“So you already have a draft in mind?”
Over the phone, Xie Qian’s voice mixed with background noise. He covered the receiver and hurried to a quiet balcony. January’s Beijing chill whipped through, mussing his hair. The cold didn’t bother him; it sharpened his mind.
Beijing had never felt so dull before.
People flattered him for his family’s status, some envied him, others waited for him to slip. Neither fawning nor probing brought him any joy.
He wanted to get back to Rongcheng.
Even getting thrashed by Wang the Slacker in games was more fun than being around these people.
But he couldn’t return yet. Wen Ying’s voice on the phone offered some comfort.
“Only you guys believe in me. Zhang and Producer Yuan are convinced I can’t write a script. I’ve got a rough draft, and I’ll focus on finishing it this week. That’s why I called.”
Don’t let distance cool our friendship.
Wen Ying’s unspoken plea made Xie Qian want to laugh.
Small brain, small heart.
Did she think their bond, with him in Beijing and her in Rongcheng, could be so easily replaced?
Earning his trust and friendship wasn’t easy. Once formed, breaking it was harder than building it.
“Write well. Tianjiao Film paid Zhang from Taiwan five hundred thousand. If you can produce a script as good as his, but better suited for Li Mengjiao, they won’t skimp on your pay.”
If Wen Ying had five hundred thousand, what would she do?
Xie Qian bet she’d buy a house.
When helping her cousin pick a place, Wen Ying had analyzed Shanghai’s real estate trends like an expert. She’d clearly studied it.
Why bother if she wasn’t interested?
Shanghai properties would appreciate—a foolproof investment, low-effort, no need for the hands-on work of Shrimp King. Perfect for Wen Ying.
Money was her only limit.
Xie Qian had five hundred thousand, but Wen Ying wouldn’t take it.
Li Zhentao hiring her was both trust and a chance to earn. If she wrote a great script, she’d rightfully claim the reward.
Xie Qian chuckled, “I’m waiting for you to treat me with your screenwriter’s pay.”
When the golden boy spoke, she had to deliver.
“You’ll see!”
Wen Ying’s voice was lively as she hung up. Xie Qian thought, I’m waiting alright. He wanted to see her charge toward a bright future, one where leeches like Zhao Dong, who lived off others, wouldn’t dare sneer at her or even be fit to shine her shoes.
“Xie Qian!”
Someone knocked on the balcony’s glass door.
A guy around seventeen or eighteen opened it, coughing as cold air hit him.
“You’re out here taking a call?”
The guy’s eyes glinted, “What call can’t you take in front of us? Got a secret girlfriend in Rongcheng?”
He teased casually.
If Xie Qian really had a girlfriend, half the girls in their circle would be heartbroken.
Girls their age, plus or minus a few years, were either crushing on Xie Qian or had in the past.
The teasing made Xie Qian frown.
“No such thing.”
He checked his watch, “I’m heading out. Got things to do. You guys have fun.”
A rich kid had lent his villa for the party, a “welcome back” for Xie Qian. While Rongcheng rich kids like Wang Shuang were still into sports and gaming, Beijing’s elite were already living large, aligned with global playboys. In 2005, when most earned a couple thousand a month, these kids were drowning in excess.
After half a year in Rongcheng’s slower pace, Xie Qian disliked these scenes and left early.
The guy called after him, but Xie Qian was already downstairs.
The party music paused. A guy with streaks of dyed blonde hair lit a cigarette, took a drag, and sneered, “Xie Qian still thinks he’s Jinhu Group’s sole heir? Who doesn’t know his family’s mess? That kid abroad is older than him. What’s he so smug about?”
Everyone here came from big families.
They lacked for nothing materially, but every family had its dramas.
Xie Qian used to be Xie Jinghu’s only son, but rumors of Xie Jinghu’s foreign bastard had spread. Xie Qian’s arrogance irked some, who wanted to knock him down.
“Enough, keep it down. Xie Qian’s always been like this. You weren’t yapping before,” someone said.
A bastard kid? So what?
If Xie Jinghu had the guts, he’d have brought the kid home already.
Since he hadn’t, the Xie family still backed Xie Qian.
Xie Jinghu wasn’t the real power in the family. No need to cross Xie Qian now.
The music resumed, and no one mentioned Xie Qian’s exit. A few exchanged glances. The blonde guy stubbed out his cigarette, swallowing his resentment.
