Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 33

The moment he spotted him, Zhao Chengqi darted through the crowd. Normally, he’d have gone in for a full-bodied hug, but faced with his brother-in-law’s icy demeanor, he settled for a fist bump instead—the kind shared between brothers.

Mu Changfeng withdrew his hand. “You’ve grown taller.”

The lanky teenager before him stood straight-backed, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. Even abroad, he clearly hadn’t been the type to let others take advantage of him.

“Of course! These two years weren’t for nothing,” Zhao Chengqi replied smugly, scanning the surroundings. “Where’s my sister? Did she come with you?”

Mu Changfeng’s throat moved slightly, but before he could answer, a figure came barreling toward them, latching onto Zhao Chengqi’s arm with a theatrical wail. If not for the audible cry of “Young Master!”, the plainclothes officers nearby might’ve drawn their guns.

Zhao Chengqi lifted his arm in mild disgust, wary of snot and tears staining his sleeve—though, after days on the train, he wasn’t exactly fresh himself.

“You’re… Liu Zi?”

Liu Zi nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, Young Master! I can’t believe you remember me! We used to wrestle when you were little—I called out to you just now, but you didn’t hear me and ran right past!”

“Oh.” Zhao Chengqi shrugged, unbothered. “So, is the rest of the family here too?”

“Let’s go.” Mu Changfeng cut in smoothly. “Catch up in the car. Your sister’s waiting.”

Liu Zi opened his mouth to speak, but one look at Mu Changfeng’s stony expression made him snap it shut again.
The Zhao family car was parked just beyond a railed barrier. With the crowd now thinning, Zhao Ciqin had stepped out again, while the driver, Akuan, remained hypervigilant—wary of both jostling pedestrians and missing Zhao Chengqi’s arrival.

Then his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.

“Y-Young… Young Marshal Mu?!”

Zhao Ciqin froze, following his gaze.

There stood Mu Changfeng, unusually out of uniform, clad instead in a tailored black overcoat and military boots. His cropped hair accentuated his sharp features, and though the passersby might not recognize him, his aura alone commanded a wide berth.

Beside him walked Zhao Chengqi.

Noticing her gaze, Zhao Chengqi brightened and sprinted over, pulling her into a hug.

To his credit, he didn’t spin her around like an overexcited puppy—but his enthusiasm was palpable. “Sis! Were you waiting long? I brought gifts—for you and Brother-in-law. You’ll love them!”

He was half a head taller now, more mature than when he’d left.

Zhao Ciqin ignored the “Brother-in-law” comment, offering a faint smile. “Let’s go home. Mom and Dad are waiting.”

As they moved toward the car, even Zhao Chengqi didn’t find it odd that the couple would ride separately—until Mu Changfeng strode over and pressed a hand against the half-open door, his gaze dark.

“Zhao Ciqin.” His voice was low. “We need to talk.”

She exhaled almost imperceptibly, as if she’d expected this. Yet her composure held, her eyes meeting his without flinching. “There’s nothing left to say. We covered it all yesterday.”

Mu Changfeng said nothing.

The station lights carved shadows into his face, the usually decisive young marshal unreadable—but his stare never wavered from hers.

The air between them turned leaden.

“Uh… wait a sec—”

Zhao Chengqi, though often oblivious, finally picked up on the tension. His eyes darted between them. “Are you two… fighting?”

Zhao Ciqin opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

“No fighting,” he declared, scratching his head. “Let’s just… go home first, okay?”

Before either could protest, he herded them both into the backseat, shut the door firmly, and climbed into the front passenger side.