CHAPTER 170: CHAPTER 170: WASTING SEVERAL YEARS OF YOUTH

Ronan’s car was a dark blue Porsche, and the interior was very clean.

The two of them said nothing the whole way.

Jean watched the cityscape fly by outside the window, and the contract with Miles’s signature echoed repeatedly in her mind.

The car stopped downstairs at Aunt Mason’s place. It was a wealthy area, but this apartment building was quite old, and there were few young people living here.

"I’m here, thank you."

Jean unbuckled her seatbelt, preparing to get out of the car.

"Sis," Ronan called out to her, "it looks pretty dark around here, let me walk you to the door."

Jean said nothing more and pushed open the door to get out.

Ronan locked the car and followed behind her.

The hallway was pitch black; Jean stomped her feet, but the lights didn’t come on.

She fished out her phone, turned on the flashlight, and lit up the stairs ahead.

Ronan quietly followed behind her.

When they reached the door to the apartment, Jean took out her keys and unlocked it.

Inside was completely silent, with no lights on.

She switched on the living room light; it was empty, with a note pressed down on the dining table.

Jean walked over and picked it up; it was in Aunt Mason’s handwriting.

"Ellison, I took Jesse to the nearby park for a while, and we ate outside. There’s food in the pot; just heat it up for yourself, Aunt Mason."

Jean put the note down.

Ronan stood at the door, not coming in, his gaze sweeping over the slightly old-fashioned living room.

"No one’s home?"

"Mm, my mother-in-law took my daughter out to play."

Jean said as she walked to the kitchen to check, finding the food in the pot still warm.

"Well..." Ronan’s voice hesitated, "Sis, you see, it’s so dark, and it’s a long drive back for me, the road’s not easy. Can I... stay one night at your place? Just one night. I can sleep on the sofa."

Jean turned to look at him, and Ronan’s face showed the right mix of exhaustion and pleading.

She thought for a moment; there was indeed a guest room that was usually full of clutter, but with a little tidying, it could accommodate someone.

"There’s a guest room." Jean said, "You can stay for one night."

Ronan immediately broke into a smile, looking very happy.

"Thank you, Sis, I knew you were the best!"

He walked in, casually closed the door, and naturally bent down to change his shoes, as if he’d been here many times before.

Jean went to the guest room to tidy up a bit, putting on clean sheets and blankets.

When she came out of the guest room, she saw that Ronan had already opened the backpack he brought with him, taking out a neatly folded set of gray striped pajamas.

Jean paused for a moment when she looked at the pajamas in his hand.

He even brought pajamas with him; it was clear he had intended to stay over.

Ronan noticed her gaze, shook the pajamas, smiling innocently.

"I prefer using my own pajamas, they’re comfortable."

Without waiting for Jean’s response, he headed into the guest room with the pajamas and closed the door.

After a while, Ronan came out wearing his pajamas.

The soft cotton pajamas made him look even younger; his hair was a bit tousled, like a boy-next-door.

He casually walked to the sofa, laying down comfortably, pulling out his phone to play, his long legs draped over the sofa’s armrest as if it was his own home.

Jean ignored him and turned to the kitchen.

She looked at the food Aunt Mason had left in the pot but didn’t have much of an appetite.

She opened the fridge and saw some ground meat and shrimp she had bought in the morning, and a bit of chives.

She decided to make wontons for dinner.

She took out the ground meat and shrimp to thaw and pulled out some flour, beginning to knead the dough.

As soon as she finished kneading the dough, she turned around and saw Ronan standing at the kitchen door, leaning against the door frame, watching her.

"Sis, are you making wontons?" he asked.

"Mm."

"Let me help you." Ronan walked in, naturally picking up the chives by the sink, "I’ll pick the vegetables."

Jean didn’t object and continued kneading the dough in her hands.

Ronan skillfully removed the yellowed leaves from the chives, talking as he picked, "Is it a three-treasure filling?"

"Mm."

"Great." Ronan smiled, his eyes curving, "Three-treasure filling is my favorite wonton."

