Chapter 93: Terms of Exchange
Since you’re here, why not sit for a bit? Tsuruimi Harume, why didn’t you bring your brave little cat along?
Wanyue elegantly walked into the hall, as if the mistress of this golden palace had returned, causing the room to fall silent.
Just glancing at Tsuruimi Harume’s slightly trembling body, Wanyue smirked coldly, “A baron of the British bloodline without cavities can scare people, but aren’t you afraid of being besieged by a group of knights? What gives you such confidence…”
Moreover, there are two half-step barons here, oh, now it’s three… If I don’t intervene, why don’t you give it a try?
As she spoke, Wanyue looked back at Zhao Peng, chuckling lightly. The latter responded promptly, reaching into his coat pocket to draw out a loaded handgun.
Tsuruimi Harume lowered her head, adjusting her breathing, her face alternating between red and white.
After a while, Tsuruimi Harume freed herself from Zhong Jing’s hand, regained her composure, and curtsied slightly while holding her skirt, “I’m very sorry… Lady Wanyue, it’s a pleasure to meet you; I hope to enjoy your guidance.”
What kind of guidance do you expect?
Wanyue walked past Tsuruimi Harume, turned to look at Jiang Yan, who was upstairs aiming her gun, nodded slightly, and her tone softened a bit: “Forget it, let’s talk upstairs. Since you’re able to come here alone, I suppose it’s not specifically to pick a fight. For the sake of the Fujiwara family, I must give you some face.”
Years of being close by Zhao Peng’s side enabled Wanyue to cultivate the demeanor of flexibly shifting between bodyguard and housekeeper.
Two cups of coffee were served, accompanied by a suitable smile, as Zhao Peng flawlessly extended the courtesy expected for a mid-level British baron, as if the previous tension had never existed.
The atmosphere shifted from a few minutes earlier’s tension to that of welcoming an esteemed guest.
That person guarding outside is yours, right?
Wanyue picked up her coffee, took a delicate sip, then slightly tilted her head, “Zhao Peng, go receive that young fellow.”
Zhao Peng immediately understood, lightly nodding, he exited the room while shutting the door behind him.
Speak up, what are you here for? You can’t possibly be planning to play the role of the main wife to show off to a little girl.
Wanyue set down her coffee cup, a faint smile on her face.
“Ah, Lady Wanyue is indeed sharp of mind.”
Tsuruimi Harume hastily put down her coffee cup, stood up, and bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle, her attitude exceedingly humble: “I came for an impromptu visit today, actually to propose a deal with you, Lady Wanyue.”
“A deal? What is it that interests you?”
Wanyue remained expressionless, but inwardly her heart sank; a few seconds later, she lit a cigarette, her sexy long legs crossed, the tips of her high heels poised, a hint of mockery curling at her lips: “I greatly enjoy business. What price can you offer?”
You want Jingjun to leave Hyacinth, leave you, leave everyone here.
Tsuruimi Harume straightened up, took a deep breath, and lowered her voice: “What I can offer is to tell you what the Engel family truly desires, as well as the secrets of the Goebbels family inheritance.”
Wanyue’s cigarette quivered slightly in her hand, a bit of ash falling onto her skirt, but her beautiful eyes were fixed firmly on Tsuruimi Harume’s, staring for a full minute. Tsuruimi Harume maintained her stance, unmoving.
“Then you’re at a loss… Zhong Jing is merely a little trickster stuck between two worlds, chasing thrills everywhere; he’s not worth much.”
“Families like yours never suffer losses; sometimes you’re unexpectedly generous, but a situation like yours never occurs. Is this behavior considered eating your own while taking advantage of the side?”
After saying that, Wanyue smiled, tossed the half-burnt cigarette aside, and picked up her coffee.
“Jingjun is very important to me… his safety and freedom are worth the secret I’ve brought.” Tsuruimi Harume bit her lip, her expression conflicted, “Keeping him out of this is really important to me.”
Wanyue stood up slowly, walked to Tsuruimi Harume, looking down at her face, her expression gradually cooling: “Who is Mengxiang to you? I’m referring to Zhong Jing’s brother Menghuai, and his biological mother.”
Tsuruimi Harume trembled slightly, perhaps she hadn’t expected the woman before her to catch onto these threads, and let out a sigh: “She is my sister, a cousin from the family division. Mengxiang is her name in Hua country; her real name is Fujiwara Mikako.”
“Your sister? Haha!” Wanyue suddenly burst out laughing, quaking with mirth, almost to the point of tears, uncontrollably pacing around the room.
Tsuruimi Harume’s expression darkened, her lips nearly bleeding: “Do you think my sister and I are pitiful? Clearly, we are both high-ranking bloodline barons, yet we must humbly marry ordinary people.”
