A Delicate Divide

Aunt Shu noticed Lin Feiruo’s sudden stiffness, the subtle shift in her expression. Realizing she had ventured into treacherous territory, she promptly halted her words.

She feared that continuing would only deepen the contrast between past and present—a comparison that, in matters of the heart, often delivered the cruelest blows.

No one, no matter how resilient, could remain unscathed by such a stark juxtaposition.

Lin Feiruo had always been cheerful, but even the most open-hearted people had wounds that needn’t be salted. With a silent sigh, Aunt Shu abandoned her efforts to console.

“I'll prepare dinner. It’s all your favorites.”

With that, she turned and strode toward the kitchen, her brisk pace almost matching the way Jian Xiyan had left moments earlier.

Lin Feiruo came back to her senses just in time to watch Aunt Shu disappear into the hallway. She mused aloud, “Do all the Jians walk as if the wind carries them?”

The grand and luminous living room suddenly felt too spacious, too hollow. The household staff were busy elsewhere, wisely steering clear of her presence.

Staying put became unbearable; the opulence surrounding her was suffocating, disorienting—like standing in an over-embellished tourist attraction.

Knowing the origins of this excessive aesthetic only unsettled her further. To think she had once ridiculed Jian Xiyan’s peculiar tastes.

Retreating to her bedroom, Lin Feiruo locked the door before finally exhaling a breath of relief. She sank onto the plush bed, stacking two pillows behind her back as she prepared to untangle her thoughts.

The novel’s plot remained vague in her memory—broad strokes without the fine details. From the current situation, it seemed she would need to encounter key individuals firsthand before unlocking the crucial narratives connected to them.

Fortunately, the divorce agreement had already been signed, signaling that, for now, the storyline remained unchanged.

Divorce. The word itself still felt foreign to her, the identity it bestowed even more so.

She was only twenty-four. Though her master’s program in nutrition science had tormented her into early hair loss, she still harbored the heart of a young woman. She had never even experienced a first love, yet here she was, already divorced.

Regardless of how progressive and accepting modern society had become, Lin Feiruo remained inherently traditional, perhaps even old-fashioned in such matters.

She had always regarded marriage as sacred, an oath not to be taken lightly. Once, she had vowed that unless she met the love of her life, she would never consider tying the knot.

If it had been her in reality, she doubted she would have agreed to a contractual marriage.

But if the partner in question was Jian Xiyan…

Lin Feiruo recalled their brief interaction in the study. A peculiar, almost imperceptible hesitation rippled through her thoughts.

At the time, her attention had been solely fixed on the divorce papers. She hadn’t dared to openly scrutinize the woman before her. Now, in retrospect, she realized—Jian Xiyan’s features were flawless, utterly beyond reproach.

Though lightly made up, her natural beauty was undeniable. No cakey foundation, no clogged pores, no excessive concealer—just a complexion so immaculate it could serve as a reference model for 3D rendering.

Her eyes were luminous, striking, but their undertone was cool, distant. She looked at people as though detached, void of emotion.

Lin Feiruo lamented internally: She has closed the windows to her soul—no chance for connection.

She had always believed that vivid lip colors were unnecessary unless for special occasions—too bold, too ostentatious. But today, Jian Xiyan had effortlessly overturned that notion.

That single touch of crimson against her porcelain skin was nothing short of mesmerizing, searing an unforgettable impression into the depths of Lin Feiruo’s mind.

Shocked, she murmured, “Did I really manage to observe her in such detail under pressure?”

Growing weary, she adjusted her pillows, shifting into a more reclined position.

Before she could finish piecing together the plot, sleep overtook her. She didn’t wake until dinner had long passed.

Aunt Shu had waited in the dining room, glancing at the clock again and again. She had sent someone to knock on Lin Feiruo’s door, but there was no response. Growing uneasy, she went up herself.

From behind the door, a drowsy voice mumbled, “I’m so tired. Let me sleep a little longer.”

This was unusual. Lin Feiruo rarely napped at this hour. No matter how exhausted she was, she would typically eat first—she hated going to bed hungry.

Aunt Shu frowned. Had the study room conversation been more upsetting than she realized? Or worse, had her own words earlier unwittingly struck a nerve?

The girl was already heartbroken, and she had foolishly reminded her of past sweetness. She should have known better.

Regret seeped into Aunt Shu’s heart as she looked at the untouched feast spread before her.

Lin Feiruo awoke feeling thoroughly rested. When she checked the time, it was nearly eight in the morning.

Satisfied, she stretched lazily. A shower first, then a proper freshening up—after that, she would head to the Jian estate.

The three-day agreement was inescapable, so she might as well get it over with. She had no desire to linger in this overly extravagant, borderline surrealist mansion any longer. Any second now, Aunt Shu might spring another shocking revelation on her.

As her fingers brushed the embedded crystals on the hairdryer switch, she could no longer summon the energy to complain.

Expressionless, she dried her hair as quickly as possible, as if fearing prolonged exposure to this aesthetic would somehow infect her own.

Downstairs, the dining hall carried an air of quiet tension.

Aunt Shu’s face remained troubled, not much better than the previous night’s. The reason? Jian Xiyan had been waiting for a while.

“Miss, should I… go up and inform her?”

Jian Xiyan had rushed back to the company yesterday to handle paperwork and had only found time today to discuss the details of Lin Feiruo’s stay at the estate.

Compared to the somber mood in the study yesterday, she now appeared visibly at ease.

Aunt Shu had already recounted Lin Feiruo’s apparent “distress” from the day before—how she had been too downhearted to even eat dinner.