Jean’s kneading paused slightly.

She looked at the bowl of white ground meat and the fresh green chives beside it, but what came to mind was another person.

Justin Holden.

She hadn’t seen him all day.

He seemed to have come into her bedroom last night, but she was too drowsy to remember anything clearly, just a hazy figure closing the door as he left.

He used to like wontons with three-treasure filling too.

In high school, he often ate breakfast at the old wonton stand in front of the school.

Back then, she was quite overweight, over 160 pounds, and the naughty boys in the class called her "fatty" behind her back.

She knew Justin didn’t like her, but she couldn’t help but want to get closer to him.

He didn’t like having breakfast at home, so she followed suit and stopped eating at home too.

She’d leave early every day, just to have a chance to "bump into" him at that stand.

Sometimes she’d see him, most of the time she wouldn’t.

To linger longer, hoping he’d show up, she’d always order a big bowl of wontons, eating them slowly, often ending up with a stomachache.

Pretending to "accidentally" meet, unnoticed gazes, the inferiority and bitterness from being overweight and having a crush—after all these years, thinking about it still feels like something is stuck in her chest.

"Sis, is the dough ready?" Ronan’s voice broke her thoughts.

Jean snapped out of it and realized she’d been kneading the dough for too long.

She lowered her eyes and set the dough aside to rise.

"I’ll season the meat filling." she said, her voice a bit softer than before.

Ronan looked at her, his eyes flickering, but said nothing more and continued to focus on the chives in his hands.

The wontons were soon wrapped, each one shaped like a little ingot, neatly arranged on the board.

Jean boiled water and put the wontons in. White steam filled the small kitchen.

She seemed a bit distracted, her gaze occasionally drifting to the window.

The kitchen window faced the public corridor outside, offering a view of the activity at the neighboring doors.

The sky outside was completely dark now. The sound-activated lights in the corridor flickered on and off as shadows passed by.

Ronan leaned against the kitchen door frame, watching as she glanced out the window again, and asked, "Sis, do you have something on your mind, or are you waiting for someone?"

Jean withdrew her gaze, focusing on the boiling wontons in the pot.

"Nothing." She paused, feeling she needed to explain her frequent glances outside, and added, "It’s just that the neighbor next door injured his hand while helping me move something a few days ago. It’s inconvenient for him to cook right now, so Aunt Mason asked me to take him some dinner for the next few days."

As she spoke, she stirred the wontons in the pot with a slotted spoon to keep them from sticking to the bottom.

"Oh, I see." Ronan nodded, then offered a warm smile, "Then let me take it over for you. I’ve got nothing else to do, and I can help run this errand."

Before Jean could react to stop him, Ronan had swiftly picked up a clean bowl, efficiently filled it with a generous portion of wontons, ladled some broth, and sprinkled a bit of dried seaweed and shrimp on top.

"Hey, there’s no need..."

Before Jean could finish her sentence, Ronan had already turned and walked out of the kitchen, carrying the steaming bowl of wontons.

"Don’t worry, Sis. I’ll be right back after I deliver this."

His voice came from the living room, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.

Jean frowned slightly at the empty kitchen doorway.

She really didn’t want Ronan to come into contact with Justin, but Ronan was already out the door.

Ronan, holding the bowl, walked to the entrance of the neighboring apartment next to Jean’s.

He freed a hand and knocked on the door.

Footsteps sounded from inside, and then the door opened.

Justin stood at the doorway, casually draped in a dark-colored loungewear jacket, with one button of the shirt underneath undone.

He looked a little tired, with wisps of hair hanging down his forehead.

Seeing Ronan, a young man he’d never met, standing at the door, a flicker of surprise crossed Justin’s eyes, quickly replaced by his usual aloofness.

"What is it?" Justin’s gaze fell on the bowl in Ronan’s hand, his tone distant.

Ronan forced a smile on his face, presenting an exaggerated familiarity.

"Hello, I’m here to deliver dinner to you. Aunt Mason asked me to bring it over."

