Zhao Dong acknowledged Shu Lu’s information.
His way of showing approval was simple and blunt. That evening, Little Cai brought over a bag, saying in front of Wen Hongyan that Boss Cai had bought it for someone, but the size was wrong, and it’d be a pity to throw it away, so it was perfect for Shu Lu to wear.
In truth, the clothes were a gift from Zhao Dong.
Shu Lu opened the bag to find two sets of branded girls’ clothing, styled for teens. She’d heard classmates talk about this brand at school—a single skirt cost hundreds of yuan, something Wen Hongyan wouldn’t buy for her. When Little Cai drove Shu Lu home, she’d complained about it, and Little Cai had clearly remembered.
Little Cai was just an errand boy for Cai Youlun, who in turn worked for Zhao Dong. With this chain of connections, ever since Shu Lu could communicate directly with Zhao Dong, she’d started treating Little Cai like an errand boy too.
Little Cai knew what she’d been wanting lately, proving himself quite sharp!
Shu Lu offered to walk Little Cai downstairs. When no one was around, he relayed Zhao Dong’s new instructions: “Mr. Zhao is a bit dissatisfied with your progress. You need to step it up.”
Little Cai wasn’t optimistic about sending Shu Lu to deal with Wen Ying.
Wen Ying seemed smarter than Shu Lu!
He really didn’t know what Zhao Dong was thinking.
Zhao Dong only spoke directly with Cai Youlun, so it wasn’t Little Cai’s place to share opinions with him.
Shu Lu had a plan and spoke confidently: “Tell Mr. Zhao to wait a bit longer. I’ll definitely find a way to drive Wen Ying out of the provincial key school. I won’t let him down!”
As she said this, Shu Lu unconsciously gripped the edge of her clothing. Disappointing Zhao Dong would mean losing everything she had now.
Though she wanted to bypass Zhao Dong and connect directly with Xie Qian, her attempts to catch Xie Qian’s attention at school had failed. No matter how nicely she dressed, Xie Qian treated her like air.
The basketball court was the best opportunity, but Xie Qian rarely played. With so many girls waiting to hand him water, Shu Lu couldn’t even get to the front!
She couldn’t figure it out. Xie Qian was so good-looking yet so aloof. How had Wen Ying managed to become his friend? Forget comparing herself to Wen Ying—even among the girls waiting to give Xie Qian water, plenty seemed better than Wen Ying.
Shu Lu didn’t buy into the “prince and Cinderella” nonsense. Even fairy tales didn’t dare make Cinderella ugly. The prince fell for her because the fairy godmother made her prettier than a princess.
Shu Lu felt she was more like Cinderella.
After Little Cai left, Shu Lu pulled out her phone to make a call but remembered that calls left records. She decided to go out in person tomorrow.
Cinderella had to be pitiful and frail to earn sympathy. If caught doing something bad, she’d become one of Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters.
Few people could openly admit to being the villain.
True villains wore the mask of a good person. At just a teenager, Shu Lu especially didn’t want to be called a bad egg. Even when doing something wrong, she had her own logic: it was her second uncle’s family who’d been hypocritical to her first, so she was justified!
…
When Shu Lu received Zhao Dong’s gift, Wen Ying also got a “gift,” offsetting some of the frustration from the Shrimp King shop being defiled earlier that day.
Song Shao had passed Wen Ying’s QQ friend request!
It was probably Saturday, and Song Shao finally had time to go online, spotting Wen Ying’s request. Seeing the little penguin icon blinking, Wen Ying couldn’t help making a victory gesture.
“Class monitor, I just found out you’re also in Rongcheng for high school. Which class are you in at No. 9 Middle School? Besides QQ, do you have other contact info?”
Wen Ying’s fingers danced on the keyboard, rapidly typing a few sentences and sending them.
Perhaps her tone was too eager, as Song Shao replied cautiously after some thought: “What do you want with me?”
He dodged her questions, clearly not wanting any ties with Wen Ying.
Wen Ying gave a wry smile.
Song Shao was too clear-headed.
He only helped those willing to accept help, not stubborn fools.
For Song Shao to help Wen Ying, she’d pushed the chance away herself. In his mind, she was likely in the “not worth helping” camp. She needed a way to change his impression of her.
This time, Wen Ying typed slowly, weighing each word: “Class monitor, am I disturbing you?”
“There’s something I don’t know who to talk to about.”
“Yue Shanni came to school asking to borrow 1,000 yuan from me.”
“…I don’t want to lend it, but she said she’ll come back.”
Acting didn’t require a face-to-face meeting.
In fact, over the internet, with Song Shao unable to see her expression, Wen Ying had more room to perform.
She silently cursed herself. After being reborn, she’d become shameless, even deceiving Song Shao.
But what choice did she have? Without saying this, Song Shao wouldn’t believe her.
Sure enough, after a while, Song Shao couldn’t resist replying: “Why don’t you want to lend money to Yue Shanni? Aren’t you good friends?”
A hopeless case suddenly waking up?
