Wen Ying was truly calm.
Upon learning Pan Li was pregnant, she could still think rationally, not letting anger overwhelm her.
Detective Luo had taken the job swayed by Wen Ying’s “money power,” but now he genuinely admired her. Most girls wouldn’t spend cash to catch their uncle cheating—Wen Ying’s uniqueness lay in her composure. At her age, Luo had just joined the army, getting a harsh lesson from his squad leader on day one. That night, he’d hidden under his blanket, crying from homesickness and frustration.
If he’d had Wen Ying’s steadiness back then, it’d be the squad leader sniffling instead. Hmph!
“What do you want to do now?” he asked.
“First, get evidence, then wait for Pan Li and Wen哥 to make their move. I mean the hospital pregnancy report—can you get it, Detective Luo?”
Wen Ying had read melodramatic novels and watched telly.
Vicious side characters faking reports to drive off the heroine.
Vicious side characters faking reports to frame the hero.
Sure, Uncle Deng Shangwei wasn’t a loaded CEO, but Pan Li had the makings of a scheming villain. Wen Ying didn’t trust her morals one bit.
Pan Li could say what she liked, but Wen Ying wouldn’t let her spin it unchecked.
With the report, she’d know how far along Pan Li was, stopping her from pinning it on Deng Shangwei.
If Deng Shangwei had slipped with Pan Li and the timing matched, modern medicine had answers—Wen Ying could push for an amniocentesis DNA test!
In two or three minutes, she’d sorted her plan.
The worst outcome? Pan Li was carrying Deng Shangwei’s kid. If so, Wen Ying wouldn’t hide it from Chen Li and would support her aunt’s divorce.
Though it’d mirror last life’s marriage collapse, Wen Ying was sure she could handle it better.
She’d help Chen Li recover from the divorce and shield Deng Shangwei from this plot—a repayment for his love across two lives.
Setting that worst case and finding it bearable, other outcomes didn’t faze her.
She wanted Pan Li’s report—not from Pan Li, but hospital records. Luo didn’t guarantee it but said he’d try.
Snakes have their ways, rats their paths—Wen Ying didn’t ask how he’d manage. She left it to the expert and waited.
“Detective Luo, I’m counting on good news!”
They parted, and she headed to the company.
Once she had the report, it’d be time to face Deng Shangwei.
Some things Luo’s digging couldn’t fully uncover—Deng Shangwei knew Wen哥 longer. Sharing info with him was key to the full picture.
Without the report yet, Wen Ying stayed normal around Deng Shangwei, playing “Secretary Wen.” He didn’t hide his work, and she was quietly shocked by the daily cash flow.
Small or not, this seafood business was a goldmine!
Last life, Deng Shangwei handed it over soon after the divorce—Wen Ying now suspected Wen哥 took it.
After all, this cash cow was Deng Shangwei’s juiciest target.
But it leaned on Boss Qin’s quotas—without his okay, Deng Shangwei got nothing. How did Wen哥 sway Qin?
Wen Ying couldn’t crack it.
At noon, they ate a work lunch at the company. Deng Shangwei joked the boxed meal was rubbish, asking “Secretary Wen” to bear with it.
“Next time Boss Qin calls for dinner, I’ll bring you. Remember Boss Wang—the property guy? While you were tutoring yesterday, I checked out his recommended estate. It’s not finished yet. When your parents reach Rongcheng, I’ll drive them to see it. If it’s decent, both our families could buy a flat.”
Before, Deng Shangwei wouldn’t have shared this with Wen Ying, nor would she have cared.
Now, he spoke naturally, assuming she’d follow.
Wen Ying thought, then advised, “Uncle, Rongcheng property’s doubled in two years. I don’t know my parents’ savings, but if you’ve got spare cash, buy a couple more—flats or shops. Bank interest’s rubbish.”
Deng Shangwei chuckled, “Little schemer—how much do you reckon I’ve got in the bank?”
Wen Ying tested, holding up four fingers. “At least this much, right?”
Four fingers—could be 40,000, 400,000, or 4 million.
Deng Shangwei frowned—spot on. Had Chen Li told her?
Wen Ying just smiled.
It wasn’t a wild guess. Last life, post-divorce, Deng Shangwei kept nothing but the company, giving Chen Li all cash and property—over 5 million.
That was months off, though. Wen Ying figured he’d rake in more this summer—peak seafood time with Spring Festival.
The mood was light until a text arrived.
“She’s here!”
Five minutes after Luo’s message, Pan Li showed up.
Pan Li, here for Deng Shangwei!