He extended the bowl in his hand forward.

Justin didn’t immediately take it; his gaze remained on Ronan’s face, tinged with scrutiny.

"Who are you?"

Ronan Sutton’s smile remained unchanged, and he spoke naturally.

"Family."

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, then spoke with a somewhat ambiguous tone.

"You could say I’m like the little brother-in-law of that family."

"Little brother-in-law?" Justin Holden raised an eyebrow upon hearing this, his eyes growing sharp, "How come I didn’t know that Jean Ellison had a brother?"

He asked this question directly, with a mix of doubt and coldness.

Ronan Sutton’s smile faded a little, and he met Justin Holden’s gaze, his tone also taking a serious turn.

"It seems, you know quite a bit."

This sentence carried a clear hint of probing and irony.

Justin Holden pulled at the corner of his mouth, the curve carrying no warmth.

"Young lad." He gestured with his hand, not to take the bowl but to indicate Ronan Sutton should place the bowl on the shoe cabinet by the door, "Put the wontons here, you can leave now."

His condescending, dismissive attitude completely infuriated Ronan Sutton.

"Don’t call me a young lad."

Ronan Sutton’s voice rose by eight degrees, with anger stemming from being belittled.

"I’m already twenty-two, not a kid."

He held the bowl, not putting it down, instead taking a step forward, examining Justin Holden’s face more closely.

A moment ago, they had been at a distance, and the lighting was dim, only making him feel familiar; at this close range, seeing the contours of the other’s eyes and brows clearly, a name suddenly sprang to his mind.

Ronan Sutton’s eyes widened instantly, with a touch of anger.

"Justin Holden? It’s you!"

He remembered!

Several years ago, while still in China, he had seen Justin Holden a few times by chance.

Although not many times, this face, especially this cold, condescending gaze, had left a deep impression on him.

Justin Holden had no particular reaction to being recognized, merely looking at him indifferently, as if seeing an unimportant stranger.

Many people knew him, his fans spread from China to the United States, everywhere.

The fury in Ronan Sutton’s chest flared up to its peak at once.

It was this man who had hurt Claire so deeply back then, causing her so much pain.

Old and new grievances surged up together in his heart, Ronan Sutton, almost without thinking, swung his empty hand clenched into a fist towards Justin Holden’s cheek with a whoosh.

"You bastard."

Justin Holden’s gaze tightened, reacting swiftly.

Just as Ronan Sutton’s fist was about to touch his cheek, he suddenly raised his hand, gripping Ronan Sutton’s wrist.

His fingers applied astonishing pressure, holding Ronan Sutton’s fist so it couldn’t advance any further.

Ronan Sutton struggled fiercely, only to find the other’s hand didn’t move an inch, instead tightening, making his wrist ache sharply.

"Let go!" Ronan Sutton shouted angrily.

Justin Holden didn’t speak, his eyes cold, his arm gripping the wrist suddenly exerting force, pushing forward sharply.

A great force pushed Ronan Sutton, making him stagger back a few steps, his back hitting the cold wall with a bang before barely stabilizing himself.

He nearly fell to the ground, the bowl in his hand shaking violently, hot wonton soup spilling out, splashing on his hand and soaking his pajama sleeve, burning painfully.

He panted heavily, leaning against the wall, pain emanating from his wrist and the back of his hand, eyes reddened with anger, glaring at the man standing tall at the door.

Justin Holden withdrew his hand, tidying his slightly disheveled sleeve, his movements leisurely, as if he had only brushed away a fallen leaf.

His gaze towards Ronan Sutton was filled with undisguised contempt, along with a deep-seated irritation.

"How do you have the nerve to follow her to the United States?"

Ignoring the pain in his hand, Ronan Sutton questioned harshly.

"She already has a family, has kids, why are you still clinging to her? Wasn’t wasting her youth for several years enough, do you have to haunt her for a lifetime?"

His voice was full of indignation and accusation for Jean Ellison.

Hearing these words, Justin Holden’s face seemed even colder.

