Sure enough, when Xie Qian offered to show Wen Ying the share transfer agreement, it was hard for her to refuse.
Rationally, Wen Ying knew the agreement had been vetted by Xie Qian’s uncle and was likely flawless, but emotionally, she couldn’t fully trust it.
In her mind, Xie Qian’s father, Xie Jinghu, was a complete scoundrel. How could Xie Jinghu so easily transfer 2% of the shares to Xie Qian? In her past life, how did Jinhu Group’s heir become “President Zhuo”?!
The share transfer agreement might have loopholes!
Wen Ying didn’t hesitate to assume the worst of Xie Jinghu.
“But I’m meeting Song Shao on Saturday, so I might not have time…”
Wen Ying was already wavering. Xie Qian casually replied, “Meeting an old junior high friend shouldn’t take all day, right? Are you meeting in the morning or afternoon? If you really can’t make time, Sunday works too.”
It definitely wouldn’t take a whole day!
“Nine in the morning at the Provincial Library. If it’s quick, I’ll be free by noon. Where should we meet?”
Wen Ying didn’t hide anything, and just like that, Xie Qian learned the time and place of her meeting with Song Shao. He knew the Rongcheng Provincial Library well—Zhao Xi had once invited him there to get closer to him.
Zhao Xi had gone all out to appeal to the scholarly Xie, but he’d ignored her efforts.
Back then, Xie Qian never imagined he’d be so eager to visit the Provincial Library. It was like that famous meme: *Look up and see, heaven spares no one!*
Xie Qian hadn’t seen that meme yet. His words and actions were driven purely by instinct, without ulterior motives. When Wen Ying asked where to meet, he saw a perfect opportunity.
He didn’t need to sneak around to dig into Wen Ying’s past. On Saturday, at the Provincial Library, he could openly meet this “Song Shao” she mentioned.
“Let’s meet at the Provincial Library. I need to borrow a couple of books anyway. After you’re done with your junior high friend, we can go to my place to look at the share agreement.”
Xie Qian explained smoothly, “I keep the share transfer agreement in my home safe. If you think it’s inconvenient, I can bring it to the library.”
Wen Ying waved her hands, “No need, I’ll go to your place!”
She didn’t know the exact value of 2% of Jinhu Group’s shares now, but in a decade or so, it’d be wealth she could never earn as a lawyer in a lifetime. Such an important document belonged in a safe. If Xie Qian brought it to the library and something went wrong, how could she compensate?
But going to Xie Qian’s house… Wen Ying thought of Zou Weijun, unsure if it was appropriate to show up unannounced.
Last time at school, she’d poured out her “nightmare” to Zou Weijun, who seemed deeply affected, leading to some changes later.
Wen Ying hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but facing Zou Weijun now felt awkward.
Xie Qian seemed oblivious, resisting the urge to call her out:
“My mom’s in much better shape now. She’s working in the editorial and publishing department. Though she’s not handling core tasks yet, she’s gained some insights. I know you have a writing dream you haven’t given up on, right? Why not hear an industry insider’s perspective?”
Xie Qian dangled a second tempting offer.
Wen Ying wavered between embarrassment and desire.
“That doesn’t feel right…”
“What’s wrong with it? We’re friends. I’m inviting you over, and my mom won’t mind. Or are you worried she won’t like you? It’s your first meeting, but you’ve always charmed elders. Have some confidence!”
Xie Qian cited Qin Xianming, Li Zhentao, and Wang Jun as examples.
They all liked Wen Ying.
His mom’s standards weren’t higher than theirs; Wen Ying had nothing to worry about.
Wen Ying suspected Xie Qian was doing this on purpose.
Did he really not know she’d already met Aunt Zou?
Hmph.
Fine, she’d go!
She had no unrealistic fantasies about Xie Qian. As friends, visiting his home for a meal was no big deal.
The awkwardness was all in her head. She and Aunt Zou had agreed not to mention her “nightmare” in front of Xie Qian, to avoid planting negative ideas.
With that thought, Wen Ying’s confidence surged.
“Alright, on Saturday, while you’re borrowing books at the Provincial Library, wait for me. After I meet Song Shao, we’ll go to your place together.”
Saturday hadn’t arrived yet, but the second monthly exam did.
Wen Ying spent a day testing, leaving school with wobbly legs. Xie Qian, however, was brimming with energy, as if he’d been infused with glucose instead of slogging through papers.