Jian Xiyan, however, didn’t believe for a moment that her refusal to dine stemmed from disappointment over her not staying the night. But if not, then what had unsettled her?

“How is she feeling?”

Aunt Shu hesitated. Lin Feiruo had insisted she was fine, but some concern wouldn’t hurt, would it? Otherwise, Miss Lin was always alone in that room, enduring her quiet sorrows, unnoticed.

“She complained of a headache yesterday afternoon but forced herself to act normal when she heard you had come home,” Aunt Shu said cautiously. “Miss, I don’t think she was deliberately trying to upset you. Maybe she just wanted your attention.”

Jian Xiyan knew Aunt Shu meant well, but—

She simply offered a faint smile. “We’ll manage.”

Though light, the smile was genuine, captivating in its sincerity.

Lin Feiruo arrived just in time to witness it—the slight tilt of Jian Xiyan’s head, the subtle curve of her lips, even the warmth in her voice.

Even from the side, she was stunning.

If she truly smiled, would the flowers in the garden bloom in response?

Lost in thought, Lin Feiruo froze in place until a gentle nudge from behind brought her back to reality.

“Miss Lin, why are you just standing there? Come in for breakfast.”

As she stepped forward, Jian Xiyan’s gaze shifted, her expression cooling back into its usual aloofness.

Lin Feiruo huffed inwardly. So, she really does distinguish between close and distant. Was a mere smile too much to spare?

Still, she mirrored the same polite indifference, draping the napkin over her lap.

When her breakfast arrived—lotus seed porridge and egg yolk pastries—her stomach grumbled in protest.

She glanced at Jian Xiyan’s bowl of dandan noodles, licking her lips.

Sensing her gaze, Jian Xiyan paused. “What would you prefer?”

“…Dandan noodles.”

Aunt Shu quickly instructed the kitchen to prepare another serving.

Lin Feiruo clutched her stomach in embarrassment. Some things were simply beyond her control.

Jian Xiyan’s lips twitched slightly. She slid her own bowl across the table.

“Take this one. I haven’t touched it.”

Lin Feiruo licked her lips again, inwardly salivating. "This feels a bit inappropriate…"

"It's just a bowl of noodles," Jian Xiyan teased. "Your stomach won’t allow you to be polite any longer."

She wasn’t wrong—Lin Feiruo wasted no time on further courtesies.

She ate with quiet concentration, each bite more delicious than the last, completely absorbed in the meal.

The chef of a billionaire’s household was indeed in a league of their own—this was not something one could casually find at a roadside stall.

As she savored each mouthful, she couldn't help but praise the craftsmanship, all while calculating in her mind—would one bowl be enough?

Jian Xiyan, who usually had a modest appetite, had already drunk a glass of milk before leaving the mansion. Yet, watching Lin Feiruo eat with such relish sparked her own craving.

She absentmindedly pinched the corner of the neatly folded napkin on the table, deliberately averting her gaze from Lin Feiruo’s engrossed eating.

But sitting so close, even if she refused to look, every movement, every sound made by the other woman was impossible to ignore.

In fact, the more she tried not to focus on it, the more acutely aware she became.

Aunt Shu, standing nearby, felt a quiet sense of relief. Finally, Miss Feiruo was beginning to show some initiative.

She wasn’t one for sweet words or romantic gestures, but choosing to eat the dandan noodles was, in its own way, a silent offering of goodwill.

In the two years of their marriage, neither had ever compromised their tastes for the other. The dishes on the table were always arranged in neat rows—sweet, savory, and spicy—each eating according to their own preference, never crossing into the other's territory.

For Miss Feiruo to take this step was truly rare.

Aunt Shu discreetly observed Jian Xiyan, curious to see whether her mistress had noticed the subtle intent behind Lin Feiruo’s actions.

Jian Xiyan, having given up on her feigned indifference, let her gaze drift back. Since covering her ears was proving futile, she might as well continue watching Lin Feiruo eat.

She had never before realized that Lin Feiruo eating could be so entertaining—like a little hamster, utterly engrossed. It was unexpectedly endearing, and oddly contagious.

Those who worked in the household were far from oblivious. Though they had only been instructed to prepare another bowl, the chef, perceptive as ever, noticed their mistress’s apparent favoritism toward the dish and wisely made extra.

Sure enough, when Lin Feiruo finished her first bowl with remarkable speed, she looked unmistakably unsatisfied.

Yet she held back, resisting the urge to covet Jian Xiyan’s portion.

When Xiaoxuan swiftly arrived with a fresh bowl, the two of them, at last, dined in unison.

Jian Xiyan ate with quiet elegance, a stark contrast to the busy little hamster beside her. Yet, despite the difference, there was an inexplicable sense of harmony between them.

Aunt Shu and Xiaoxuan watched from the side, their hearts swelling with emotion.

In the past, the two had always conversed as they ate, yet it often felt as though there was a vast, unspoken distance between them.

Today, they barely spoke at all, yet somehow, they truly seemed like they were together.

After breakfast, Jian Xiyan mentioned returning to the mansion. Lin Feiruo promptly descended the stairs, suitcase in hand—clearly prepared in advance.

One look, and it was obvious how eager she was to leave this place.

A strange, inexplicable frustration welled up in Jian Xiyan’s chest.

Their partnership had ended, but watching her former partner so impatient to walk away, as if she couldn't wait to shake off every trace of their shared past, left a bitter taste.

It was as though everything here, everything they had once shared, was nothing but an unbearable burden to Lin Feiruo.

Jian Xiyan had never, in all her life, experienced such blatant rejection.

A slow-burning irritation took root in her heart.

Noticing her darkened expression, Lin Feiruo instinctively asked, “Did breakfast not sit well with you?”

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