The Marriage Harbor CH28
Chapter 28: This Is No Reason to Separate
Tang Zhisong watched the car disappear into the night before turning to summon his driver. He rushed back to Emerald Heights, he couldn't simply sit idly by knowing she was unwell. To his grim surprise, Jiang Bin wasn't there. His expression darkened. Standing on the terrace, he looked across the river toward Zhouyue International. Sure enough, the lights were on in her penthouse.
Over such a small matter, she was choosing to live apart?
Standing in the biting wind, Tang Zhisong let out a sharp, mocking laugh—part anger, part helplessness, and perhaps a touch of self-derision. When he finally returned to the living room, her text arrived. He stared across the dark river and sent back a clipped [Rest well.]
He tossed the phone aside and yanked open two buttons on his shirt, his gaze flickering with a restless, stifled frustration. He sat in silence for a long time, pressing a hand to his brow.
He had put significant thought into today’s date, choosing "King of the Night" supercar as a first-date gift. To have it end like this was beyond frustrating, yet he wasn't petty enough to truly stay angry with his wife over a misunderstanding. It was her decision to separate that caught him completely off guard. He had given her this apartment specifically to prevent such an outcome, and yet he hadn't been able to stop it.
Tang Zhisong preferred to face problems head-on, he had no patience for evasion.
When the phone rang in the empty living room, it was Cheng Yanjun, wondering why he hadn't made it to the rendezvous.
"Sorry," Tang Zhisong said into the receiver.
"A situation came up. I won't be joining the drive." Despite his friend’s disappointment, Tang Zhisong knew the group had organized this night specifically for him. It would be poor form to vanish entirely.
"I’ll be there soon."
Back at the clubhouse, Cheng Yanjun met him at the entrance, cigarette in hand.
"What happened?" he asked, noting Tang Zhisong’s grimace. He offered a smoke, but Tang Zhisong declined.
"I suspect it's because of her grandfather’s accident," Tang Zhisong said, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the timeline. "She likely developed a phobia of sports cars. She hasn't learned to drive and rarely exceeds sixty."
Based on the information he had, this was the only logical deduction he could make. He viewed her caution as a disciplined habit, a sensible boundary she had drawn to distance herself from a past family tragedy. He respected her for it, seeing it as another facet of her composed and practical nature.
However, he was simply unaware that for Jiang Bin, the event wasn't a distant memory found in a file or a story told by others. She hadn't just lost her grandparents that night, she had been in the passenger seat beside them. The story that had circulated within their social circle for years spoke only of a tragic accident involving the elders, there had never been a mention of a third passenger. So while he interpreted her behavior as a well-managed fear, he had no way of knowing she had been the sole witness to the crash.
Cheng Yanjun immediately softened. "That makes sense. It’s my fault—I shouldn't have suggested the club."
Tang Zhisong managed a tired smile. "It has nothing to do with you. She's resting now."
He went inside to offer a round of "punishment drinks" to his friends, while Jia Jing quietly smoothed things over with the wives.
Despite the excuses, the socialites were sharp. Behind their polite smiles, the consensus was clear: Jiang Bin was being ungrateful. To snub Tang Zhisong after he’d presented her with a two-hundred-million-dollar gift was a move only "Little President Jiang" would dare to make.
"No matter how high-and-mighty she is, she actually brushed off Tang Zhisong’s face." someone whispered.
Jia Jing snapped back, "She’s genuinely unwell, okay? Don't go making things up!"
But rumors have a life of their own. For those who had been eyeing the position of Mrs. Tang long before the marriage, Jiang Bin’s setback was their opportunity. One such woman was Li Hui, a "Group Princess" whose family’s real estate firm rivaled the Jiangs. She had harbored feelings for Tang Zhisong for years and was enraged when he chose Jiang Bin.
Li Hui bypassed Jia Jing’s attempts to block her and found Tang Zhisong sitting alone behind a bamboo screen. He had retreated from the card games, citing work. He sat on a semi-circular sofa, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal lean, powerful forearms. A pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested on his nose as he replied to messages, an aura of "do not disturb" radiating from him.
"Young Master Tang, long time no see," Li Hui said, sitting opposite him. Tang Zhisong didn't look up immediately. When he finally did, his dark eyes held not a single ripple of interest.
"Miss Li, a pleasure." Then he went back to his phone.
Li Hui couldn't take the indifference.
"Tang Zhisong, whatever terms Jiang Bin offered you, I’ll double them. There’s no need to waste your time on a woman who doesn't love you. You have better options."
