◎ Trembling Even Harder (Part 2) ◎
Combined, this fan had already spent tens of thousands in the two livestreams. Le Qing quickly thanked them on behalf of the children and explained, "This user, we don’t livestream every day."
[Hahahahaha, this ‘user’ bit is killing me.]
[Isn’t this just an account set up by your own company to stir up hype? The ID hasn’t even been changed, and they’re throwing this much money around?]
[Are you nuts? They just said they don’t livestream daily—what company would that be?]
The user in question didn’t seem bothered. After glancing at the comments, they casually changed their ID to "Mr. User."
Mr. User: "Doesn’t matter. I’ll watch whenever you’re live."
Le Qing mused that there really was a gap between her and the wealthy—how could she ever guess their thought process? Even their ID changes were this random.
Still, considering how much Mr. User had spent, she made him a moderator just in case the kids accidentally went live without her knowing. At least someone would be watching.
Not that the kids could read, so comments wouldn’t affect them anyway.
She turned to the two clueless children and said, "Say thank you to Uncle User."
"Thank you, Uncle User!"
Jiang Suizhi still found the title grating. Fueled by alcohol and irritation, he vented his frustration by muting anyone who called him "random uncle" in the chat.
Luckily, the barrage of comments had already shifted focus thanks to the 100 "Super Battleships" (a high-value gift). Now, they were chatting about other things.
[It’s practically meat soup now, hahaha.]
Le Qing carefully propped up the little pig-shaped dumpling one of the kids had made, now slumped on the table, and smiled. "It’s fine, meat soup is nutritious too."
[Still way too much though.]
[Why not raffle some to local fans? Have them delivered tomorrow—New Year’s dumplings handmade by the kids!]
[Pretty sure the streamer’s from Beicheng. She trended with Lan Qian before and knows Young Master Lin.]
Well, speaking of Young Master Lin—mention him, and he’d appear instantly.
Lin Shengxi gifted 50 Super Battleships to the stream.
Lin Shengxi: "No need for delivery. Save some for me—I’ll pick them up myself."
Lin Shengxi: "Oh, my sister says she wants some too. Make her pay for it!"
"No, no, no." Knowing this sibling duo, Le Qing was sure they’d actually spend without hesitation. "If you want some, I’ll set them aside. Let me know what filling you’d like, and I’ll make more tomorrow."
Lin Shengxi: "Just the ones the kids made."
After typing that, he immediately switched to Jiang Suizhi’s DMs: "Bro, I got you a treat."
Jiang Suizhi: "?"
Lin Shengxi: "Dumplings handmade by the kids! Once I get them, I’ll bring some over. Cost me 100k!"
Where else could you find dumplings this expensive? Only he could be this thoughtful.
Jiang Suizhi: "..."
He’d spent 200k.
Not only did he not get any dumplings, he was still just "Uncle User."
Sometimes, absurdity was so overwhelming it made you laugh.
"What’s so funny?"
Jiang Suizhi locked his phone instantly, cutting off the sound. The small space fell back into silence.
"Why do I hear children?" Jiang Hechang glanced around, frowning slightly. "What are you watching?"
"Nothing."
Ever since their explosive argument in the study, father and son had been icy toward each other. Jiang Suizhi held no expectations for this man.
Whether from his perspective or Jiang Yan’s, Jiang Hechang had never been a proper father. Not that Jiang Suizhi cared—at his age, he wasn’t naive enough to yearn for familial warmth.
That was why he could remain composed around Jiang Hechang. These people were no different from strangers—just noisier and more hypocritical.
He’d seen enough of them.
But then Jiang Hechang asked, "Found anything?"
Jiang Suizhi stayed shrouded in darkness, letting out a short laugh. "Why do you care?"
"Do you want the shares?" Jiang Hechang replied with another question.
Though Jiang Hechang had long stepped back from the company, granting his son full authority, the majority of shares still lay in his hands.
Without looking at his son, Jiang Hechang lit a cigarette. "You came back despite hating it—wasn’t it for those shares?"
Jiang Suizhi didn’t deny it. "Then why ask?"
"Take them."
At that, the figure in the shadows stirred. Under the dim light, Jiang Suizhi finally turned. "Just like that?"
