Zou Weijun hadn’t yet decided what to buy for Xie Qian.
Zhong Yong was itching with curiosity, but since Zou Weijun didn’t say, he held back from asking.
After consulting Zhong Yong’s opinion, Zou Weijun had him change their return flight tickets and hired a taxi to take them around Shanghai for on-site property inspections.
The houses Wen Ying picked for Xie Tang and the others were, in Zhong Yong’s view, already in excellent locations, but Zou Weijun wasn’t satisfied.
Zhong Yong was patient, not rushing her at all.
After all, this was for Young Master Xie. Someone like him deserved a house perfect in every way.
However, Zhong Yong still needed to check with Xie Yuping.
Xie Yuping told him not to hurry back to Beijing.
“Let her decide what to buy. Just assist with the paperwork,” he said.
Tasks difficult for Zou Weijun were easy for Zhong Yong—not because of special privileges, but because he knew the ins and outs of such matters.
With Xie Yuping’s approval, Zhong Yong felt reassured and became even less hurried.
Shanghai was vast; Third Madam Xie would surely find a property she liked.
…
Once Old Madam Xie transferred her 2% shares, Xie Qian would hold 4% of Jinhu Group!
When Xie Jinghu heard Zou Weijun was giving her 2% shares to Xie Qian, he immediately called her.
As usual, her mobile was unreachable.
He then called the landline in Rongcheng, only to find the number, previously working, was now disconnected.
Xie Jinghu, swallowing this bitter loss, couldn’t vent at Old Madam Xie or find Zou Weijun, and in frustration, he smashed his phone.
He thought Xie Qian had orchestrated this, unaware that it all started with Wen Ying’s whimsical idea to send a “gift” to Xie Qian’s eldest uncle. Those three houses triggered a chain reaction even Wen Ying couldn’t have foreseen.
Unable to reach Zou Weijun, Xie Jinghu called Xie Qian.
Xie Qian answered, but Xie Jinghu’s words were laced with pressure for him to refuse the shares: “These are your grandmother’s retirement funds. How can you accept them?”
Xie Qian didn’t care for such things before; he was doing fine in Rongcheng, not as pitiful as Old Madam Xie imagined.
But knowing it upset Xie Jinghu made Xie Qian happy, so he readily accepted the dividends and shares: “I’ll take the shares and, of course, look after Grandma’s retirement. No need to worry.”
Xie Qian’s words were increasingly biting.
This call, though connected, might as well not have been.
Xie Jinghu sneered twice and hung up. Xie Qian smirked: Look how anxious President Xie is, unable to keep up the father-son act.
Before Xie Jinghu’s call, Xie Yuping had tipped off Xie Qian, urging him to accept the shares.
With shares came influence.
With influence, if Xie Jinghu lost his senses in the future, Xie Qian would have leverage to counter him.
“Your grandmother misses you. Don’t blame her for your father’s actions,” Xie Yuping said.
His words left Xie Qian silent for a long time.
This time, Xie Qian took the initiative to call his grandmother. Old Madam Xie was thrilled to hear his voice:
“Study hard, take care of your mother’s health, and don’t worry about anything else. Your father may be foolish, but I’m not. Whatever’s yours, I’ll keep safe for you!”
The 2% shares Old Madam Xie transferred to Xie Qian could only be used after he turned eighteen, Xie Jinghu’s final insistence. Though she disapproved of Xie Jinghu, she didn’t want to drive a wedge between father and son, so she conceded to his arrangement.
Eighteen it was. The shares were transferred; just over a year’s wait, and they’d truly belong to Xie Qian.
By then, Xie Qian would likely be back in Beijing. Old Madam Xie planned to stay healthy, aiming to live long enough to see him graduate university and take over the company before passing.
Once Xie Qian controlled the company, she could die content. With wealth and power, no matter how Xie Jinghu’s illegitimate children schemed, they couldn’t harm Xie Qian’s interests.
Old Madam Xie opposed Zou Weijun and Xie Jinghu’s divorce, which had once caused Xie Qian resentment.
On the matter of his parents’ marriage, she was stubborn, but people aren’t simply black or white. She loved both Xie Qian and Xie Jinghu, torn between them.
Xie Qian now thought more calmly.
Instead of brusquely rejecting her kindness, he softened his tone to comfort her: “I don’t really want your shares, but I’m accepting them because of your kindness. Grandma, I just want you to stay healthy and live to a hundred. Take care of yourself in Beijing. I’ll visit during winter break.”
On the other end, Old Madam Xie’s eyes welled up.
—Xie Qian didn’t resent her anymore?
“Good, good, I’ll strive to live to a hundred!”
Her precious grandson wished her a century of life; living only ninety-nine would be a loss.
At a hundred, she’d not only see Xie Qian take over the company but maybe meet his children. Thinking of future great-grandchildren, her tears turned to a beaming smile.
Xie Qian didn’t know his grandmother’s imagination was so vivid.
After hanging up, he picked up his phone several times, then put it down.
