Yu Wenhao’s shot hit Mrs. Qin in the shoulder blade, just millimeters from her carotid artery.
When Wen Ying received the news, Mrs. Qin had already been rushed to the hospital and undergone debridement surgery. She was out of danger. Yu Wenhao and his son Yu Wei’s counterattack was anticipated by Qin Xianming, which was why he had sent Qin Jiao away. Yet, despite such tight precautions, Yu Wenhao still managed to breach the Qin family villa.
Deng Shangwei still felt lingering fear thinking about it.
Fortunately, both Yu Wenhao and Yu Wei had been apprehended by the police. Qin Xianming no longer had to worry, and Deng Shangwei could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
To catch the Yu father and son, Qin Xianming had lost nearly ten million in Macau. Even with his wealth, such a sum stung. He had built his fortune from nothing, and this money wasn’t earned easily. Spending so much on something else might have been fine, but losing it in Macau felt wasteful.
On the other hand, to uproot the Yu family and protect his own, the money was well worth it.
“Now, several bosses in our circle are scared stiff. A few who loved mahjong have sworn off it these past couple of days, suspecting everyone’s a casino shill,” Deng Shangwei said.
Hearing about Qin Xianming’s ordeal, those bosses empathized.
Who could be trusted anymore?
Qin Xianming, a major player, had been targeted despite having no gambling habits. Imagine those who already enjoyed cards. Rumor had it that after Yu Wei became Qin Xianming’s confidant, even some suppliers betrayed him, becoming accomplices of the Yu family.
Yu Wenhao, once a prominent figure in Rongcheng with a fortune in the hundreds of millions, fell so fast because of gambling. Not content with losing everything, he schemed against Qin Xianming.
“Uncle, your seafood company can reopen now!” Wen Ying said, relieved that Mrs. Qin was safe and immediately thinking of Deng Shangwei’s shuttered business. It had been closed to deceive the Yu father and son, but now that they were caught, Deng Shangwei no longer needed to pretend.
Deng Shangwei was thrilled about it. “We’re reopening in a couple of days and calling the employees back to work. I had the whole company cleaned top to bottom for a fresh start.”
While his seafood company was closed, Deng Shangwei had kept paying his old employees’ base salaries. Most were loyal and stayed, but some, thinking he’d never recover, took his wages while finding new jobs.
After the New Year, when Deng Shangwei’s company announced its reopening, those who’d jumped ship regretted it. Deng Shangwei didn’t hold it against them. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t tell them the truth, so it was natural for them to seek new paths. Those with new jobs could part ways amicably.
The employees who stayed, like Sister Fang, were his true loyalists.
Sister Fang and others had no time for sentimentality. With the company reopening, business was even busier than before. Everyone wished they had extra hands to keep up, too busy to dwell on the details.
Outsiders didn’t know the full story, but Qin Xianming deliberately gathered friends to clear Deng Shangwei’s name, saying Deng had saved him again and that he owed him more than one life debt. Qin Xianming gave Deng Shangwei a larger share, and with the company reopening just over a month before the Spring Festival, Deng Shangwei couldn’t help but profit.
Not only would this period’s losses be recouped, but his business was likely to double in scale from now on.
Two small-time bosses at the Qingshiqiao seafood market, who had gloated over Deng Shangwei’s misfortune, were now dumbfounded.
Deng Shangwei hadn’t fallen; they had.
When Yu Wei was in power, these two had cozied up to him, aligning with the Yu family. When Yu Wenhao and his son were arrested, these bosses escaped trouble only because they weren’t trusted enough to join the Yus’ scheme to hollow out the Qin family.
Even so, Qin Xianming revoked their quotas. They could still do business at Qingshiqiao, but it was no longer tied to Qin Xianming. In Rongcheng’s seafood market, without a backer, they were quickly pushed to the fringes, reduced to ordinary wholesalers.
Used to easy money behind Qin Xianming, they weren’t prepared to toil for hard-earned profits.
Panicked, they sought Deng Shangwei’s help to plead their case, but after the Pan Li incident, Deng Shangwei was no longer the sentimental “Little Deng” who valued old ties. He flatly refused to be guilt-tripped.
They had shared a bond once, but no bond should be endlessly exploited.
Even if they badmouthed him, it didn’t matter. The circle led by Yu Wenhao should’ve collapsed when he gambled away his fortune. It had only limped on until 2004. Now, in January 2005, the new year was the perfect time for Deng Shangwei to move on from the past and embrace a fresh start.
“I never thought the company could turn around. I knew Boss Deng wasn’t that kind of person!” Sister Fang said, slightly embarrassed recalling her earlier doubts about Deng Shangwei.
