Chapter 108: “Aloof and Self-Restrained” Is a Lie

That morning, in Violet Gardens No. 1 Villa District.

Zhang Yang met the designer named Lin Jingmin.

True to her name, this woman-the design director at Jade Estate Design-exuded a refined, intellectual beauty. She looked professional, radiating the unique aura of a designer.

When she saw Zhang Yang, she extended her slender, fair hand.

“Hello, Mr. Zhang. I’m Lin Jingmin. I just heard that the building king was sold, and I was thinking of introducing myself-didn’t expect to meet you today.”

Her smile was confident and composed.

“Hello. You mentioned you have a few projects here. Can I see them?” Zhang Yang asked directly.

“Yes, yes. There’s one I’m currently decorating that’s nearly complete,” Lin Jingmin replied, looking at him. “Shall I take you there now?”

“Sure.” Zhang Yang nodded.

They walked through the villa district, arriving at a row house.

“This one is modern light luxury style. The owners are a family of five. Usable area is 450 square meters (~4,844 sq ft), with a total budget under four million,” Lin Jingmin explained as they walked.

Zhang Yang listened silently.

Four million?

Was his understanding off, or was he subconsciously comparing to past projects?

The COFCO Haijing No. 1 unit had less than 300 square meters (~3,229 sq ft), yet its renovation reportedly cost over ten million, several tens of thousands per square meter (~per sq ft).

The Cuihu Tiandi project, though just over a hundred square meters (~1,076 sq ft), used more than two million in renovations, about twenty thousand per square meter (~1,860 per sq ft).

And this property—450 square meters (~4,844 sq ft), budget under four million? Could it be done?

He had doubts but showed nothing, following Lin Jingmin inside to inspect the renovation.

Even with some mental preparation, Zhang Yang was still quite surprised by the results.

The courtyard featured an artificial hill with a fish pond and landscaped greenery. Inside, the light luxury style included a five-step Italian curved staircase, large areas of dark wood veneer, paired with natural marble and polished stone.

“All furnishings and finishes use top-tier brands. You can check the quality for yourself,” Lin Jingmin said pragmatically, avoiding abstract concepts or design philosophies, simply showing what four million could achieve.

“Not bad,” Zhang Yang responded politely.

Renovating 450 square meters for under four million naturally excluded ultra-luxury items like extravagant kitchen and bathroom equipment, but as Lin Jingmin said, everything used first-tier brands, all high-end materials.

She continued describing the design, watching Zhang Yang closely, trying to read his reactions-but he gave none. Calm and impassive, he showed no outward emotion.

“Mr. Zhang, do you have any ideas about the style you want?” she asked.

“None. As long as it looks good,” Zhang Yang replied casually.

“Then… are you satisfied with my design and the result here?” she asked more directly.

Zhang Yang smiled and walked toward the door without answering.

Lin Jingmin hesitated for a second but followed, maintaining her confident demeanor.

Outside, Zhang Yang stopped.

“Do you have examples with a higher budget? This one’s nice, but… it’s missing something. You understand?”

Lin Jingmin paused, thinking how to phrase her next move to encourage him.

“Most are around this budget. What’s yours? Shall we go to your villa for a look?” she suggested cautiously.

Seeing things firsthand could make the pitch far more effective.

“Sure, let’s go to my villa,” Zhang Yang agreed.

Soon, they arrived at his standalone villa.

Seven hundred square meters of usable space-ample room.

Lin Jingmin stood beside him, describing her concepts in detail.

“You could add an artificial hill in the garden, maybe a pavilion. For the color scheme, a deep coffee tone feels warmer than black-and-white, more sophisticated than a cream palette. You could turn the basement into a home theater or gym-you’re clearly in good shape, so I imagine you work out regularly.”

She painted a vivid picture for him, but Zhang Yang remained largely unmoved. She couldn’t gauge his real preferences.

“Miss Lin, my villa’s renovation budget is fifteen million. Just talking isn’t enough-you don’t have comparable cases to show me, which makes it hard…” Zhang Yang said, slightly regretful.

“Wait… fifteen million?” Lin Jingmin’s normally confident, composed expression faltered.

“Yes, I want to look at other options first,” Zhang Yang said.

If he were to choose her company, he needed to see evidence of capability-at least comparable examples. He glanced toward the door, hinting he might leave.

Lin Jingmin’s heart raced.

“Mr. Zhang, please, give me a chance,” she stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

Before, she would have been anxious but still patient. Now, a fifteen-million project was on the line-any company would fight for it. She dared not lose it.

“Don’t pull me!” Zhang Yang chuckled.

“Mr. Zhang, just let me show you a rendering-I won’t disappoint!” Her supposedly composed, self-restrained face was now full of urgency.

“All right, I never said no,” Zhang Yang smiled.

“No, I mean… please don’t rush…” Lin Jingmin said bashfully.

He understood-she wanted him not to look elsewhere first.

“I don’t have much time to waste,” Zhang Yang said.

“Very soon, Mr. Zhang.” She realized she had been holding his arm too tightly and quickly released it, blushing.

Seeing her sincerity, Zhang Yang finally nodded.

Lin Jingmin walked ahead to wait outside, while he toured the villa again.

As he left, he heard someone speaking near the door:

“Jingmin, why didn’t you keep the gift I gave you last time? You returned it?”

A man’s voice.

Zhang Yang stepped outside and saw a figure talking to Lin Jingmin. From a distance, he looked familiar.