Wishing his grandmother a long life reminded him of Wen Ying.
Wen Ying had wished him a long life—a simple yet extravagant hope.
When Xie Qian said those words to his grandmother, he felt a connection to Wen Ying’s sentiment.
He badly wanted to call heriamas
Wen Ying.
It wasn’t just the “long life” wish that stirred him, but the chain reaction from the three houses. He wanted to share it all with her.
Wen Ying was surely awake now.
But at her home, answering a male classmate’s call might be awkward.
Xie Qian, feeling upright and honest, hesitated due to Wen Ying’s mother’s suspicious nature.
He’d talk tomorrow.
…
Wen Ying was indeed awake.
But Xie Qian was wrong—she wasn’t at home. She was outside a detention centre, braving the cold wind!
As a lawyer, Wen Ying had visited detention centres before, but this was her first time since her rebirth.
At dinner, Deng Shangwei invited her and Chen Ru to go somewhere.
“Your aunt and I are going. I’m considering whether to bring Deng Jie and Deng Hao,” he said.
Curious, Wen Ying wondered what Deng Shangwei was up to, and Chen Ru, though scolding him for being secretive, was equally curious.
After dinner, Deng Shangwei picked them up in Chen Li’s old Mazda.
He’d finally retired his old Santana, buying a Mercedes for Chen Li while driving her hand-me-down Mazda.
Though Chen Ru called Deng Shangwei a scoundrel in front of Wen Dongrong, she admitted he was generous materially, always giving Chen Li the best and using her old items.
But why visit a detention centre? Chen Ru didn’t understand.
Deng Jie and Deng Hao were still in the car. Was this place suitable for kids?
The brothers weren’t scared.
Deng Shangwei had told them to behave and not talk loudly. Curious, they looked around. Wen Ying held Deng Hao’s hand, while Deng Jie ran to Chen Li: “Mum, what are we doing here?”
“Shh, didn’t your dad say? Listen, look, and talk less. We’ll discuss it at home.”
After waiting outside the detention centre, Wen Ying spotted Secretary Gao by Qin Xianming’s side, then Qin Xianming himself.
“Xiao Deng, you’re here,” Qin Xianming greeted them, telling Deng Shangwei to take everyone inside.
“It’s all arranged. Go in.”
“Thank you, Brother Qin!”
“No need for formalities between us. Besides, you’re caught up in my mess.”
Qin Xianming spoke in riddles, leaving Wen Ying, a seasoned veteran, unable to decipher their intentions.
Deng Shangwei led them to a small room, telling everyone to stay quiet.
Through a glass window on the door, Wen Ying saw Yu Wenhao in the next room, handcuffed and shackled.
So, Yu Wenhao was detained here.
Why would her uncle bring them to see him at night? Surely not to comfort him?
Wen Ying had a hunch. Glancing at Deng Shangwei, she saw him tightly holding Chen Li’s hand.
Voices came from next door—someone questioning Yu Wenhao about scheming against Deng Shangwei.
Yu Wenhao, arrested, learned Qin Xianming’s distance from Deng Shangwei was a ruse. Someone as insignificant as Deng Shangwei had outwitted him. What went wrong? Yu Wenhao couldn’t figure it out.
Did Pan Li leak the plan to Deng Shangwei?
Between him and Deng Shangwei, Pan Li chose the younger man, and they set a trap.
That was the only explanation.
Now arrested, Yu Wenhao, unwilling to let Pan Li off, said, “The child is mine, of course. She wouldn’t betray me.”
“At Long Beach Lake, we didn’t mean to harm anyone. We wanted to stage a rescue.”
“Why? Deng’s clueless. A young, pretty college girl lay naked in his bed, and he didn’t touch her. He’s got to be impotent.”
Yu Wenhao was baffled.
They’d gotten Deng Shangwei drunk, and he’d grinned foolishly at Pan Li, calling her his wife.
Yu Wenhao told Pan Li to seize the moment.
She helped him to bed, where he lay like a dead dog, snoring loudly, fast asleep.
Pan Li, at a loss, asked Yu Wenhao what to do. With gambling debts piling up, he had no patience for another chance and told her to fake it.
The next morning, Deng Shangwei woke up, saw himself and Pan Li naked in bed, remembered mistaking her for his wife, and blacked out. Terrified, he fled without questioning details.
Pan Li got away with it.
It could’ve been real, but Deng Shangwei didn’t give her another chance. After the midterm exams, Wen Ying watched him like a hawk, keeping him from the trap.
Deng Shangwei had been proving his innocence, and Yu Wenhao’s words confirmed it.
Chen Li was in tears.
Chen Ru’s temples throbbed.
Naked in bed together? Impotent? There were three minors in the room!
Deng Jie and Deng Hao were clueless, not understanding.
Chen Ru’s sharp gaze turned to Wen Ying, who, with her best acting, mimicked her cousins’ innocent confusion.
—Such explosive details, she shouldn’t understand!
