CHAPTER 379: 364 DAYS AFTER: DAILY LIFE

After Jiang Jinghuai left, Tian Sangsang and Ye Binyi rarely spoke to each other. It wasn’t that Tian Sangsang didn’t want to win over her mother-in-law, but Ye Binyi’s expression always remained indifferent. After what had transpired before, Tian Sangsang could sense her mother-in-law’s dislike. She was a strong-willed person—if someone didn’t show her sincerity, she wouldn’t force herself to ingratiate them.

Under the same roof, it was impossible not to bump into one another. Each encounter was awkward; Tian Sangsang felt like Lin Daiyu in the Jia Mansion—this wasn’t her home, and she was like an outsider here. Thankfully, Meng Shuyan acted as a bridge, or else she wouldn’t even have a reason to stay in the house.

Ye Binyi and Jiang’s father both had jobs, and Ye Binyi even sent Meng Shuyan to study extracurricular talents alongside the older cousin from the uncle’s family. Though he was only four years old, Ye Binyi hoped to raise her grandson to be multi-talented and incredibly versatile. Meng Shuyan wanted to learn, and Tian Sangsang had no way to stop him.

With things as they were, the house was left quiet—only Tian Sangsang had free time. Idleness breeds emptiness, and empty minds wander. For example, while lying in bed at night, she felt like a sliver of moonlight hanging in the sky—so lonely and cold. At times like these, she missed Jiang Jinghuai’s embrace.

In her downtime, Tian Sangsang recognized a business opportunity. Up until now, her Yan Company products had only been sold within East Sea Province, with occasional orders trickling in from Dongzhen City next door. She hadn’t planned on expanding to other regions yet. But seeing Jiang Jiali and the others also using items from Yipin Xiangju, she thought there might be an opening to develop in Beijing. She had to find a distributor there somehow.

The condescending glances Ye Binyi often cast her stung deeply, pushing her to prove she was no parasite clinging to the Jiang Family—she wasn’t relying on them, nor was she simply living off their resources.

That afternoon, Meng Shuyan returned home from his lessons. The little guy had been in high spirits lately, growing increasingly dazzling and endearing.

The dishes on the table were sumptuous, with the star of the show being a plate of braised pork, glistening red and incredibly tempting.

"Come, Yanyan, eat more."

"Yanyan, have some braised pork."

Two pairs of chopsticks simultaneously reached into Meng Shuyan’s small bowl, their pieces of braised pork colliding awkwardly.

Tian Sangsang froze for a moment, locking eyes with Ye Binyi.

Both silently retracted their chopsticks.

Tian Sangsang sighed helplessly—she hadn’t expected her mother-in-law to serve her son braised pork too. And now, they had clashed over it. She glanced furtively at her stunned child and hoped he would eat the piece from his grandma first to save her some face.

Ye Binyi watched her grandson intently, though her gaze was filled with care—she was clearly trying to see which piece the boy would choose first.

Jiang’s father quietly chewed on his meal, catching an unmistakable hint of tension in the air, a tension emanating from Ye Binyi herself. He pondered whether he should pick out some meat for his grandson too, so the boy wouldn’t be stuck in such an awkward situation.

Meng Shuyan’s bright black eyes fixed on the braised pork in his bowl. After a long pause, he mashed them together and took both pieces into his mouth at once, puffing out his cheeks to chew adorably. "Delicious... Thank you."

Perceptive as Meng Shuyan was, he noticed the unusual tension between his grandmother and mother. Faced with both handing him food at once, he ate both pieces simultaneously, avoiding hierarchy. His instincts told him it was the right thing to do.

Tian Sangsang exhaled in relief but noticed his struggle to chew such large portions. She reached out to help him swallow, patting gently.

Before her hand reached him, Ye Binyi acted first, softly rubbing Meng Shuyan’s back. "Yanyan, have some soup. Next time, don’t eat so much at once—be careful not to choke." She ladled some soup with a look of affection but couldn’t help blaming Tian Sangsang internally for copying her gesture of serving meat. Now her grandson was stuck in an awkward indulgence and looked pitiful.

