Li Mengjiao hadn’t told anyone about this, not even Wang Shuang, bottling it up for so long that the psychological strain was evident from her dark circles.
Poor, naive Li Mengjiao!
Wen Ying completely understood her predicament.
It was like when Wen Ying accidentally overheard Mrs. Qin urging Qin Yi to break up—an incredibly awkward situation!
As an outsider, Li Mengjiao was in a tough spot no matter what she did.
Having seen and heard it all, keeping it from Qin Jiao made her feel guilty. But speaking up risked it being a misunderstanding, which could be seen as sowing discord between Qin Yi and Xu Mei!
Moreover, Li Mengjiao and Xu Mei had been rivals since the competition, and even afterward, they subtly clashed. If Li Mengjiao revealed this, even if Xu Mei had betrayed Qin Yi, she’d likely deny it and accuse Li Mengjiao of lying. Would Qin Yi believe his girlfriend or Li Mengjiao?
Wen Ying also thought of Qin Yi in Macau, carefully picking out clothes and bags for Xu Mei.
Qin Yi’s feelings for Xu Mei weren’t the frivolous fling of a rich playboy; he was genuinely in love, always putting her first.
If Xu Mei had truly betrayed him, what a devastating blow that would be for Qin Yi.
The casino hadn’t tempted Qin Yi, but his girlfriend potentially cheating on him? That would crush even a mature man, let alone a young guy like Qin Yi.
“It’s definitely Fu Jing stirring things up. That woman’s too scheming. You need to steer clear of her and Pan Li from now on!” Wen Ying said.
Wen Ying wasn’t sure if Xu Mei had crossed a line, but the timing—happening while Qin Yi was in Macau—was too convenient. The National Day gala was Fu Jing’s last performance with Xu Mei, and this “incident” occurred. Wen Ying didn’t buy that Fu Jing wasn’t involved!
Advising Li Mengjiao to avoid Fu Jing and Pan Li, Wen Ying saw her nod with lingering fear.
Xu Mei brought Fu Jing along to that meeting, showing her trust. If something happened against Xu Mei’s wishes, Fu Jing bore undeniable responsibility. What’s a friend? A friend, like Wen Ying, warns you to stay away from danger, not watches you walk into it.
Realizing Fu Jing might have fueled the situation, Li Mengjiao shivered.
While Wen Ying blamed Fu Jing, Li Mengjiao, after reflecting, felt Xu Mei was also at fault.
After the gala, Xu Mei chose to get into that Mercedes, walking steadily, clearly conscious.
If Xu Mei didn’t want to go, Fu Jing couldn’t have forced her!
The competition had only just ended—had Xu Mei already fallen out of love with Qin Yi?
The feelings were likely still there; Xu Mei’s fear of Qin Yi finding out proved it. But Xu Mei had signed a contract, wanted fame, and was willing to attend such “engagements.” Li Mengjiao was glad she hadn’t signed.
Leaning closer to Wen Ying, Li Mengjiao furrowed her brow, “So, should I tell her or not?”
Wen Ying thought for a moment and nodded firmly, “You have to tell her. If it’s a misunderstanding, they might argue, but they’ll sort it out. If it’s not, do you want to watch Brother Qin Yi be the clueless fool?”
The whole world knowing you’ve been cheated on while you’re the last to find out—man or woman, that’s utterly humiliating.
Wen Ying added, “Not just this—you need to tell Brother Qin Yi. If I ever have a boyfriend and you notice something off about him, tell me right away. Don’t hide it thinking it’s for my sake, letting me be a laughingstock. I’m not a hypocrite. If your boyfriend or husband does something like this and I find out, I’ll tell you immediately.”
Li Mengjiao’s face flushed.
At first, it was embarrassment, but it quickly turned to anger.
Imagining that scenario, Li Mengjiao was furious.
If she had a boyfriend who dared betray her, she’d twist his head off!
Encouraged by Wen Ying, Li Mengjiao called Qin Yi.
Qin Yi was in Shanghai. After confirming he wasn’t with Xu Mei, Li Mengjiao quickly recounted what she saw and heard, sticking to the facts and avoiding personal bias. Though she didn’t know the young man driving, she remembered the license plate.
“Brother Qin Yi, that’s all. I’m hanging up, okay?”
“…Alright.”
Even over the phone, Li Mengjiao could sense Qin Yi’s strained tone, but she couldn’t find comforting words and hung up hastily.
Li Mengjiao was deeply dejected.
“Wen Ying, I’m so unlucky.”
If only she hadn’t had that stomachache that night.
Wen Ying patted her hand, “It’s fine, don’t overthink it. You didn’t do anything wrong, so you shouldn’t carry this burden. We can’t make every choice perfectly or please everyone, so just act according to your conscience!”
