Simon Hawthorne finally looked up, his eyelids drooping slightly. He clearly understood who his grandfather was referring to.
His expression remained largely unchanged as he said calmly, "Grandpa, the past is in the past. What you’re bringing up is just a hypothetical question. There’s no need for it."
"Ahem." Mr. Hawthorne coughed lightly. Lowering his voice, he studied Simon’s expression and said profoundly, "Whether it’s hypothetical or not doesn’t matter. I’m asking what you think now."
He was gravely ill, and Simon had always been a filial grandson. With one foot in the grave, he didn’t want to drag his grandson down for the rest of his life.
Simon poured a glass of water for him. From beginning to end, his expression hadn’t changed. "My wife is Zoe Lancaster," he stated calmly. "Just Zoe Lancaster."
Staring at his grandson’s deep, ocean-calm demeanor, Mr. Hawthorne narrowed his eyes. After a long while, he slowly said, "You’ve always been a deep thinker. Even I can’t easily figure out what’s on your mind. But I remember that when you married Miss Lancaster, you gave her quite a few benefits. Human nature is complicated. Marrying you for love versus marrying you for money will lead to completely different outcomes."
"What are you trying to say, Grandpa?"
"I want you to be happy and get what you truly want."
Mr. Hawthorne spoke with some effort, but his eyes remained sharp. A long silence stretched between them.
Eventually, Simon took the water glass from his grandfather’s hands and turned to place it on the table. The bright lights from outside the window reflected on his face, but his deep eyes remained entirely unreadable. The subtle tension in his flawless features slowly relaxed. "My only wish is for you to be in good health, Grandpa. As for everything else, I have my own plans."
"Alright, don’t waste your time here with me. You’ve always stayed in Kaelan in previous years; this is the first time you’ve come back to celebrate the New Year. Didn’t Ryan and the others say they were going to play cards? Go on." Mr. Hawthorne waved his hand, seemingly unwilling to say anything more.
Simon gave a slight nod and exited the room.
Not long after he left, Mrs. Hawthorne walked in carrying a red lantern. A faint smile softened her usually stern face. "Zane’s boy made this. I’ll hang it here for you. It looks festive."
Mr. Hawthorne snorted. "You’re not here just to bring a lantern. What’s wrong? Afraid of what I might say to Simon?"
Mrs. Hawthorne stepped forward. "You were bringing up Peyton from the Joyce family again, weren’t you?"
Her husband remained silent.
She spoke slowly, "I know you don’t actually approve of Zoe. You’ve always doted on Peyton. She grew up right under your nose, so it’s inevitable that you have a soft spot for her."
"If I had known you were going to let Simon marry just any woman while I was in a coma, I would have rather died."
"How do you know Simon doesn’t have feelings for Miss Lancaster?"
Mr. Hawthorne frowned. "You know perfectly well about Simon and Peyton—"
Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression grew serious. "But I think she and Simon are ultimately walking different paths now. Relationships can only go as far as fate allows; some people are just meant to be in each other’s lives for a season." She patted her husband’s hand. "We do our best and leave the rest to fate."
Mr. Hawthorne silently looked out the window. He thought, "Fate? It all comes down to human effort."
*
Zoe Lancaster sat in an expensive, carved pearwood chair. People were gathered around her, chatting idly, but she couldn’t register a single word. Holding a cup of tea that had already gone cold, she stared blankly at the emerald-green leaves floating inside.
"Zoe?"
A man’s deep voice sounded near her ear.
Zoe snapped back to reality. Looking up, she saw Ryan Hawthorne from the second branch of the family taking a seat beside her. He poured her a fresh cup of tea and slid it over. "Why do you look so preoccupied? Did you have a fight with Simon?"
Ryan was handsome in a clean, refreshing way, and his personality was remarkably gentlemanly and accommodating. Although Zoe had only met him twice, she could tell he was entirely different from Simon. He was much more approachable.
She gave a polite but distant shake of her head. Not wanting to be rude, she picked up the fresh tea. "No, I was just thinking about something."
Ryan smiled. "It’s probably just boring because there aren’t many women in the Hawthorne family."
Zoe shrugged. "I don’t mind it."