Wasting her youth for several years?

He and Jean Ellison had known each other for less than half a year, how could it be years of youth?

He didn’t immediately refute, nor did he get angry, merely looked at Ronan Sutton with an overwhelmingly oppressive gaze, pausing for several seconds before speaking slowly, his voice low.

"Haunting her for a lifetime?"

He repeated the last sentence, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint yet extremely sharp curve.

"What capacity do you have to question me here?"

He took a step forward, closing in on Ronan Sutton, and although their heights were similar, his powerful aura made Ronan feel a suffocating pressure.

"Her matters are none of the business of a young lad who popped out of nowhere."

Justin Holden’s tone was icy, his expression stern.

"As for why I am here..."

He paused, his gaze sharp.

"It’s none of your concern."

"You!"

Ronan Sutton was trembling with rage, about to say more.

"What are you arguing about?"

A cool voice cut in, breaking the intense atmosphere in the corridor.

Jean Ellison stood at her door, still wearing an apron.

She had evidently come out because she heard the commotion outside.

Her gaze first fell on Ronan Sutton leaning against the wall.

His chest heaved violently, his pajama sleeve soaked, looking a bit disheveled.

Then she looked at Justin Holden standing at the door, his expression stern.

Her brows furrowed slightly, her face expressionless, but her eyes carried inquiry.

At the sight of Jean Ellison, Justin Holden’s fierce, icy aura suddenly abated somewhat, his eyes softening.

But he didn’t speak, merely looked at her silently.

Seeing Jean Ellison, Ronan Sutton seemed to find a backbone or like a wronged child, immediately pointing at Justin Holden to complain.

"Sister, he used force, I only came to bring him wontons, yet he not only had a bad attitude, he even pushed me."

Jean Ellison’s gaze swept over the spilt droplets on the ground, then looked at Ronan Sutton’s wet sleeve and reddened back of the hand, finally landing on Justin Holden.

Facing her gaze, Justin Holden explained plainly.

"He started it."

Concise and clear, without any further explanation.

Jean Ellison paused in silence.

She understood Ronan Sutton’s impulsive character and also knew Justin Holden was not someone who would hit others for no reason.

But the scene before her clearly indicated Ronan Sutton had suffered.

"And the wontons?"

She asked, her voice wave-less.

It was only then Ronan remembered the bowl in his hand, looking down to see only a half bowl of soup and a few lonely wontons left, most had spilled out.

"Spilled..." He said somewhat sheepishly.

"Go home and get another bowl." Jean Ellison told Ronan Sutton, her tone even, "Then go home."

She shouldn’t have let Ronan come to deliver food, what if he called her name, Justin would know she was Claire.

Ronan showing up frequently around her during this period could surely arouse Justin’s suspicions.

Ronan opened his mouth, seeming hesitant to speak, but under Jean’s calm gaze, finally swallowed his words.

He gave Justin a fierce glare, holding the broken bowl, turned back into Jean’s house, and slammed the door shut.

The corridor was left with only Jean Ellison and Justin Holden.

The air seemed to freeze.

The sensor lights, due to a lack of sound, quietly went out, only the light from inside the surrounding doors illuminating the passage.

Jean stood in the light cast by her own doorway, and Justin stood at the edge of the shadow of his own doorway.

"Your hand is injured, it’s not convenient to cook."

Jean further explained, "It was Aunt Mason who asked me to bring you meals for a few days, no other meaning."

She seemed to be explaining the meal delivery, yet also drawing a boundary.

Justin looked at her, her face a little blurred in the dim light, eyes clear and calm.

He responded with a simple "Mm."

Another bout of silence.

"No need to bring meals anymore." Justin suddenly said, "My hand is almost healed."

Jean looked up at him, seemingly wanting to confirm the truth in his words, but the light was too dim to clearly see the specific condition of his hand.

"Alright." She nodded, not asking further, "Then I’ll go back."

Without waiting for Justin Holden’s response, she turned, pushed open her door, and went inside.