Mr Yi struck Xie Jinghu again, this time with a blow that cut deep and cruel. Xie Jinghu nearly staggered on the spot.
Men are always like that. They fail to cherish what they have, only realising its value once it is gone.
After the divorce, Zou Weijun was bound to attract suitors. Xie Jinghu had long anticipated this. After all, she possessed fine poise and an excellent appearance, and the divorce had left her with considerable wealth.
“None of you truly love Weijun!”
Xie Jinghu sneered coldly. “Do not think I am unaware of your intentions.”
Mr Yi raised an eyebrow. “Then you truly love Boss Zou? If you love her so deeply, why divorce her? A woman like her, once married, no one would willingly let go. That we have the chance to pursue Boss Zou is thanks to your generous relinquishment.”
Xie Jinghu’s eyes reddened with fury.
Why the divorce?
Because at that time Xie Qian lay in intensive care, his life hanging by a thread. Out of consideration for his elder brother Xie Yuping’s feelings, and respecting Zou Weijun’s wishes, he had agreed to the divorce.
In the end, agreeing to divorce stemmed from love and protection for his wife and son, and respect for his elder brother. Whether they divorced or not was between him and Weijun. What business was it of these outsiders?
Xie Jinghu successfully convinced himself. At last he could retort righteously, but Mr Yi gave him no opportunity.
A car drew up in front of Mr Yi. He opened the door, got in, and waved to Xie Jinghu.
“Goodbye, ex-husband!”
Xie Jinghu drew a deep breath to suppress his anger.
Arguing with this man surnamed Yi was pointless. The fellow had not even gained Weijun’s approval. The real threat remained that other person.
That person was truly a bastard. He had taken Xie Jinghu’s salary and now seduced his wife.
Xie Jinghu was already despised by Zou Weijun, so naturally he could not confront her directly.
He stood there in a daze for a long while before remembering that Wen Ying had got into the car earlier.
Xie Jinghu did not particularly like Wen Ying. He had only accepted her reluctantly because he did not wish to oppose his son Xie Qian, and had not yet found a more suitable prospective daughter-in-law.
Wen Ying showed him neither enthusiasm nor sufficient respect, yet he had tolerated it.
Since he had accepted Wen Ying, should she not reciprocate in some way?
Xie Jinghu decided to have a talk with Wen Ying.
The focus of the conversation would be maintaining the integrity of Xie Qian’s family.
Wen Ying was so clever. She ought to understand that only a reconciliation between him and Zou Weijun would truly benefit Xie Qian.
If Zou Weijun remarried and bore children for another man, the property she had gained from the divorce might not all go to Xie Qian.
…
Wen Ying was unaware that the scumbag Xie had placed such high hopes on her. She followed Zou Weijun into the car and asked obediently, “Auntie Zou, how should I address this uncle?”
Zou Weijun’s lips curved in a smile. “What uncle? You should call him Grandmaster.”
Ah?
Wen Ying was stunned. “Grandmaster…”
“Yes. He is the teacher who taught me financial knowledge and stock trading. If you do not call him Grandmaster, what else?”
Zou Weijun spoke earnestly. The driver, the Grandmaster, could not hold back his laughter. “How can you tease the young lady like that? My surname is Chen. Call me Uncle Chen. I am no teacher. I merely, at someone’s request, guided your Auntie Zou for a time so she could adapt more quickly to her new work. Of course, her learning ability is exceptional. I soon had nothing left to teach, and so we became friends.”
Zou Weijun’s stock-trading teacher.
Wen Ying finally met the man in person.
Chen Ru had earned forty million from stocks because Wen Ying had provided her with substantial capital, and because Wen Ying’s foresight knew last year’s market was hard to lose money in, encouraging Chen Ru to invest boldly.
Zou Weijun had likewise made considerable profits in the stock market. The person who had taught her to trade was precisely this Uncle Chen.
Wen Ying had remarkably thick skin. “What a coincidence. My mother’s surname is also Chen. All Chen in the world are one family. Calling you Uncle Chen is no loss to me. Uncle Chen, you are so skilled at stocks. May I have your contact details?”
Uncle Chen had not expected Wen Ying to climb the pole so swiftly.
“What do you want my contact details for?”
Zou Weijun voiced the question for him. Wen Ying replied boldly, “Naturally to seek advice from Uncle Chen. Auntie Zou, have you forgotten what I study?”
Finance.
The reason was indeed sound.
Yet Zou Weijun did not presume to answer on Uncle Chen’s behalf.
“Give them if you wish. You are welcome to contact me for discussion.”
Uncle Chen not only gave Wen Ying his contact details, but through this she also learned his full name: Chen Tongfu.
Chen Tongfu?
The name was completely unfamiliar. Wen Ying had not heard it in her previous life. Well, in her previous life she had been too far removed from Xie Qian’s circle. She knew nothing of the relationships around Xie Qian, so not recognising Chen Tongfu was unsurprising.
Wen Ying was curious about the relationship between Zou Weijun and Chen Tongfu, yet she knew her limits and when to stop. She took the initiative to ask Zou Weijun, “Auntie Zou, what was it you wanted to discuss with me earlier?”
“Your Tangled Thorns is selling well, is it not?”
Zou Weijun first inquired about the sales of Tangled Thorns.
Wen Ying nodded. “Fairly well. From its release on 15 February until now, it has sold fewer than a million copies.”
Zou Weijun laughed in spite of herself. “Ten thousand copies is fewer than a million, and nine hundred and ninety thousand is also fewer than a million. Your figures are rather vague.”
“I am not trying to be mysterious. The quarterly sales data have not yet been compiled. However, the first print run of six hundred thousand copies was insufficient, and there was a reprint in April, so I estimate the actual figure is between eight hundred and nine hundred thousand.”
Tangled Thorns was unquestionably the best-performing of all Wen Ying’s published novels.
Others had been popular, yet none had sold so many copies in the first quarter after release.
This achievement resulted from the accumulated popularity of Wen Ying’s writing career, the rewards of diligently managing her blog, and especially the groundwork laid by Seeking Yong. When Seeking Yong was published, it had been criticised for slow pacing. By the time of Tangled Thorns, no such complaints arose. With Seeking Yong, Wen Ying had introduced the setting of the Nine Cauldrons series, allowing readers to enter the rhythm of Tangled Thorns swiftly.
Wen Ying disclosed the figures honestly. Zou Weijun pondered. “At the current rate, sales of Tangled Thorns will soon exceed one million copies. Modu Literature and Art Press offers you generous royalties. A single Tangled Thorns should earn you at least ten million in royalties… Little Ying, would you be willing to contribute some money yourself and establish a literature fund together with Junyue?”
“A literature fund?”
Wen Ying recalled Zou Weijun’s philosophy in founding Junyue and ventured a bold guess. “Would this fund be dedicated to helping writers in financial difficulty create with peace of mind?”
It was not unacceptable.
Wen Ying was not stingy. Having grown wealthy through writing, she was willing to be generous to her peers.
Zou Weijun nodded. “Supporting struggling writers to create undisturbed is only one aspect of the fund. I also wish to use its name to establish dedicated literary prizes, and to undertake meaningful investments and sponsor worthwhile but unprofitable activities…”
“Auntie Zou, you need say no more. I am willing to contribute.”
Before Zou Weijun could finish, Wen Ying had already agreed.
