Chapter Thirty: Wounded

Seeing the indifference in her eyes, Shen Ruizhang grew increasingly uneasy.

He raised his hand, wanting to stroke Jiang Yunzhu’s hair, but something stopped him and he drew back, restraining himself. His gaze softened.

“We still have so many decades ahead of us.”

Jiang Yunzhu smiled faintly.

No, this was their first decade together, and also the last.

“Uncle,” she called softly.

“What is it?” Shen Ruizhang asked.

Meeting his gentle eyes, Jiang Yunzhu shook her head with a smile. “It’s nothing. It’s getting late. You should go home and rest.”

Sensing her resistance, Shen Ruizhang frowned. Suddenly, he noticed a scar on her neck.

He immediately pulled aside her collar.

His expression darkened. “What happened here?”

She quickly pushed him away and tidied her clothes.

“I scraped it by accident.”

“How could a scrape leave such a large scar? Was it—”

Shen Ruizhang’s pupils quivered, guilt flickering in his eyes.

“Was it acid?”

Jiang Yunzhu lowered her head, silent.

So it was true.

He forcefully pulled her to the sofa and fetched the medicine box to tend her wound.

As he bent down, Jiang Yunzhu instinctively recoiled.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, frowning as he held her head steady, carefully dabbing medicine onto her scar with a cotton swab.

She hissed in pain and tried to shrink away.

Shen Ruizhang glanced up, worry lurking deep in his dark eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

Was he showing concern for her?

She looked at him quietly, her face expressionless.

“No, it doesn’t hurt.”

It had been so long since she’d seen Shen Ruizhang this gentle, she felt as if it were a dream.

“Uncle, I…”

“I chose to save Qingfei. You’re the heiress of the Jiang family—even if you were disfigured, your family would restore you. But Qingfei is different—she’s alone in the world, with no one to rely on but herself. Please, don’t make things difficult for her.”

After tending her wound, Shen Ruizhang earnestly added this remark.

It was like a bucket of cold water, dousing any hope she had left.

So it was only her wishful thinking. His care was merely to keep her from resenting Zhou Qingfei.

She straightened her clothes and took the medicine from his hand, her voice low. “Thank you, Uncle. I won’t trouble Miss Zhou.”

Seeing her expression, Shen Ruizhang suddenly felt guilty.

“Get some rest.”

With that, he fled in haste.

Watching his retreating figure, Jiang Yunzhu let out a self-mocking laugh.

Had she just harbored a shred of hope for Shen Ruizhang?

The next morning, she deliberately changed into a black lace cheongsam with three-quarter sleeves, covering every mark the acid had left on her body.

Her hair was simply tied with a red agate hairpin—elegant and pristine.

When Jiang Yunzhu came downstairs, Shen Ruizhang’s eyes briefly lit up with surprise.

She handed him a brown envelope.

“Uncle, this is a gift I prepared for you.”

“Thank you, Yunzhu. I’m sorry I didn’t prepare anything for you. I’ll make it up to you tonight, alright?” Shen Ruizhang apologized.

She shook her head indifferently.

“It doesn’t matter.”

After all, her gift had been arranged by her secretary. She no longer cared.

“I’ll still prepare something,” Shen Ruizhang insisted.

“Alright.”

She nodded perfunctorily.

She truly didn’t care anymore.

Shen Ruizhang coughed awkwardly. “Let’s have breakfast, then we’ll go to that art exhibit you like, and watch a movie this afternoon. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Jiang Yunzhu agreed.

She had no objections to his arrangements.

Relieved, Shen Ruizhang exhaled quietly.

Just as they sat down, his phone rang.

Seeing it was Zhou Qingfei, he instinctively glanced at Jiang Yunzhu.

Jiang Yunzhu looked up and smiled. “Miss Zhou must have something important to discuss. You should go, Uncle.”

Shen Ruizhang immediately stood up.

He’d only taken a few steps before stopping and looking back at Jiang Yunzhu, apologetic.

“I’m not in a hurry,” she said, lowering her head and eating, as if she truly didn’t care when he returned.

Her calm demeanor made Shen Ruizhang even more unsettled.

But Zhou Qingfei called again.

Without further hesitation, Shen Ruizhang left the villa.

After breakfast, Jiang Yunzhu went upstairs.

She applied medicine once more—this time, her own formula, which was more effective but also harsher.

As she finished treating each wound, sweat beaded on her forehead and pain wracked her body.

An hour later, the burning agony faded, the scars lightened, and the worst areas had scabbed over.

After dressing, Jiang Yunzhu retrieved a suitcase from her dressing room and packed everything she intended to take.

She boxed up photographs, mementos, and a few things Shen Ruizhang had given her that he considered useless.

She handed them to the maids downstairs to throw away.

What remained were the pieces of jewelry given by the Shen family.

She left them all in the display cabinet for Shen Ruizhang to deal with when he returned.

Hauling her suitcase downstairs, she was met by the maids, eyes red with reluctant tears.

“Sir must be blind—Miss Zhou can’t hold a candle to you.”

“If Miss Zhou weren’t worthy, Uncle wouldn’t choose her. Don’t gossip after I’m gone; the salary here is good.”

With that, Jiang Yunzhu embraced the maids, then turned and left without looking back.

She’d already contacted her family—her car was waiting outside.

Shen Ruizhang didn’t return until two days later.

He found the house strangely empty.

Something was missing.

With a sudden realization, he hurried upstairs.