Granny Peng was wrong.
In the Xie family, it wasn’t only Zou Weijun who knew that Xie Qian had a certain “good friend”.
To most elders, a high-schooler’s relationships (whether friendship or romance) weren’t worth taking seriously.
Friendships? Once everyone graduates and stops seeing each other, they naturally fade.
Romance is even more fleeting. As long as the parents don’t fiercely object, how many teenage couples actually go the distance? Feelings come fast and leave faster at that age.
A busy, high-ranking patriarch like Xie Yuping barely had time to concern left over for his own daughter Xie Tang’s love life… yet he paid unusually close attention to his nephew Xie Qian.
It wasn’t favouritism towards boys.
It was guilt.
No matter how packed his schedule, Xie Yuping always carved out a little time to care about his nephew.
The name “Wen Ying” file had landed on Xie Yuping’s desk long ago. He had been curious to meet the girl in person for some time.
Zou Weijun had reservations, Xie Qian had reservations, but Xie Yuping had none. What could a trivial thing like this possibly make him hesitate over? He didn’t even need to lift a finger himself; he only had to mention the wish in passing, and his secretary Zhong Yong would arrange everything perfectly.
If Zhong Yong couldn’t handle even this small matter, he wouldn’t still be at Xie Yuping’s side.
The moment Xie Yuping learned Wen Ying would be spending a month training at the College of Literature in Beijing, he casually said to Zhong Yong, “Take a look at my calendar and clear some time for me to meet the girl. Make it discreet, and definitely don’t disrupt her studies.”
Zhong Yong’s face stayed impassive, but inside he was floored.
Countless people in the capital would kill for five minutes of Xie Yuping’s time and couldn’t find a way in, yet the boss was proactively asking to meet a young girl (and even specially instructing that she not be inconvenienced).
This girl wasn’t even officially the future niece-in-law yet. Right now the two families didn’t have so much as the first stroke of the character 八. She was merely Xie Qian’s “good friend”!
Fine, Zhong Yong privately agreed the words “good friend” needed quotation marks. Xie Qian and Wen Ying’s relationship clearly went beyond ordinary friendship.
So what?
They weren’t even officially together, and the leader was already eager to vet the candidate for his nephew?!
Zhong Yong hesitated. “Before you meet Miss Wen, should we inform Xie Qian?”
Xie Yuping actually considered it seriously, then shook his head. “If we tell Xie Qian, do you think he could resist telling the girl? I don’t think he could. Since that’s the case, better not tell him at all. I want to see her genuine reaction.”
Only an unprepared encounter would reveal the most authentic response.
Xie Yuping harboured no ill intent; he simply wanted to meet Wen Ying.
All the written reports about her had long ago sat in his drawer, but words on paper could never compare to the living person.
He was genuinely curious: just what kind of girl could make both Zou Weijun and Xie Qian change so visibly?
“I’ll arrange it at once.”
A competent secretary never argues with the boss. After a gentle reminder that was overruled, Zhong Yong dropped the subject.
He didn’t even need to check the schedule book; Xie Yuping’s arrangements for the next week were memorised in his head.
The perfect slot turned out to be tomorrow evening.
Excellent. Next step: confirm Wen Ying’s exact class timetable.
Zhong Yong left the office.
…
The very next day at noon, Wen Ying received the snacks Peng Guoqing had brought.
Wen Ying wasn’t fond of rich pastries (too much oil and sugar, they sat heavy and turned straight into stubborn fat).
She didn’t bother pretending with Peng Guoqing. He read her expression instantly. “These aren’t store-bought. My mum made them herself. You sure you don’t want any? Her cooking is incredible, way better than our family chef. But she’s obsessed with staying beautiful and says women who spend all day in the kitchen turn into yellow-faced hags. She only cooks once or twice a year. Forget my dad; even I, her own son, barely get to eat her food!”
This was the second time Boss Peng had been dragged out as a reference.
Last time: Boss Peng wanted to take two sunflowers to the office and got scolded.
This time: pastries Boss Peng himself never got to eat were delivered straight to Wen Ying.
And who was Boss Peng?
A multi-billion-yuan tycoon who would only get richer!
Wen Ying immediately took the box. “I absolutely trust Auntie Zhu’s skills!”
Peng Guoqing puffed out his chest proudly. “You’d better. She paid a fortune to study under a master. We still have her professional pastry-chef certificate in a drawer at home!”
“……!”
For a moment Wen Ying was speechless.
Rumour had it Mrs. Peng learned to cook specifically to capture her husband’s heart.
Everyone believes the saying “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”. Mrs. Peng took it to heart. With the same ferocity she once used to keep Boss Peng’s secretaries in line, she spent a fortune in tuition gifts and apprenticeship fees, knocked on the door of a reclusive culinary master who had long retired from taking students, studied diligently for three years, and finally graduated as a top-class chef!
Yet the master chef Mrs. Peng only cooked once a year. Wasn’t that a little odd?
Nah.
The process mattered more than the result. The whole Peng household had watched her burn her hands one day and split her nails the next. Her in-laws felt so sorry for her that they said one symbolic cooking day a year was plenty!
Whenever Mrs. Peng did decide to cook, Boss Peng had to drop everything and come home, no matter how busy, so as not to waste her hard work.
The entire family thought Mrs. Peng was the picture of wifely virtue and devotion. Only Boss Peng suffered in silence.
Peng Guoqing recounted the story behind the pastries with a touch of pride. Wen Ying sighed sincerely, “Auntie Zhu would definitely survive until the finale in a palace intrigue drama!”
The pastries were already filtered through rose-coloured glasses; now they were practically glowing with a ten-level beauty filter. Wen Ying reverently tried two pieces. They were indeed refreshing, not greasy at all, the sweetness perfectly balanced, neither too much nor too little.
The skill was extraordinary.
Thanks to the delicious treat, Wen Ying was in a great mood all afternoon.
That afternoon’s class was taught by He Xin on “Values in Literary Creation”.
Every young writer who made it to the College of Literature had already achieved something; their basic skill wasn’t the issue. Before diving into technical instruction, the first priority was to correct their mindset. Only when the writers themselves held correct values would the values conveyed in their work be sound.
He Xin taught with real substance, quoting classics fluently and eloquently.
Unfortunately, she was clearly prejudiced against Wen Ying.
Wen Ying was well aware.
Since she’d been called on, Wen Ying didn’t dodge. She stood up openly and smiled. “Teacher He, which aspect of insight would you like me to share? I believe I’ve always upheld positive values in my writing. And within that premise, I’m constantly studying how to write bestsellers. After all, the more copies a book sells, the higher my royalties, but more importantly, it means countless readers have accepted the values I’m conveying, right?”
