12dz Chapter 883: Have a good chat with Mr. Jiang
Chapter 883: Have a good chat with Mr. Jiang
The atmosphere of the family dinner was like a frozen lake; even the air was filled with ice.
Teng Zijing sat on the sofa, his crisp woolen coat incompatible with the mundane atmosphere around him.
The action of tasting the fish-flavored shredded pork just now was his biggest compromise with mysophobia.
After that, I never picked up my chopsticks again, my fingertips unconsciously rubbing the non-existent wrinkles on my knees.
His eyes fell on the dried chilies hanging outside the window, as if they contained the antidote that would help him get through this embarrassing situation.
Deng Zhouyi originally wanted to liven up the atmosphere by urging people to drink and pick up some food, but Yu's father's words "I don't agree"
Like a huge rock hitting the water, it instantly overturned all his words.
He lowered his head, and swirled his fingers around the edge of the glass, causing the liquor in the glass to ripple.
But he could no longer find the right words to break the deadlock - he understood the negotiation skills in the business world, but he seemed helpless in the face of his elders' stubbornness.
Yu Qianqian sat in the middle, as if her hands and feet were tied by invisible strings. Her father's words, Deng Zhouyi's silence,
Teng Zijing's cold eyes intertwined into a net, wrapping her up so tightly that she couldn't breathe.
Suddenly I remembered what Jiang Li said before, "We are not on the same level."
At that time I thought it was just my friend's worry, but now I understand that the "difference between heaven and earth" was never an exaggeration.
It was a tangible, visible gap that stretched across reality. She tightened her grip on the hem of her clothes, her nails almost digging into her flesh.
"Qianqian," Teng Zijing stood up first, the hem of his coat brushing against the wooden chair making a slight sound, his face expressionless.
But his tone was unquestionable and decisive. "Now that you're home, spend some time with your uncle and aunt. It's getting late, let's go back to the hotel first. Call me if you need anything."
Yu Qianqian suddenly looked up and her eyes met Deng Zhouyi's. Thousands of words were stuck in her throat, but in the end, they turned into an almost inaudible nod.
Deng Zhouyi raised his hand and gently patted her shoulder with the warmth of his palm. His voice was low but firm:
"Qianqian, we'll come pick you up in three days. During these three days, you can have a good chat with your uncle and aunt, okay?"
My father and mother said nothing more, but stood up to see us off. As they walked towards the village entrance, the sound of their footsteps on the bluestone pavement was especially clear.
As they passed the alley, several villagers squatting against the wall to bask in the sun poked their heads out to look in. One of them asked, "Yu Shui, are we honored guests?"
There was no smile on Yu's father's face. He just made a "hum" sound from his throat and walked forward with his head down, his brows still furrowed.
When they arrived at the old locust tree where the car was parked, the driver had already opened the door. Teng Zijing bent down and sat in the back seat, a subtle trace of fatigue in his movements.
Deng Zhouyi took one last look at Yu Qianqian, his gaze pausing on her red eyes.
Then he held the car door and said, "Uncle and aunt, please stay." Then he turned around and sat in the passenger seat.
The black car slowly drove away, its wheels making a clattering sound as they rolled over the cobblestone road, and gradually disappeared around the corner of the alley.
Yu Qianqian looked at the dark shadow that was getting smaller and smaller, and her heart felt like a piece was hollowed out, sour and bitter.
The family of three stood there until the car was completely out of sight, then they turned around and walked back silently, no one speaking.
In the carriage, Teng Zijing leaned back, closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the chair, his face looking a little pale in the dim light.
After a long while, I suddenly heard a "gurgling" sound in my stomach, which was particularly abrupt in the quiet space.
Deng Zhouyi immediately turned his head, his tone full of apology: "I'm sorry, Master Jing, I made you go hungry following me."
Teng Zijing didn't open his eyes, but said lightly: "Stop talking nonsense." He paused, tapped his knees with his fingertips,
"I also want to know what Yu Qianqian is worried about - what are you thinking? Don't tell me it's because of Jiang Chengyu's pressure."
Deng Zhouyi looked at the street scene passing by outside the window and was silent for a moment before speaking with a rare seriousness in his voice:
"My reputation has been bad over the years, and I've done a lot of casual things.
But Yu Qianqian is different. She is completely different from those women who deliberately cling to you.”
He turned to look at Teng Zijing, "If her parents agree, I really want to go on with her."
"This little thing is nothing." Teng Zijing finally opened his eyes, rubbed his eyebrows, and said with a little impatience.
But it wasn't directed at Deng Zhouyi. "I just want to go back to the hotel and take a bath and change into clean clothes."
The driver was listening in front and knew that the two had not eaten well that day, so he quietly stepped on the accelerator.
The car drove onto the road, gradually picking up speed. The scenery outside the window quickly receded, raising a cloud of dust.
The carriage fell silent again, with only the low hum of the engine and the three people's hidden thoughts.
As the night fell heavily like a piece of velvet soaked in ink, the lights in the village lit up in bits and pieces.
The dim light shines through the window paper, casting the shadow of the old locust tree in front of the Yu family's door.
When Yu's parents returned home, they caught a glimpse of the food on the table as soon as they entered the main room - the fat from the stewed chicken had formed a layer of white film.
The crispy skin of the fried lotus root boxes collapsed, and the bowls and dishes that were still steaming hot at noon now had a cold and sticky feel.
Yu's father uttered a "tsk" sound, sat down on the patchwork sofa, and angrily took out his pipe.
The pipe knocked against the corner of the table, sparks flew up, and he extinguished them fiercely in the ashtray.
Yu's mother cleaned up the dishes, and Yu Qianqian helped, following her mother to the kitchen. The iron pot on the stove had not been cleaned yet, and there were still traces of oil from the stewed meat.
