Night Tea Heart Talk

Zhao Jianguo checked his watch, rose to his feet, and said, "There's an urgent meeting at the company. Several executives are waiting. I'll head over first. Xiao Chen, stay a little longer and keep Aunt Su company."

"Go ahead, Dad. You're busy." Zhao Chen stood as well.

Zhao Jianguo gave his shoulder a heavy pat. "Good son. Dad will be waiting for your good news."

With that, he picked up his coat and strode briskly out of the dining room. Before long, the sound of a car starting and driving away came from outside.

The Villa fell quiet again, leaving only Zhao Chen and Su Wantang, along with the lingering aroma of food and an invisible pressure in the air.

Su Wantang silently began clearing the dishes.

Zhao Chen walked over to help, but she gently brushed his hand aside.

"I'll do it," she said softly, looking up at him.

Under the lights, her eyes seemed slightly red around the rims, but she quickly concealed it.

After hesitating for a moment, she lowered her voice until it was nearly a whisper. "Xiao Chen... don't make things too hard on yourself."

The words were light, yet their meaning was vague and heavy. Was she telling him not to let his father's pressure wrong him too deeply?

Or had she... noticed something?

Zhao Chen's heart tightened slightly.

He looked at the young woman before him—his stepmother in name, yet someone trapped in the same situation.

For the first time, he clearly sensed that beneath her cautious concern might lie far more insight and helplessness than he had imagined.

He did not answer. He merely nodded lightly.

"I'm leaving," he said.

Just as Zhao Chen was about to step away, she looked up at him. Under the lights, her eyes seemed slightly red around the rims, but she quickly concealed it.

"You... stay here tonight, alright? Your room has always been kept for you. Wang Ma cleans it every week."

Her voice was soft, carrying a trace of hesitation and an indescribable loneliness. "It's been a long time since you stayed at home."

Zhao Chen was stunned.

It really had been a long time since he had spent the night here. Ever since his mother passed away, this home had felt more like his father's hotel, with him as an occasional guest.

"I..." He had intended to refuse, but when he saw the tenderness and loneliness in Su Wantang's eyes, the words at his lips changed. "Okay."

Su Wantang seemed not to have expected him to agree. A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes before it softened into an even gentler smile.

"That's wonderful. Go sit in the Living Room for a while. Once I'm done, I'll make a pot of tea. We can... talk?"

Zhao Chen nodded.

The Living Room was spacious and desolate. The imported Italian sofa was a little too soft, while the modern Oil Painting on the wall was cold and abstract in color.

Zhao Chen sat by the window, where he could vaguely make out the River View through the thick fog outside.

This home was luxurious and refined, yet it had no warmth.

After an unknown amount of time, Su Wantang came over carrying a tray with a pot of black tea and two bone-china cups.

She sat down in the Single Sofa beside Zhao Chen, poured two cups of tea, and pushed one toward him.

The Tea Soup was bright red, with wisps of steam rising from it and a faint fruity fragrance in the air.

"Zhengshan Xiaozhong," Su Wantang said softly. "I remember you said you liked this tea."

Zhao Chen picked up the cup, its warmth seeping through the porcelain into his palm.

He took a sip. The rich flavor spread across his tongue, carrying a faint scent of pine smoke.

The taste did bring back a few distant, hazy memories of his mother.

The two drank tea in silence for a while.

The fog outside seemed to grow thicker, shutting out every sound.

"Have you been busy at school lately?" Su Wantang asked, breaking the silence with a simple, ordinary question.

"Not too bad," Zhao Chen replied shortly.

"I heard from a friend that the views you expressed in class about real estate... were very bold." Su Wantang chose her words carefully.

"My friend didn't quite agree, but I... think you have your own thoughts. That's a good thing."

Zhao Chen looked at her.

She cradled her teacup in both hands, her gaze resting on the curling steam. In the soft light, her profile looked especially gentle, yet it also carried a loneliness that seemed utterly out of place in such luxurious surroundings.

"You read what I said? Is your friend a teacher at our school?" he asked.

"You know my friend. She wouldn't let me tell you who she is. After she told me about it, I looked up some of the related discussions myself."

Su Wantang smiled faintly, with a touch of self-mockery in that smile.

"I used to study Art History at Beida University. Every day, I dealt with paintings and old texts, believing the world ought to be as ideal as it seemed.

"Later... I came to understand that the real world, especially the business world, operates on far more complicated—and far crueler—logic."

She paused, and her voice softened. "Sometimes, I envy you. You're young, but the way you see things has a kind of... penetrating clarity. Unlike me. I always seem half a step behind, and I never seem able to fit in."

Zhao Chen remained silent and said nothing.

He knew Su Wantang's situation—a highly educated woman married in as a "showpiece," trapped in this magnificent cage with no career, no children, not even real love.

"Have you... thought about the future?" Zhao Chen suddenly asked.

The question seemed to catch Su Wantang off guard.

She froze for a moment, her gaze drifting into the distance. After a long while, she said softly:

"The future? I used to think about it a lot. I wanted to stay at the university, do research, mentor students, maybe even hold my own exhibitions. But now..."