Back home, Zou Weijun hadn’t returned from work.
Since joining the editorial and publishing department, she’d been caught up in a science book series project. Though a newcomer, her workload was heavy.
This busyness kept Zou Weijun from dwelling on her grievances with Xie Jinghu, which Xie Qian saw as a good thing.
He went to his study, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out the share transfer agreement he’d tossed there.
He didn’t value it as much as he’d implied to Wen Ying.
But Wen Ying was clearly intrigued.
He took the agreement and placed it in the safe.
The house, arranged by his uncle Xie Yuping, was well-equipped. Not only did Zou Weijun’s room have a safe for jewelry, but Xie Qian’s did too.
Good thing, or he’d have had to arrange for a new safe to be delivered, which would’ve been overkill.
At ten that night, his phone buzzed twice.
As expected, it was Wen Ying’s goodnight text.
At this hour, Wen Hamster was definitely still awake.
She’d be doing practice papers or writing, staying up late, but her goodnight texts never came past ten-thirty.
As Wen Hamster put it, teens needed exercise, nutrition, and ample sleep to grow tall.
Xie Qian thought Wen Ying was the one who needed early sleep to grow, but he never stopped her efforts.
Tall or short, it didn’t matter much.
Outer appearances faded with time; inner strength was a lifelong anchor.
Xie Qian set his phone down and slept soundly.
…
Saturday, 8:56 AM, Wen Ying stood outside the Provincial Library, scanning the area.
A lanky少年 stepped off a bus and crossed the street.
It was Song Shao.
After over a decade, he looked just as Wen Ying remembered.
In her past life, at a junior high reunion she skipped, Song Shao attended. Her junior high teacher said Song Shao, aside from a more mature aura, hadn’t changed much—still lean, not greasy like many thirty-something classmates with families and careers.
In their teens, few boys were chubby; puberty burned energy, and appetites were huge, yet most stayed slim.
Past thirty, metabolism slowed, socializing increased, and exercise dwindled, leading to beer bellies. Only a rare few maintained their physique.
Wen Ying couldn’t picture Song Shao getting pudgy. Someone so clear about his goals in youth, smart and disciplined, wouldn’t let himself go, even in old age. His pursuits were never about indulgence.
As Wen Ying’s thoughts wandered, Song Shao spotted her.
She thought he hadn’t changed a bit; a decade-plus hadn’t altered her impression of him. But to Song Shao, Wen Ying had transformed dramatically!
It wasn’t about weight or looks but her entire demeanor and spirit—a complete metamorphosis!
In Song Shao’s memory, Wen Ying wore baggy, dull-colored casual clothes, devoid of style. Her hair was always a short, even student cut, her face round, her posture slouched, exuding a heavy, lifeless air.
Her grades were decent, but she had no presence in class. She wasn’t expressive, and despite her scores qualifying her for awards, teachers often overlooked her.
Song Shao didn’t feel sorry for her.
You had to fight for opportunities yourself.
If Wen Ying wasn’t bothered, why should he be?
He helped struggling classmates return to studies or tutored poor performers, driven by his “class monitor” duty and a sense of accomplishment.
Those students weren’t unwilling to learn; they lacked conditions.
Some came from homes without a study environment.
Others had weak foundations, unable to keep up.
Wen Ying fit neither category.
Her family was solid, her parents invested in her education with extra classes, and her grades, while not stellar, were far from poor.
By any measure, she didn’t qualify for Song Shao’s help.
Her lack of confidence seeped from her core, and Song Shao had no desire to approach such a negative girl.
Of course, Wen Ying wasn’t without merits. Besides being generous to fake friends like Yue Shanni, she was open-handed with school donations.
In their second year, a student got bone cancer. The family pleaded for help at a flag-raising ceremony, and the school organized a voluntary donation drive.
Wen Ying publicly donated 50 yuan, not the highest in class.
But privately, she approached a teacher and donated over 600 yuan.
The teacher wanted to praise her in class, but Wen Ying, blushing, declined.
She didn’t want others to know.
It was likely all her pocket money.
That weekend, Song Shao saw Wen Ying on the street, probably dragged out by Yue Shanni and her crew. They expected her to pay, but she had no money.
Yue Shanni and the others mocked her, complaining she’d embarrassed them, demanding to know where her pocket money went.
