Delicate Beauty in the Palm : Chapter 14 - Do You Still Remember That Contract?
Chapter 14: Do You Still Remember That Contract?
Very inappropriately, right after Chen Die finished speaking, the man who had called Lin Quan ‘auntie’ couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Lin Quan’s anger was cut off mid-burst, and before she could say anything, Chen Shuyuan—having wiped the sticky coffee off her face and hair—walked over, sniffling and tearful: “Mom, let’s go. Don’t bother arguing with someone like her.”
Chen Die almost wanted to applaud her.
Those tears, that pitiful-yet-sensible act—it was Oscar-worthy.
Lin Quan put her arm around Chen Shuyuan and didn’t spare Chen Die another glance as she led her away.
Chen Die watched them leave, letting out a quiet breath.
She asked a staff member to clean up the spilled coffee and apologized. When she returned to grab her bag, the man from earlier was still there.
It was only now that Chen Die really looked at him.
He wore a sharp, well-fitted suit—not overly formal, but giving off an air of casual luxury. There was something lazily arrogant about him, too.
Noticing her gaze, the man turned and said, “I’m Chen Shao.”
Chen Die had little interest in anyone from the Chen family. She gave a nonchalant nod.
Chen Shao added, “That ‘princess’ is pretty annoying, huh?”
“......”
Chen Die picked up on the fact that he meant Chen Shuyuan.
He went on, “Her mom too. Just a pair of idiots who really think they’re royalty.”
Chen Die pushed open the door and walked out of the café. He followed behind.
The sunlight outside was harsh. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and looked back at him. “Thanks for earlier.”
“No need,” he replied lazily. “After all, we’re related—technically cousins by blood.”
“......”
Chen Die seriously wondered if this so-called cousin from the Chen family had something wrong with his brain.
“You heading somewhere? Want a ride?” he offered, way too familiar already.
Unfortunately for him, Chen Die’s tone was cold: “No.”
Without waiting for her driver, she walked off and flagged down a taxi to go straight back to the western suburbs Villa.
In the taxi.
Chen Die sat in the back seat, her forehead against the window, watching the scenery blur past outside.
Her expression was calm and focused. Some things, though once painful, now didn’t feel so hard to think about.
After being adopted, she’d been taken to a small town. Growing up, she never felt mistreated by her adoptive parents. They weren’t doting, but they weren’t bad, either. Still, they handed her over to the Chens very willingly—for money.
On the day she was taken away, she glanced once at the old family photo hanging on the wall in their home. She didn’t say a word and left with the people from the Chen family.
One side had sold her off for cash.
The other were birth parents she’d never met, who only knew how to solve problems with money.
Deep down, Chen Die didn’t want to go with either of them.
When she arrived in Yan City, the first thing she saw stepping out of the station were towering skyscrapers and tangled overpasses she had never seen before.
Her first impression of the city was: glamorous, and cold.
Her second impression was: Wen Liang.
That brash boy who suddenly appeared before her, full of arrogance, standing like a god descended.
He had asked her, “Will you come with me?”
Chen Die had nodded without a second thought.
The taxi pulled into the gated villa complex on the city's west side and stopped at the entrance.
Chen Die thanked the driver, got out, and stepped into the house. Aunt Zhang was cooking dinner—alongside the smell of savory food, there was also the scent of sweet fruit and milk in the air, teasing her appetite.
“Oh! Miss, you’re home,” Aunt Zhang turned and saw her, quickly walking out of the kitchen and wiping flour from her hands. “Shall I serve dinner now—”
She paused, then rushed over and grabbed Chen Die’s hand. “What happened? Why is there so much blood?”
Only then did Chen Die realize she was injured.
It must’ve happened when Lin Quan shoved her, and she scraped her palm on the painting frame back at the café.
Her emotions had been so intense at the time that she hadn’t even noticed the injury. Now, dried blood covered half her palm.
Aunt Zhang frowned and quickly brought out the first aid kit.
“Come, let’s clean this up. You don’t want it getting infected.”
Chen Die pulled out a chair and sat beside her.
Aunt Zhang was skilled, gently blowing on the wound as she disinfected it with alcohol, then rummaging through the kit for some gauze.
“No need for the gauze, Aunt Zhang—it’s not that serious,” Chen Die said.
“We have to wrap this up,” Aunt Zhang said, uncharacteristically firm. “If you bump into something again, it might get infected. This way, at least, it's a bit waterproof.”
Chen Die looked up at her.
She was nearing fifty, clearly not someone who spent much time on self-care—wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes, and the ends of her hair were a dull, unhealthy yellow. Her head was bowed in concentration as she wrapped gauze around Chen Die’s palm, one layer after another. Her heavy bangs covered half of one eye.
Chen Die was quiet for a moment. “You're pretty skilled at this.”
Aunt Zhang chuckled. “My son used to get into trouble all the time when he was little. Scraped up here one day, bumped there the next. I was the one who patched him up.”
“How old is he?”
“He’s older than you—still in grad school.” Aunt Zhang’s face lit up with pride. “Don’t know who he takes after. His dad and I didn’t even finish middle school, but he just kept studying all the way through.”
Chen Die smiled. “Smart kid.”
She sniffled lightly and glanced toward the kitchen. “What are you cooking in there?”
Aunt Zhang packed up the first aid kit, went into the kitchen, and came back with a slice. “Apple pie. Try it.”
It had a golden, flaky crust sprinkled with sesame seeds and brushed with egg wash. When broken open, warm buttered apple chunks spilled out, giving off a sweet, fragrant aroma.
“You can make this, too?”
Chen Die asked, taking a bite. The warm pastry flaked off, and she quickly caught the crumbs in her hand.
