Chapter 7: Ill Omen

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Naturally, the question went unanswered, skillfully deflected by him with a subtle shift in topic: “I might be going to Haicheng in September. If you ever need any help, just reach out to me.”

Jiang Muguai said nothing, but inwardly she firmly thought: No need.

Then she wondered, if Fang Muqing had reported him, he should be interrogating or threatening her instead of trying to win her favor. Could it be that a pang of guilt finally stirred within him, realizing he hadn’t fulfilled his duties as a father all these years?

The car steadied, but Mu Anyan did not call her. After a long pause, Jiang Muguai finally registered what was happening, looking at him playing with a lighter, and belatedly said, “Goodbye.”

“Wait.” Mu Anyan called out to her, then pressed the button on the glove compartment and took out a small bottle, handing it to her. “Spray a bit on yourself.”

Jiang Muguai looked at the tiny spray, smaller than her palm, and asked, “What is this?”

“It’s to remove the smell of smoke,” he said.

She was momentarily stunned, then coughed lightly, a bit embarrassed. “Oh.”

In that instant, a thousand thoughts crossed her mind—Mu Anyan was surprisingly considerate. If only he showed such care toward Jiang Wei, she would be much happier.

“Stay away from places like that in the future.”

His words stopped Jiang Muguai just as she was about to open the car door and leave.

His cold voice came from behind, yet amid the subtle tones of his concern: “You’re about to start university. If any boys pursue you, be sure to keep your eyes open. Better to be single than settle for less.”

Her eyes suddenly stung, clutching the little spray bottle tightly as sweat formed on her fingers. He had never spoken to her like this before.

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She glanced inside the car at him, only catching the sharp line of his jaw. His black eyes were hidden in the night, revealing no emotion, calm and controlled as always. Yet Jiang Muguai knew there were turbulent waves beneath that surface, a depth she dared not touch.

“Don’t be like me.”

Even after the night swallowed his car whole, Jiang Muguai remained caught in those words.

She stood in the wind until her limbs grew cold before slowly moving her aching legs.

When she returned home, she found it pitch dark inside. Reaching out to find the light switch, the living room lights flicked on before she could touch the switch, startling her.

Jiang Wei sat in the center of the living room, still wearing a dress and without removing her makeup, as if she had just come back from outside. Jiang Muguai exhaled softly, “You scared me. Mom, what are you doing?”

“Why are you home so late?” she asked casually.

Before entering, Jiang Muguai had already ensured most of the smoke and alcohol scent on her had faded, but the lingering smell was still pungent. She could only say, “It was a friend’s birthday. I went out to dinner with them.”

Jiang Wei regarded her with suspicion, then stood and walked over, scrutinizing her closely.

Jiang Muguai held her breath, feeling nervous.

Though Jiang Wei loved going out a lot, she was strict with her—there was a curfew at home, travel had to be reported, and Jiang Muguai sensed that Jiang Wei noticed something was off today, perhaps a bad mood, so she had to be extra cautious.

Seeing the change in Jiang Wei’s expression made her more anxious. She decided to strike first: “Because I was happy, we drank a little…”

“Did you see that person?”

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Jiang Muguai was stunned. “What?”

Jiang Wei’s young, beautiful face held a hint of mockery. “Did you go out of your way to see Mu Anyan, or did you just run into him?”

Jiang Muguai’s heart skipped a beat. She had no idea how Jiang Wei found out and felt flustered.

Jiang Wei coldly watched her reaction and chuckled. “I wondered why you came home so late. So you ran into him.”

Jiang Muguai pressed her lips together. “I met Dad on the way home. He kindly gave me a ride back.”

“What’s there to explain? It’s your business, not mine.” Jiang Wei interrupted impatiently. “You’re grown now, with your own thoughts. It’s impossible for me to stop you from seeing him.”

After saying that, she carefully examined Jiang Muguai again. Suddenly noticing the slight bulge in her pocket, she reached in, took out the item, studied it for a few seconds, sneered, and tossed it into the trash bin.

“Don’t bring anything related to him back here. It’s bad luck.”

The sound of the door closing followed those words.