"You were right about one thing." Jiang Hechang exhaled smoke, his voice roughened by the habit, making him sound older. "I am a selfish man."
He’d never considered himself good. How many good men could climb to where he stood?
A good man wouldn’t have abandoned Jiang Suizhi for years. A good man wouldn’t have secretly sent that woman away, erased all traces of her pregnancy, and let Jiang Yan die without ever seeing them again.
Ambition had always driven him. After securing his inheritance from his father, he’d willingly traded happiness for a marriage alliance with Jiang Yan’s mother.
Jiang Yan’s struggles? He’d lived them too. When Jiang Yan’s mother died early, he’d barely been thirty. He’d fallen for someone else—Jiang Suizhi’s mother—and once dreamed of throwing caution to the wind, just like Jiang Yan.
But Jiang Hechang later learned that recklessness brought ruin. Back then, consumed by his career, he’d had to navigate treacherous waters alone, every step a gamble.
So when Jiang Suizhi’s mother was endangered because of him again, he’d cut ties—only to later discover she’d been pregnant. After she left, he’d shouldered the company alone, rooting out enemies in the light and shadows just to secure a safe path for Jiang Yan’s upbringing.
Jiang Yan was the acknowledged heir. To protect him, Jiang Hechang had to push him relentlessly down the same brutal road he’d walked.
He’d only learned of Jiang Suizhi’s existence after his mother’s death, knew he’d struggled—yet could do nothing but ensure his survival through covert means.
Jiang Hechang had siblings. He knew how many knives lurked behind familial smiles. And Jiang Suizhi? Too untamed for this world. Staying outside might’ve been kinder.
But Jiang Hechang never imagined Jiang Yan would find his brother.
He’d allowed their secret bond, thinking it harmless.
But he had overlooked one crucial thing—Jiang Suizhi was not him, and neither was Jiang Yan. They each had their own thoughts and plans.
No matter how clever and meticulous Jiang Yan was, he was still just a man in his twenties, experiencing the first flush of love. If not for Jiang Hechang secretly helping to hide that woman, perhaps tragedy would have struck again.
Initially, Jiang Hechang thought he had cleared away all obstacles, only to later realize he hadn’t. There were still people watching Jiang Yan, and worse, the woman was pregnant.
So once again, behind Jiang Yan’s back, he resorted to his old methods—sending the woman abroad and erasing all traces of her existence. Once everything settled, Jiang Yan could always bring her back.
He kept it from Jiang Yan out of fear that his son’s wavering heart might leave loose ends.
Yet despite all his calculations, Jiang Hechang never anticipated someone would leak information about the mother and child to Jiang Yan, leading to what happened afterward.
After that, when he tried to track down the mother and daughter again, there was no trace of them left.
He hadn’t wanted to reclaim Jiang Suizhi, but considering how long he’d allowed the brothers to interact, leaving the boy alone outside would only put him in greater danger. That was why he brought him home.
He didn’t want to give Jiang Suizhi shares or power. As long as the shares remained in his hands, those lurking in the shadows wouldn’t dare act recklessly. Even if they did, they’d have to go through him first. He wanted to personally root out those who would harm his children—but he never expected this son, upon returning, would have such a clear agenda, forcing him into the position he was in now.
Jiang Hechang felt that after all his scheming, not a single step had gone right.
From his lover to his children, he had lost them one by one.
His younger son was right—he was selfish, arrogant, and cowardly.
He could control Jiang Yan, but he couldn’t control this son who had grown up away from him, who defied all expectations at every turn.
So Jiang Hechang decided to stop calculating.
“As you said, I’ve made many wrong decisions. Three years have passed, and I still haven’t found that person.” Jiang Hechang stared at the flickering ember of his cigarette. “If you have the ability, then go and look for them yourself.”
Jiang Suizhi said nothing. He didn’t understand this father of his, nor had he ever cared to. But that didn’t mean he was foolish.
Even from these fragments, he could piece together clues.
“As for that mother and child, I never lied to you.” Jiang Hechang’s voice dropped lower, barely audible between the two of them. “She had no background, no other family. The money I gave her was enough to last them a lifetime. After what happened to your brother, I lost all contact with them. But…”
He exhaled deeply. “My advice remains the same—don’t investigate recklessly without full preparation. It won’t end well for anyone. Some people might even be waiting for you to take that step.”
