Under the piercing gaze of the publishing department leader, Song Foxiang changed his tune.
Editor Wan also mumbled an apology.
Zou Weijun didn’t even glance at them. Having received their apologies, she didn’t press further, but she’d lost all mood to work overtime. She left the office—she’d already reported the incident to the leader. If Song Foxiang or Editor Wan tried anything again, whatever she did would be justified!
She couldn’t stand another moment there. With those two greasy men, Song Foxiang and Editor Wan, the air felt filthy!
The two female colleagues working overtime that day witnessed the whole affair, stunned by the dramatic turn of Song Foxiang’s confession.
They couldn’t comment on Song Foxiang, who wasn’t in their department, but Editor Wan… Was something wrong with his head? If he wanted to deliver a love poem for Song Foxiang, he could’ve handed it to Zou Weijun directly or left it on her desk.
Putting it in her bag?
Was Editor Wan some creep who regularly rifled through female colleagues’ bags?
Maybe so. They hadn’t noticed before, but they’d be on guard now!
The two women felt a shared unease and quickly called colleagues who weren’t working that day, embellishing the story of Song Foxiang and Editor Wan’s actions.
Over the phone, the department’s female staff began planning.
“After the May Day holiday, we’ll bring locks to work.”
“Right, everyone needs a lock. Personal cabinets will be locked from now on!”
“Who’d have thought Old Wan was like that…”
“Pfft, thought? He’s always making crude jokes!”
Every workplace has men who make off-colour remarks.
Shy female colleagues might blush, while seasoned ones would snap back.
But no one before Zou Weijun had directly reported harassment, as getting upset over workplace banter was often dismissed as “not taking a joke.”
Zou Weijun, seemingly gentle, had a fierce streak that opened their eyes.
Editor Wan pleaded his character to the leader, but the leader, on holiday and dragged in for this nonsense, was fed up. Ignoring Wan’s excuses, he kicked him out of the office.
As Editor Wan stepped out, he overheard the two women “whispering” on the phone in the hallway, gossiping about the day’s events, leaving him utterly flustered.
“Old Song, you’ve really screwed me over!”
Song Foxiang was distracted.
What was up with that woman, Zou Weijun, getting so serious?
He’d thought she was a delicate lily, but she was a thorny rose, pricking those who got close.
Editor Wan kept complaining, but Song Foxiang couldn’t voice his true thoughts in front of him.
Zou Weijun claimed to be married, but Song Foxiang didn’t quite believe it.
The harder the rose was to pick, the more he wanted it.
Yes, that’s why new romances had felt dull lately—too easy!
Finally facing a challenge, Song Foxiang wasn’t ready to give up.
…
Zou Weijun, encountering such an arrogant suitor, felt as if she’d stepped in dog muck. Too embarrassed to tell her son about the office incident, Xie Qian learned the details through other channels.
Xie Qian had no comment on the matter.
The next day, he met Wen Ying at the provincial library.
After hearing his account, Wen Ying buried her head on the table, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
“Hahaha, Aunt Zou is that fierce?”
Xie Qian hadn’t had Zou Weijun followed; he was wary of Song Foxiang and had someone watch him.
So he quickly learned about the office scene.
He hadn’t expected his mum to handle it like that.
Imagining Song Foxiang and Editor Wan’s reluctant apologies, Xie Qian’s lips curved upward.
To Xie Qian, they were insignificant clowns. If they hadn’t approached Zou Weijun, he wouldn’t have spared them a glance.
They were just jumping fools!
Xie Qian was thrilled by his mother’s response.
A spark of joy lit the少年’s eyes, their starry depths shining brighter, “Last night, I spoke to a psychologist about how my mum handled it… Wen Ying, you know, she’s trying to heal.”
When deciding to transfer to Chengdu, Xie Qian wasn’t sure it was right.
The longer he lived here, the more certain he was that he’d made no mistake.
No, it wasn’t just correct—it was the best decision he’d ever made.
He’d nearly become a boy without a mother.
Since Xie Jinghu betrayed the family, Xie Qian no longer saw him as kin.
Parents, parents—one unfit to be a father, and losing his mother would leave no family at all.
“I’m so glad. I can save her. I’ll do anything, but I was afraid she’d stop saving herself.”
When someone loses attachment to the world, their will to live fades. Living becomes torture, so those with depression may choose suicide.
For them, it’s release—no more suffering, just eternal peace.
But for their loved ones, the pain lasts a lifetime.
They’d feel reluctant, guilty.
If they’d watched the person closer, maybe they wouldn’t have died.
If they’d cared more, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.
If only… But there are no “ifs” in life. Undoing tragedy is impossible; stopping it before it happens takes lifetimes of merit.
Xie Qian’s expression softened, his radiance too dazzling for Wen Ying to meet, and she turned her face away.
Why, after sitting beside Xie Qian so long, was she still not immune to his stunning looks?
Wen Ying felt she needed three minutes of self-reflection.
“I told you it’s not a bad thing. Aunt Zou’s amazing now!”
Able to confront unwanted suitors head-on, she’d soon face that scumbag Xie Jinghu. Wen Ying couldn’t wait for that day!
Xie Qian nodded, then shifted gears, “How’s it going with your mum? Still in a cold war?”
Wen Ying sighed, her round face drooping.
“My mum… same as ever.”
Chen Ru and Zou Weijun were different mothers.
Zou Weijun needed Xie Qian’s constant concern; Chen Ru always wanted to control her child.
Deng Shangwei was right—Wen Ying’s best move was to keep their relationship from worsening.
Like with the house renovation, she wanted to give input, but after Deng Shangwei’s advice, she held back.
Xie Qian thought some things didn’t need overthinking.
Wen Ying’s mum was an adult with her own ideas, especially with her stubborn streak, hard to change.
From another angle, her demands were simple: good grades from Wen Ying.
—So show her.
Xie Qian liked Chen Ru’s straightforward, easily satisfied nature.
“I set a goal for Wang Shuang to catch up on basics before senior year starts in September. I’ll set you a small goal: this semester’s final exam, aim for the top two… no, top three hundred in your grade.”
