“So this whole thing is settled?”
On the phone, Xie Qian sounded a little regretful that Wang Shuang had “gotten off so easily.”
Wen Ying had returned to the hotel very late. With another signing tomorrow, she could only give Xie Qian a quick call to update him.
“I think it’s settled. Unless Hang Xiaowen shamelessly clings a few more times, as long as Wang Shuang stays firm, she’ll eventually give up.”
If Hang Xiaowen kept pestering, Wen Ying definitely wasn’t going to clean up after him again. She wasn’t that free.
In fact, her schedule was packed.
After tomorrow’s second signing, she would fly back to Chengdu first.
Rest for two days, then head to Beijing.
The “gift” Mrs Peng had given her was a spot at China’s top literature academy. The course ran from mid-June to mid-July, exactly one month.
Wen Ying had thought about it for a long time and decided to attend.
Writing *Teen Idol* and *Starry River With You* had been smooth, almost no bottlenecks. But the Nine Cauldrons series had required multiple rewrites of the opening.
Although *Xun Yong* was officially published and selling very well, Wen Ying still felt it wasn’t perfect.
She couldn’t keep coasting on her rebirth advantages forever. Writing required constant growth, and this academy might be the breakthrough she needed.
During the course, she’d need to take one day off.
Scores came out at midnight on June 23. From the 24th to the 30th was the volunteer-filling period—something no one else could do for her. She had to be there in person!
Wen Ying shared her plan with Xie Qian. “My current idea is to take leave on the 24th, fly back to Chengdu, fill out my forms, and fly back the same night. That way I only miss one day of class.”
“That works. I’ll be in Shanghai a few more days and will head back to Beijing before volunteer filling. If you need anything in Beijing, just ask Peng Guoqing. He may not be the sharpest, but he knows the city well and can handle food, housing, transport—anything.”
If possible, Xie Qian would rather accompany her to Beijing himself.
Just like when he transferred to Chengdu and Wen Ying had taken him sightseeing on weekends.
Beijing was his hometown, after all. He’d love to personally show her around the sights.
But with Xie Jinghu there and too many eyes watching, Xie Qian preferred caution. He didn’t want Xie Jinghu paying too much attention to Wen Ying.
Peng Guoqing was the safest choice.
Wen Ying agreed readily. “Sure, I won’t stand on ceremony with him. Actually, I might not even need him. Mrs Peng called me yesterday asking when I’m coming—she said she’d pick me up at the airport.”
Mrs Peng was impressive: she even provided after-sales service with her gift. Dealing with someone like her was just too pleasant!
So Wen Ying figured: on the surface it looked like Mrs Peng was guarding her “lady boss” position, but really, Mr Peng was the one who couldn’t leave Mrs Peng.
Young pretty girls grew like leeks—cut one crop and another sprouted. There was never a shortage.
But a woman with Mrs Peng’s emotional intelligence and charm? Every single one was an irreplaceable treasure!
Sure enough, the moment Xie Qian heard Mrs Peng had it covered, he relaxed. “Auntie Zhu is warm and meticulous—much better than Peng Guoqing. Just follow her arrangements. You have another signing tomorrow—sleep early.”
Wen Ying slept beautifully.
The second signing went exceptionally smoothly.
A reporter asked Wen Ying’s thoughts on Blue Whale. She smiled and brushed it off: “We’re not actually close. She fainted at her signing the other day—I’m not sure how she’s doing now. If you interview her next, please send my regards.”
The reporter was sharp. The article later quoted Wen Ying “sending regards” to Blue Whale—with the word in scare quotes, giving it a whole different flavour.
How Blue Whale took that? Not Wen Ying’s problem!
Business done, Wen Ying flew back to Chengdu that same night.
Wen Dongrong came to pick her up. He asked if the signings had been tiring, if Shanghai was hot, reminded her to check the two flats Chen Ru had bought—chattering away like a nagging old man.
At the mention, Wen Ying slapped her forehead. “I completely forgot!”
One, she was big-hearted. Two, she really had been busy.
Between the two signings, Wang Shuang’s start-up drama had taken up all her time. She hadn’t even visited her own two Shanghai flats.
“No rush. When I go to university in Shanghai, I’ll have plenty of time to look.”
Since she brought up university herself, Wen Dongrong perked up.
Finally, a chance to steer the topic! He asked casually, “I heard from your mom you estimated 660? And that scores are lower across the board this year? If you really get 660, are you still set on Shanghai?”
Heard from Manager Chen?
—You called Teacher Lin fifteen times yourself!
Wen Ying held back laughter. “Of course. Tianjiao’s new office is fully renovated, and I signed with Shanghai Literature & Art Publishing. Shanghai is perfect for me… Dad, you’re not thinking 660 is too high for Shanghai and would be wasted, are you?”
With a real 660, going to Shanghai would indeed be a bit of a waste.
Teacher Lin had said that score could reach Tsinghua or Peking University’s lines.
Most Chinese parents were obsessed with those two schools—major didn’t matter, just getting in was everything!
Wen Dongrong was about to nod and persuade her, but seeing the half-smile on his little cotton-padded jacket’s face, he suddenly remembered the middle-school summer bet.
She had won. Big time.
The grand prize: she chose her own university and major.
Even if Chen Ru put her foot down now, Wen Ying might not listen—let alone him.
And an estimate of 660 wasn’t guaranteed. Better wait for the actual scores. Wen Dongrong played the enlightened dad: “Don’t always assume the worst of me. Whatever university you want is fine. I fully respect your choice!”
Daughter knows father best.
Wen Ying nodded firmly. “That’s for the best—no hard feelings!”
No hard feelings?
Was that how a daughter talked to her dad?
Wen Dongrong wanted to argue, but in just two minutes Wen Ying was already dozing against the seat.
Was the Shanghai trip that exhausting?
Suddenly Wen Dongrong felt bad.
—Actually, Shanghai’s top universities were great too. Maybe just let his little girl choose what she wanted?
Back home, Wen Dongrong immediately started calculating his secret stash.
He still hadn’t received the “overseas readers club” invitation from *Zhiyin* magazine, but with the money from selling *Xun Yong*, he had nearly 80,000 saved.
That should be enough for a family-of-three overseas trip.
Wen Dongrong placed the bank card on the nightstand, eagerly awaiting the tigress’s praise.
