Luck Ch.5

Chapter 5: Marriage Is a Big Deal—Don’t Rush It

Qin Yan was in a terrible mood.

He had just returned to the Qin estate, and his secretary was already buzzing non-stop in his ear, unbearably annoying.

Company matters, family issues, matters concerning Ji Yu—everything was waiting for his decision. He had only been away from the Qin household for one night, and it was as if the whole world had fallen into chaos.

Faced with a mountain of work, Qin Yan’s mood plummeted from a positive to a deep negative.

Unusually, a hint of irritation actually showed on his face—instead of the usual unreadable, expressionless look he wore.

The secretary, observing his boss’s expression, carefully asked after reporting the official matters, “The Ji family refuses to take Ji Yu back. How would you like to handle it?”

Qin Yan’s eyes didn’t waver as he slowly walked toward the garden. “It’s not like we’re short on food—just keep him here for now.”

His stepmother, Su Xiaowan, was dead set on marrying Qin Yan off to a male spouse. Even if Ji Yu were dismissed, she would just find another one—Zhang Yu, Wang Yu, or whoever. Rather than switching to someone new, it was better to keep Ji Yu at the Qin estate. That way, Su Xiaowan could be pacified without stirring the pot.

By staying still and unchanging, Qin Yan would force others into a frenzy instead.

Ever since the news broke that Qin Yan had ‘miraculously awakened,’ chaos had erupted on Su Xiaowan’s side. In just one morning, she had sent people over three or four times to ask about Qin Yan’s condition.

The secretary, sensing this too, nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. Young Master Ji doesn’t seem like the kind of person who causes trouble. He probably won’t stir up any drama.”

Qin Yan shot a sideways glance at the secretary and asked coolly, “You know him well?”

The secretary’s heart skipped a beat. Even his pulse slowed, and cold sweat began to drip from his forehead. “President Qin, I…”

Qin Yan raised a hand to stop him from explaining. “His personality has nothing to do with me. Just don’t let him starve or freeze.”

In just a few sentences, the secretary’s shirt was already soaked through.

Whether it was because the weather was too hot, talking to Qin Yan was too terrifying, or both—it was hard to say.

The secretary’s expression was serious as he nodded. “Understood, President Qin. But what if Young Master Ji wants to go out?”

“Send a car for him, and have him report his itinerary.”

Qin Yan took a couple of steps, then seemed to remember something. He asked, “Do you think I would stop him from going out? Is this a prison, or a concentration camp?”

The secretary’s tongue stiffened. He could only offer an awkward, forced smile. “No, no, President Qin, I misspoke. I didn’t think that far.”

Qin Yan, already getting impatient with the conversation, suddenly felt something hit his lower leg.

Looking down, he saw a small, greenish stone.

Qin Yan raised his head and saw Jiang Chi deep within the rock garden.

Qin Yan: “!!!”

Jiang Chi smiled at Qin Yan, raising his eyebrows, before swiftly turning and disappearing into the hollow space behind the Taihu rock.

When the secretary followed Qin Yan’s gaze, the entire rock garden appeared calm and undisturbed, with no sign of anyone hiding there.

The secretary cautiously asked, “President Qin, is there something wrong with the Taihu rock?”

Qin Yan pressed his lips together slightly, his thumb unconsciously pressing against his knuckle. “Nothing. You can head back to the company. I still have some things to take care of here.”

The secretary nodded, bowed slightly, took three steps back, and turned to leave.

Qin Yan stepped forward, heading toward the rock garden.

The early summer sunlight was warm, casting a gentle glow on him. The back garden of the Qin estate had many lilies in full bloom, their leaves, fresh and delicate, spread out. The pure white blossoms stood gracefully amid the sparse trees, giving off an elegant and serene vibe.

A soft breeze brushed through, and the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of lilies.

In the novel Restless Longing, the author frequently used lilies to describe the protagonist, Ji Yu.

The fragrance was rich yet otherworldly, quietly hiding in the misty, cloud-covered valley, like a fleeting glance, drawing people in with its intoxicating charm.

Jiang Chi’s gaze fell on “Ji Yu,” but he couldn’t help feeling that the author’s descriptions hadn’t quite done him justice.

Lilies were beautiful, sure—but far too delicate and easily broken.

The man before him, though stunningly handsome, carried a natural air of sharpness and strength. He was more bracing than a lily, and heavier too—cooler, deeper.

Lilies were pure and cold, but they still bloomed under the burning heat of midsummer.

But the “Ji Yu” Jiang Chi saw didn’t belong to summer.

He was the marrow-deep darkness of night, the frost blooming on cedar branches under a bitter winter sky, the eternally unmelting jade on the peak of Kunlun.

