“Uncle, why did Lily leave? I wanted to treat her to milk tea!”
Wen Ying had somehow appeared beside Deng Shangwei.
Deng Shangwei jolted, hastily stuffing the report Lily had given him into his pocket.
His mind was a complete mess. Lily showing up out of nowhere, handing him a B-ultrasound report—a pregnancy test, no less—and talking about “right to know” and “right to decide”… Deng Shangwei’s heart sank to his boots. Wen Ying creeping up silently only amplified his shock.
“Why don’t you make any noise when you walk!”
He barked, then softened his tone, frowning. “Stay away from Lily from now on.”
Wen Ying clenched her teeth inwardly.
Wasn’t this just Deng Shangwei acting guilty?
She’d seen it—the B-ultrasound image was unmistakable, a pregnancy report—but he’d tucked it away too fast for her to catch details.
Lily had really come to Deng Shangwei with the report.
If Deng Shangwei hadn’t touched her, Lily wouldn’t dare pin a kid on him. Standing this close, Wen Ying felt like she could smell the stench of betrayal.
Deng Shangwei wasn’t clean anymore!
He’d betrayed his family.
And he had the gall to snap at her!
Wen Ying was livid.
For a split second, she wanted to turn and walk away, wash her hands of it, and coldly watch Deng Shangwei spiral into ruin.
Even if he’d been set up, it was his fault for not controlling himself—flies don’t swarm a flawless egg. He deserved it! Deserved a broken marriage, a wrecked career—these were the lessons he had coming… Wen Ying glared at him, eyes welling up. Men mess up and pay the price, fine—but why drag their wives and kids down too?
Her cousins, Deng Jie and Deng Hao.
Last life, Deng Jie grew into a playboy—love ‘em and leave ‘em, never marrying. Barely past twenty, he’d racked up countless girlfriends.
They adored him, but Deng Jie seemed incapable of love—girls fell hard, and he felt nothing, walking away from every fling without a care. Even through cousin-tinted glasses, Wen Ying saw him as a heartbreaker.
Deng Hao didn’t play the field—he just kept landing in police stations. Minor offences piled up, needing lawyer Wen Ying to bail him out remotely.
A family’s roots, good or bad, didn’t just shape her—they’d hit Deng Jie and Deng Hao too.
Pain stabbed Wen Ying’s chest, and tears spilled over.
Deng Shangwei panicked. “I-I didn’t say much—why’re you crying? I just don’t want you mixed up with dodgy people. You need to be careful with friends. You don’t even know her, yet you’re off for milk tea at first meeting—no caution at all. What if she’s a con?”
Tears differed. Lily’s had fallen in big, pure drops, pitiful and delicate.
Wen Ying’s left her a snotty, bedraggled mess.
Lily’s crying gave Deng Shangwei a headache.
Wen Ying’s tore his heart apart, like a knife slicing through it.
Guilt, shame, and regret swirled together—the report in his pocket burned like a hot iron.
Wen Ying wiped her tears with the back of her hand, voice thick. “You tell me not to befriend Lily, but haven’t you? You say no KTV for me, yet you go—JiuYan Bridge, your ‘old spot.’ Uncle, if you’re lecturing me, set the example!”
Her words left Deng Shangwei speechless.
He wanted to explain—to tell Wen Ying how tough it was for a poor lad with no degree or skills to make it in Rongcheng.
To tell her every penny of the four million in his bank stank of seafood and the grit of adult life.
He wasn’t some posh uni grad, couldn’t waltz into a cushy government job. His circle—rarely classy like Boss Qin—was mostly small-time bosses. If they didn’t hit nightlife, what, go to concerts together?
Could he say it?
No!
Wen Ying was too young.
She was sharp enough to tag along, see some scenes, meet decent folks like Boss Qin and his daughter Qin Jiao.
But Wenhao? Lily? No way.
Two different worlds—Deng Shangwei chose the better one for her.
He nodded. “You’re right—it’s my fault. Lily’s not my friend; she works at a JiuYan Bridge nightspot… Today, I don’t know what you’re thinking. Don’t tell your aunt yet. Let me sort it out, then I’ll tell you everything, okay?”
Wen Ying’s crying vented some rage. Deng Shangwei admitting Lily’s nightlife gig nudged her trust in him up a fraction.
“You’ll really tell me? No lies?”
“Really. If I lie, you can disown me.”
She didn’t fully buy it.
If he came clean, great. If not, she had Luo.
Once Luo got that hospital report, it’d be showdown time!
Wen Ying sniffed. “I won’t tell Aunt yet, but I’m out of pocket money—give me another five thousand.”
Deng Shangwei hesitated—first time ever. “I gave you a few thousand days ago—you’ve spent it already?”
