“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Wen Ying made a last-ditch effort.
Chen Li gave her an odd look. “Tell you what? Teacher Lin’s cousin is a top student—studying with him is a win for you, isn’t it? Your mom agreed too. The tutor charges by the hour, and with Xie Qian joining, it splits the cost.”
The tutors Teacher Lin hired were from the provincial key school—high quality, pricier than college kids doing side gigs.
Wen Ying’s schedule was one day on, one day off, three subjects a day, two hours each. A full summer of that would add up to a hefty sum!
Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong were salaried workers—decent status, but nowhere near as flush as Chen Li and Deng Shangwei.
Chen Li was willing to cover Wen Ying’s fees, but Chen Ru wouldn’t let her.
Wen Ying thought it over and stayed quiet.
No financial independence, relying on family money—she couldn’t call the shots.
Other reborn folks remembered lottery numbers; Wen Ying didn’t.
Others used foresight to cash in; Wen Ying’s skill was fighting lawsuits… Forget taking cases—at her age, no one would even ask her for legal advice!
Once Chen Li mentioned splitting fees, Wen Ying’s resistance faded.
If she really wanted to earn, she could figure something out.
But unless she dropped out to focus on business, big money wasn’t happening.
Dropping out? No way. Forget Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong’s approval—she wouldn’t do it herself. She was 16! A second chance meant enjoying youth, not obsessing over cash and diving into the money pit—that’d be missing the point.
Still, she’d earn something; it just couldn’t be her top priority.
On the way to Teacher Lin’s, Wen Ying brainstormed ways to make money without clashing with school. First: use spare time to write articles or short stories for submission. It’d revive her abandoned dream from her last life—her top pick.
It wasn’t 2019’s digital reading era yet. Print media had a huge audience, with plenty of magazines open to submissions. Pay was usually by word count—legit ones started at 50 yuan per thousand words, with no upper limit. Some offered more based on the writer’s fame.
*Sprout* was a hit with artsy students, but its pay wasn’t great.
For most kids, seeing their work in *Sprout* brought more pride than the paycheck.
Money talk—so tacky!
Wen Ying, the adult, wanted both her dream and that俗 cash.
No problem—beyond *Sprout*, she had options like *Fireworks*… If she couldn’t churn out teen love dramas, she could write feel-good pieces for *Reader*. There’d be a magazine for her somewhere!
The first method tied to her dream; the second was practical, using her legal know-how.
No one would consult her in person, but online?
Behind a screen, no one knew if she was human or a dog. If she was sharp, she could charge for advice.
She knew online freeloaders were rife, but one in ten paying was fine—she’d lurk in forums, post, and build a rep.
As for ditching print to jump into the budding world of web novels, Wen Ying didn’t scoff at it—she just didn’t have time to update daily!
With her plan set, she arrived at Teacher Lin’s relaxed.
Chen Li kept apologizing for the trouble, but Lin Lin laughed, “I should thank you. Xie Qian doesn’t know many people in Rongcheng—studying with Wen Ying gives him a buddy.”
Xie Qian was already upstairs in the study. While Chen Li and Lin Lin chatted, the nanny led Wen Ying up.
Each step made her heart pound.
Thump, thump, thump—like a drum.
At the study door, she saw it was open. Xie Qian was inside, seated.
He wore a white shirt and blue jeans—simple, but on him, it looked great.
On the way, Wen Ying’s mind had been on money. Now it wandered—if Xie Qian wanted cash, he’d have it easy. With his face and build, he could live cushy just posing.
Any outfit looked good on him. In her future timeline, live-stream selling was huge—Lipstick Bro tried 80 shades in one stream, riding the trend to a billion-yuan Modu mansion. Xie Qian wouldn’t need that hustle—just hold a product on camera, say nothing, and Wen Ying would buy it all.
Xie Qian looked up at her.
This was his third time seeing Wen Ying.
First time, she looked ready to cry, her gaze nostalgic.
Second, he overheard her hiring a PI to catch her uncle cheating.
Third—now—her eyes sparkled, but not from awe of him. It was like she saw him but thought of something else.
Wait, fourth time—she’d撒娇 to a man at the neighborhood gate.
Probably her uncle.
Wen Ying was something—hiring a PI one minute, sweetly charming the next.
“Coming in?”
Xie Qian was like a rainbow atop a snowy peak—gorgeous and dreamy from afar, but untouchable for most, a fleeting fantasy.
Wen Ying, the pragmatic adult, thought simply: can’t touch the rainbow? Snap a pic and admire it daily!
Same result, different means. She aimed to change Xie Qian’s early death—how could his coolness scare her off?
She strode in, “Hi, we’ve met, but I haven’t introduced myself properly. I’m Wen Ying. Since we’re tutoring together this summer, we should know each other. Seeing each other all the time without names—that’d be awkward, right?”
Xie Qian neither agreed nor disagreed. After she sat, he said two words:
“Xie Qian.”
He clearly wasn’t fazed.
Wen Ying was the one who should be.
Ten minutes later, the tutor arrived. To gauge their levels, the simplest way was a test.
The tutor brought several sets of papers, determined to see their true skills.
Wen Ying held hers, wanting to cry.
A 150-point paper? She’d hover near passing—thanks to last night’s all-nighter sorting first- and second-year math.
Xie Qian, though, was a real ace.
Once he saw her score, he’d probably ditch tutoring with her!
She’d gone from shock to joy about studying with him. To spark hope then snatch it away—unacceptable!