Though standing under the blazing summer sun, he looked more like someone standing at the end of time, with a bottomless abyss stretching behind him through the centuries—an existence that made you want to approach and understand, yet fear falling into eternal stillness.

So this was Ji Yu’s aura… Was he always this cold?

No wonder the book often used words like “ice” and “snow” to describe the protagonist’s temperament. He really was that cold.

No wonder the male lead had pursued him for ten years with no result.

Did this person even have human emotions?

Jiang Chi’s sharp brows knit slightly as he studied the man before him.

Even the warmth of June sunlight couldn’t melt the chill he exuded. Despite being surrounded by a garden full of vibrant blooms, he remained austere and pale.

Under Jiang Chi’s scrutiny, Qin Yan’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, as though it was perfectly natural for Jiang Chi to appear here.

Qin Yan casually pulled out the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his hands without much care.

Jiang Chi’s gaze followed the motion.

The base of Qin Yan’s thumb was red and swollen, like a scald or burn.

He must’ve applied some ointment earlier—now mostly wiped off—leaving behind only a faint scent of mint and borneol, which blended into the fragrance of the lilies and was easy to overlook.

“What happened to your hand?” Jiang Chi asked.

Qin Yan didn’t try to hide it—he straightforwardly held out his hand for Jiang Chi to see. “Your house’s mosquito bit me.”

His tone wasn’t accusatory, just matter-of-fact.

Still, Jiang Chi was startled. He grabbed Qin Yan’s hand and pulled it closer for a better look. “What kind of mosquito can bite you like this?”

Qin Yan had a rather unusual constitution.

He had a severe sensitivity to proteins in mosquito saliva—his body reacted with rare inflammatory symptoms after being bitten: large areas of swelling, redness, heat, itching, and pain. In extreme cases, it could even be life-threatening.

Very few people knew about this—not even Qin Yan’s father. Or perhaps more accurately, Father Qin simply didn’t care.

Qin Yan couldn’t be bothered to explain, so he casually made something up. “The mosquitoes in your house are toxic.”

Jiang Chi’s eyes widened. “That toxic?”

Qin Yan withdrew his hand and stepped into the shade cast by the Taihu rock. His gaze fell idly onto a nearby patch of lilies, calmly watching them bloom.

Jiang Chi went quiet too, mentally taking note that he needed to install a full mosquito control system at home to wipe out every last one of those poisonous intruders.

It was only June—summer hadn’t even fully arrived yet. He usually wasn’t the type to attract mosquitoes, but these vicious ones? He wouldn’t stand a chance.

Should he go for physical defense or chemical deterrents?

Wait, what was he hesitating for? The best system was clearly a combined defense.

Jiang Chi turned to ask, “Are you allergic to ingredients like DEET or pyrethroids?”

“Allergic to mosquito saliva… but not to repellents.”

Qin Yan shifted his gaze from the lilies to Jiang Chi. “So you came to the Qin estate just to ask me about that?”

Snapping out of it, Jiang Chi finally remembered why he was there in the first place. “I heard the Ji family is forcing you to register a marriage. Did you agree?”

Qin Yan’s face remained expressionless. “What, are you here to crash the wedding again?”

For some reason, hearing that made Jiang Chi nervous.

Right—he had snuck into someone else’s house uninvited. Nervousness was perfectly reasonable.

Jiang Chi cleared his throat and tried to steer the conversation back on track. “Now that Qin Yan’s awake, there’s no need for that whole marriage-for-luck thing. Why would you still marry him? Didn’t he say anything? Did he just agree to it straight up?”

Qin Yan pretended to think for a moment, then replied vaguely, “He’s still considering.”

“Then let him consider all he wants. You come with me first.”

Jiang Chi leaned in, glanced around furtively like a spy, and blurted, “Your presence here… is distracting him from thinking.”

Qin Yan’s eyes, deep and soulful, curved faintly in amusement. His words carried a subtle undertone. “It’s your presence that’s distracting him.”

Jiang Chi didn’t catch the implication. He tilted his head in confusion, wearing an expression of soul-deep innocence.

Qin Yan met that innocent look with a mirrored one of his own.

The two stared at each other in silence.

The blue sky, drifting clouds, soft breeze, and scent of flowers all faded into the background. Their gazes were so unguarded, it was like a competition to see who could look more clueless.

After a few heartbeats, Jiang Chi was the first to snap out of it. “Just come with me. Marriage is a serious thing. You can’t rush into it.”

He reached back, grabbed Qin Yan’s wrist, and started dragging him along—half pulling, half leading.

Qin Yan didn’t resist. Jiang Chi was surprisingly strong—wrestling free wasn’t an option. So he let himself be pulled forward, at least grateful that Jiang Chi wasn’t suddenly trying to throw him over his shoulder again like some brute.

