Chapter 42: What Is Your Type?
So every time Jiang Qing smiled and used the phrase “The people pursuing me are lined up all the way to France” to reject anyone who wanted to pursue him, if it were anyone else saying it, it might be an exaggeration. But applied to Jiang Qing, it was perfectly fitting.
However, among these people, how many were sincere, how many were after the Jiang family’s background, and how many were like Qin Zhiyan, was unknown.
Jiang Qing was well aware of this, so he never gave anyone hope.
In Jiang Linmu’s words: “My brother’s eyes are a ruler, his heart is a scale. He can see clearly what everyone’s true colors are at a single glance, giving those demons and monsters absolutely zero chance to get close.”
Although Jiang Linmu would always turn into a protective mother hen around Jiang Qing every time, what truly put his mind at ease was that Jiang Qing himself wouldn’t give those people a chance.
Though if Jiang Qing truly had such an intention, he would definitely cry, hug Jiang Qing’s leg, and beg him.
“Brother, how can dating someone else be as good as having me…”
“I know how to cook, I know how to massage, and I can even bake little cakes. Brother, just spend the rest of your life with me…”
Jiang Linmu frequently hung this phrase on his lips, half-joking, half-serious. He couldn’t imagine the sight of another person appearing by Jiang Qing’s side. That person would divide his brother’s attention, occupy his brother’s time, and might even… replace his position in his brother’s heart.
Just thinking about it made him feel stifled inside.
So he strictly guarded against them, treating all “suspicious individuals” approaching Jiang Qing as enemies.
But deep down, he knew where his brother’s bottom line wasâJiang Qing could indulge his tantrums, could accept his reliance, but would absolutely never allow him to truly interfere with his own choices.
If one day, Jiang Qing truly fell for someone, then no matter how much Jiang Linmu cried or threw a fit, it would be to no avail.
Fortunately, that day had never arrived.
At least, up until now.
This made Jiang Linmu both relieved and faintly worriedâhis brother couldn’t possibly be alone like this forever, right?
This contradictory psychology made him exceptionally conflicted when dealing with every “potential partner” around his brother.
Just like tonight, watching Chi Jiong, Lin Siyu, and Xia Yinhan hovering around Jiang Qing, his heart flared with anger on one hand, while on the other, he couldn’t help but secretly observe, wanting to know whose attitude Jiang Qing treated as more special.
In the end, he discovered that Jiang Qing treated everyone exactly the same.
The same gentleness, the same aloofness, the same effortless ease.
This made him breathe a sigh of relief, yet also feel inexplicably a bit disappointed.
He somewhat hoped that his brother would truly fall in love with someone. At least then, his brother would look more like a flesh-and-blood, ordinary person, rather than how he was nowâperfect like a delicate, fragile piece of porcelain; beautiful to look at, but impossible to feel any warmth from.
Would brother… truly ever fall in love with a person?
Just as everyone at the table harbored their own differing thoughts, Xia Yinlan rested her chin on her hands, finally unable to suppress her curiosity any longer, and asked the question everyone wanted to know the answer to:
“So Qingqing, what type do you actually like?”
Jiang Qing was slightly stunned by the question.
What type do I like?
He couldn’t really say for sure himself.
When was the first time my heart fluttered? Have I ever felt my heart flutter? Have I ever liked someone?
In his youth, perhaps there had been vague yearnings, but those yearnings had long been ground beyond recognition by reality. Later, having seen too much false affection and exchange of interests, he was even less bothered to think about such questions.
But now, with this question being thrown out so straightforwardly by Xia Yinlan, laid out under the lights, laid out in front of a table full of people with varying expressions, it actually caused a slight stir in his heart.
He lowered his eyes, suddenly recalling an afternoon many years ago.
He was still in school back then, sitting at a window seat in the library, the sunlight brilliant. At the neighboring seat was a boy, quietly reading a very thick professional textbook, his side profile looking exceptionally focused under the light. For some reason, he took a few extra glances. That person seemed to notice, lifted his head, and smiled at him.
They would occasionally discuss subjects together, chatted in cafes, walked around the campus together… That bit of hazy affection was like the tenderest bud on a branch in early spring; before it even had the chance to unfurl, it came to an abrupt halt because the other party graduated and went abroad. They didn’t even have a proper farewell.
Did that count as his heart fluttering? He didn’t know either.
Perhaps it was just a faint glimmer of light in his lonely academic life, not even qualifying as “liking.”
And after that… there was no “after that.”
Every day, he lingered in bars, billiard halls, and racetracks. Under the deafening music and dazzling lights, he used alcohol and speed to numb himself. Men and women surrounded himâbeautiful ones, passionate ones, those who threw themselves at him…
But Jiang Qing had always been the type where, as long as the other party showed the intention to cling to him, he would take three steps back.
Those hands attempting to approach, those ardent gazes, those explicit hints, were often silently blocked back by a casual turn of his body, an understated remark, or a cold, aloof look before they could even touch the corner of his clothes.
He wasn’t feigning aloofness, nor did he have any physiological or psychological barriers.
It was just… he felt it was meaningless.
That passion, catalyzed by alcohol and lust, came fast and faded fast. He had seen too many people whispering moving words of love into his ear one second, only to turn and leave for a better target the next.
So he grew accustomed to keeping his distance, accustomed to navigating situations with effortless ease, accustomed to pulling out and leaving one step ahead before everything could potentially spiral out of control.
Over time, “Second Young Master Jiang is hard to pursue” became a consensus within the circle. Those who were once eager to try, after hitting a few soft but firm nails, mostly sensibly gave up.
Until tonight.
Until Xia Yinlan’s question.
He suddenly realized that perhaps he wasn’t truly indifferent to feelings.
He was just… afraid.
Afraid of seeing that kind of light extinguish again, afraid that after handing over his true heart, all he would harvest was calculation, afraid that the high walls he painstakingly built would easily collapse after someone effortlessly walked in.
So, it was better not to start right from the very beginning.
Safe, and worry-free.
But looking at the few people at the table, they were different from those previous suitors.
Perhaps there was a bit more earnestness in their eyes, their probing went a bit deeper, and their patience lasted a bit longer.
Or perhaps, it was just that he himself… was also a little tired.
Tired of always retreating, tired of always keeping his distance, he also wanted to occasionally touch a bit of genuine warmth.
Even if it was just a tiny bit.
He lifted his eyes and saw several pairs of eyes at the table staring at him, containing curiosity, exploration, and anticipation.
He suddenly found it a bit amusing.
Jiang Qing’s body leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop, putting on a look of serious thought.
“Let me think about it…”
âââAuthor’s Noteâââ
Wives, I copied the names of the gifts one by one and found it exceeded the word limit. The Author’s Note section only allows 300 words, so from now on I’ll put them all in the system’s automatic author thank-you post. Actually, if you guys don’t mind, I can put them in the main text, that way I can also pad out the word count, how wonderful, how wonderful.
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