Tang Zhisong stopped his work and leaned back, a smile spreading across his face like a spring breeze—elegant, yet lethal.
"I’m in a bad mood today. Is Miss Li here to entertain me?" He pointed to the several bottles of Maotai on the table. "Why don't you finish these first, and then we'll talk?"
Li Hui frowned, unsure if he was serious. "What do you mean?"
"I've seen plenty of bar girls," he said, his smile turning thin and cold. "If Miss Li doesn't show some 'sincerity,' how am I supposed to know you're serious about entertaining me?"
The insult hit like a physical blow.
"Tang Zhisong! What do you take me for?!" He merely adjusted his silver frames and pointedly twisted the wedding ring on his finger, seating it firmly. It was a silent, brutal reminder of his marital status.
When she persisted, asking what Jiang Bin had that she didn't, he delivered the final blow: "I think Miss Li’s house is lacking a mirror."
He didn't stop there. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a smooth, conversational silk.
"President Li is currently juggling three high-interest loans just to keep your family’s logistics firm afloat. One late payment and the banks will dissolve your lifestyle before the week is out. You talk about options, yet you’re standing on a glass floor." He dismantled her family’s shaky financial standing with clinical precision, reminding her that while her father was one bad loan away from bankruptcy, Jiang Bin was an empress in her own right.
"In my eyes, I have to endure whatever she does. You? You aren't even fit to carry her shoes." He scribbled a string of letters on a note and pressed it into her palm.
"I have no plans for divorce, and my family doesn't take in mistresses. We are short on foot-washers, though. Take this number and go stand in line."
Leaving a very pale Li Hui behind, he grabbed his coat and walked out. In the bar, Jia Jing watched him go.
"Now I know why he’s never had a scandal," she whispered to her husband. "That man is a blade of pure indifference!"
* * *
The rift lasted a week. Tang Zhisong flew to San Francisco for a final, critical stage of chip research. They returned to a state of total non-interference—no calls, no updates. While their careers flourished, with Jiang Bin securing massive government contracts and Tang Zhisong nearing a breakthrough that would shake the tech world, their hearts remained heavy.
On November 7th, Jiang Bin returned to her office to find the Jiang Group in panic. She learned that Jiang Yao's charity gala was a disaster. No high-profile guests were willing to attend after the stunt Tang Zhisong had pulled earlier. Her father, Jiang Chengxiao, practically begged her to take over.
"I want 30% of the year-end profits," Jiang Bin stated.
"That's extortion!" her father barked, nearly choking.
"Then pay it out of your own share." she countered indifferently.
He had no choice so he agreed. She took the files and, within seven hours, had the entire event reconstructed, and humming like a machine.
That night, alone at the office, she watched the darkened Ningsheng building across the way. Her pride was a barrier, but so was her logic. She was essentially "riding a tiger"—having retreated to her own apartment in a moment of panic, she now found it difficult to back down without bruising her ego. Yet, prolonging the separation would only lead to divorce, and they weren't at a stage where she could afford to be reckless. She sent the driver to take her friend to the penthouse and returned, instead, to Emerald Heights.
After her shower, she wandered the empty apartment. To save face, she didn't text "I'm home". Instead, she sent: [Where did we put those noodles we cooked last time?]
In San Francisco, Tang Zhisong had just emerged from sixteen grueling hours in the lab. A breakthrough had been made. He saw the text and felt a surge of relief that matched his professional triumph. She was home. He waited until she would be waking up in Shanghai to call.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice thick with sleep.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, his tone softening.
"Just now."
"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his brow. "I was out of line the other day."
He hated the idea of living apart. Jiang Bin quickly explained that she had only gone back for her things, with no intention of moving out.
"It's my fault. I'm sorry," he repeated. He wasn't used to bowing his head to anyone, but for his wife, he was willing to drop the act.
"The noodles are on the top shelf of the cabinet," he said. "They're hard to reach."
A small part of him wished she would just ask him to come home and cook them for her, but he also knew they weren't there yet. Jiang Bin didn't have the "confidence" to be spoiled, and Tang Zhisong hadn't yet given her the security to try.
The ice is melting, but there's still a distance to bridge.
Translator's Note:
Tang Zhisong watched the car disappear into the night before turning to summon his driver. He rushed back to Emerald Heights, he couldn't simply sit idly by knowing she was unwell. To his grim surprise, Jiang Bin wasn't there. His expression darkened. Standing on the terrace, he looked across the river toward Zhouyue International. Sure enough, the lights were on in her penthouse.
