Qin Jiao still remembered Wen Ying’s request to borrow a book, though Wen Ying herself had forgotten.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Wen Ying quickly hopped into the car.
“Jiao姐, jot down my number. If anything comes up, just call me—I can pop over myself.”
Qin Jiao nodded, and the two girls huddled together to exchange numbers.
Qin Jiao’s phone was the latest Motorola model, while Wen Ying wielded an old pager. Yet, with their devices side by side, Wen Ying showed no hint of inferiority—Qin Jiao thought this might be why she enjoyed her company.
When it came to family wealth, few of Qin Jiao’s friends could rival her. She never meant to flaunt it—her dad earned the money, and the clothes or daily items her parents bought matched their lifestyle. It was normal to her, but her classmates didn’t see it that way.
Take her phone: the first time she brought it to the school dorm, her roommates’ sour tones irked her.
Her dad paid for it—couldn’t she use it openly?
Because it was pricey, their fragile pride got bruised. Later, a teacher even pulled her aside, advising against bringing valuables to school.
Qin Jiao never minded anyone’s poverty, yet they resented her wealth. Tilting her head to look at Wen Ying, she saw someone different—well-mannered, not a reason to tolerate petty jabs. Qin Jiao wanted a friend who felt easy to be around.
She saved Wen Ying’s number and complimented her outfit.
Wen Ying grinned, “Bought with pocket money from my uncle. If you like my taste, Jiao姐, shall we shop tomorrow? I’m off—no tutoring.”
It was Saturday; tomorrow was Sunday. Qin Jiao mulled over her plans and nodded.
Deng Shangwei finally found a chance to chime in, encouraging Wen Ying to shop with Qin Jiao, offering to cover both their expenses.
“Thanks, Uncle!”
“…Thanks, Uncle Deng.”
Wen Ying agreed eagerly, leaving Qin Jiao no room to refuse.
Wen Ying now had zero qualms about spending Deng Shangwei’s money—not just spending, but splurging, almost like revenge.
Every penny he earned was joint property with Chen Li.
Her spending? Totally justified!
Why be polite when who-knows-how-much he’d lavished on that vixen?
Deng Shangwei drove them straight to a reservoir on the city outskirts, where a farmstay sat nearby. Boss Qin, hooked on fishing, had invited friends to gather there.
Tonight’s main dish was meant to be fish Qin caught himself, but with ingredients prepped, the kitchen still awaited the catch. It wasn’t even dark, yet his bodyguards couldn’t find a chance to hook a fish for him.
Wen Ying witnessed the legendary “stink-rod”—Qin Jiao finally said she was hungry, prompting Qin to reluctantly reel in.
Boss Wang, who’d advised on Rongcheng real estate last time, took a shine to Wen Ying, insisting she sit beside him.
“Had I known Wen Ying was coming, I’d have brought my Wang Shuang!”
Qin Jiao winked at Wen Ying, who leaned in. Qin Jiao warned her to steer clear of Wang Shuang.
“He’s a year older, sent to a top school with his dad’s money. Doesn’t care about studies—just uses family cash to chase girls. Avoid him.”
Wen Ying was touched.
Qin Jiao truly saw her as a friend.
What a filter—Wang Shuang, a rich playboy, could snag any girl. Why bother with her?
“Jiao姐, this Wang Shuang—super nearsighted, right?”
Qin Jiao frowned—Wang Shuang wasn’t… Oh, Wen Ying was teasing herself, thinking she wasn’t his type!
“You’re cute! I think you’re adorable. Him liking you’d be normal—just listen to me, keep your distance.”
Wang Shuang?
Wen Ying drew a blank on the name.
Rich, girl-chasing—sort of a school “celebrity” in his own way. Yet she had no memory of him.
Racking her brain, she figured last life’s study obsession left her clueless about school gossip.
She didn’t dwell on it. Qin Jiao calling her cute? What a gem—Wen Ying couldn’t imagine anyone disliking her. Being around Qin Jiao was pure comfort.
Mid-meal, more guests arrived at the farmstay.
A group passed the corridor, and their leader glanced in, spotting Deng Shangwei in the private room. “Shangwei, you’re eating here too?”