“Fujiwara Mikako is Menghuai’s biological mother, and Zhong Jing is Menghuai’s biological brother. You, as the aunt, will end up marrying your own nephew. How interesting; people from the Fujiwara family sure know how to play!”
As Wanyue’s laughter subsided, she finally regained her breath and returned to standing in front of Tsuruimi Harume, a look of amusement on her face.
“There’s nothing shameful about wanting genuine freedom for myself, and besides, Jingjun and I share no blood relation.”
Perhaps having revealed something from deep within, Tsuruimi Harume felt significantly lighter: “Lady Wanyue, you are a wandering bloodline; you cannot understand the plight of me and Mikako, especially within the context of a Japanese family.”
“Regarding Fujiwara Mikako’s death, you should be clearer than I am… do you want to repeat her tragic path?”
Wanyue looked at the Japanese bloodline baron before her with great interest, pondering deeply. The strict and harsh family laws of Japan were already renowned worldwide.
“She truly fell in love with Zhong Hai, betraying her family for the sake of what she called true love, abandoning her responsibilities, and was therefore punished.”
Tsuruimi Harume coldly laughed as she returned to the sofa, as if she had no sympathy whatsoever for the death of her sister: “I will learn from her lesson. I just want to build a safe, independent, and free family that isn’t troubled by future risks, which is why Jingjun must stay away from danger and not become a target for the bloodline world.”
“You are indeed too humble and naïve… do you think that by doing this, you can balance family interests with personal ambitions and even maintain an external perspective to gain a space of freedom you can control?”
“Or to put it another way, the false freedom in your eyes is actually more important than true feelings… on this point, you might not even measure up to Fujiwara Mikako.”
Wanyue shook her head, her face filled with regret and pity, her heart tangled with mixed emotions, hard to express.
“Lady Wanyue, how about a trade?”
Tsuruimi Harume abruptly stood up, her body almost leaning against Wanyue, her eyes twinkling with an obsession akin to a gambler’s.
“Hehe, that sounds enticing, but right now, I actually feel that your offer isn’t sufficient.”
Wanyue scoffed, turning her back, looking as if she was too disinterested to hear more from her.
Tsuruimi Harume’s face gradually paled, her hands nearly crumpling her skirt, after a long while she managed to lower her voice: “Is Lady Wanyue doubting my sincerity? What else do you want?”
Wanyue, still facing away from Tsuruimi Harume, lit another cigarette, took several leisurely puffs before speaking slowly: “Very simple, add one more condition—if you sincerely fall in love with Zhong Jing, I will give him to you. If you can’t achieve that, then don’t bother.”
“Additionally, I’ll give you a few words for free: if you think you can have the false freedom bestowed upon you by Jingjun while remaining uninvolved, it might not be that easy. If the Goebbels family’s inheritance indeed holds monumental benefits and secrets, then probably no bloodline in the world could escape it, so what significance is there in telling me?”
“Perhaps, the truth lies right beside me; I have plenty of time to play, don’t I, Miss Tsuruimi?”
Upon hearing this, Tsuruimi Harume trembled all over, her face growing increasingly ugly.
…
Tsuruimi Harume left, her demeanor despondent, even for the first time not bidding farewell to Zhong Jing.
Zhong Jing sat on a sofa in a corner of the first floor, quietly drinking beer, occasionally glancing at the nearly empty hall with only a few scattered guests.
After going mad, Jiang Yao seemed to have fallen into a state of unmentionable anger and shame, and now no one knew where she had hidden.
Recalling the series of dramatic events from Tsuruimi Harume’s first visit to the Golden River Club, Zhong Jing felt both absurd and exhilarated about it all.
“Are you enjoying this tightrope walking life where you take us as knives and feel satisfied now?”
A familiar cold voice rang in his ears, yet Zhong Jing seemed mentally prepared. He naturally placed the beer bottle back on the table, smiling as he looked at Jiang Yan, who was dressed in a black dress as she sat down beside him.
“She really needs a good scolding; doesn’t it just fit to let you guys torment her a bit? It’s uncomfortable watching her play-act all day.”
Zhong Jing knew Jiang Yan saw through his thoughts and smiled while stretching out his arms.
Jiang Yao’s nature was just that—impulsive, insecure, simple, and devoid of emotional stability, easily manipulated by familiar faces. You are quite adept at feeling the nuances of people’s psychology; she cannot play against you, but I estimate you might not be able to withstand the game either.
Jiang Yan counted Jiang Yao’s shortcomings with a stern expression: “Zhong Jing, you completely don’t understand her. She is absolutely not any kind of woman you think you know.”