**

On Sunday, Tian Sangsang spent the day wandering Beijing.

During this era, Beijing, as the capital city, was filled with fresh vigor and a sense of style.

On returning home, waves of laughter drifted from the living room. Curious, she perked up her ears—had guests arrived?

Moreover, why did the laughter sound so familiar?

She stepped into the living room to find Hua Jun, dressed in a white turtleneck sweater and teal coat, chatting casually with Ye Binyi, a cheerful smile lighting up her face.

In her memory, Ye Binyi rarely smiled, only wearing such expressions when engaging with close family. Seeing her warmly treat an outsider was unprecedented.

"Aunt, take this book—it’s no trouble for me. A colleague of mine couldn’t understand it and was planning to toss it out, which would’ve been a shame. You see, such things only shine in the hands of someone who understands their value. Knowing your love for old anthologies, I brought it over just for you."

"Ah Jun, thank you." Ye Binyi studied the book with fondness, flipping through the pages. "I’ll have to thank your colleague later. Judging by the book’s production era, it seems to date back to the late Qing Dynasty—its preservation is remarkable!"

Tian Sangsang took note—her mother-in-law’s passion for history and ancient texts wasn’t surprising. Still, she didn’t dare interrupt and instead chose to greet them politely. "Mom."

"Sangsang, you’re back," Ye Binyi responded coolly, a far cry from her earlier warmth toward Hua Jun. "This is Hua Jun, Jinghuai’s former classmate. Go pour some tea and entertain our guest."

"We’ve met before," Hua Jun interjected, smiling toward Tian Sangsang. "Sorry to trouble you, Miss Tian."

These words made Ye Binyi’s expression sour further—she clearly understood what Hua Jun meant by "met before," recalling the humiliating incident that caused her son’s job grade to drop two levels. It was said to have stemmed from Tian Sangsang’s midnight rendezvous with another man.

Tian Sangsang nodded faintly before heading to fetch hot water. The living room featured an exquisite set of brown Zisha teaware, meticulously maintained by Jiang’s father, who loved tea. The set’s deep, vibrant finish gleamed under careful upkeep. Beside it sat some aged Pu’er tea. Eyes downcast, Tian Sangsang rinsed the teapot and cups with hot water, passed the tea leaves through briefly, and began brewing tea.

In her past life, Tian Sangsang had enjoyed tea, though she often found it cumbersome to prepare and preferred floral teas for simplicity. She’d invested in glass tea sets to steep flowers quickly and efficiently. Although life was different now, she hadn’t forgotten the craft. Her hands moved gracefully, fluidly, imbued with an air of quiet concentration and poise that, for a fleeting moment, even made Ye Binyi think her daughter-in-law wasn’t entirely unimpressive.

She poured the tea and set it on the table, allowing the Pu’er tea’s fragrance to unfurl.

Ye Binyi and Hua Jun began discussing history, touching on Cai Wenji’s *Eighteen Songs of the Lute*. Hua Jun mentioned that she’d recently studied the piece’s melody and could now perform it on the guzheng. Tian Sangsang, too, had always loved history—years ago, when she had dabbled as an amateur online writer, she’d dreamt of penning historical novels. However, reality was harsh: her father’s illness required money for treatment, and writing historical narratives was laborious. It consumed mental energy, required extensive research across various records, and demanded perfection, which Tian Sangsang stubbornly pursued. She detested historical inaccuracies and refused to tarnish cherished figures by referencing flawed history—a commitment that drained her spirit.

It was only later that she realized how hard it was to carve out a niche aligned to one’s principles. Not only did talent matter, but financial stability played a critical role. When someone struggles under the weight of monetary constraints, conformity becomes inevitable. That’s why people strive—so they can attain the freedom to resist the world’s pressures and live authentically. In their spare moments, they should be able to pursue passions; otherwise, those pursuits are rendered luxuries. Just as Gao Xiaosong once said, "Poetry and distant horizons."