The air around them was thick with the scent of tobacco. Jiang Suizhi, already dizzy from alcohol, turned his head to breathe in cleaner air before speaking deliberately: “I’m not you.”
“You’re not me?” Having made this decision, Jiang Hechang felt a weight lift slightly. He scoffed. “You’re out in the open; they’re in the shadows. What do you plan to do?”
Jiang Suizhi replied calmly, “I didn’t come this far to tiptoe around like you, playing hide-and-seek. Nor am I here to play the hero. Even rats in the gutter need to eat—especially those whose greed can never be satisfied.”
And he had seen far too many such people. From a young age, he’d learned that to stand firm, he had to be willing to go further than others.
Just like those street thugs who once thought they could trample over him—now they fled at the sight of him.
He stepped out of the darkness, his expression unreadable.
Jiang Hechang was quietly stunned. He had imagined countless reactions from his son upon hearing this news, but indifference was not one of them.
His younger son was far more calculating than he’d expected.
As Jiang Suizhi passed him, he suddenly asked, “Why make this decision now?”
Jiang Hechang paused, stubbing out his cigarette before smiling wryly. “At worst, if we’re going down, we go down together. Better than dying with my own son cursing me to my face.”
Those were the very words Jiang Suizhi had thrown at him in the study.
Jiang Suizhi gave him a faint glance.
“Enjoy your retirement.”
Jiang Hechang blinked in surprise.
Seeing his son grab his coat to leave again, he instinctively called out, “Where are you going?”
“Someone sent me fruit. Going to pick it up.”
What kind of fruit needed collecting at this hour? It was almost midnight!
But Jiang Suizhi, unsurprisingly, didn’t obey. Without a backward glance, he walked out of the Jiang residence.
Watching the car disappear through the gates, Jiang Hechang sighed deeply. Turning back to the bustling household, he realized there wasn’t a single person he could talk to.
It was almost laughable—though his younger son had cursed him to his face, he was the only one Jiang Hechang could speak to with any sincerity.
He shook his head.
A car was already waiting outside. The driver, dressed identically to Jiang Suizhi, handed him a bag as soon as he approached. “President Jiang.”
“Mn.” Jiang Suizhi took out the clothes inside, changed out of his coat, then put on a mask and cap. “Let’s go.”
Lin Shengxi had sent a barrage of messages, which Jiang Suizhi only now had time to check.
“Bro, I’ll drop by tomorrow to pick it up and bring it to you. Which house are you at?”
“Bro, you really don’t want it?”
“Fine, more for me.”
Jiang Suizhi tapped a quick reply.
Meanwhile, Lin Shengxi was sprawled on his couch at home, musing that while Le Qing’s cakes were terrible, her cooking seemed decent—he’d seen it in videos, so her dumpling fillings probably wouldn’t kill anyone.
Let Jiang Suizhi stew in envy.
The next second, his phone buzzed.
Jiang Suizhi: “No need.”
Jiang Suizhi: “I’ll get it myself.”
“…”
Damn, his brother was something else.
By the time Jiang Suizhi circled back to Le Qing’s apartment, it was well past midnight.
He checked the time, unsure if she’d still be awake.
After a moment’s thought, he decided to test the waters with a message.
AAAAA Wholesale Jiang: “Should I come for the delivery tomorrow?”
The reply was instant: “Sure.”
Still awake.
Jiang Suizhi walked to her door and rang the bell.
Le Qing, who had just been about to carry the two sleeping children to bed, nearly jumped out of her skin. Who would come knocking at this hour?
She checked the video doorbell and then: “…”
Opening the door cautiously, she whispered, “Mr. Xie?”
Did this man have some kind of condition? A phobia of being seen?
Dressed like this in the dead of night, anyone less brave—or unfamiliar with him—would’ve called the police.
Jiang Suizhi gave a quiet “Mn,” spotting the two children on the sofa. He kept his voice low. “Lin Shengxi said you have something for me.”
“Ah, right.” Le Qing snapped to attention. “Just a second.”
She hurried back inside and returned with the fruit she’d prepared for him earlier. “Here.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she caught a faint whiff of alcohol on him, along with a chill clinging to his clothes. She couldn’t help but feel surprised. "Did you just get back?"
"Had a work dinner."