After Wen Ying’s reassurance, Li Mengjiao felt much better.
She linked arms with Wen Ying, “Let’s go eat at the school gate. We’ll head home after. Starting tomorrow, first-year day students have to attend evening study. We need to cherish this afternoon.”
Evening study for first-year day students would affect “Shrimp King” operations. Monday to Friday, the shareholders couldn’t easily oversee the business at the night market. Wen Ying could temporarily rely on her uncle Deng Shangwei, but that wasn’t a long-term solution.
She needed a trustworthy manager, and she was willing to offer them a share of her 40% stake. Smaller shareholders like Wang Shuang and Geng Xiao didn’t need to manage daily operations, only pitching in during holidays.
They were all students. Entrepreneurship was fun, but it shouldn’t overshadow their studies. There were countless ways to make money, but the vibrant student years came only once!
Wen Ying didn’t want to push Wang Shuang and the others too hard. Life had different phases, each with its own priorities.
As for herself, she’d hoped to enjoy her youthful years carefree, but the shadow of Xie Qian’s fate loomed over her, urging her to grow faster.
She couldn’t pin all her hopes on Xie Qian’s uncle.
School, the shrimp business, and writing novels—she had to juggle them all. It was exhausting, but hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded!
Wen Ying had two mid-length stories under review, with editors saying they were likely to pass. Her entry for the New Concept Essay Contest was already submitted. Her writing career was progressing steadily. Editors even noted that her latest stories showed more nuanced emotions, capturing the shy sweetness of young love.
“What moves readers isn’t fancy prose or clever techniques, but genuine emotion. Little Fish, you’re a promising writer, and your potential is far from fully tapped…”
Seeing Wen Ying’s prolific output and clear improvement, the *Aige* editor expressed interest in a long-term partnership.
Writers submitted to magazines, but magazines also commissioned work.
With many youth magazines competing fiercely, each aimed to nurture well-known regular contributors. Wen Ying’s submission rate and manuscript quality naturally caught editors’ attention.
Of course, editors’ willingness to give opportunities depended on Wen Ying’s ability to shine. Even if all her mid-length stories passed review, she’d still be a rookie.
To make readers remember her pen name, it needed frequent exposure—either through countless mid-length stories or one wildly popular serialized novel!
She’d take it slow.
At her current pace, writing for magazines for three years, she’d just be graduating high school, still a fresh-faced “teen writer.”
Thinking this, Wen Ying felt delighted. Being reborn over a decade younger was indeed a steal.
Her good mood lasted through eating fried potatoes with Li Mengjiao.
Though Li Mengjiao was quite famous at school, and the key high school was filled with students from wealthy or influential families, so what?
The street stalls at the school gate held equal allure for top students and slackers alike.
Brined and fried potatoes, dusted with chili powder fresh from the pan—sixteen-year-old Li Mengjiao couldn’t resist, and thirty-one-year-old Wen Ying occasionally craved them too.
If not for dieting, Wen Ying could eat around that potato-frying wok all day!
As she and Li Mengjiao wiped their mouths after eating, someone called her name. Wen Ying turned and found the tall girl vaguely familiar.
She couldn’t recall her name…
The tall girl had clearly recognized Li Mengjiao and was visibly upset, her tone sharp, “No wonder you stopped contacting us—you’ve made famous friends!”
She brazenly sized up Wen Ying, then glanced at the key high school’s gate, jealousy and defiance swirling within her. Her words turned biting, “Do you know Song Shao’s still studying in Rongcheng? In eighth grade, you wrote in your diary that Song Shao was a good person. We all knew you liked him.”
Eighth grade, diary, Song Shao.
Those three keywords jogged Wen Ying’s memory.
This tall girl was one of her junior high “good friends,” Yue Shanni, who, in her past life, came to the key high school to borrow money twice and never repaid it!
No wonder Wen Ying didn’t recognize her immediately—it had been over a decade. Yue Shanni’s memory had faded.
In Wen Ying’s recollection, Yue Shanni was tall and fair-skinned, unlike this girl.
Had Yue Shanni tanned during military training?
The key high school scheduled freshman military training for November, and Wen Ying, not exactly pale herself, didn’t care much about tanning.
Yue Shanni was approaching her at the key high school earlier than in her past life, which surprised Wen Ying.
But with Xie Qian transferring to Rongcheng early, Yue Shanni’s early appearance wasn’t that strange.
Wen Ying’s expression darkened because Yue Shanni had the audacity to bring up her eighth-grade diary.
A diary was deeply personal. Yue Shanni and her clique had shared Wen Ying’s diary with the class, leading everyone to believe she had a crush on Song Shao. To avoid rumors, Song Shao didn’t speak to Wen Ying for a year and a half after that.
