Wen Ying ultimately didn’t send the message.
It wasn’t about being reserved—her phone suddenly rang.
Wen Dongrong called, telling Wen Ying he was at the door and to let him in.
His sudden arrival puzzled Wen Ying, but she quickly got up from the sofa and opened the door.
Wen Dongrong stepped inside, scanning the room and noticing only Wen Ying was there.
“Just you?”
“Mom and Aunt went to look at houses. They said we need to rent a place in Rongcheng first.”
The two apartments the Wen family bought were delivered, but renovations would take months, and airing out the smell would take another year before moving in. Renting was Chen Ru’s immediate choice.
Hearing this, Wen Dongrong felt a pang of frustration, reminded of Chen Ru’s job transfer, which she hadn’t told him about.
No, that wasn’t the issue now. The real problem was Shu Guobing’s “real-name report” against him.
Anything that could jeopardize Wen Dongrong’s career was a major issue. Compared to the report, everything else was trivial.
“How did you and your mom go about asking your aunt to repay the debt?”
Wen Ying gave her dad an odd look. “How else? We confronted them and asked for the money. They’re family—we can’t act like loan sharks, splashing red paint on their door! Oh, and Dad, I had Aunt sign—”
Confronted them, and the Shu family paid up?
Wen Dongrong didn’t buy it.
Wen Hongyan was his sister, and Shu Guobing had been his brother-in-law for over a decade. Neither was the type to repay easily.
Shu Guobing’s real-name report was triggered by being pressed for the debt!
Wen Dongrong would rather let the money go than have his career derailed. Money could be earned again, but with his job, this scandal could cost him his next promotion.
Missing one chance could mean years of delay.
Without the advantage of age, climbing higher would become an uphill battle.
Wen Dongrong’s emotions churned, and his tone grew sharp, cutting Wen Ying off. He was convinced Chen Ru’s aggressive debt collection had provoked Shu Guobing, that deadbeat.
Recalling Wen Ying’s sharp tongue at her uncle’s house, tearing into Shu Guobing and Wen Hongyan, Wen Dongrong suspected the report might partly be her doing. His words grew harsher.
“Adult matters don’t need your involvement. What did I tell you last time? Elders are elders. As a junior, constantly clashing with them makes people question whether your mom and I raised you right! You’ve improved, got into the provincial key school, made some well-off friends, and gained some independence… so now you think you can lecture adults?”
Wen Ying was stunned.
Who had upset him so much that he was taking it out on her?
If she wanted to snap back, she had countless retorts to silence him, but she wasn’t interested.
Wen Ying smiled at her dad, turned, and poured him a glass of water.
“Have a drink to soothe your throat.”
In Sichuan, people often address parents informally with “you.” Using “您” (the formal “you”) is reserved for grandparents, leaders, or strangers as a sign of respect or politeness. When a child suddenly uses “您” with a parent, it creates an instant sense of distance.
Wen Dongrong expected Wen Ying to argue, but she seemed unbothered by his words. His forceful outburst landed like a punch on cotton. He glanced at her, then down at the glass.
What was this? Was she saying his words were nonsense, so he should hydrate and keep ranting?
“You—”
Wen Dongrong suppressed the strange feeling and opened his mouth again, but the sound of the door lock turning interrupted him. Chen Ru and Chen Li entered, chatting and laughing.
“Xiao Ying, your mom and I saw a house today, so close to the school, with two bedrooms… Oh, Brother-in-Law, when did you get here?” Chen Li’s excitement fizzled upon seeing Wen Dongrong.
“Just arrived.”
Wen Dongrong answered Chen Li, but his eyes were on his wife. Chen Ru nodded coolly. “Why didn’t you call first?”
Yeah, why hadn’t he called?
How could he discuss a real-name report over the phone?
Wen Dongrong no longer cared to hide things in front of Chen Li. He said he wanted to talk with Chen Ru.
Chen Ru suggested they walk downstairs, and Wen Dongrong agreed.
The couple went down, one after the other. Chen Li leaned by the window, watching. “What’s up with your mom and dad? All this tension just over asking the Shu family to repay?”
Chen Li couldn’t quite grasp it. No matter how close relatives were, could they be closer than a couple who’d shared a bed for over a decade, with a child about to enter high school?
Borrowing money was common. Helping relatives when you’re doing well shows humanity. In Chen Ru’s shoes, Chen Li would lend the money too.
But lending is easy; collecting is hard. When borrowing, both spouses play the good guy in front of relatives. When demanding repayment, one has to be the bad guy.
Wen Dongrong, who valued his reputation and was Wen Hongyan’s brother, couldn’t easily play the villain. Chen Ru stepping up to collect was reasonable.
So, with the money nearly recovered, what was Wen Dongrong upset about?
Did he think they shouldn’t have asked the Shu family for repayment?
Working at the seafood company, Chen Li had heard of Shu Guobing’s lavish ways. He rode in an Audi with a lackey in tow, dressed head-to-toe in new gear. Running a seafood shop in Qingshiqiao wasn’t enough; he was opening a seafood stall on Night Market Street. While she didn’t know how Shu Guobing won his backer’s favor, that kind of display required at least a million or two. With that wealth, why shouldn’t he repay?
Giving money to a beggar on the street would at least earn gratitude. Giving it to Shu Guobing and Wen Hongyan only got harsh words.
Chen Li was milder than Chen Ru, but if asked about Shu Guobing and Wen Hongyan, she’d say they deserved their struggles.
Wen Ying leaned out, joining Chen Li by the window.
“My dad’s mood is off today. It’s like someone stepped on his tail. I don’t think it’s just about making Aunt’s family repay.”
Wen Ying’s instincts were spot-on. Wen Dongrong’s anger was a layered, mounting inferno.
Shu Guobing’s insults, Chen Ru slamming the ledger, their cold war, learning of her job transfer last, and Shu Guobing’s real-name report—each incident piled up, fermenting into a volatile mix, turning Wen Dongrong into a ticking bomb.
But with Chen Ru’s boldness, had she ever feared a bomb’s danger?
She was the type to toss firecrackers into a methane pit.
The couple’s talk collapsed, emotions spiraling. Their argument downstairs was earth-shattering, loud enough for Chen Li to hear upstairs.
A real-name report didn’t sound good.
Chen Li turned to ask Wen Ying, only to find her gripping the windowsill, watching with relish.
Was this kid treating her parents’ fight as entertainment?
Wen Ying looked innocent. “Aunt, why’re you looking at me? Dad said to stay out of adult matters!”