Wen Ying turned—a man in his forties, white Polo shirt, Rolex on wrist, tattoo peeking from his sleeve.
She didn’t know him, but the two fishmongers trailing him? She did.
His identity clicked.
Sure enough, Deng Shangwei stood. “Wen哥, quite the coincidence!”
Wen哥—Yu Wenhao—the puppetmaster behind Pan Li’s seduction of Deng Shangwei.
Coincidence?
Wen Ying wasn’t buying it.
She loathed Deng Shangwei’s weakness for women and despised Yu Wenhao’s scheming.
Friends of friends are friends.
Spotting an acquaintance at the farmstay, of course he’d pop in—greetings, introductions, cigarettes shared, maybe a toast or two.
Yu Wenhao strolled in naturally.
Rongcheng’s circles were small. Of the eight bosses at Qin’s dinner, including Deng Shangwei, at least five knew Yu Wenhao. The other three hadn’t met him but knew his name.
Yu Wenhao’s past ventures were big. Had he not gambled away most of his fortune in Macau, he’d be sipping and bragging with Qin today. Now? They humoured him for Deng Shangwei’s sake.
His downfall spooked Wang and the others.
Fishing, mahjong, dining—fine. Macau? A death trap.
A billion-plus fortune, gone—tossed into Macau’s casinos without a ripple!
“Boss Qin’s here too—am I interrupting?”
They’d give Deng face, so Qin wouldn’t snub him—chatting with Yu Wenhao and sharing a drink.
The room filled with people, turning hazy with smoke.
Wen Ying stepped out for air, Qin Jiao tagging along.
“Wen Ying, you don’t like them? Your face changed when they came in,” Qin Jiao noted, perceptive as ever.
Wen Ying didn’t hide it, briefing her on Yu Wenhao—gambling away his wealth, nightlife cronies—mostly from Detective Luo’s updates over the past days.
Finally, she summed up, “He’s an old friend of my uncle’s. I can’t tell Uncle to cut ties. I like him dealing with Uncle Qin—Qin won’t lead him astray, makes him better each day. Not just money—your dad and Wang叔叔 have wisdom, healthy hobbies. You become who you hang with. Does Wen哥 look like a good guy?”
Not at all.
A clear society type—luckier than street thugs, he’d found cash early.
But starting’s easy, keeping it’s hard. His gambling habit sank his empire.
Wen Ying praised Boss Qin, and Qin Jiao’s lips curved up.
From anyone else, it’d sound like flattery—people kissed up to her dad all the time.
But Wen Ying’s unfiltered words hit her ear just right.
“Have you talked to Uncle Deng about this? He’s not clueless—businessfolk don’t burn bridges. My dad says leave room for future dealings. Maybe Deng’s hesitant—he needs an out from that old crowd!”
Hesitant about what?
Cutting ties too harshly.
Business types value reputation.
If Deng Shangwei ditched “old pals” like Yu Wenhao outright, some might call him ungrateful.
Wen Ying hadn’t broached it with him.
Qin Jiao’s words jolted her.
Qin Jiao’s life had likely been smooth sailing—want something, go for it; if it flops, pivot. She assumed success first.
Wen Ying was the opposite.
Last life’s parental否定 wired her to expect failure first.
If she could handle the worst, she’d dive in fearless.
So, helping Deng Shangwei, she sought evidence first—afraid he’d doubt her!
But what if he trusted her?
If he’d join her to dig into Wen哥’s plot, it’d be simple!
Wen Ying grabbed Qin Jiao’s hand. “Jiao姐, thank you! Like a martial arts novel—you’ve unblocked my Ren-Du channels!”
Qin Jiao laughed. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
“No, no—spot on. You woke me up.”
Three’s a crowd with a teacher—Wen Ying didn’t mind learning from Qin Jiao. Different upbringings, different mindsets. Qin Jiao offered a fresh approach!
As they chatted outside, Yu Wenhao and his crew exited the room, Deng Shangwei seeing them off. Yu’s gaze swept over them, lingering on Qin Jiao.
Wen Ying instinctively pulled her behind.
Maybe her bias against Yu Wenhao, but his stare felt slimy—like a snake eyeing Qin Jiao’s pure magnolia bloom. It irked her.
