Chapter Thirty-Five: Gradually Changing Hearts

As Lu Ying was so overjoyed that her eyes curved into crescent moons, a crowd of young men had already gathered around the siblings.

From a distance, witnessing that smiling figure surrounded by the youths, Zeng Lang’s face seemed shrouded in a layer of frost.

Ping Yin sat in her own donkey cart, watching as her beloved stared intently at Lu Ying without even blinking. Biting her lip, a flash of anger crossed her delicate, beautiful face.

After instructing the driver to move closer, Ping Yin called out softly, “Changzhi…”

Her voice, when she called him, carried a deliberate hint of coquettishness. In the past, whenever she called him this way, Zeng Changzhi would always turn to her with gentle eyes, a smile playing on his lips—encouraging, affectionate.

Now, Zeng Changzhi did turn his head, but his brows were tightly knit. He glanced at Ping Yin with impatience, and in a low, irritable voice, he said, “Why are you here too?” It had taken him two days to summon the courage to go see Lu Ying. He hadn’t expected to be followed by Ping Yin the moment he stepped out. How had he never noticed before how clingy this Yin could be?

Seeing Zeng Lang’s displeasure, Ping Yin’s eyes reddened with tears. She hadn’t wanted to follow either, but… but her beloved was someone she had forcibly snatched from Lu Ying’s hands. A man seized in such a manner could never give her a sense of security. It always made her feel that, just as she had taken him, another could just as easily take him away…

Now, with her reputation in ruins, everywhere she went people cast scornful glances, some even pointing at her belly and muttering. She truly did not know what she would do if Zeng Lang no longer wanted her.

Moreover, back when Lu Ying and Zeng Lang were betrothed, she had thought Lu Ying was nothing more than a pretty village girl. But now, no matter how she looked, Lu Ying seemed ever more beautiful. She seemed unlike any other girl in Hanyang City. When Ping Yin met those jet-black eyes and saw that slender, straight waist, she even felt a sense of shame and inferiority.

Looking at Zeng Lang, Ping Yin thought miserably: He must be unable to let go of that wretch after breaking off the engagement… Didn’t Uncle Wen say so? He always wanted both. Uncle Wen also said that what he cared about was my family’s wealth, and perhaps he cared more for Lu Ying than for me.

People are like this—before they obtain something, it’s all they desire. But once they have it, their mind runs wild, and all those details they once willfully ignored circle endlessly in their thoughts, tormenting them again and again.

Zeng Changzhi saw that a single sentence had brought tears to Ping Yin’s eyes, and he could not help but grow even more impatient.

He had come out to see Lu Ying today, partly of his own will, but also because of his father’s prompting.

That day, when his father returned the marriage contract to the Ping family, Zeng Changzhi had felt nothing but panic and suffocation, a turmoil that left him unable to even care about the two slaps Lu Ying had given him.

He realized then that he truly could not let go of Lu Ying.

But he was helpless. His father had been furious—said that after raising a son to this age, not even he had ever struck him, so how could he let a woman slap him? His father in anger was terrifying, and Zeng Changzhi dared not say a word, only watching in dismay as his father took the marriage contract and left.

After his father’s departure, Zeng Changzhi felt utterly wretched. Not only did his head throb with pain, but his chest felt as though something had been hollowed out. Such misery left him collapsed in his room, clutching his head, barely able to breathe.

Later, his father returned, his expression complicated. Sensing his father’s displeasure, Zeng Lang even felt a vague excitement. Perhaps Lu Ying had refused to end the engagement? She must know that, aside from himself, she could never marry a better man. She must have regretted it. But she was so proud—even if she regretted it, she would never admit it. His father must be angry because of this.

He walked up to his father, who glanced at him and sighed heavily, saying, “Changzhi, in your father’s eyes, Ah Ying still has some affection for you. Though the engagement is broken, you must still treat her well when you see her.” After a pause, he added, “And don’t mention the matter of her slapping you again.”

With that, his father had hurried out of the room. Yesterday, his father’s mood seemed much improved, but as he looked at Zeng Changzhi, he instructed, “Tomorrow, go visit Ah Ying. Tell her your uncle meant no harm. Our families have been close for years—though fate has not made us in-laws, there is still affection between us.” He even added, “If she’s willing, bring her to our house. Tell her I am willing to take her as a goddaughter.”

With these words, and at the thought of seeing Lu Ying again, Zeng Changzhi finally emerged from his gloom, which was why he was here now.

Zeng Lang kept his eyes fixed on Lu Ying, while Ping Yin gazed at Zeng Lang. Both wore expressions of sullen agitation.

After a long while, seeing the siblings pack up their stall and the crowd of youths reluctantly disperse, Zeng Lang suddenly jumped down from the carriage and muttered, “I’m going to see her.”

He had just taken a step when Ping Yin suddenly raised her voice, shrill and piercing, “Zeng Lang—!”

Her voice was so sharp it was alarming; Zeng Lang started in surprise and turned back, puzzled. Two hundred meters away, Lu Ying seemed to hear something, turning her gaze in their direction.

Ping Yin cast a resentful glare toward Lu Ying, then turned back, eyes red, staring fixedly at Zeng Lang. As she watched, tears streamed down her cheeks. Trembling, she cried, “Zeng Lang, you have nothing to do with her anymore. Why do you still seek her out?”

She paused, biting her lip, and then said in a broken, desperate voice, “Ah Zhi, we are to be married soon. Please, don’t go to her. I beg you.” As she spoke, she climbed down from the donkey cart and reached for Zeng Lang’s arm.

Ping Yin’s expression bewildered Zeng Lang—not only anxious but frightened, as if his going over to Lu Ying would shatter their engagement.

This was not like her. The old Ping Yin was always cheerful and confident—a daughter of wealth and beauty, raised with unshakeable assurance. She would always appear wherever he and Lu Ying met, linking arms with Lu Ying affectionately, tossing flirtatious glances at him when Lu Ying was not looking, and when Lu Ying turned away, she would act out a malicious shove, trying to hurt her.

A beautiful, privileged girl—whatever she did seemed charming. That time at the temple, he had known all along that Ping Yin had pushed Ah Ying down the slope, causing her head injury. But he hadn’t held it against her; he thought she did it out of love for him. In any case, Ah Ying hadn’t really suffered.

But how had she changed so much in just a few months? Where was that always-confident, pampered girl? Where had she gone?