifting his chin and maintaining a cold, impassive stare.

Jian Qing pressed her lips together, lowering her head for fear someone would notice her smile.