When Song Shao proposed meeting, Wen Ying naturally wouldn’t refuse.
She arranged to meet him on Saturday, and Song Shao chose the provincial library as the location.
Li Mengjiao mentioned she was flying to Hunan Province on Saturday.
“There’s a performance in Hunan, but that’s not the main thing. The company invited a big-shot music producer, and they want me to meet him.”
Li Mengjiao had signed a single-album contract with the company. She’d performed at the National Day event, and now it was the company’s turn to deliver, producing and releasing her album.
The company had been collecting songs from various musicians, and the trip to Hunan was for “song allocation.”
Which song suited which contestant wasn’t set. The producer would consider the top three contestants’ appearances, vocal styles, and vibes. Besides Li Mengjiao, Xu Mei and the third-place finalist were also going to Hunan.
Since Qin Yi broke up with Xu Mei, Li Mengjiao hadn’t crossed paths with her.
Word was, Xu Mei refused to accept the breakup, pestering Qin Yi for a long time, even involving her agency.
“The agency secretly wanted Xu Mei to split up. They sent someone to fake mediation while pressuring Qin Yi to sign an NDA. Qin Yi refused both. Not sure what the agency told Xu Mei, but she’s agreed to stop making a fuss for now, hoping to stay friends with Qin Yi.”
Li Mengjiao gossiped quietly with Wen Ying, “A couple who truly loved each other staying friends after a breakup? So weird. I bet Xu Mei hasn’t given up!”
Wen Ying felt similarly.
For Qin Yi, the issues with Xu Mei had long been brewing. Her attending a dinner meeting was just the spark that solidified his decision to end things.
But for Xu Mei, Qin Yi’s breakup was sudden and reckless, leaving her unprepared. If he loved her, he should’ve supported, tolerated, and understood her. Even a decade later, this kind of toxic narrative still resonated with young women. Many didn’t grasp that gender wasn’t a free pass for unconditional tolerance. Love was never one-sided compromise—it was mutual understanding.
Xu Mei’s refusal to accept the breakup stemmed partly from lingering feelings and partly from disbelief that Qin Yi, not her, initiated it.
After all, Xu Mei was no longer ordinary—she had fans and fame.
With so many people nationwide adoring her, why didn’t Qin Yi?
The more she dwelled on it, the deeper she spiralled.
Wen Ying wasn’t gloating. She stayed out of others’ relationships. She only hoped Xu Mei’s breakup with Qin Yi wouldn’t lead her to take it out on Li Mengjiao.
“Be careful in Hunan. Don’t give up on songs meant for you, but don’t snatch ones that aren’t. If someone tries to dump a bad song on you, don’t just accept it. You can’t throw tantrums, but don’t let people think you’re a pushover with no spine.”
Acting like a diva was a no-go—Li Mengjiao wasn’t a big star yet, just riding the wave of her talent show fame.
How much of that popularity would translate to success depended on her album’s sales.
If she brought profits to the company, a bit of attitude was fine. A spineless nice guy in the entertainment industry? Everyone would want a piece.
Wen Ying kept reminding Li Mengjiao, double-checking, “Your dad’s going with you, right?”
With Li Zhentao there, anyone with shady intentions would think twice. A savvy man like him wouldn’t let Li Mengjiao be shortchanged.
But Li Mengjiao shook her head, “Dad’s at a meeting out of town. Only my mom’s going.”
Li’s mom wasn’t a bad escort, but her assertiveness paled compared to Li Zhentao. Wen Ying was a bit worried.
When Wang Shuang heard, he volunteered to go to Hunan.
Armed with his “vast dating experience,” Wang Shuang dubbed himself an expert at spotting schemers. No shady, manipulative tactics could escape his radar… Wen Ying was skeptical.
Wang Shuang was too cocky.
A young guy like him had no idea how lethal older women could be.
Not to mention, when profits were at stake, the scheming far outstripped the petty games of Wang Shuang’s ex-girlfriends.
Wen Ying muttered her concerns repeatedly. Xie Qian, exasperated, closed his book, “If you’re so worried, why not go with Li Mengjiao? You’ve been doing well lately—your mom might agree.”
“No way, I’m busy Saturday!”
Wen Ying shot down Xie Qian’s suggestion, “The police found evidence that Shu Lu contacted Yue Shanni. I need to thank Song Shao for his help. We’ve already set a time—how could I bail?”
“I see.”
Xie Qian said this and reopened his book.
He told himself there was no reason to feel off. Wen Ying having other friends was normal. Besides being close to him, she cared about Li Mengjiao and Qin Jiao, teased Wang Shuang, and even showed kindness to a delinquent. All of that was perfectly fine.
So, what was strange about her meeting a junior high classmate over the weekend?
Logically, Xie Qian could convince himself.
But for some reason, though he understood the logic, the pages of his book stayed unturned.
Time seemed to freeze for him.