She pressed her daughter onto a small stool, squatted down, wiped the back of her hands on her apron, and looked at the red corners of her daughter's eyes. Her voice was as soft as cotton:
"Qianqian, I'm not trying to force you. Look at what's happening today. They're doing big business in the city, and we're just digging for food in the dirt. We can't live together."
She sighed and gently touched the back of her daughter's hand with her fingertips, "People from two different worlds,
Even if we get together, we'll eventually break up. And then you'll be the one who gets wronged, right? "
Yu Qianqian lowered her head, her eyes fixed on her mother's hands holding hers. She felt so warm in silence, and she didn't say anything.
Suddenly, Yu's father's voice came from the main room, like a piece of ice falling down: "Qianqian, come in."
She walked into the house reluctantly. Father Yu was staring at the cold rice on the table. When he saw her come in, he suddenly looked up with a scrutinizing look in his eyes:
"I saw that those two young men, the way they dressed and talked, they weren't the kind of people you'd just meet at a dinner party.
Tell me the truth, what do you do outside? The money you send back every month,
It's getting more and more, and that kind of money is not something you can earn by working quietly."
"Dad!" Yu Qianqian suddenly looked up, her eyes full of surprise, injustice and grievance, and her voice trembled unconsciously.
"I didn't! I've always remembered every word you said. I've always done my duty and never had any evil thoughts."
She was so anxious that her face turned red, tears welling up in her eyes, "It's my college classmate Jiang Li, she works in public relations for a big company.
During the Chinese New Year, her boss sent his pet to her home. On the first day of the new year, the boss came to pick up the pet.
We sisters happened to be celebrating together, and President Jiang is a kind person who cares about his subordinates.
She said she was grateful for her care these days and insisted on treating us to a meal, and we ran into Deng Zhouyi and Jing Ye at the hotel... That's really how we met!"
"Really?" Yu's father frowned even tighter, twirling his pipe in his hands. "Nothing else?"
Yu Qianqian's face turned pale, her lips trembled, and she couldn't utter a word.
Those things that happened in the hotel, those unclear disputes between her and Deng Zhouyi,
It was like a red-hot iron, so hot that she dared not touch it. She was shaking all over, and her fingertips were cold.
"Ten days or so!" Yu's father slammed his pipe on the table, making the empty bowl clink.
"They just came to propose marriage, what's the big deal? Who wouldn't want to get to know each other first? Get a feel for their personality and understand their background? Why would you be so hasty?"
He stared at his daughter, his eyes looking as if he wanted to penetrate her. "If there's nothing else going on here, why are you in such a hurry?"
With a "plop" sound, Yu Qianqian's tears fell on her trouser legs, leaving a small dark spot.
She wanted to explain, but the words were on the tip of her tongue and she couldn't say them - she couldn't tell her parents that she and Deng Zhouyi had crossed the line of being ordinary friends after drinking.
Yu's mother came over quickly, hugged her daughter in her arms, patted her back gently, and cried in her voice:
"Qianqian, come on... Could it be that your dad was right? What are you hiding from us?"
Yu Qianqian buried her head in her mother's arms, her shoulders twitching, and her tears fell like beads from a broken string, unable to be stopped.
Those details that are too embarrassing to talk about, those grievances trapped by reality, are all stuck in the throat.
Only the sobbing sounds were left, which seemed particularly helpless under the dim light.
When Teng Zijing sank into the bathtub, the warm water flowed over his collarbone, enveloping his whole body with the refreshing fragrance of shower gel.
The restraint and disgust accumulated in the farmyard during the day finally melted away little by little with the ripples on the water.
He leaned against the wall of the bathtub, his fingertips swiping the screen of his mobile phone. The moment he dialed An Yu's number, even his brows softened a little unconsciously.
"Zijing, have you arrived?" An Yu's voice came out of the receiver, like cotton soaked in warm water, soft and with a hint of the lightness of someone who had just put down the work at hand.
"Yes, we arrived last night." Teng Zijing picked up the red wine and poured it into the goblet. "Today I took Deng Zhouyi to meet Yu Qianqian's parents."
There was silence on the other end of the line for half a second. An Yu could hear a subtle hint of depression in Teng Zijing's tone: "From your tone, it seems like things are not going well. Have you hit a wall?"
Teng Zijing added some more hot water to the bathtub, and the mist blurred his profile.
He scoffed and poked the bubbles on the water with his fingertips: "That's right, his parents said it clearly.
'We're not on the same level, not suitable, out of my reach.' Isn't that straightforward enough? It's much more heartbreaking than all the roundabout ways you see in the business world."
An Yu fell into deep thought, thinking back to when Qiu Beichen, who also came from the countryside, had the same concerns when they were together.
As a result, they had only held hands after knowing each other for more than a year, and Qiu Beichen never dared to cross the line unless she took the initiative.
Many times she could feel that Qiu Beichen was a little conflicted about supporting her, which was the look of a man whose self-esteem was frustrated.
Teng Zijing tightened his grip on the phone. "Baby, why don't you talk anymore?"
He heard the subtle sound of fabric rubbing against each other through the receiver, as if she was drawing circles. "What are you thinking about?"
An Yu's empathy overflowed, and her tone suddenly became serious, with a hint of clear and seriousness:
"I'm wondering if President Jiang was being too forceful in pressuring Deng Zhouyi to take responsibility. Feelings are never forced.
If Deng Zhouyi is really forced to marry, and the Yu family is forced to agree, it might backfire."
She paused, her words slowing down, her tone ending in a soft, negotiating tone, "Why don't you... have a good chat with Mr. Jiang? Don't let this matter escalate."
Teng Zijing leaned against the edge of the cold bathtub, shaking the wine glass in his hand, as if savoring the charm of An Yu's words.