Chapter 18: How Much Is Needed?

Jiang Yue sat listlessly in the office for a while before leaving the company; she probably had no mood left to work. She went to find Cheng Jun again, likely needing some comfort.

Cheng Jun took her to his home, and the two of them even went to the supermarket together to buy groceries. Cheng Jun said he wanted to cook dinner for Jiang Yue himself.

Jiang Yue was delighted; it seemed the gloom of the day had been completely lifted.

Once home, Cheng Jun busied himself in the kitchen, and the house was neat and tidy. Jiang Yue looked around and said, “Jun, your place is really clean! Did you tidy it up yourself?”

Cheng Jun replied while working in the kitchen, “Yes, I didn’t hire a housekeeper; I do everything myself.”

“That’s very diligent of you! I can’t say the same.”

Cheng Jun smiled and said, “I’ve been abroad these past few years, doing everything on my own, so I’m used to it.”

“That’s great. I like guys who love to keep things tidy because I’m not into tidying up myself.”

???

That didn’t sound right.

I remember she once said to me, “You’re always cleaning the house. Do you really think you’re a servant? Then what do I need you for?”

At the time, I just gave an awkward smile without rebutting. In truth, I did those things because she wouldn’t let me work outside; I had to find something to do.

Now she’s here praising Cheng Jun for liking to keep things tidy, so it’s not that she hates men who handle chores, but it depends on who they are.

Jiang Yue added, “But your place is too small. Why not buy a bigger one?”

“This is a rented place,” Cheng Jun said, his tone serious. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Rented?”

Cheng Jun nodded, then said solemnly, “The company has just restarted. There’s money to be spent everywhere. After what happened last time, my dad was exhausted and retired. I have to take over and shoulder the responsibility.”

Jiang Yue’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You’ve been through a lot, Jun.”

He chuckled, “Not at all. As long as there’s a glimmer of hope, I won’t give up.”

Scoundrels all share one trait: a high emotional intelligence—they really know how to talk.

I admit I can’t match Cheng Jun in that. I only know how to act through deeds, but actions alone can’t compete with sweet talk.

Jiang Yue quickly asked, “Is the company facing any difficulties recently?”

“Not too bad. Aside from some cash flow issues, everything’s fine.”

“Oh.”

Jiang Yue was silent for a moment before asking, “How much money do you need?”

That was probably the question Cheng Jun had been waiting for. He smiled and said, “It’s nothing, Yue. How could I ask you for money? I have my ways.”

“Why act so distant with me? From now on, we’re family. Your money is mine, and mine is yours.”

Those words cut into my already scarred heart like a knife.

When I was lying in the hospital, waiting for money to save my life, she accused me of deceiving her. Now Cheng Jun just mentions it casually, and she’s eager to give him money.

What nonsense.

Cheng Jun persisted, “Really, Yue, it’s fine. You know me. If I wanted your money, I’d have told you long ago. I want to rely on myself.”

The more he said it, the more Jiang Yue felt for him.

She stepped into the kitchen, wrapped her arms around Cheng Jun from behind, and said with concern, “Jun, please don’t say that. I know you’re a good man. I’m willing to give you everything I can.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll transfer some money to you to tide you over.”

“Don’t refuse. You have to keep this money. You left before to avoid troubling me, but that can’t happen again.”

Cheng Jun took a deep breath, turned to her with a look full of affection, held her head, and kissed her forehead gently.

“Alright, I’ll listen to you. But consider this money a loan.”

“Okay.” Jiang Yue smiled softly and leaned against Cheng Jun’s chest.

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.

A scoundrel paired with a shameless woman—may you both live happily ever after!

The once never-in-the-kitchen Miss Jiang was now bustling around the kitchen with Cheng Jun, preparing dinner together.

Honestly, I envied Cheng Jun. Even though I only felt hatred toward Jiang Yue now, I still envied him.

She wiped his sweat with a tissue when she saw him sweating.

When he was tired, she’d go behind him and massage his shoulders.

If he was thirsty, she’d cut up fruit and feed it to him.

How could I not envy that? I’ve never experienced such tenderness.

After a while, they finally finished making dinner. Cheng Jun even brought out a bottle of red wine, and they drank together.

He picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork ribs for Jiang Yue and put it in her bowl. “Yue, I remember you like this dish. Try it.”

Jiang Yue did love sweet and sour pork ribs. I often made it for her, and she knew it was me. At first, she was dismissive, but after tasting it, she said nothing else.

Even so, I was happy—at least she accepted the food I made.

She took a bite of Cheng Jun’s sweet and sour pork ribs. Just one bite, and her brow furrowed, her face showing some discomfort.

Probably didn’t taste good. Cheng Jun quickly asked, “What’s wrong? Not good?”

Jiang Yue looked troubled and said, “It’s okay, edible.”

She forced herself to eat it, but her strained smile revealed it was truly bad.

Love really shows in these little details. I think even if the dish made someone sick, Jiang Yue would force herself to eat it.

Cheng Jun hurriedly took a bite and immediately spat it out. “This… this is awful. Yue, you should spit it out.”

“It’s fine, I can eat it,” Jiang Yue forced a smile.

Cheng Jun sighed, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No worries, Jun. You’ve done well. Look at all these dishes you made.”

Yes, there were quite a few—three dishes and a soup.

The soup was a simple vegetable broth, but she had added two big spoonfuls of salt.

Jiang Yue tasted the other two dishes: a steamed sea bass and stir-fried shredded potatoes.

I could detect the fishy smell of the steamed sea bass; he clearly didn’t know how to cook it.

As for the stir-fried potatoes, it was more like fried fries.

From Jiang Yue’s expression, these two dishes weren’t great either, but she still ate them.

The potatoes seemed undercooked, with raw centers.

Jiang Yue quickly took a few sips of soup before rushing to the trash can to vomit.

Two spoonfuls of salt—any dog would complain drinking that.

I watched from the side, laughing uncontrollably, but the laughter soon faded.

Because even with food this bad, Jiang Yue soldiered on and ate it.

If I had made this, she’d have shown me the cold shoulder long ago.

Still, Jiang Yue didn’t eat much, as it was truly awful. They just drank wine.

They drank quite a bit. Cheng Jun seemed to deliberately encourage her to drink.

After two bottles of red wine, Jiang Yue’s tolerance—which I knew well—was no match.

She was already tipsy, her speech slurred, and her gaze unfocused.

Eventually, she collapsed onto the table. Cheng Jun called her a couple of times.

When there was no response, he walked behind her and patted her shoulder. “Yue, Yue, are you okay?”

Jiang Yue groggily replied, saying she was sleepy and wanted to rest.

Cheng Jun scooped her up in his arms. “Let’s go to bed.”