The party was so noisy, no wonder Xie Qian didn’t answer his phone.
Xie Tang disliked such occasions, and these people rarely invited her.
But Purple Eggplant was enthusiastic when he saw her.
“Sister Tang, what a rare guest!”
Under the party’s surreal lighting, a purple eggplant suddenly leaned toward Xie Tang, startling her.
After squinting to make out who it was, Xie Tang recognised him. “Peng Guoqing, it’s you? That purple doesn’t suit you. Get it dyed back before the New Year, or Grandpa Peng will give you a thrashing.”
Peng Guoqing, already eggplant-like in hair, now had a face to match. Born on National Day, his name carried the era’s spirit.
Xie Tang, barely older, lectured him like an elder.
If not for the Xie family’s clout… hmph, what was wrong with his hairstyle? His girlfriend said it was trendy.
Peng Guoqing grinned thickly. “Sister Tang, you say Xie Qian’s dad is coming to the party to find him? Really? We’re not kids anymore—does Uncle Xie still keep such a tight leash?”
His tone was snide, but Xie Tang couldn’t be bothered to explain. She pulled Xie Qian to leave.
Just then, the birthday boy came over, inviting Xie Qian for cake.
Peng Guoqing smirked, waiting for Xie Qian to decline.
With Xie Tang so urgent, Xie Jinghu’s visit clearly meant trouble.
Xie Qian, annoyed by Peng Guoqing, refused to back down in front of him. Instead of leaving, he stayed, ate cake—a towering three-tiered one—and joined the champagne-pouring ceremony, which dragged on for over half an hour.
By the time Xie Qian could leave, Xie Tang was drenched in sweat from the crowd.
Outside, Xie Jinghu’s car was waiting at the villa’s gate.
Peng Guoqing and a few others tiptoed downstairs, trailing to watch the drama.
“Shh—”
Peng Guoqing, thrilled at the prospect of a Xie family showdown, his purple hair flailing in the wind.
“Don’t gloat too much,” someone warned.
Peng Guoqing glared. “Gloat? I’m trying to help Xie Qian. Is it my fault his dad doesn’t like him?”
Still, lending Xie Qian a few hundred thousand would’ve hurt!
Xie Tang wanted to kick them.
Dreaming of seeing Xie Qian’s downfall? No chance!
“Uncle Three,” Xie Tang greeted with a bright smile. “If I’d known you were picking up Xie Qian, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Xie Jinghu hadn’t expected Xie Tang. He paused. “You’re here too?”
“Grandma misses Xie Qian, so she sent me to fetch him,” Xie Tang explained.
The subtext: Xie Qian was heading to see Grandma, so Xie Jinghu should hold his temper.
Without Grandma present, Xie Jinghu’s anger was hard to contain. With nearly 200 million yuan at stake, even a scolding or beating from Grandma wouldn’t stop him from getting answers.
“Cousin, I’ll talk to my dad,” Xie Qian said, sparing Xie Tang from getting involved.
Xie Jinghu was furious, likely over the land purchase. It was never meant to stay secret forever, and Xie Qian was prepared.
Xie Tang stepped aside, glaring at Peng Guoqing and his group. “Hoping to see Xie Qian humiliated?”
Peng Guoqing denied it. “Sister Tang, how could I? I swear, I offered to lend Xie Qian money just now—how could I want to see him fail?”
Xie Tang was skeptical, but Peng Guoqing called on his friends to vouch.
Though his offer was laced with mockery, Xie Tang wasn’t there, and his friends didn’t expose him, confirming he’d offered the loan.
Xie Tang softened slightly. “Good intentions noted, but no need to mention the loan again. Xie Qian doesn’t need it.”
—Still propping up Xie Qian’s pride?
Peng Guoqing wanted to ask if Xie Qian was truly exiled but remembered being reduced to tears by Xie Tang as a kid. He didn’t dare push her. Mouth shut, his ears perked up, catching every word between Xie Qian and Xie Jinghu, his eyes exchanging sly glances with his friends.
At first, Xie Qian and Xie Jinghu spoke softly, only fragments like “land” and “loan” drifting over, leaving Peng Guoqing confused.
But Xie Qian’s attitude enraged Xie Jinghu, whose voice grew louder, heedless of Xie Tang nearby.
“You stole 200 million from me!”
Xie Jinghu’s gritted accusation barely fazed Xie Qian but hit Peng Guoqing like thunder, nearly making him jump.
Two hundred what?
Two hundred… million?
Who stole what… Peng Guoqing’s brain swelled as big as his eggplant head.
He suspected Xie Jinghu was play-acting to humiliate him alongside Xie Qian.
If Xie Qian could “steal” 200 million from his dad, he didn’t need Peng’s pocket change.