Plenty of time later. No need to burn bridges now.
With Xie Qian around, they all looked like trash next to him in their parents’ eyes.
To him, Xie Qian’s strength wasn’t his own—it was the Xie family’s support. Their drama was just getting started!
Xie Qian didn’t care about the gossip he’d left behind.
He wanted out early, and he did have business.
With the New Year nearing, Xie Yuping was swamped but had finally carved out time to discuss the land purchase with Xie Qian.
With such a big deal on his mind, the party’s petty games couldn’t hold his interest.
At Xie Yuping’s house, a young woman sat in the living room.
Her long legs barely fit on the big sofa. Seeing Xie Qian, she stood, nearly as tall as him.
“Cousin Tang!”
This was Xie Yuping’s only daughter, Xie Tang, Xie Qian’s older cousin.
Xie Tang wasn’t as striking as Xie Qian, who’d inherited the best of the Xie family’s looks, but her confidence and height made her popular at school.
“Finally back, huh?”
Xie Tang tiptoed to pat his shoulder, brushing snow off, “I just got home and heard Third Aunt bought me a place. She knows me so well—how’d she guess I want to move to Shanghai?”
Xie Qian hadn’t heard this before.
“You’re going to Shanghai?”
Xie Tang shushed him, “Keep it down. Dad doesn’t know yet. You’re here for him, right? He’s in the study waiting… Keep my secret!”
Xie Tang, a junior in college, had no clear goals six months ago. Now she was set on Shanghai. Something must have happened, but Xie Qian held his questions for now.
“After I talk to Uncle, you tell me.”
Xie Qian went upstairs, while Xie Tang propped her chin, thoughtful.
Soon, Xie Yuping’s wife returned. Xie Tang grinned, “Mom, don’t you think Xie Qian’s changed a bit?”
Her mother blinked.
Changed how?
But it wasn’t surprising.
Blame that deadbeat Xie Jinghu!
“Watch your words. Don’t bring up his sore spots,” her mother warned.
Xie Tang shrugged.
She didn’t see Xie Qian as heartbroken.
He seemed to brush off his dad’s mess. Six months ago, Xie Qian had a different vibe than now.
Xie Tang was curious about her dad’s talk with Xie Qian but knew better than to eavesdrop.
Half an hour later, Xie Qian came down.
Xie Yuping’s wife invited him to stay for dinner, but he declined, “Auntie, I need to pack. I’m heading out.”
“So soon?” Xie Tang asked where. Xie Qian said Shanghai.
“Got some business there. I’ll be back before the New Year.”
The rush was to return for the holiday.
Xie Qian left quickly. Xie Tang chased after him.
“Xie Qian, can I tag along?”
Her eyes sparkled with hope.
He hadn’t asked about her Shanghai plans, and now she wanted to go. What was drawing her there?
Xie Qian needed answers.
“Tang, I won’t ask why you’re going. But in Shanghai, you don’t interfere with my business, and you keep anything you see or hear secret. Can you do that?”
Her curiosity piqued.
She could tell Xie Qian her reason, but what was *his*?
“Deal. I won’t ask. Take me with you.”
Xie Qian turned to Xie Yuping’s wife, “Auntie, since Tang’s free, why not let her come with me? She can check out the place Mom bought.”
“You two, always so impulsive,” Xie Yuping’s wife scolded Xie Tang, “If you’re going, buy your own ticket. Don’t use Xie Qian’s pocket money.”
Xie Tang, thinking of her savings, nodded.
She could afford it.
She packed a small suitcase and followed Xie Qian.
Two hours after they left, Xie Jinghu’s car pulled up to Xie Yuping’s house.
“Sister-in-law, where’s Xie Qian?”
Xie Jinghu owned multiple Beijing properties, but Xie Qian didn’t stay with him. They hadn’t crossed paths since Xie Qian’s return, a laughable situation.
Hearing Xie Qian might already be on a flight to Shanghai with Xie Tang, Xie Jinghu fumed.
That brat was deliberately riling him!
Before he could say more, his phone rang.
Seeing the number, he stepped to a quiet corner of the yard.
“What is it?”
It was Zhao Dong. Xie Jinghu, in a foul mood, snapped.
Zhao Dong, needing a favor, ignored the tone, keeping his voice low, “I’m at the airport, here to visit you in Beijing. Got some business to discuss, Mr. Xie!”
