Xie Qian wasn’t being overly cautious.
After he drove off Xie Jinghu’s mistress, Ms. Dai returned to the hotel post-escort, seeing nothing wrong with associating with the mistress. She wouldn’t change hotels over Xie Qian—he didn’t call the shots in the Xie family, and she wasn’t scared of him.
That day, Ms. Dai called her husband.
Mr. He disliked her mingling with Xie Jinghu’s mistress, calling it self-inflicted trouble.
Hadn’t she had enough of playing second fiddle in their youth?
The mistress was once the circle’s darling “princess,” with Ms. Dai as a mere tagalong.
Now, not only had the mistress fallen, she’d stooped to being Xie Jinghu’s lover, bearing him two kids!
“What’s the point?”
Ms. Dai snapped, “You think I want to deal with her? It’s to connect with Xie Jinghu, all for our business. You don’t care about my effort, you blame me!”
To her, Xie Jinghu was a pretty face with little substance.
But he was lucky, born into the Xie family, backed by three blood brothers. Unlike the Hes, who struggled in business, Xie Jinghu’s luck was unreal. Rumor had it in ’87, he was swindled clean in the south, penniless, yet he spotted a new venture. Claiming to invest with “technology,” he knew zilch, just a slick talker. He consulted a professor, whose daughter fell for him. Xie Jinghu became the professor’s son-in-law, and the professor, unwilling to let his daughter and son-in-law starve, pulled strings to solve Xie Jinghu’s technical hurdles. That venture turned him around, earning his first million in two years.
This tale circulated in southern business circles, one of Xie Jinghu’s many triumphs, Ms. Dai had heard it multiple times!
The professor’s daughter, naturally, was Xie Jinghu’s current wife, surnamed Zou, Ms. Dai heard.
After raking in cash during the ’97 Asian financial crisis, Xie Jinghu ditched factories, shifting focus to Beijing in recent years. The Hes, based in the Yangtze Delta, never crossed paths with Zou Weijun.
Zou Weijun rarely appeared publicly lately, thwarting Ms. Dai’s society-wife networking. She settled for betting on Xie Jinghu’s mistress.
Her words silenced Mr. He.
Unlike Xie Jinghu’s charmed life, Mr. He faced troubles head-on.
Despite Ms. Dai’s airs, their business was hitting snags. She’d been tapping every connection for investments, planning to shop in Macau before broaching the topic, only for Xie Qian to derail it—
Ms. Dai grumbled, but Mr. He cut her off:
“This was wrong from the start, let it go. We don’t need this deal to survive. Leave Macau tomorrow, it’s the Xie family’s mess, outsiders stay out!”
Ms. Dai was strong-willed, but so was Mr. He. In their rare disputes, he usually yielded, grateful for her partnership in building their business, granting her respect at home and in public. But on matters of principle, he never budged.
This was his first clear stance on the Xie affair. Though reluctant, Ms. Dai heeded him. Mr. He lacked Xie Jinghu’s luck, but his judgment and vision surpassed hers, choosing right in make-or-break business moments.
Because of Mr. He’s word, Ms. Dai checked out.
That evening, Wen Ying, yawning, left Xie Qian’s room after slogging through problems. Trying to track Ms. Dai, she found her gone.
Hotels guard guest privacy, but Wen Ying slipped enough cash to a cleaner to learn Ms. Dai had checked out.
Wen Ying already knew Ms. Dai’s basics, but the long-haired woman likely hadn’t checked in, so no amount of money helped.
Then Wen Ying thought of the hotel’s concierge driver—Ms. Dai used their car to drop off the mistress!
The driver was tighter-lipped than the cleaner, but two hundred dollars got Wen Ying an English name, “Sara,” how Ms. Dai addressed the long-haired woman in the car.
Wen Ying was gutted.
Those two hundred dollars were wasted!
“Sara” was too common abroad, tracking her was like finding a needle in a haystack. Detective Luo’s reach didn’t extend overseas, leaving Wen Ying nowhere to start.
Xie Qian did it on purpose!
He used homework to stall her, blocking her from digging through Ms. Dai.
Had she gone downstairs sooner, she could’ve cornered Ms. Dai. They knew each other from her past life, despite friction. With her knowledge of the He family via He Zhen, a bit of finesse, and Wen Ying was confident she’d have gotten what she wanted from Ms. Dai.
Rarely thwarted since her rebirth, Wen Ying ached over the two hundred dollars. The next morning, she “cut ties” with Xie Qian for an hour, sulking and grumbling when he spoke.
Qin Yi nudged Qin Jiao’s elbow, “They fighting?”
Qin Jiao observed, concluding otherwise:
“Not fighting, Xie Qian just ticked off Wen Ying. No big deal, she’ll get over it soon.”
Qin Jiao had noticed Wen Ying treated Xie Qian like fragile crystal. If anyone messed with him, she’d charge to his defense… Qin Jiao once suspected puppy love, but after watching, it didn’t fit.
Even if Xie Qian upset Wen Ying, she’d move on fast.
Not just with Xie Qian, she was equally forgiving with their friend group.
Clearly the youngest, yet acting like the big sister.
Qin Jiao chuckled at the thought.
All four were up early for the hotel’s buffet breakfast, but Qin Xianming slept in. Wen Ying saw him in the afternoon, looking wrecked—haggard, elegance gone, eyes sunken with red veins. Three days in Macau, he’d lost over seven million, convincing the Yu father and son he was hooked on gambling!
Wen Ying was startled by Qin Xianming’s state.
“Uncle Qin, you okay?”
Qin Xianming rolled up his sleeves, showing Wen Ying his arms, covered in bruises.
At the gambling table, dazed, he’d pinched himself to stay sharp. Three days in, his arms were a mess, no patch of skin untouched!
Wen Ying gasped.
Qin Xianming called Qin Yi and Qin Jiao over to see, “Gambling, drugs, vice. If you two ever touch any, you’re no Qins!”