Under the weight of 200 million, Peng Guoqing didn’t care that Xie Jinghu said “steal.” With that sum, anyone here would turn thief!
Peng Guoqing, green with envy, visibly swallowed.
Was Xie Jinghu really staging this to embarrass him? Unlikely—he wasn’t that idle!
Even a bystander like Peng Guoqing could see Xie Jinghu’s genuine anger. If this was acting, Xie Jinghu was an Oscar-worthy talent wasted on business.
Unable to resist, Peng Guoqing texted friends not at the party.
“Xie Qian stole 200 million from his dad!”
“…Holy crap.”
The villa’s noise seemed to pause, then roared back to life.
Peng Guoqing’s phone buzzed with messages.
“How’d he steal it?”
“Real or fake?”
“You sure you heard right? Two hundred million—Japanese yen or Korean won?”
“Did his dad kill him?”
Peng Guoqing looked up. Xie Jinghu clearly wanted to lash out but held back.
—Two hundred million, and you, the dad, don’t even dare hit him? Who’s the parent here?
Eggplant Peng Guoqing sank into deep confusion.
…
“It’s not stealing,” Xie Qian said, dodging his father’s spit and stepping back in disgust. “Mum spent our joint marital assets. How’s that stealing? If you don’t want her spending, just agree to a divorce. Split the assets clearly, and neither Mum nor I will touch your money. Spend it on whoever you want—we’ve no say.”
Xie Jinghu suspected Xie Qian was hinting at something.
Did Xie Qian know about the overseas property he’d bought for his daughter Zhuo Yue?
Impossible.
He’d used Zhao Dong as a front, keeping it secret. If Xie Qian knew, he’d have made it public by now.
Xie Qian had always wanted his parents to divorce.
When Xie Jinghu learned Zou Weijun spent their savings and took a 100 million yuan loan, divorce had crossed his mind.
But dividing assets, including Jinhu Group shares, stopped him. Divorce meant not just financial loss—none of the Xie family, especially Xie Yuping and Grandma, would support him. Until their stance changed, divorce would be tough.
Xie Jinghu suspected Xie Qian was goading him, but he wouldn’t fall for it.
Divorcing Zou Weijun would cost far more than 200 million. Jinhu Group, not in real industry, had valuable investments. The 4% shares transferred to Xie Qian were worth a fortune. Splitting half with Zou Weijun would be unbearable.
Xie Jinghu took two deep breaths, trying to regain reason. “You should’ve discussed buying land with me. The Hongqiao Airport plot—did you consult your uncle before buying?”
Xie Yuping wouldn’t share insider tips with Xie Jinghu.
But he doted on Xie Qian, maybe leaking something. If so, the land wasn’t a bad buy. Though under Xie Qian’s name, Xie Jinghu had to repay the loan, leaving room to manoeuvre.
Xie Jinghu was optimistic, but Xie Qian didn’t indulge him. “Uncle thought I was accompanying Cousin Tang to look at houses in Shanghai. I told him about the land after buying it.”
So, the purchase wasn’t guided by Xie Yuping—Xie Qian bought it blindly?
Xie Jinghu studied Xie Qian’s expression, illuminated by the villa’s lights against the snow, like an emotionless ice statue. This rebellious son, though often infuriating, was too proud to lie. The Hongqiao land was likely his own choice.
Shanghai land rarely lost value. A good buy could appreciate fast; a bad one, slowly. If Xie Qian’s land sat undeveloped, 200 million would be tied up uselessly.
Xie Jinghu frowned. “You’re so young—what do you know about land appreciation? If it doesn’t make money, fine, but you spent so freely. Now that it’s bought, how will you develop it?”
The loan could be repaid, but the land shouldn’t belong solely to Xie Qian. Xie Jinghu wanted it under Jinhu Group. With Zou Weijun’s savings gone and the loan unpaid, re-mortgaging was tricky. Xie Qian would need Xie Jinghu to develop it.
That’s what Xie Jinghu thought, but Xie Qian seemed unhurried. “No need to worry. There’s always a way. I can develop it once I’ve saved enough. I’m only in first year of high school—I don’t have the energy for this now.”
Xie Jinghu was choked by Xie Qian’s words.
This brat knew he was only in first year!
Why buy land then?
Shanghai’s land wouldn’t run out!
Even if it did, Beijing had plenty.
So this brat just wanted to siphon his money without a plan? Xie Jinghu sneered, “Well done!”
Pure sarcasm.
Xie Jinghu couldn’t actually beat Xie Qian in front of everyone.
He now hoped Xie Qian’s judgment was poor, that the Hongqiao land would flop. Then he’d have something to say to Xie Yuping: academic smarts don’t guarantee investment savvy. Xie Qian might not be fit to take over Jinhu Group!
