After that day, the Ye family's newest member, Minglang Ye, began actively contributing to the great Ye family, taking on the task of assisting Mingzhe in gathering and organizing complex data—data that Cheng Yi couldn't quite decipher, yet Minglang could grasp at a glance. Not only did he not refuse the work, he actually seemed thrilled by it, far more motivated than when he was helping out Ye Michael.
Cheng Yi caught a glimpse of a subtle smirk on Mingzhe's otherwise stoic face, an unmistakable trace of triumph.
In New York, nothing comes for free, not even a meal.
Minglang now had two "jobs" and frequent late-night working sessions alongside Mingzhe, so he moved in permanently, sharing the downstairs room with Grandpa Ye. Mingzhe relocated to the larger room on the second floor. Cheng Yi's room used to be Mingzhe's, and she loved it; a cozy attic room with good ventilation and light from a little window.
A person's room can reveal a lot about their personality. Mingzhe's room was remarkably sparse. Besides a neat bed, a desk, and a wardrobe, there was little else. He'd only taken a few clothes with him, leaving the else behind. Even when Cheng Yi moved in with just a single suitcase and a stack of books, it felt like she was bringing in a lot more than he ever had.
Once, while tidying up the storage room, Cheng Yi accidentally knocked over an album. The cover featured Mingzhe's graduation photo, with the name of his university written underneath. That's when she realized where he had cultivated his swift reflexes and composed, unyielding personality: West Point.
With his level, he would be able to handle himself on a battlefield.
Grandpa Ye casually mentioned once that Mingzhe was an honors graduate. The only reason he hadn't pursued a military career or joined the government like his cousin Michael was out of concern for his mother's well-being. People often say that Americans have strong family values, Cheng Yi was now inclined to believe it. To think someone as proud and capable as Mingzhe would give up such a promising future for his mother.
And yet, even in a place as cutthroat as Wall Street, he was undoubtedly a formidable opponent.
After Christmas and New Year's, the Chinese community in New York began preparing for their own festival, Chinese New Year.
Traditionally, on the 28th of the last lunar month, households give their homes a thorough cleaning in preparation for the new year. But leaving it until the last minute always made things feel a bit rushed.
Early that morning, Minglang and Mingzhe accompanied Grandpa for a medical check-up and to buy New Year's supplies. By the time Cheng Yi finished putting on the last sofa cover, she'd finally finished all the cleaning. With only two days until New Year's Eve, all that remained was preparing the festive foods and putting up spring couplets.
She heard a series of rapid footsteps on the stairs, and a man with graying hair burst through the door. This man was quite a sight. He wore a brightly colored jacket, black high-top boots, and, strangely enough for a freezing winter day, a pair of sunglasses and a cowboy hat.
Removing his shades, he looked around in disbelief, scanning Cheng Yi and the entire room. He rubbed his eyes before making his way over to her, seemingly having figured something out.
"So, the old man finally hired some help, huh?"
Cheng Yi's ability to handle surprises had improved significantly, thanks to her interactions with Mingzhe, her ability to stay calm improving day by day.
"You must be Grandpa's…"
"His son, in fact."
So, this was Grandpa's son, Mingzhe's father. They couldn't be more different in temperament!
"Grandpa and Mingzhe are out shopping for Spring Festival. Please, have a seat. I'll make some tea."
Cheng Yi poured some tea and found some snacks Allen had left behind. The man picked up a tub of popcorn and began "touring" around the house, curiously inspecting everything and nodding in satisfaction.
"You did all this cleaning? Very neat work!"
"Thank you. I'm Cheng Yi, the housekeeper here."
"Good, good. So the old man finally came around. Did you know, he used to refuse even a part-time cleaner? Every year, my wife, Shufang, would come back early to do all the cleaning herself. That stubborn old man didn't care if it wore her out."
As it approached noon, Cheng Yi began to wonder whether she should start preparing lunch. Would he be staying for the meal?
"I'll prepare lunch. Are you both staying for lunch?"
"Just me. Shufang's still at the hospital, and I'll pick her up after lunch."
"Is she feeling unwell? Would you like me to make some nourishing soup?"
"You're so thoughtful!" he praised. "Well, just between us… She had a minor operation before Christmas, and she's still feeling a bit weak. A nice soup would really help."
While cooking, Mingzhe's father occasionally peeked into the kitchen. Each freshly prepared dish seemed to end up in his mouth under the pretense of "taste-testing," and after each bite, he'd give her a thumbs-up. His demeanor was worlds apart from that of his son.
For lunch, Cheng Yi prepared eight dishes and a soup, calculating the portions based on the usual appetite of the five household members. She hoped the three bowls of rice per person would be enough.