After a long pause, Xie Qian’s hand moved. In that moment, for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, he brought up Zhong Yong’s visit to Rongcheng, “You wanted to know why Yue Shanni turned herself in at the police station, right? My uncle secured 2% of Jinhu Group’s shares for me and sent a trusted aide to deliver the transfer documents. That aide, Zhong Yong, is the one who got Yue Shanni to confess. He’s highly capable, meticulous, and thorough. He even accessed my mom’s medical records!”
Xie Qian spilled all this in one breath, leaving Wen Ying stunned.
“Which Jinhu?”
“锦绣的锦, 湖水的湖. What’s wrong?”
After all that, Wen Ying fixated on the name?
In 2004, Jinhu Group was low-profile, with no operations in Rongcheng. Xie Qian didn’t think Wen Ying would’ve heard of it.
He had no idea Wen Ying was a reincarnated cheat. A company low-key in 2004 might not stay that way in a decade.
Jinhu Group—Wen Ying not only knew it, she was quite familiar with it.
In her past life, the law firm she worked for handled a case for Jinhu Group in 2017. Jinhu Real Estate faced a joint lawsuit from dozens of homeowners. Wen Ying, too junior to take on such a high-profile client, only heard about it without following the details.
Where there’s reward, there’s bravery. The firm won the case, but Jinhu Real Estate’s reputation took a hit. The online backlash was fierce, with netizens digging into the company’s leadership.
Wen Ying couldn’t recall the name, but the leader was a young talent in his early thirties, surnamed Zhuo, not Xie.
She didn’t care much about it. Netizens could rage, but it didn’t stop Jinhu Real Estate from making money.
Two years later, when Wen Ying saved enough for a down payment on a house, the senior lawyer who handled Jinhu’s case recommended one of their properties.
Wen Ying had reservations, but the lawyer laughed, “These days, what real estate company hasn’t faced homeowner lawsuits? Buy with confidence—Jinhu’s projects are solid.”
The property was the first project led by Jinhu Real Estate’s head, Mr. Zhuo, who poured his heart into it to prove himself to the higher-ups.
As for Zhuo’s ties to the top, the lawyer didn’t need to gossip—netizens had already uncovered it.
Zhuo was the son of Jinhu Group’s big boss, the heir apparent.
Knowing Xie Qian’s father’s name, Wen Ying never connected him to Jinhu Group, influenced by her past life’s assumptions.
If Jinhu Group’s heir was surnamed Zhuo, the boss must be too, right?
Now, it hit her. Xie Jinghu, Jinhu Group—the connection was glaring. Jinhu Group was the company Xie Jinghu founded.
The riverside condo she’d put a down payment on in her past life was a Jinhu property.
So, in her past life, after Xie Qian transferred schools, they hadn’t completely lost touch. Unknowingly, the house she bought was developed by the Xie family.
No, by Mr. Zhuo.
Zhuo was Jinhu Group’s heir. What was Xie Qian, then?
Zhuo couldn’t be Xie Qian—the age didn’t match.
Wen Ying suspected “Mr. Zhuo” was Xie Jinghu’s illegitimate son, older than Xie Qian. In 2017, netizens pegged Zhuo as early thirties, fitting the illegitimate son’s age.
That exact match fueled her anger.
That scumbag Xie Jinghu really stripped Xie Qian of his inheritance?
On what grounds?
Even if Xie Jinghu didn’t give Xie Qian his half, why didn’t Xie Qian get his mother’s share?
Having fought divorce cases, Wen Ying itched to take up her old trade and help Xie Qian’s mother sue. Zou Weijun’s indecision with that渣男 was hurting Xie Qian’s interests. Xie Qian might not care or want it, but for Xie Jinghu to hand it to an illegitimate son? Wen Ying couldn’t stomach it.
Xie Qian, clueless, only saw Wen Ying’s face flush, her cheeks puffing up like a hamster.
Which part made the hamster this mad?
Did she think he shouldn’t take the 2% stake?
Xie Qian probed, and Wen Ying’s eyes widened, “Why not take it? Don’t be all noble about this. What you do with the shares is your call, but if you don’t take them, you’re just handing them to someone else!”
Hand them to that nonsense “Mr. Zhuo”?
Hah.
Dream on!
But Xie Qian already had 2% of Jinhu Group’s shares. As she’d guessed, his uncle was firmly in his corner, shoving 2% of the company to a sixteen-year-old Xie Qian.
With such a strong start, how did “Mr. Zhuo” end up as Jinhu Group’s heir?
Wen Ying couldn’t wrap her head around it. Xie Qian’s tragic fate felt like an enigma, riddled with unpredictable variables.
Those variables made her anxious.
Xie Qian misunderstood her reaction.
He decided to dig out the share transfer documents at home and study them. If Hamster Wen was curious, maybe he should invite her to look them over together?
How about Saturday?