Walking closer, Zhang Yang immediately recognized him-wasn’t this Meng Baihan’s brother? He remembered the name: Meng Mingfeng.

“Mr. Zhang,” Lin Jingmin said, immediately focusing on Zhang Yang and ignoring Meng Mingfeng.

Meng Mingfeng was stunned, recognizing Zhang Yang. He looked between him and Lin Jingmin, unsure.

“Mr. Zhang, I just ran into a friend, had a brief chat. Should I walk you out?” Lin Jingmin offered.

“No, you two talk. I’ll go myself,” Zhang Yang said, heading out.

“Mr. Zhang, let me see you off,” Lin Jingmin called, jogging to keep up.

Meng Mingfeng watched them leave, hesitant, saying nothing.

On the way to get his car, Zhang Yang chatted casually with Lin Jingmin.

“That guy earlier… was he pursuing you? And the gift?” he asked.

“He… I’m slow to warm up. I said I just want to be friends for now, but he’s too eager. The more he presses, the more I resist,” Lin Jingmin said, shaking her head lightly.

“Slow to warm up?” Zhang Yang blinked.

“What? You don’t believe me?” she asked.

“I believe you. I just realized something. When a girl says slow to warm up, it usually means she isn’t interested. With someone else, she might be passionate,” Zhang Yang said with a smile.

“That actually makes sense,” Lin Jingmin blinked. “If you were asking me out, I wouldn’t be like that.”

They stopped walking and faced each other.

Zhang Yang looked at her calm, restrained expression and wondered what she’d be like if she were passionate.

“How about dinner tonight?” he asked.

“Sure, Mr. Zhang.” Lin Jingmin smiled, her cool composure vanishing completely.

Outside the villa district, Zhang Yang got into his Cayenne and drove off.

Lin Jingmin turned back, and Meng Mingfeng hurried to catch up.

“Jingmin, that guy just now…”

“A client,” Lin Jingmin replied, her expression calm again.

“A client?” Meng Mingfeng murmured.

“Right, that standalone villa was sold, and Mr. Zhang is the owner,” Lin Jingmin replied, then looked puzzled. “Why are you asking this? Your renovation company can’t possibly take on a project like this, can it?”

“Right, we can’t,” Meng Mingfeng’s face turned red.

It wasn’t the project itself that embarrassed him-given his company’s capacity, he never had a chance with a project like this. What humiliated him was pretending otherwise in front of someone.

“Do you know the client’s budget?” Lin Jingmin continued.

“Uh… how much?” Meng Mingfeng belatedly raised his head. “A few million?”

“A few million? No, it’s fifteen million!” Lin Jingmin laughed lightly.

“What?! Fifteen million?” Meng Mingfeng stared at her in disbelief. “You… you got this project?”

Being in the same industry, he understood just how much could be earned from a project like this-commissions, kickbacks, everything combined could easily buy a house.

“Not yet. Well, I better get going,” Lin Jingmin said, chatting casually with Meng Mingfeng, her mind elsewhere. She planned to get back to her company early for handover, then prepare for the evening dinner.

“Wait!” Meng Mingfeng hurriedly called after her. “Jingmin, are you free tonight? I… I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“No need,” Lin Jingmin waved lightly and walked off without looking back.

In the afternoon, Zhang Yang returned to an empty house.

Zhang Zhaohai and his wife were still at the restaurant, having worked straight through lunch into the evening with barely a moment to rest. Now they were taking a short break on site.

Zhang Yang lay on the bed, resting briefly, and pulled out his phone.

In the high school classmates’ chat group, photos from the school anniversary event were trickling in.

I went to check in today, and I ran into our class teacher, Old Qin.

Did she recognize you?

Unfortunately, no. Oh, and I also saw Teacher Meng.

Zhang Yang frowned in confusion. Teacher Meng? He didn’t recall a Teacher Meng from high school.

Looking at the chat more closely, he realized they meant Meng Baihan, who had stayed on to teach after graduation.

Soon, a photo appeared in the chat.

Curious, Zhang Yang clicked it and saw Meng Baihan giving a speech on stage. She wore a tasteful long dress, her hair flowing, radiating elegance. In the photo, the students and teachers in the audience all looked up, eyes fixed on her.

“BBS discussions about Teacher Meng are so active-they say she’s the school’s top beauty.”

Where’s Teacher Meng? Come on, Teacher Meng—we’d love to hear your take on this.

The chat buzzed with excitement.

Meng Baihan, of course, hadn’t responded yet-she probably had a class at that moment.

After watching the conversation for a while, Zhang Yang noticed it was dying down. Most people didn’t have the luxury of idle time like he did, able to spend hours just browsing casually.

“Maybe I’ll go check out the school this afternoon,” he thought. It was a sudden whim-he hadn’t returned to his alma mater in years. This time, he could go see it for himself.

No need to sign in; he didn’t think of himself as an exemplary alumnus. He just wanted to walk around, revisit memories from his student days.

By mid-afternoon, around two or three, Zhang Yang left home and drove straight to his old high school.

Outside, the campus was bustling with people.

He found a spot to park and walked in.

Walking through his former school, seeing underclassmen in uniforms and their youthful faces, Zhang Yang couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.

Time had flown. Standing here again after so many years, he felt a strange sense of temporal overlap, almost like time itself was twisted.

“Is that the senior who graduated? Signing in here?” A lively high school girl waved from afar.