"!" Le Qing’s eyes instantly filled with sympathy.
Having to work and entertain clients on New Year’s Eve—what kind of company was this ruthless?
"You should rest early, then."
Yet even after she spoke, the man remained standing at the door, unmoving.
Le Qing: "?"
Compared to the unfamiliar "home" behind him, Jiang Suizhi found this place in front of him far more comforting. It had been a long time since he’d felt this way.
Perhaps the alcohol was getting to him, but for no particular reason, Jiang Suizhi suddenly remembered the New Year’s celebrations Jiang Yan had missed with him—the dumplings with shrimp shells he never got to taste.
His eyes, slightly reddened from drinking, took on a slower, more deliberate tone. "Lin Shengxi said he spent a hundred thousand to buy a plate of dumplings."
Mentioning this made Le Qing want to laugh. "I suppose you could say that."
"I spent four hundred thousand," Jiang Suizhi said.
Le Qing’s smile froze. She blinked, dumbfounded. "What?"
"Four hundred thousand," Jiang Suizhi repeated. "I was User 973... well, ‘Uncle User.’"
This was truly unexpected. It took Le Qing a few seconds to process the information. Thinking back, it made sense—Mr. Xie had been present during her first livestream, though she hadn’t noticed him.
"So it was you."
Even on New Year’s Eve, busy with work and client dinners, he still found time to shower the kids with gifts.
Le Qing was genuinely touched on behalf of the children. For a brief moment, she had the impulsive urge to wake the two little ones and make them properly wish their "Uncle User" a happy new year.
"It was me."
Jiang Suizhi found it odd how someone usually so sharp could be so slow on the uptake now. He frowned slightly. "So I want two portions."
Ah, so that’s what he was after.
But the thought that the dumplings made by two kids were worth hundreds of thousands made her a little jealous.
"Sure," Le Qing said. "Would you like to come in and wait while I pack them for you? Or I can bring them over later."
Before she even finished speaking, Mr. Xie had already stepped inside with his long legs.
Le Qing handed him a pair of slippers. "The kids are asleep, so we’ll need to keep it down."
Alcohol had a way of loosening restraint. The little heads he hadn’t been able to touch earlier were right there, and now Jiang Suizhi’s fingers itched with the urge.
He set down the fruit he was holding. "I can help carry them to bed."
Le Qing paused mid-step toward the kitchen and turned to look at him.
Jiang Suizhi met her gaze without flinching.
"Alright," Le Qing said after a brief hesitation, pointing to the door of the master bedroom. "Their room is over there."
Jiang Suizhi walked over, but the moment he reached out, he froze.
He’d forgotten one crucial thing—he didn’t know how to hold a child.
Should he lift from the head or the feet? Would grabbing them by the waist risk hurting their backs?
Seeing him frozen in that awkward position, Le Qing approached. "Is something wrong?"
Jiang Suizhi asked calmly, "How do you usually hold them?"
Though she couldn’t see his expression, Le Qing inexplicably noticed the faint reddening of his ears. She smiled. "Here, let me show you."
With that, she gently picked up the younger one first.
Jiang Suizhi watched her careful movements, his stiff fingers twitching slightly before he slowly bent down to lift the older child.
Such a tiny thing, bundled up in thick clothes—surprisingly soft to hold.
In her sleep, the little girl nuzzled restlessly. Le Qing, already accustomed to this, brushed her cheek against the child’s and murmured soothing words.
Jiang Suizhi’s movements grew even more rigid. He glanced down at the child in his arms—thankfully, this one was sleeping soundly.
If he started squirming too, Jiang Suizhi wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go tonight.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he painstakingly carried the child into the room, mimicking Le Qing’s actions to lay them down.
But the moment he did, little Le Jia began fussing just like his sister, threatening to wake her up too.
Acting fast, Jiang Suizhi ruffled the boy’s hair in a few quick strokes before yanking the blanket up to cover his face entirely.
Watching his furtive, almost guilty movements, Le Qing: "...They need to breathe."
"Right." Jiang Suizhi observed the child, making no sudden moves, then carefully tugged the blanket down just enough.
Seeing the tousled strands of hair sticking up, he barely resisted the urge to smooth them down.
"Thank you," Le Qing said. "Let’s go."