“Why are you so against Qin Yan marrying Ji Yu?” Qin Yan asked calmly.

Jiang Chi said, “In the novel, the moment Qin Yan saw Ji Yu, he totally lost it—had to have him, no matter what, forceful and possessive. You’d better avoid Qin Yan as much as possible, in case he suddenly gets obsessed and decides it has to be you.”

Qin Yan followed behind Jiang Chi at a relaxed pace, trying to defend himself. “Maybe Qin Yan thought that even if he didn’t marry Ji Yu, his stepmother would just find someone else to force on him anyway… Going along with it to lower their guard—that’s not unreasonable, right?”

Jiang Chi turned around and shot him a disapproving look, sighing as though heartbroken. “You’re way too naïve.”

Qin Yan: “…”

Alright, in Jiang Chi’s mind, it seemed he’d already been labeled as someone who had lost his mind and dignity, bewitched by Ji Yu’s looks. That image probably wasn’t going away anytime soon.

But that was fine. The more firmly Jiang Chi believed that now, the more Qin Yan looked forward to the moment when the truth came out. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Jiang Chi’s face then.

It would be priceless.

Perhaps the image in his head was too amusing, because his previously plummeting mood began to rise again, little by little.

Jiang Chi led Qin Yan toward the back entrance, deliberately avoiding all surveillance along the way.

Qin Yan was quietly alarmed. “You’ve seen the surveillance layout for the old estate?”

Jiang Chi replied, “Don’t need to. Did you forget what my major was?”

Qin Yan searched his memory for the answer. “Security engineering?”

Jiang Chi spoke with a trace of pride, “Before I landed in this novel, I used to handle on-site security for cultural heritage exhibitions. No matter how heavily guarded the Qin estate is, it’s nothing compared to the National Museum.”

Qin Yan’s eyes shifted suddenly, clearly surprised. “The National Museum? You were responsible for security there?”

Jiang Chi glanced back at him, expression calm. “I’m a PhD candidate at the National University of Technology. I designed anti-theft systems for a number of national treasures. Some even received patents.”

Qin Yan: “…”

In the end, Jiang Chi couldn’t hide his smugness. He boasted to Qin Yan, “The last one I escorted this carefully was a painted pottery basin with a human-face fish pattern from the Neolithic period. But trust me—protecting a pottery basin isn’t nearly as interesting as coming to get you.”

Qin Yan spoke with implied meaning, “Indeed, relics are lifeless—how could they ever be as interesting as the living… right, Dr. Jiang?”

Jiang Chi completely missed the subtext, thinking Qin Yan was complimenting his professional skills. He immediately puffed up with pride.

“No worries,” Jiang Chi promised, “once you’re dead, I can design you an anti-theft urn—automatic lid, shock absorption, even an earthquake couldn’t break it.”

Qin Yan took a deep breath. “Who in their right mind would steal someone’s ashes?”

Jiang Chi raised his eyebrows, eyes gleaming. “You never know. In some novels, an obsessive protagonist might keep their lover’s ashes on their bedside table.”

Qin Yan no longer wanted to talk to Jiang Chi.

The implication was way too obvious—and extremely targeted.

Who else could Jiang Chi be referring to as the “obsessive protagonist” if not that so-called “Protagonist Gong Qin Yan”?

If such a novel really existed, Qin Yan would love to meet the author and ask: ‘Why would you create such a character? What’s the point? What’s the realism here?’

It was such bad luck to share a name with that cursed “Protagonist Gong.”

He would never, in this lifetime, put anyone’s ashes on his nightstand. Was he insane?

Dead is dead. Once the bones are burned to ash, they’re nothing but calcium compounds—nothing special about them.

Qin Yan had never believed in ghosts or gods.

If souls really did exist after death, then why had his mother never come to see him? His grandfather either. Clearly, all that spiritual stuff was just wishful thinking—comfort stories the living told themselves. And Qin Yan knew better than to believe in empty longing.

Absolutely useless.

The dead know nothing.

Qin Yan closed his eyes briefly, quickly regaining his composure as he mentally retraced his conversation with Jiang Chi.

In an instant, he grasped the logic hidden beneath the surface.

Qin Yan was frighteningly calm, his tone nearly indifferent as he asked, “Jiang Chi, in that novel… the protagonist shou dies, doesn’t he?”

Jiang Chi abruptly let go of his hand, whipping around in shock to stare at Qin Yan.

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**TN

This Jiang Chi reminds me of Yan Jingze. And Qin Yan reminds me of Ah Xiu. Oh, my first CP. >.< They’re from Beloved Husband, btw—my first finished TL project.