Song Shao wasn’t convinced.
Wen Ying couldn’t say she’d been reborn. She attributed it to Xie Qian and others, saying that after arriving at the provincial key school, she’d made new friends who were nothing like Yue Shanni. With the comparison, she realised what true friends were.
As she spoke, Wen Ying naturally said what she’d wanted to say for two lifetimes: “Class monitor, I’m sorry. I know during that self-study class, you were trying to help me, but I didn’t have the courage to stand up to Yue Shanni and her group. I was too scared to break with them, and I let you down. Thank you, you’re truly the best, most responsible class monitor I’ve ever met!”
Wen Ying wasn’t flattering.
No class monitor from primary school, high school, or university was as good as Song Shao.
Finally saying the apology and thanks she owed Song Shao, Wen Ying felt a weight lift from her heart. Sitting at the computer typing, she was in high spirits.
Though it was a bit regrettable not saying it to Song Shao’s face, he seemed reluctant to have much contact with her, so she couldn’t push it.
This time, Song Shao took a while to send two messages: “If you don’t want to lend, don’t. Do what you think is right. If Yue Shanni comes asking for money again, contact me.”
Song Shao gave Wen Ying a landline number.
His second message answered her first question: “I’m in Class 2, Grade 1 at No. 9 Middle School.”
Wen Ying quickly sent her phone number and class, but Song Shao’s QQ avatar turned grey, likely disconnecting for some reason.
She wasn’t sure if he saw her contact info.
But even if he was offline, it didn’t matter. He’d see her message next time he logged in—Song Shao was more magnanimous than she’d thought. After her apology for the second-year self-study incident, he quickly forgave her.
Perhaps Song Shao didn’t care much about that incident, just found her past timid self incompatible and thus ignored her.
Regardless, Wen Ying had resolved something that had weighed on her for two lifetimes, and she was thrilled.
She’d developed a reflex: whenever something exciting happened, she wanted to share it with Xie Qian. Just as she was about to text him, Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong returned home together.
The couple looked exhausted, walking listlessly, as if they’d spent the day hauling bricks at a construction site, not on a romantic date.
“Dad, Mum, have you eaten?”
Wen Ying stood to pour water for her parents. Wen Dongrong placed a bag on the table, while Chen Ru practically collapsed on the sofa. “Your dad and I ate out before coming back. Just take care of yourself.”
Chen Ru was tired, and Wen Dongrong looked drained too.
Wen Ying grew more suspicious: Could their family be so financially strained that her parents were working gruelling side jobs on weekends to make ends meet?
That seemed unlikely!
For such physically demanding work, Old Wen wouldn’t just lack the stamina—he’d never lower himself to do it.
Tormented by English all day, Wen Dongrong’s head was buzzing, his tongue barely forming words properly. His energy was off: “Tomorrow, your mum and I have things to do. Stay home and do your homework.”
So exhausted today, yet they had to go out again tomorrow?
Not only that, Wen Dongrong was secretive about the bag he brought back, as if afraid Wen Ying might peek. He took it into their room when he went to rest!
Now Wen Ying was certain: they were hiding something from her.
Forgetting about Song Shao, Wen Ying secretly texted Xie Qian: “I think my parents are keeping something from me, something big! I can’t stand it. Tomorrow, I’m following them. I need to know what they’re hiding, or I won’t feel at ease.”
…
Xie Qian, seeing the text, didn’t know how to respond.
His mum, Zou Weijun, had only met Wen Ying once and was already acting strange. Wen Ying’s parents, with so much time around her, were only now acting odd—that showed remarkable restraint.
Lin Lin was the most shocked.
Zou Weijun had called her today, saying she wanted to work and asking for advice.
Lin Lin was nearly in tears with joy, rushing over upon receiving the call.
After talking with Zou Weijun, Lin Lin came downstairs, visibly excited: “Is Auntie’s condition improving? She’s willing to work—that’s huge progress!”
Even without being a psychologist, Lin Lin knew Zou Weijun’s condition required more human interaction. Staying home all day, no matter how big the house, was confining. Only talking to maids and escorts could make even a non-depressed person feel down, let alone Zou Weijun, diagnosed with depression.
As long as Zou Weijun was willing to step out and fill her life, she’d stop dwelling on her failed marriage and that scumbag Xie Jinghu.
Lin Lin descended the stairs lightly. “What did you do to cause such a big change in Auntie? I think she’s suited for a job with some technical demands, busy but not too taxing. How about my father-in-law’s workplace?”
Lin Lin’s father-in-law, Jiang Xuekun, was the general manager at a publishing group. Suggesting Zou Weijun work there wasn’t random. Zou Weijun’s delicate, romantic sensibilities tied to her early years as a literature prodigy. Had she not married Xie Jinghu, she’d likely have taught at a university. With her family’s academic background and her own qualifications, she’d probably be a professor by now.
After years of delay, entering academia was impossible; her academic path was long broken. But with her old foundation, she could try working at the publishing group.