“First time.”
Aunt Zhang admitted, scratching her head a little sheepishly. “My youngest daughter said she was craving it, and I don’t have an oven at home, so I figured I’d make it here.”
Chen Die finished the piece quickly. “It’s good.”
Aunt Zhang beamed. “Luckily, I made extra. I’ll pack some for you—it’ll make a nice snack.”
“No need,” Chen Die waved it off. “Take it to your daughter. I’m on a diet—can’t eat sweets like this.”
“You’re already so skinny, what are you dieting for?”
“I’m about to start filming soon. Gotta stay slim for the camera.”
It was the first time Aunt Zhang heard about her acting in a film. Her eyes widened, then she smiled warmly. “That’s amazing.”
Chen Die glanced at the time. “You should go bring it to your daughter.”
Aunt Zhang nodded, took off her apron, and packed up the apple pie in a box. Still, she set aside a box just for Chen Die.
As she walked out of the kitchen, her phone rang—it was her daughter.
“I’m coming, I’m coming! You’re like a little debt collector,” she said half-grumbling, half-laughing. “Skipping the school cafeteria for apple pie, honestly. But hey, I’m on my way—you’ll get it while it’s still hot!”
She ended the call, waved goodbye to Chen Die, and headed out the door.
Chen Die watched her leave, then absentmindedly picked up another slice of apple pie.
Dinner was already set on the dining table—two place settings.
Wen Liang wasn’t back yet.
They hadn’t always eaten together anyway. Most of the time, Wen Liang came home late or ate out.
But today, for some reason, Chen Die didn’t want to eat alone.
The large living room was quiet. Even the warm scent of apple pie was fading. At the long rectangular dining table, she sat by herself.
Suddenly, she felt a surge of irritation.
With her bandaged right hand, it was hard to pick things up. She pulled her phone from her bag and called Wen Liang.
It rang twice before he picked up.
Over the years, whenever Chen Die called him, he never said a word first—always waited for her to speak.
“When are you coming back?”
Wen Liang chuckled lightly, his voice casual. “Miss me?”
Chen Zhe pressed her lips together, sitting at the table with her hand covering her eyes, and softly answered, “Mm.”
“I’ll be late. Don’t wait up,” he said.
Chen Die gave another soft “mm” and hung up.
She stared at the food on the table in boredom. Everything looked lovely and delicate, but suddenly, she had no appetite.
That mix of irritation and inexplicable disgust rose right up to her throat.
In the end, she dug out a pack of instant ramen she had grabbed from the supermarket before, added hot water, and carried it upstairs.
The western suburb villa area had great surroundings—no skyscrapers, just a view of distant lights nestled in the quiet night.
When she woke again, it was already 10 p.m. There was no one beside her.
She’d eaten another piece of apple pie before bed and had forgotten to brush her teeth. Now, her throat felt sticky and sickly sweet.
Chen Die got up, brushed her teeth, rinsed, and then went downstairs to grab a bottle of cold water.
The chill slid down her throat, finally washing away the cloying taste. It felt much better.
She lay back down on the bed.
Chen Die suddenly thought back to what Lin Quan had said earlier that day:
—“Chen Die, let me be clear. You are not part of the Chen family. I have only one daughter—Yuanyuan.”
Even though Chen Die had never truly regarded Lin Quan as a mother, she didn’t know why those words struck her now. She just suddenly felt… so tired of it all.
Being brought to Yan City by the Chen family, only for all of this drama—it felt pointless.
All those years of arguing with Chen Shuyuan—also pointless.
And even staying with Wen Liang now… seemed just as pointless.
The day after tomorrow was graduation day, and with it came the expiration of their contract.
Chen Die wasn’t sure if Wen Liang even remembered the contract, but she had a good guess: if she didn’t bring it up, he probably wouldn’t either.
To Wen Liang, she was a beautiful decoration—pleasant enough to look at, with a personality that fit his, someone who wouldn’t restrict or demand anything from him. Convenient to keep around.
But none of that had anything to do with affection or love.
Wen Liang was the kind of person who, perhaps by nature, just wasn’t capable of loving anyone.
And the closer they got to the contract’s end date, the more often Chen Die found herself wavering.
Like the day he took her out to eat after they left the police station. Like when they sat on the steps listening to a concert, and she saw that rare softness on his face. Like when he went out of his way to dig up information because Xu Zhiran had raised his hand to hit her.
All those moments made her hesitate, made her wonder—
Maybe, if she just stayed a few more years, Wen Liang would eventually fall for her.
But the pride she carried—Wen Liang himself had shaped that into her. And it was that very pride that made Chen Die decide to leave him.
Lying in bed now, she could smell the faint scent of his shampoo lingering on his pillow, wrapping around her.
Chen Die turned over, her back facing the empty space beside her.
That was when Wen Liang returned.
She heard the sound of his car being locked downstairs, and soon after, the bedroom door opened.
He didn’t turn on the lights. He walked over and sat on the bed—the mattress dipped under his weight—and a warm presence drew close to her from behind. His arm wrapped around her waist.
“You showered yet?” Chen Die asked.
“Still awake, huh.” Wen Liang gently touched her face.
He had originally planned to skip his shower so he wouldn’t wake her, but hearing she was still up, he got up and headed into the bathroom.
Soon, he came back out.
The mattress sank again.
Wen Liang leaned down, his now-warm lips brushing against her skin, slowly kissing her. His fingers played with her ear, the movements teasing and deliberate.
In things like this, Wen Liang was always in complete control.
“Wen Liang.”
Chen Die turned her head, dodging his lips.
She looked into his eyes in the darkness and asked softly, “Do you still remember the contract I signed with you the year I finished the college entrance exam?”
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