Wen Ying was dreaming of reaching life’s peak when Xie Qian jolted her awake with four words: “entrance exam.”
Not only couldn’t she blame Xie Qian, she had to thank him.
Life was full of trade-offs. She’d returned to sixteen with over a decade of extra experience, adept at handling crises, but had forgotten most of her textbook knowledge.
And studying couldn’t be faked—you either knew it or you didn’t.
“Teacher Lin, I’ll have to trouble you,” Wen Ying said.
Lin Lin agreed readily, pleased her approach was working.
Young people needed friends. Even her aloof cousin Xie Qian was showing concern—keep it up, and the family elders wouldn’t worry he’d renounce the world and become a monk at a young age.
Spurred by Xie Qian, Wen Ying came home exhausted but pushed through two practice tests before bed, missing Chen Li’s odd mood.
When Wen Ying’s light went out, Chen Li still couldn’t sleep.
The hospital had finished Pan Li’s surgery—her baby didn’t make it.
Sister Fang, who’d stayed behind, broke the news to Chen Li.
“Shameless! She woke up demanding to see Boss Deng, even threatened to call the police.”
Deng Shangwei offered compensation, but Pan Li rejected money. She wanted “emotional compensation”—Deng divorcing Chen Li, marrying her, and “compensating” her with another child.
Over the phone, Sister Fang whispered, “Boss Deng refused. Said he’d never divorce you. Told her to call the cops if she wanted—he even dialed 110 for her, but she hung up!”
Sister Fang was floored.
So you could threaten a man, not just seduce him?
She tipped Chen Li off quietly, then advised, “I’d be sticking nails in your heart asking you to forgive Deng this time. But honestly, you two can sort right and wrong later. Why let that woman take him now, right?”
Back when the company started, Chen Li hadn’t yet stayed home with the kids. Deng’s current success came from years of her enduring fishy smells alongside him. Life had just gotten good, and now some shameless woman wanted the spoils—Sister Fang felt for Chen Li.
“Sister Fang, thanks. I get your kindness. I’ll think it over,” Chen Li replied, keeping it vague.
After hanging up, she scrolled through her phone’s texts.
Most were from Chen Ru, asking about developments.
Chen Li realized her tough big sister wasn’t so invincible—she got scared too.
But Chen Ru was still her sister, fighting for her. If Pan Li tried using the police to hassle Chen Ru, she’d have to go through Chen Li first.
Like Sister Fang said, this was her family with Deng Shangwei. Never mind their hard climb from nothing—she was the lady of the house. Someone plotting against her man, stirring chaos, was more than her patience could take.
Past thirty, a mother of two, she didn’t need her sixteen-year-old niece shielding her or her sister worrying.
“Sis, it’s no big deal. Rest easy—I can handle it,” Chen Li texted Chen Ru, skipping the miscarriage part, then called Detective Luo for Pan Li’s home address.
Next morning, after Wen Ying left for tutoring, Chen Li followed the address to Pan Li’s family.
The Pans were modest Rongcheng folk—Pan’s father a factory worker, her mother a vegetable vendor at the market. Detective Luo had checked: they were decent enough.
Their decency didn’t matter to Chen Li.
But raising an indecent daughter did. She’d give Pan’s parents a piece of her mind. Playing along with Deng Shangwei’s act, she’d do what felt good.
The morning market buzzed with retirees. Chen Li wore an pricey dress, carried a bag Deng had sourced from Hong Kong, and sported a watch with full makeup—rich vibes clashing with the squawking crowd.
She found the stall, spotting a busy middle-aged woman matching Pan’s mother’s photo.
Pan’s mother greeted her, asking what veggies she wanted. Chen Li clutched her bag, “Big sister, I’m not here for vegetables. Do you know your daughter Pan Li’s in the hospital?”
Pan’s mother blinked, “Hospital? Lili’s school’s still in session. Who are you?”
She didn’t know.
Chen Li smiled, “Figured. Pan Li’s got parents—why’s no one with her after a miscarriage? Guess she didn’t tell you she’s been expelled from school for being a mistress, huh?”