Over such a small matter, she was choosing to live apart?
Standing in the biting wind, Tang Zhisong let out a sharp, mocking laugh—part anger, part helplessness, and perhaps a touch of self-derision. When he finally returned to the living room, her text arrived. He stared across the dark river and sent back a clipped [Rest well.]
He tossed the phone aside and yanked open two buttons on his shirt, his gaze flickering with a restless, stifled frustration. He sat in silence for a long time, pressing a hand to his brow.
He had put significant thought into today’s date, choosing "King of the Night" supercar as a first-date gift. To have it end like this was beyond frustrating, yet he wasn't petty enough to truly stay angry with his wife over a misunderstanding. It was her decision to separate that caught him completely off guard. He had given her this apartment specifically to prevent such an outcome, and yet he hadn't been able to stop it.
Tang Zhisong preferred to face problems head-on, he had no patience for evasion.
When the phone rang in the empty living room, it was Cheng Yanjun, wondering why he hadn't made it to the rendezvous.
"Sorry," Tang Zhisong said into the receiver.
"A situation came up. I won't be joining the drive." Despite his friend’s disappointment, Tang Zhisong knew the group had organized this night specifically for him. It would be poor form to vanish entirely.
"I’ll be there soon."
Back at the clubhouse, Cheng Yanjun met him at the entrance, cigarette in hand.
"What happened?" he asked, noting Tang Zhisong’s grimace. He offered a smoke, but Tang Zhisong declined.
"I suspect it's because of her grandfather’s accident," Tang Zhisong said, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the timeline. "She likely developed a phobia of sports cars. She hasn't learned to drive and rarely exceeds sixty."
Based on the information he had, this was the only logical deduction he could make. He viewed her caution as a disciplined habit, a sensible boundary she had drawn to distance herself from a past family tragedy. He respected her for it, seeing it as another facet of her composed and practical nature.
However, he was simply unaware that for Jiang Bin, the event wasn't a distant memory found in a file or a story told by others. She hadn't just lost her grandparents that night, she had been in the passenger seat beside them. The story that had circulated within their social circle for years spoke only of a tragic accident involving the elders, there had never been a mention of a third passenger. So while he interpreted her behavior as a well-managed fear, he had no way of knowing she had been the sole witness to the crash.
Cheng Yanjun immediately softened. "That makes sense. It’s my fault—I shouldn't have suggested the club."
Tang Zhisong managed a tired smile. "It has nothing to do with you. She's resting now."
He went inside to offer a round of "punishment drinks" to his friends, while Jia Jing quietly smoothed things over with the wives.
Despite the excuses, the socialites were sharp. Behind their polite smiles, the consensus was clear: Jiang Bin was being ungrateful. To snub Tang Zhisong after he’d presented her with a two-hundred-million-dollar gift was a move only "Little President Jiang" would dare to make.
"No matter how high-and-mighty she is, she actually brushed off Tang Zhisong’s face." someone whispered.
Jia Jing snapped back, "She’s genuinely unwell, okay? Don't go making things up!"
But rumors have a life of their own. For those who had been eyeing the position of Mrs. Tang long before the marriage, Jiang Bin’s setback was their opportunity. One such woman was Li Hui, a "Group Princess" whose family’s real estate firm rivaled the Jiangs. She had harbored feelings for Tang Zhisong for years and was enraged when he chose Jiang Bin.
Li Hui bypassed Jia Jing’s attempts to block her and found Tang Zhisong sitting alone behind a bamboo screen. He had retreated from the card games, citing work. He sat on a semi-circular sofa, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal lean, powerful forearms. A pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested on his nose as he replied to messages, an aura of "do not disturb" radiating from him.
"Young Master Tang, long time no see," Li Hui said, sitting opposite him. Tang Zhisong didn't look up immediately. When he finally did, his dark eyes held not a single ripple of interest.
"Miss Li, a pleasure." Then he went back to his phone.
Li Hui couldn't take the indifference.
"Tang Zhisong, whatever terms Jiang Bin offered you, I’ll double them. There’s no need to waste your time on a woman who doesn't love you. You have better options."
Tang Zhisong stopped his work and leaned back, a smile spreading across his face like a spring breeze—elegant, yet lethal.
"I’m in a bad mood today. Is Miss Li here to entertain me?" He pointed to the several bottles of Maotai on the table. "Why don't you finish these first, and then we'll talk?"