No umbrella today, swapping her dress for jeans and a pink tee—less feminine, more youthful.
A standout like her in the courtyard caught every worker’s eye.
Fang姐’s gaze met Wen Ying’s, both casually looking away, then at Deng Shangwei.
Panic flickered on his face, instinctively checking Wen Ying.
Pretending she’d just noticed, Wen Ying peered out. “Uncle, that’s Lily姐!”
Deng Shangwei scowled. “How do you know her?”
Fang姐 jumped in, “Boss Deng, two days back when you were out, Lily小姐 came by. She lingered at the gate. Wen Ying saw her in the sun and brought water—they met that way.”
Oh, Boss Deng, wise up!
Fang姐 was frantic, nudging him to stay sharp.
Wen Ying beamed, “Not just met—we had milk tea together!”
Deng Shangwei couldn’t bear it.
This was a修罗场—a chaotic battlefield.
Why was Lily here, bumping into Wen Ying?
Thank God she hadn’t blabbed to Wen Ying—and thank God it was Wen Ying, not Chen Li!
He forced a smile. “I’ll step out.”
As he left, Pan Li’s sandal-clad foot traced circles in the dirt, oozing nervous girlish charm.
Through the glass, Wen Ying smirked coldly.
“Fang姐, what do you think Lily’ll say? I bet she’ll apologise—say she didn’t mean to bother him, couldn’t help herself, and hopes he’ll forgive her.”
Fang姐’s jaw dropped, like she’d seen a ghost.
Blimey—Wen Ying knew!
Wen Ying knew everything.
And Fang姐 hadn’t twigged.
Wen Ying had fooled even her.
If Wen Ying was a “little dimwit,” Fang姐 was a proper plonker!
Stunned, Fang姐 wanted to light a candle for Deng.
How’d a lass like Wen Ying see through this? Chen Li must’ve suspected, sending Wen Ying to “work” here to watch him.
“What’s your plan?” Fang姐 asked.
Wen Ying smiled. “Fang姐, whatever I do, I won’t hurt Uncle—he’s family, loves me like his own. Right? But anyone harming my family—nothing’s too much.”
Fang姐 bought it, relieved yet cautioning, “Don’t be rash. We’re guessing—could be wrong. Pitying the wrong person might push Deng to her… I’ll hint to him first.”
She kept it vague.
This felt odd to discuss with Wen Ying—she should talk to Chen Li, see her take.
Fang姐’s view was traditional, mainstream: sort the mistress first, then the man. Divorce? Last resort.
The wife built the life from scratch—why let a mistress take it?
With two sons, Chen Li should fight for the family.
Kicking up a fuss now would just drive the man to the other woman.
In moments, Fang姐 had a speech for Chen Li.
But Wen Ying shut her down.
“Fang姐, don’t tell Uncle yet. Aunt doesn’t know. If we handle it well, she never will. Understand?”
Fang姐 was speechless.
Chen Li didn’t know.
Wen Ying did—and wouldn’t tell.
She’d fix it quietly… at her age, stepping up like a fighter for Chen Li?
So brave.
So lucky for Chen Li.
Wen Ying’s youthful face brimmed with resolve. Fang姐 nodded softly.
“Anything I can do, just say.”
…
“Lily, I’ve made it clear—we’re impossible!”
“You come to my company, talk to my niece—what are you playing at?”
“Don’t you know this could mess me up—”
Deng Shangwei’s hushed voice seethed with fury.
He was livid.
Wen Ying was a teen—clever or not, still a minor!
If Lily had said anything wild to her… the thought alone enraged him.
Not just fearing Chen Li finding out—he didn’t want Wen Ying near Lily at all.
Then he recalled Wen Ying’s sudden curiosity about nightlife.
Had Lily met her more than once behind his back?
Men—fine with escorts for “business,” but God forbid their wives, daughters, or female kin touch that world.
Seeing Wen Ying as his own, the idea of someone corrupting her fueled his rage.
Pan Li was stunned by his outburst.
But she wasn’t helpless—eyes lowered, tears fell like pearls.
“Deng哥, I just like you. Does my night job make you think so ill of me? I didn’t say anything mad to your niece. I just… I’ve got something to tell you. I don’t know what to do. I want to forget you, but you deserve to know.”
She shoved an envelope at him.
“You’ve got the right to know—and decide. Deng哥, I’ll wait for your call!”
Wiping her eyes, she left without lingering.
Deng Shangwei pulled a folded paper from the envelope.
Unfolding it—a B-ultrasound report. His hands shook.