Her words dropped like a bomb, stunning Pan’s mother and perking up the customers’ ears.
These were old neighbors who knew Pan Li—a pretty, piano-playing girl from a poor family, too precious to send away, studying locally. But the real scoop? Expelled for being a mistress, now miscarried in the hospital?
A quiet, sweet girl pulling this off—shameless!
Pan’s mother didn’t process it at first. As whispers spread, she snapped, yelling at Chen Li, “Why’re you slandering Lili? I don’t even know you!”
Chen Li scanned the stall, “Slander? Ask the school. She’s in the hospital—want the bed number? I didn’t want to come, but your daughter’s clinging to my husband. She’s a mess from nightclub hookups, got pregnant by who-knows-who, and pinned it on my softhearted man. I don’t care if you’re clueless or playing dumb—I’ve told you now. Rein her in, or I will!”
Throwing down harsh words in public was a first, but for her family, Chen Li feared nothing.
Before Pan’s mother could reply, Chen Li tossed a note with the hospital address onto the stall.
Pan’s mother didn’t grab it—sharp-eyed shoppers did.
Chen Li strutted off, exhilarated, leaving Pan’s mother red-faced, stammering excuses to the crowd.
“Lili’s not like that.”
“Some liar, I don’t know!”
A rival vendor smirked, “They left the address. I’ll go with you after closing to check. Poor Lili, tangled with that woman—we can’t let her take the blame.”
Pan’s mother had no time to argue or sell. She shut the stall, dragged Pan’s father from the factory, and they hit the music college first. It was on break, but Pan Li’s infamy lingered—anyone could confirm the truth.
The expulsion notice still hung on the board. Pan’s parents nearly fainted.
“Expelled” wasn’t a lie. They called Pan Li, asking where she was.
Her weak voice claimed she’d just finished exams and was off traveling with classmates.
Pan’s mother hung up, crying.
Pan’s father, pride wounded, insisted on clarity. They stormed the hospital, cornering Pan Li in bed.
He refused to believe his daughter was so disgraceful—surely an older man tricked or forced her. He wanted Deng Shangwei arrested.
Pan Li’s miscarriage blindsided even Yu Wenhao, who feigned pity but rejoiced—it’d bury Deng Shangwei.
Yu Wenhao egged her to report it, but Pan Li hesitated. She hadn’t settled terms with him—his promised perks were half-delivered. Post-expulsion, he’d wired 50,000 yuan, but no house or full payout. She suspected he’d ditch her after the miscarriage or couldn’t afford it.
Pan Li panicked in her hospital bed.
All this hustling, expelled, and just 50,000 yuan? A huge loss.
If Yu Wenhao couldn’t pay, she’d ease up on Deng Shangwei—arrest him, and who’d she fleece?
Pan’s father pushed for police; Pan Li refused. They clashed, Pan’s mother fretting over her, the family in chaos.
Nosy neighbors visited that afternoon, and before Pan Li checked out, Pan’s father fell ill from rage.
Word hit Qing shi qiao Seafood Market. Deng Shangwei’s name was mud. Two market bosses who’d dragged him to clubs now trashed him behind his back.
“Plays around but won’t spend—pathetic.”
“Right, she even carried his kid.”
“Heard his wife’s a terror—business is tanking.”
Good riddance if it was.
Younger than them, why should Deng outshine them?
They tattled to Boss Qin, who got mad and cut Deng’s seafood quota starting next month.
Deng was out!
The bosses gloated, eyeing their chance, but a young guy, Yu Wei, popped up by Boss Qin’s side, taking Deng’s spot.
Yu Wei—Wenhao’s son.
Since when did he know Boss Qin?
As the bosses puzzled, Yu Wenhao and son drank together. Yu Wei bragged about sticking to Boss Qin, Deng sidelined. Yu Wenhao, rare warmth in his voice, urged, “Seize the moment.”
Time was short for Yu Wenhao too. A street thug was nothing next to Macau’s casinos—pros at the game. He owed them tens of millions in gambling debts!