“Jiang Yan, little Yao has not once told me that you have a motherly personality, and she wasn’t wrong.”
Looking at the serious girl beside him, Zhong Jing suddenly felt like laughing, slowly retrieving a small box from his pocket, placing it on the coffee table. “Hey, you should think more about yourself, my brother is at his end.”
“Your brother…”
Following the gesture, Jiang Yan’s gaze fell on the small box, her face filled with confusion.
“Here, my brother handed this to me last night before he lost consciousness, saying it was for you. This is the true purpose of my visit today.”
Zhong Jing took a deep breath, his expression somewhat forlorn: “The military hospital notified my family; they said he has only a few months left… although we never got along since we were young, he is still my father’s blood.”
“He said that apart from his deceased biological mother, he has nothing else to hold onto in this world. This thing is proof of his existence here, and it can only be given to you.”
“Ha ha, I actually know my brother’s situation very well… He thinks of you but fears that having one more attachment will complicate things. Sigh, what a fool; even on the verge of death, he still entangles himself with such thoughts…”
After saying this, Zhong Jing lazily leaned against the back of the sofa, his arms wide open, admiring the splendid golden chandelier of the ceiling.
“He… did he say that, or is that just what you think?”
Jiang Yan slowly extended her hand, grasping the small box, her eyes fixed firmly on Zhong Jing’s face.
“Does it make a difference? My family, the Zhongs, are all a bunch of quirky rogues and lunatics.”
Zhong Jing shrugged, wearing a nonchalant grin, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips: “From the previous generation to this one, the Zhongs have been at odds with the bloodline. If one day it all falls apart, leaving no offspring, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Look, in just over a month, it’ll be his twenty-eighth birthday, yet my dad is already considering where he should be buried. Isn’t it ironic…”
As he finished, Zhong Jing downed half the beer in one gulp, wiping the foam from his lips, his expression gradually darkening.
As Zhong Jing vented, Jiang Yan held back her comments, simply stating helplessly: “There’s been no beginning or end between me and your brother.”
Actually, you all think too much. As for little Yao, please keep your distance, consider it a favor.
…
“What were you just talking about? You were asking him for a favor?”
Suddenly, Jiang Yao’s voice came from nearby, filled with curiosity as she walked over, still blushing slightly.
“I told him not to bring such people to the club in the future.”
Jiang Yao smiled, stood up, and walked away, but not without gently sighing as she turned.
Watching Jiang Yao walk away, Zhong Jing quickly returned to normal, reaching for another beer bottle and handing it to her with a playful smile: “The things you said to Tsuruimi Harume were so formidable! So bold! I loved it!”
“Who the hell wants your approval! Shut up, stop thinking about it!”
Jiang Yao exclaimed, almost falling apart again; her ears turned red yet again: “What do you expect? She’s so full of herself, if I don’t scold her a bit, she really might think I’m afraid of her!”
As she spoke, it seemed something occurred to her, and she looked at Zhong Jing’s profile, revealing a look of disdain: “Speaking of which, only a scumbag like you would attract such a troublesome ghost. Even an old Japanese hag is willing to take pride in being your wife; don’t you find it disgusting?”
“Right, right, I’m a scumbag! If I were to sleep with her, it’s for the country’s glory!”
Zhong Jing threw down the beer bottle in annoyance, angrily shrugged off his suit jacket, and yanked off his tie, a look of self-deprecation on his face. “What else would you like from me? Would you like me to ask a master to get rid of her for you, then my whole family can follow her to the grave? Or should I declare war between Hyacinth and the Fujiwara family?”
“I… I never said that…”
Jiang Yao was taken aback, awkwardly turning her head away as she began to drink in silence.
“Sorry, these days I have to look after my brother; he’s not long for this world… I’ll come here less often.”
Zhong Jing exhaled, grabbing a new beer.
In the distance, Jiang Yan, who had returned to the bar, slowly placed the small box on the table, stared at it for a dozen seconds, and then slowly opened the lid.
On the red silk inside the box lay two medals.
The one on top was familiar to Jiang Yan. It was a second-class collective merit awarded to the Xuanjia brigade last year, and Menghuai received a separate third-class medal.
The one beneath it was exquisite and shiny, something every Hua soldier dreams of: a first-class merit medal.
Because, in this country, a living first-class merit is almost a luxury.
In the Dark Arrow, every frontline commander who fought bravely until the end of their lives basically deserves a first-class merit medal.
The commanders of Dark Arrow had prematurely awarded Menghuai with a first-class military medal, representing the countdown of a young soldier’s extraordinary life and trying to leave an unforgettable mark before he departs this world.
Jiang Yan turned away, hiding her face in the shadows of the golden world, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