Li Hui frowned, unsure if he was serious. "What do you mean?"
"I've seen plenty of bar girls," he said, his smile turning thin and cold. "If Miss Li doesn't show some 'sincerity,' how am I supposed to know you're serious about entertaining me?"
The insult hit like a physical blow.
"Tang Zhisong! What do you take me for?!" He merely adjusted his silver frames and pointedly twisted the wedding ring on his finger, seating it firmly. It was a silent, brutal reminder of his marital status.
When she persisted, asking what Jiang Bin had that she didn't, he delivered the final blow: "I think Miss Li’s house is lacking a mirror."
He didn't stop there. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a smooth, conversational silk.
"President Li is currently juggling three high-interest loans just to keep your family’s logistics firm afloat. One late payment and the banks will dissolve your lifestyle before the week is out. You talk about options, yet you’re standing on a glass floor." He dismantled her family’s shaky financial standing with clinical precision, reminding her that while her father was one bad loan away from bankruptcy, Jiang Bin was an empress in her own right.
"In my eyes, I have to endure whatever she does. You? You aren't even fit to carry her shoes." He scribbled a string of letters on a note and pressed it into her palm.
"I have no plans for divorce, and my family doesn't take in mistresses. We are short on foot-washers, though. Take this number and go stand in line."
Leaving a very pale Li Hui behind, he grabbed his coat and walked out. In the bar, Jia Jing watched him go.
"Now I know why he’s never had a scandal," she whispered to her husband. "That man is a blade of pure indifference!"
* * *
The rift lasted a week. Tang Zhisong flew to San Francisco for a final, critical stage of chip research. They returned to a state of total non-interference—no calls, no updates. While their careers flourished, with Jiang Bin securing massive government contracts and Tang Zhisong nearing a breakthrough that would shake the tech world, their hearts remained heavy.
On November 7th, Jiang Bin returned to her office to find the Jiang Group in panic. She learned that Jiang Yao's charity gala was a disaster. No high-profile guests were willing to attend after the stunt Tang Zhisong had pulled earlier. Her father, Jiang Chengxiao, practically begged her to take over.
"I want 30% of the year-end profits," Jiang Bin stated.
"That's extortion!" her father barked, nearly choking.
"Then pay it out of your own share." she countered indifferently.
He had no choice so he agreed. She took the files and, within seven hours, had the entire event reconstructed, and humming like a machine.
That night, alone at the office, she watched the darkened Ningsheng building across the way. Her pride was a barrier, but so was her logic. She was essentially "riding a tiger"—having retreated to her own apartment in a moment of panic, she now found it difficult to back down without bruising her ego. Yet, prolonging the separation would only lead to divorce, and they weren't at a stage where she could afford to be reckless. She sent the driver to take her friend to the penthouse and returned, instead, to Emerald Heights.
After her shower, she wandered the empty apartment. To save face, she didn't text "I'm home". Instead, she sent: [Where did we put those noodles we cooked last time?]
In San Francisco, Tang Zhisong had just emerged from sixteen grueling hours in the lab. A breakthrough had been made. He saw the text and felt a surge of relief that matched his professional triumph. She was home. He waited until she would be waking up in Shanghai to call.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice thick with sleep.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, his tone softening.
"Just now."
"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his brow. "I was out of line the other day."
He hated the idea of living apart. Jiang Bin quickly explained that she had only gone back for her things, with no intention of moving out.
"It's my fault. I'm sorry," he repeated. He wasn't used to bowing his head to anyone, but for his wife, he was willing to drop the act.
"The noodles are on the top shelf of the cabinet," he said. "They're hard to reach."
A small part of him wished she would just ask him to come home and cook them for her, but he also knew they weren't there yet. Jiang Bin didn't have the "confidence" to be spoiled, and Tang Zhisong hadn't yet given her the security to try.
The ice is melting, but there's still a distance to bridge.
Translator's Note:
- Maotai (茅台): A high-end Chinese spirit. Using it for a "punishment drink" or to insult a socialite.
- "Lacking a mirror" (缺一面镜子): A common Chinese insult essentially telling someone to "look at themselves" and realize they aren't as attractive or important as they think they are.
- "A Blade of Pure Indifference" (薄情刀): A literary way to describe a man who is devastatingly handsome but emotionally cold to everyone.
- "Riding a Tiger" (骑虎难下): It was the literal feeling of being unable to back down from a display of anger; a stalemate of one's own making.
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