Ryan took a sip of his tea. Seeming to recall something amusing, he absentmindedly said, "If you had married into the family two years earlier, it would probably have been a bit more lively. Back then, Peyton was still studying in Kingsford, and she would occasionally spend the New Year at the Hawthorne Residence. Back then..."
He suddenly stopped, as if realizing something.
Stopping a trip down memory lane so abruptly was awkward in itself. He observed Zoe’s expression for a moment before saying, "Sorry about that. I brought up someone you don’t know."
Zoe silently tightened her grip on the teacup. Asking a question to which she already knew the answer, she said, "Who... is she?"
"What are you two talking about?"
A cool, detached voice cut in from diagonally behind them.
Zoe’s eyelashes fluttered. A splash of tea spilled from her cup, landing scalding hot on the back of her hand.
Ryan turned around with a smile. "Simon."
Simon strode over with his long legs. Noticing that Zoe hadn’t looked up, he lowered his gaze and spotted the angry red burn on the back of her hand. Her skin was incredibly delicate and fair; even the slightest rough touch would leave a mark. Whenever he lost control and gripped her thighs, his fingerprints would bruise her for two or three days. She was exceptionally fragile. Yet now that she had burned herself, she hadn’t even noticed?
"Get up."
Zoe was still lost in her thoughts when her wrist was suddenly seized. The teacup was plucked from her hands and set on the table as Simon pulled her to her feet. Without a word of explanation, he dragged her toward the kitchen located diagonally behind them.
Ryan took a sip of his tea, watching their retreating figures thoughtfully.
The servants were busy at the moment. When they saw Mr. Simon striding in, pulling his wife along, they watched as he made a beeline for the sink, turned on the faucet, and held her hand under the rushing cold water.
The sudden shock of cold water made Zoe flinch uncontrollably.
Simon cast a sidelong glance at her. He looked at her slightly flushed lips, which were still exceptionally plump and tender from how deeply he had kissed them just a short while ago. With her fair skin and red lips, she looked both incredibly innocent and utterly seductive.
"Didn’t you realize you were burning yourself?" His Adam’s apple bobbed. "Zoe Lancaster, are you completely brain-dead?"
Only then did Zoe notice the red patch on the back of her hand. It didn’t actually hurt that much. Her mind had been so jumbled with thoughts at the time that she hadn’t even registered such a minor issue.
"If I’m brain-dead, then what does that make the brilliant Mr. Hawthorne for marrying an idiot? Which one of us is stupider?" Zoe threw the question right back at him. Her voice was light and clear, blending the gentleness of the south with the straightforwardness of a Kingsford girl. Sometimes, her personality could be quite sharp.
Simon’s grip on her wrist tightened. His flawless face remained perfectly composed as he said, "Do you want me to shut you up again?"
"Hmm?"
That last syllable slipped carelessly from his throat. It sounded lazy and playful, yet carried an undeniable undertone of threat.
Zoe fell silent. Her lips still felt slightly numb. Swallowing hard, she said, "If you want to, I won’t stop you. We have plenty of an audience right now anyway. Go ahead."
Just outside the kitchen were at least a dozen people—elders and younger relatives from every branch of the family. Inside the kitchen, there were six or seven servants. How could he possibly dare?
But Simon knew exactly what petty calculations were running through this woman’s head. He lifted his hand, which had been under the cold water with hers, and shook off the excess drops. As a punishment, he pinched the back of her neck. The freezing touch made Zoe flinch. "Zoe Lancaster, I didn’t realize you were such an exhibitionist. You actually enjoy having an audience."
Zoe dodged his hand. "You got me wet!"
Simon crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her, his gaze unabashedly suggestive.
Zoe almost immediately realized what dirty thoughts might be running through his head. Her face flushed a mottled red.
Simon’s lips curled into a smirk. He pulled a few tissues from the dispenser on the counter, grabbed her hand again, and meticulously wiped away the water droplets. As he did this, he lowered his eyes. His eyelashes were thick and long, and his features were unbelievably exquisite. Surprisingly, on that normally cold, ascetic face, there was a very faint trace of... patience.
Zoe stared at him, dazed for a moment. Almost blurting it out, she asked, "You spent two years in Kaelan. Did you have some important business there?"