She gently pulled the door almost shut behind them, then turned and noticed the sweat on Jiang Suizhi’s forehead. "Mr. Xie..."
She hesitated, then asked with a hint of disbelief, "Was the older one... heavy?"
Had carrying him really worn him out that much?
Jiang Suizhi: "..."
"It’s just a bit warm in here."
"You can take off your mask," Le Qing suggested as she headed to the kitchen. "Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you without it."
Jiang Suizhi’s skin prickled uncomfortably. It had been too long since he’d been this close to anyone, and the alcohol wasn’t helping his self-control.
He dug his fingertips into his palms, steadying his voice. "Just a personal quirk."
Le Qing respected eccentricities. She quickly packed the dumplings, then reconsidered—after spending four hundred thousand, the ones the kids had made wouldn’t be nearly enough. So she added some of her own.
Handing the container to Jiang Suizhi at the table, she said, "Here. There are some of mine in there too. If it’s not enough, feel free to come back for more—there’s plenty in the fridge."
For four hundred thousand, he could buy the whole fridge if he wanted.
"Thank you." Jiang Suizhi reached out to take it.
Le Qing’s gaze caught on the red marks on his palm. She paused mid-handoff. "Mr. Xie, did you hurt your hand?"
He’d done that to himself earlier.
But for Jiang Suizhi, it wasn’t a big deal. He did it often.
"It’s nothing—"
"I have bandages." Le Qing set the dumplings down and went to the cabinet, pulling out the first-aid kit she kept for the kids. She grabbed a few adhesive bandages. "And alcohol. Do you need to disinfect it?"
Alcohol could sting the wound—and maybe clear his head a little. Jiang Suizhi nodded.
Le Qing handed him the bottle, only for him to uncap it and pour it directly onto his palm without hesitation.
Her eyebrow twitched. The injury didn’t look too bad—just a mix of old and new marks. A quick clean and bandage would probably have it healed in a day or two.
But Jiang Suizhi seemed to be in serious pain, his hand trembling violently.
Le Qing’s eyebrow twitched again. Silently, she took back the bandage she’d been about to hand him and peeled it open herself. "Let me help."
The moment she spoke, Jiang Suizhi’s trembling worsened.
Le Qing: "?"
Was it that bad?
Tilting her head in confusion, she watched as Jiang Suizhi—ears now bright red—snatched the bandage from her with surprising speed. "I’ll do it."
Though quick, Le Qing could’ve sworn she saw his pinky finger lift delicately as he took it—like some sort of involuntary flourish.
She swallowed her words.
Jiang Suizhi looked like he was in agony, but his movements were precise as he slapped the bandage onto his palm. Then, grabbing the fruit and dumplings from the table, he stood abruptly. "Thanks. I’ll head back now."
"Alright, take care." Le Qing walked him to the door, noting his hurried steps. "Are you sure you’re okay?"
She was genuinely worried he might fumble and enter the wrong password with how badly his hands were shaking.
"It's fine."
Jiang Suizhi stood with his back to her, gripping the door handle for a long moment before steadying himself enough to key in the code. He didn’t even bother finding the light switch before shutting the door behind him.
Le Qing arched a silent brow but said nothing more, closing her own door to wash up and sleep.
Separated by two doors, Jiang Suizhi leaned against his, standing motionless in the icy, pitch-black apartment for a full five minutes before regaining his composure.
The doctor had warned him—the more he suppressed this condition, the harder it would be to control. If he wanted to recover, he needed gradual exposure therapy.
But he’d held back for too long, and that’s why tonight had been so unbearable.
The problem was, he couldn’t think of a single person to help him with the exposure.
Jiang Suizhi tugged off his mask, taking a few deep breaths before fumbling in the dark to turn on the light.
When the room lit up, the sight of the pristine yet barren space left him frozen for half a minute.
Due to his personal quirks, he’d had all the furniture removed when he bought the place. The housekeeper had only brought in basic appliances and essentials during cleaning—nothing else.
So why had he even bothered bringing back two portions of dumplings?
There wasn’t a single pot, pan, or utensil in sight.
Setting the food down, he removed his glasses and caught sight of the little bear-printed bandage on his palm. A low chuckle escaped him.
He’d outdone himself in sheer stupidity.
But somehow, it had still been a decent New Year’s Eve.