He didn’t mind the cash, but her spending pace worried him—bad habits, maybe?
Wen Ying bluntly said it was gone. How? When he sorted his head and explained why nightlife Lily came to the company, she’d tell him where the money went.
His mind a jumble, Deng Shangwei handed over five thousand cash.
Wen Ying took it and left, giving him her back.
Deng Shangwei bolted to his car, locked it tight, and slowly pulled out the report, reading every word.
Lily was pregnant.
She thought he had to know—had a say… Was it his?
The clapped-out Santana’s air con flickered in the heat. The cramped space choked him, but he didn’t dare open a window.
Fear gnawed—if he did, the report might be seen.
No, it couldn’t be his.
If Chen Li found out, she’d never forgive him.
Even if it was just once.
Even if he’d been too muddled to know how he’d screwed up—she wouldn’t forgive him.
But he’d promised Wen Ying the truth.
Could Wen Ying keep it from Chen Li?
No chance.
A deadlock with no way out.
Deng Shangwei felt doomed. Stalling Wen Ying just pushed the execution date back—every day till then, pure torment!
…
While Deng Shangwei sat stunned in his car, Wen Ying slipped to a quiet spot and rang Luo.
“Pan Li’s brought the report to Uncle. You were right—there’s a good chance it’s his. I’ve got to plan for the worst.”
Luo, ex-recon soldier, picked up the quiver in her voice despite her calm tone—she’d been crying.
Just a teen, realising her beloved uncle wasn’t perfect. Hard to swallow.
Pan Li bringing the report meant Deng Shangwei had strayed, kid or not.
“You want evidence of his affair—I’ll help. I snapped photos of their meeting, and the hospital report—”
“Detective Luo, you’ve got it wrong. I didn’t ask for that… Truth is, I hired you to dig into Lily and Wen哥’s link—proof Wen哥’s setting Uncle up. His cheating wasn’t the focus.”
Did photos of Deng Shangwei and Lily matter?
Even if she had them, Wen Ying wouldn’t show Chen Li to hurt her.
Chen Li wouldn’t tolerate a speck of dirt—Deng Shangwei confessing would be enough, no proof needed for her to decide!
Divorce, incoming.
Wen Ying wanted to expose Wenhao and Lily’s scheme, shove it in Deng Shangwei’s face—let him see what idiots he’d trusted!
Letting go of forcing Chen Li’s failed marriage from last life to work this time lifted a weight off her.
She felt lighter!
Invincible, even!
Luo’s pile of comforting words got stuck in his throat.
Wen Ying’s calm now edged into cold ruthlessness.
“…I know what to do.”
Luo hung up. Wen Ying told Fang姐 at the company she was skiving off—barely past 2 p.m.
Fang姐 looked worried. “Wen Ying, you alright?”
Wen Ying laughed. “Me? I’m grand!”
The one fretting should be Deng Shangwei.
With his cash in pocket, she brazenly bunked off, hit the mall, and bought two summer outfits—over two grand.
Then to KFC—two burgers, heaps of wings—turning leftover anger into appetite. Stuffed to stomachache, she hadn’t digested it before forcing it up into a roadside bin.
Done puking, she was knackered, stomach still cramping.
Willpower alone kept her from collapsing into the bin—she shuffled aside, plonking onto a flowerbed ledge.
She knew she looked a wreck.
Passersby stared oddly—some might think she’d been dumped.
Dumped? Sod that!
Without He Zhen, she’d meet others.
Not too picky, finding a boyfriend was easy—millions of blokes out there, she could swap daily if she fancied!
Her pain came from Deng Shangwei weighing more than any boyfriend.
He’d been her uncle for over a decade!
Her longest romance—with He Zhen—was three years. Decent, but peanuts next to ten-plus years.
Cutting family ties was this tough—imagine Chen Li. Dating Deng Shangwei since her teens, through love and kinship—he was her first love, husband, kids’ dad…
A mountain bike whizzed by. The rider spotted Wen Ying on the ledge, paused, then pedalled on, stopping at a bookshop a hundred metres past KFC.
An hour later, emerging, he glanced back—Wen Ying still there.
Cycling past, he braked, one foot down.
“You okay?”
The boy’s shadow blocked the light.
Wen Ying squinted up—long legs, bike wheel, then the rider.
Xie Qian.
Clean-cut, untouched by the world’s grime.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
What cursed luck—last life, forum stalkers chased Xie Qian. She’d never fancied that, yet kept bumping into him.
And always at her worst!
Struggling up, she got halfway, then flopped back down.
Xie Qian leaned back slightly.
“You drunk?”
Wen Ying grimaced. “No—legs numb.”
