Zhao Dong was a schemer, having sent his sister Zhao Qian to Beijing early, keeping a close eye on the top high schools, all to ensure she could become classmates with Xie Qian.
As the school year approached, none of the selected elite high schools had any record of “Xie Qian” enrolling, leaving Zhao Dong deeply frustrated.
These were Beijing’s best schools. Unless Xie Qian was ill, why would he skip them for a lesser one?
Zhao Qian, anxious in Beijing, called to complain, “Brother, are you sure Xie Qian’s studying in Beijing? What if the Xie family sends him abroad?”
That was indeed possible.
The study-abroad trend in China, starting in the 80s, remained strong through 2004. Ordinary families typically sent kids abroad after the college entrance exam, but the Xie family wasn’t ordinary. Sending Xie Qian abroad during high school was plausible.
This posed a problem.
First, Zhao Dong didn’t know which country Xie Qian might go to. Second, he didn’t know how Xie Qian would leave—checking study-abroad agencies might not yield results, especially if Xie Qian used an alias. Unlike flashy foreign tycoons, many wealthy Chinese families, like the Xies, kept a low profile. With their influence, sneaking Xie Qian out of the country was easy, and without alerting the Xie family, Zhao Dong’s chances of finding him were slim.
To address this, Zhao Dong placated Zhao Qian while shamelessly reconnecting with Jiang Youjia.
Jiang Youjia, however, dared not leak any more about Xie Qian. After the Xie family’s troubles, with Lin Lin still in Beijing, Jiang Youjia felt uneasy even breathing too loudly around the Xies in the capital. Though respected in Rongcheng, he was nothing there.
When Zhao Dong mentioned “Xie,” Jiang Youjia grew wary, refusing to say a word.
Left with no choice, Zhao Dong tried his luck with study-abroad agencies.
That evening, Jiang Youjia called his wife, Lin Lin, to boast. Lin Lin scoffed, “You expect praise for doing the bare minimum? If you hadn’t meddled, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Zhao Dong sent Zhao Qian to Beijing to stalk Xie Qian, but I made sure to highlight the Zhao siblings to Grandma Xie. She’s too busy now, but once she’s free, Zhao Dong will regret his scheming!”
Jiang Youjia suddenly understood.
The Xie family knew everything. No wonder Zhao Dong couldn’t find Xie Qian’s school. Hiding his information was effortless for them.
Zhao Dong’s little plot was transparent to the Xies. Concealing Xie Qian’s whereabouts was a silent warning. If Zhao Dong didn’t back off, the Xies wouldn’t stay polite. They didn’t even need to act—keeping Xie Qian and Zhao Qian apart was simple. If Xie Qian enrolled in a school, they could just block Zhao Qian’s admission.
Jiang Youjia ventured, “It’s almost school time. When are you coming back to Rongcheng?”
“I’ll return when it’s time. No need to rush me,” Lin Lin snapped.
“…”
Chastised again, Jiang Youjia was cut off as Lin Lin hung up.
Unbeknownst to him, Lin Lin was already en route to Rongcheng. After hanging up, she ducked into a car.
Inside was a woman wearing a hat that shadowed half her face, revealing only from her nose down—Zou Weijun, Xie Qian’s mother.
Lin Lin smiled, but Zou Weijun, lost in her own world, barely responded.
Sighing inwardly, Lin Lin turned to Xie Qian in the front passenger seat, “Your transfer to Rongcheng is so secret, I haven’t even told your cousin-in-law, only Grandma.”
“Thanks,” Xie Qian replied, his tone already lighter.
Not yet on the plane, but the weight on the少年’s shoulders seemed to lift.
Though Zou Weijun’s condition hadn’t improved, Lin Lin felt Rongcheng was a promising start. Xie Qian had friends waiting there, and the trunk was packed with gifts he’d prepared for them—something the old Xie Qian would never have done.
Seeing his transformation, Lin Lin smiled playfully, “You insisted I tell no one about your transfer to Rongcheng. Planning to surprise someone?”
“No surprise. Just didn’t want to trouble them to pick me up. They’ll know once I’m settled,” Xie Qian deflected.
Lin Lin laughed, “Teasing you, and you’re so nervous!”
Nervous?
No, he wasn’t nervous.
He felt a quiet joy. Though Wen Ying hadn’t specified what gift she wanted, Xie Qian was confident she’d love his choice.
…
While Xie Qian and Zou Weijun headed to Rongcheng, Wen Dongrong, armed with Wen Ying’s “prescription,” returned to work, facing the investigation team.
His continued presence at the office left the top leader unsure what to say. As the investigation team came and went, rumors unfavorable to Wen Dongrong spread, and colleagues and subordinates kept their distance, isolating him.
His rival, Old Li, gave him strange looks, baffled by Wen Dongrong’s composure.
Was he really unafraid?
Old Li didn’t buy it.
Yet, after days of probing, the investigation found Wen Dongrong’s two Rongcheng properties were purchased legitimately. He and Chen Ru each carried a mortgage, but their high provident fund balances made the loans manageable.
As for the down payments, Chen Ru’s banking salary surpassed Wen Dongrong’s. Was it so strange for a couple to have savings after years?
The 8.5% discount on the properties involved no abuse of power—Wen Dongrong’s minor position held no sway in Rongcheng. The developer, a major real estate firm, had no need to curry favor with him.
Further checks revealed not only was Wen Dongrong free of violations, he was practically a model of integrity.
The team couldn’t fault him for routine workplace perks—those were standard for all staff. Punishing him for that would draw pushback from leadership.
In the final interview, under repeated questioning, Wen Dongrong revealed the reason behind Shu Guobing’s report.
At an emotional peak, tears streaming, he recounted his struggles as a rural-born cadre who’d faced countless hardships.
Presenting receipts and Chen Ru’s ledger, he choked, “If my daughter weren’t attending school in the provincial capital, we wouldn’t have bought property there. Without buying, we wouldn’t have pressed them to repay the debt, and… sigh, airing family shame and letting it affect work—I’m so ashamed!”
The real-name report stemmed from a family debt dispute.
The investigation team exchanged glances, seeing Wen Dongrong’s genuine distress. The lead sympathized, “Comrade Dongrong, you hold yourself to high standards, but you can’t control others. Shu Guobing is a classic case—materially rich, but spiritually bankrupt!”
In plainer terms, an ungrateful wretch.
First, Wen Dongrong’s clean record left no violations to uncover. Second, he had evidence. Thus, Shu Guobing’s report was deemed slander.
The top leader, pitying Wen Dongrong’s loyalty to ungrateful relatives, personally quashed the rumors. The office buzzed—some mocked his naivety, others sympathized. Old Li saw through Wen Dongrong’s tactics, cursing his shamelessness: he could’ve presented evidence early but let the issue fester, playing the victim to turn a crisis into a win.
Old Li, fuming, feigned concern before the top leader, who seemed to miss his hints, slamming the table, “This can’t happen again. Comrade Dongrong, no more leniency—follow the rules!”
The leader feared Wen Dongrong might plead for Shu Guobing.
Wen Dongrong nodded reluctantly, as if torn, but inwardly he was ecstatic.
He was in the clear. Now, it was Shu Guobing’s turn to face trouble.
