Strictly speaking, Yu Wenhao wasn’t someone Wen Ying had offended. Even Deng Shangwei hadn’t truly crossed him—it was Yu Wenhao who used Deng Shangwei as a stepping stone to climb higher.
Now that Yu Wenhao had achieved his goals, he had no reason to keep targeting Deng Shangwei. As for Wen Ying, she’d been well-protected by Deng Shangwei and Boss Qin from start to finish, never drawing Yu Wenhao’s attention. Why would he go out of his way to orchestrate something as convoluted as sending Shu Guobing’s family to harass her?
The person Wen Ying had truly offended was Pan Li.
Wen Ying’s actions led to Pan Li’s expulsion from the music academy, ruining her chance at a career with the provincial station. Pan Li, failing to gain enough favor from Yu Wenhao, wouldn’t likely dare confront him. Instead, picking on the seemingly weaker Wen Ying fit her pattern of bullying the soft.
But Pan Li had the motive, not the means.
Shu Guobing was setting up a seafood wholesale business and had paid to take over Old Hou’s shop. The wholesale venture’s costs were unclear, but Old Hou’s shop alone—rent plus transfer fees—cost 90,000 yuan. Throw in basic renovations, and the total easily exceeded 100,000.
After much thought, Wen Ying concluded that if Shu Guobing was acting on someone’s orders, only one person had the resources and motive: Zhao Dong.
Would Zhao Dong be that petty?
Just because she rejected his demands to stay away from Xie Qian, clearing the way for Zhao Xi, would he retaliate? Bold assumptions required careful verification. As a lawyer, Wen Ying had seen all sorts of bizarre cases, making her wary of many things.
At first glance, Zhao Dong’s actions seemed odd, but petty people abounded—some poisoned entire families over trivial disputes. From Zhao Dong’s perspective, Wen Ying not only defied him but blocked Zhao Xi’s path, disrupting his plans.
With interests at stake, Zhao Dong might go further.
If it was Zhao Dong, Shu Guobing’s role wasn’t just about competing for business.
As a businessman, Zhao Dong, having spent so much, would expect a matching return.
What did he want Shu Guobing to do?
Wen Ying racked her brain but couldn’t fathom Zhao Dong aiming to keep her down forever. If she knew, she’d retort: You’re dreaming!
In her past life, without any rebirth cheat, she’d climbed to Zhihu-elite status through effort. Rebirth stripped her degree, license, career heights, and boyfriend, turning her into a poor student.
But it couldn’t take her skills or life experience. Wen Ying was confident she wouldn’t fare worse than before.
Suspecting Zhao Dong’s involvement, she muttered, “Xie Qian, Xie Qian, you’re nowhere to be found, and I’m stuck dealing with your romantic debts.”
Calling it a romantic debt felt off—Xie Qian was young, Zhao Xi barely a teen. It wasn’t adult-level obsession; Zhao Dong likely coveted Xie Qian’s family background.
Detective Luo didn’t catch her murmur, asking about romantic debts. Wen Ying shifted gears: “Cai Youlun’s definitely shady, but it’s not tied to Yu Wenhao. Detective Luo, could you check someone else for me?”
Wen Ying knew only Zhao Dong and Zhao Xi’s names and appearances, plus that they’d returned from abroad to do business in Rongcheng. Beyond that, she was clueless.
But she didn’t know someone who did.
She decided to ask Lin Lin.
Shortly after Xie Qian left Beijing, Lin Lin had gone there too.
Xie Qian’s phone was lost at the Jiangs’, and he hadn’t contacted Wen Ying. Lin Lin, however, kept hers.
Wen Ying guessed Lin Lin’s Beijing trip tied to Xie Qian—they might see each other daily. Still, she’d refrained from reaching out.
If Xie Qian wasn’t contacting her, he had his reasons, and Wen Ying respected friends’ privacy.
Now, calling Lin Lin, she asked about the Zhao family, avoiding Xie Qian.
Lin Lin seemed to want to say something but held back. Wen Ying ended the call: “Goodbye, Teacher Lin!”
“Goodbye.”
Wen Ying was right—Lin Lin, in Beijing, saw Xie Qian often. When Wen Ying called, they were together.
Recent events had earned Lin Lin an unusually warm welcome from the Xie family, surpassing past visits.
Such warmth only masked guilt.
Lin Lin found it ironic.
Every family had its struggles—enviable lives weren’t always as they seemed.
Hanging up, Lin Lin took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
The villa, prime location, sprawling and luxurious, was a 15th-anniversary gift from Xie Qian’s father to his mother.
Now, it felt bitterly ironic.
Lin Lin saw Xie Qian on the balcony, surrounded by fragrant roses, their scent wafting in.
The boy was still himself, but thinner.
Gazing into the distance, he seemed ready to drift away with the wind.
Lin Lin’s throat tightened. “Xie Qian!”
He turned, eyes calm, emotionless.
Wen Ying had changed him in a month, but the Xie family undid it in a day.
Maybe Xie Qian shouldn’t have returned to Beijing—Rongcheng suited him better. Lin Lin blurted, “Xie Qian, why not transfer to Rongcheng?”
Xie Qian glanced at the closed bedroom door and shook his head.
Lin Lin deflated. Of course, he couldn’t leave now.
Her suggestion wasn’t random. Xie Qian asked, “Did Wen Ying ask about me?”
Lin Lin shook her head. “That girl’s smart and considerate. You left your phone in Rongcheng—she gets your hint. She didn’t ask about you, just Zhao Dong.”
Xie Qian had planned to tell Lin Lin to feign ignorance if Wen Ying inquired about his situation.
But she hadn’t asked, stirring complex feelings in him.
He hadn’t left his phone on purpose—realizing it en route to the airport, he didn’t turn back to catch his flight. In Beijing, wary of intrusive concern, he didn’t replace it.
With his memory, he didn’t need a phone to recall Wen Ying’s number.
For various reasons, he hadn’t reached out—a mistake on his part.
Suppressing unease, Xie Qian analyzed calmly, “Wen Ying wouldn’t ask about Zhao Dong without reason. He must’ve done something.”
“No way,” Lin Lin doubted.
Xie Qian was certain.
Wen Ying might struggle academically, but she was sharp in life.
Zhao Dong had done something to spark her suspicion, prompting her to verify. Or, maybe she called Lin Lin using Zhao Dong as a pretext, just to talk—perhaps worried about him?
Xie Qian couldn’t pin down his feelings.
Did he want her tactful distance or her roundabout concern?
The latter resembled Zhao Xi’s familiarity, which he loathed—yet he welcomed Wen Ying’s care.
That’s friendship, isn’t it?
