Qin Jiao’s eyes reddened at the sight of Qin Xianming’s bruised arms.
Qin Yi was speechless for a long moment.
Qin Xianming had sacrificed himself to teach the four youths a lesson, even Xie Qian got to see the marks on his arms.
Qin Xianming was ruthless to himself, anyone scheming against him was courting death.
Xie Qian and Wen Ying were incidental, the real lesson was for Qin Yi and Qin Jiao.
Xie Qian rarely envied others, but now he envied the Qin siblings.
Money aside, with a father like Qin Xianming, the Qin kids were incredibly fortunate—something Xie Qian had lost forever, Xie Jinghu was no proper father!
Wen Ying leaned closer to Xie Qian.
Compared to Xie Qian’s dad, her father, Wen Dongrong, was decent.
Feeling for Xie Qian, she resolved to be more patient with her own dad.
Kids could be taught if they misstepped, why not train a flawed father?
As long as Wen Dongrong didn’t pull a Xie Jinghu, Wen Ying would still claim him.
After landing in Rongcheng, Wen Ying stealthily slipped Xie Qian a box.
“Here, your gift.”
Xie Qian held the box, “When did you buy this?”
Wen Ying rolled her eyes, “Relax, don’t be paranoid, I didn’t sneak out. You watched me like a hawk, I couldn’t have. I called a shop, had it delivered!”
She got gifts for all her friends, same as her cousin Wen Kai’s—practical pens, just different colors and styles.
Only Xie Qian’s was unique.
On the way back, Xie Qian opened it, a pair of earphones.
He tested them with his Walkman, the sound quality was exceptional.
Many thought pirated tapes and stock earphones sufficed, why splurge on originals or pricier gear?
High-quality sound flowing from the earphones was pure bliss, those who got it, got it, no need to force others.
Wen Ying had noticed his love for music.
Xie Qian closed his eyes, leaning back in the taxi.
He often wore earphones, not just for songs, but to block the world’s noise.
Isolating himself, free of clamor, brought calm.
But he hadn’t done so in a while.
The world now wasn’t just noisy to him.
Wearing Wen Ying’s gift, listening to music, he relaxed, dozing off mid-ride, only waking when the driver called.
He’d gone to Macau with a simple backpack, returning the same.
At home, Xie Qian asked the housekeeper about his mother’s mood over the past days.
Their Rongcheng home and staff were arranged by Xie Yuping—a housekeeper, two carers, ensuring Zou Weijun was never alone, preventing her from spiraling.
Without this, Xie Qian couldn’t attend school.
The housekeeper detailed Zou Weijun’s routine, then hesitated, “…There was a call from Beijing.”
Xie Qian’s eyes twitched.
A call from Beijing, if from other Xies, wouldn’t trouble her expression.
Only one person caused this.
“My dad?”
“Yes, Mr. Xie asked about Madam’s condition. I didn’t tell him, nor let Madam take the call.”
Xie Qian nodded, “Well done. If my dad calls again, say my mom’s condition hasn’t improved, she can’t take his calls!”
The mistress took a hit, so he’s trying to get even through his wife?
Xie Qian knew his mom still loved Xie Jinghu. A mere mention from him could unravel her.
Xie Jinghu knew this full well!
Xie Qian was disgusted by his father.
Blocking Xie Jinghu’s contact forever wasn’t realistic, like a persistent fly, he’d find cracks to slip through.
Xie Qian texted Wen Ying, “You home? Got a question.”
He asked how a girl heals from heartbreak.
Wen Ying replied, “Next one’s better!”
Dumped by a jerk, toss him and find a new spring, a good boyfriend, happy days erasing the jerk’s face.
Ideal, but too many obstacles for now.
Xie Qian pressed, and Wen Ying said focus on career.
“Career’s better than men!”
That hit the mark.
Zou Weijun was too idle.
As Xie Jinghu’s business grew, she became a full-time housewife, her social engagements as busy as any job.
But after her social circle exposed Xie Jinghu’s affairs, their “perfect couple” facade crumbled, and her fights with him turned hysterical.
She stopped socializing, locking herself at home, paranoid of gossip, cutting off normal interactions, consumed by suspicion.
The Xie family claimed she was ill.
Xie Qian pocketed his phone.
Wen Ying’s aunt, Chen Li, betrayed by her husband, returned to work, glowing lately, looking younger.
Full-time housewives or homemakers poured their lives into family. When that family cracked, it crushed their confidence.
A failed marriage didn’t make the person a failure.
Xie Qian felt his mother, trapped in her self-made prison, needed to step out.
The housekeeper said Zou Weijun was arranging flowers in the quiet room.
In Rongcheng, she spent hours daily “meditating” there. Xie Qian let her, only ensuring carers watched to prevent self-harm.
Xie Qian strode into the upstairs room.
It was too silent.
Normal life shouldn’t be this quiet, it needed bustle to feel alive.
He flung open the curtains. Zou Weijun looked up slowly, her smile not reaching her eyes, “You’re back?”
Xie Qian’s trips to Rongcheng or Macau didn’t disrupt her rhythm.
He nodded, “Mom, want to get a job?”
Her hand paused mid-flower, then she shook her head.
Xie Qian took the bouquet from her.
“You should work. I want a working mother, to learn from, to emulate. Without that example, I’m afraid I’ll go astray.”