Chen Li smiled. “It’s all in the past. The company will only get better.”
No matter what, Chen Li had no intention of returning to being a full-time housewife, even though their finances allowed it.
The company’s crisis was over, and Deng Shangwei had escaped the scheme. The family crisis caused by Pan Li was gone too, and with misunderstandings cleared, the couple’s bond was stronger than ever. But Chen Li couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be another Pan Li. Working at the company wasn’t about keeping tabs on Deng Shangwei; it was about refusing to be a powerless housewife. During a family crisis, she didn’t want Wen Ying to have to step up to protect her, Deng Jie, and Deng Hao.
Chen Li hoped there’d never be a second Pan Li, but if her marriage with Deng Shangwei ever fell apart, she wanted the confidence to secure a good life for herself and her sons, not rely on Deng Shangwei’s conscience or pity.
Chen Li was different from her past life, and Wen Ying liked this version of her aunt.
Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong were amazed that Deng Shangwei’s company could reopen, and with even greater momentum. Since Yu Wenhao and his son were arrested, Chen Li could share some of the hidden details with Chen Ru, though she omitted Wen Ying’s role.
Chen Ru only half-believed her.
She believed Deng Shangwei was set up and that he played along to turn the tables, as the facts were undeniable.
But she didn’t believe Deng Shangwei was entirely innocent or that he was completely clean with that “vixen” outside.
Still, seeing Chen Li’s willingness to forgive Deng Shangwei, Chen Ru held her tongue, resisting the urge to shatter her sister’s rose-tinted view.
Fine, a divorce would be tough on Deng Jie and Deng Hao.
Chen Ru pretended to believe Deng Shangwei was innocent and strongly supported Chen Li’s decision to work at the seafood company, saying it was about the couple standing together. Back home, she told Wen Dongrong the truth: “Wen Ying’s aunt has a grip on Deng Shangwei’s wallet now. She’s not afraid of him straying. You men are all no good!”
Wen Dongrong, caught in the crossfire, protested. Honestly, while he might dote on relatives, he was completely faithful in relationships. Since dating Chen Ru, he hadn’t so much as glanced at another woman.
“Deng Shangwei is Deng Shangwei, and I’m me. How can you lump us together?” he argued.
Chen Ru rolled her eyes. “Even if you had ideas, I’m not scared!”
Whatever.
A complete family was ideal for raising kids more easily.
But if something went wrong, Chen Ru wouldn’t compromise. She could afford a divorce and feared nothing.
To maintain her edge, Chen Ru woke up at five the next morning to study English vocabulary.
Wen Dongrong was speechless. Over breakfast, he couldn’t help venting to Wen Ying. “Your mum’s being completely unreasonable lately, acting on whims.”
Wen Ying blinked.
When had Ms. Chen Ru ever been reasonable?
Since Wen Ying could remember, her mother had always operated this way.
Oh, but Wen Dongrong hadn’t experienced this treatment before—it was usually directed at Wen Ying. Now that he was sharing the burden, it was normal he couldn’t adjust right away.
“Dad, I’m used to it. If you’re not, well, you’d better get used to it. Mum’s this age already—changing her is unlikely, don’t you think?” Wen Ying said, urging her father to accept his fate.
Wen Dongrong felt a pang of regret. He’d been rash, venting to this girl who was probably enjoying his predicament.
“I was just joking. Your mum’s great,” he said, pulling ten hundred-yuan bills from his wallet and handing them to Wen Ying. “You and your mum are going to Shanghai for the contest. Don’t skimp—eat well.”
This was Wen Dongrong’s private stash.
Wen Ying had never seen it before.
His savings usually went to supporting the Wen family relatives, but now he was giving it to her.
Though Wen Ying didn’t need the money, she wasn’t foolish enough to refuse. If she didn’t take it, Wen Dongrong might funnel it to Shu Lu and her daughter. She nodded. “Dad, don’t worry. I’ll make sure Mum eats well, and I’ll book us a nice hotel. I’ve got money covered.”
A thousand yuan might cover good meals in Shanghai, but a nice hotel? Not quite.
Wen Dongrong felt a dent in his pride at her words. “Hold on!”
He dashed to the bedroom, unscrewed the lampshade from the bedside lamp, and returned with an extra two thousand yuan for Wen Ying.
“That should cover a nice hotel, right?”
Wen Ying grinned, pocketing the three thousand yuan. “Plenty. Thanks, Dad!”
Wen Dongrong had felt a mild pang earlier, but now his heart truly ached.
That was two months’ worth of cigarette money, gone in an instant.
