When Zhao Dong agreed to Xie Jinghu’s demand, he was irrevocably tied to the overseas faction.
This made Zhao Dong feel emboldened when contacting Sara Zhuo, now truly “friends” with aligned interests.
Zhao Dong recounted the recent events in Chengdu to Sara Zhuo. Her focus wasn’t on Xie Jinghu paying 100 million in compensation or securing 10% of the amusement park project for her son. Instead, she asked why Xie Jinghu was still in Chengdu.
“Is Jinghu’s health alright?”
“Should be fine,” Zhao Dong replied, startled by her question.
President Xie had lost face in Chengdu. Why hadn’t he returned to Beijing?
Could he be wanting to see… After all, they’d been married for nearly twenty years. Maybe he couldn’t let go.
Zhao Dong didn’t know how to respond.
Sara Zhuo didn’t press the issue.
If Xie Jinghu wanted to see Zou Weijun, Sara Zhuo had the least standing to object. In fact, she often urged Xie Jinghu to treat Zou Weijun better.
Their “uncontrollable passion” had hurt an innocent woman.
They’d considered parting ways, but then Sara Zhuo got pregnant again. Zou Weijun and Xie Qian were innocent, as was the child in her womb…
“Alright, I understand. Please look after Jinghu, Mr. Zhao.”
Sara Zhuo was calm, but Zhao Dong wasn’t.
This woman was slippery, reaping benefits while others took the blame.
If not for needing Xie Jinghu’s funds and connections, Zhao Dong would’ve stopped serving her long ago.
Xie Jinghu did meet Zou Weijun.
Somehow, that weekend afternoon, Zou Weijun, who was on a business trip, rushed back to Chengdu. Straight from the airport, she headed to a printing factory.
A black Mercedes trailed her taxi, unnoticed.
At the suburban factory, Zou Weijun dragged her suitcase inside.
She hadn’t worked outside the home since marrying Xie Jinghu, and he’d never seen her like this.
Her long hair was now shoulder-length.
She wore a professional brown checkered blazer and skirt.
Her demeanor blended gentleness with competence.
She looked far more vibrant than last year.
Last year’s Zou Weijun was lifeless, pale, and haggard.
No amount of high-end cosmetics could hide that deep-seated gloom. Xie Jinghu feared seeing her like that, so he avoided her, ignored her protests, and stayed away. When she attempted suicide, he didn’t even show up!
Now, she’d transformed.
Xie Jinghu was surprised.
Zou Weijun’s eyes sparkled again, reminiscent of her younger self.
That year, he’d visited Professor Zou at the university faculty housing. The professor, dismissive of a private businessman like him, shut him out repeatedly.
Xie Jinghu was on the verge of collapse.
His business partner had absconded with their funds, leaving a mess. His fledgling factory lacked technical expertise. Without a solution, he faced massive losses—huge for the average salary then. Unless his brother Xie Yuping broke the law to help, the Xie family couldn’t cover it!
Xie Jinghu tried gifting Professor Zou, who refused.
Desperate, he clung to Professor Zou as his last hope.
On one visit, he met Zou Weijun.
In her early twenties, she wore jeans, a red checkered shirt, and a white headband, hugging books, her short student haircut framing her face.
When he asked if she was Professor Zou’s daughter, his smile made her blush.
That’s when Xie Jinghu knew how to win over Professor Zou.
The twenty-something Zou Weijun and the one now striding into the factory with a suitcase seemed to overlap.
From the back seat of the car, Xie Jinghu stared at the factory gate, his thoughts unreadable. Assistant Qi, trembling, was a nervous wreck.
Since learning Xie Jinghu demanded 10% of the amusement park shares for his overseas son, Assistant Qi hadn’t slept.
Now Xie Jinghu had pulled another stunt, getting Zou Weijun to cut her trip short and return to Chengdu.
Following her like this—what was he planning?
Assistant Qi, with dark circles under his eyes, shot a resentful glance at Zhong Yong, also in the car.
Zhong Yong was unfazed.
The boss only said Xie Jinghu couldn’t appear before Sister Zou, not that he couldn’t secretly watch her.
Zhong Yong could guess some of the boss’s thoughts but wouldn’t spill.
Over an hour later, Zou Weijun emerged from the factory. The printing workshop manager saw her to the gate, they chatted briefly, and she left.
For a moment, Zhong Yong thought Xie Jinghu might stop her, but he stayed silent.
Was it the “share transfer documents” in the boss’s study holding him back?
Maybe, maybe not.
A marriage like Xie Jinghu’s held little meaning.
Though the Xie family was still trying to save it, Zhong Yong sensed it was doomed, and Zou Weijun would likely be the one to file for divorce.
Did Xie Jinghu feel it too? What was his plan?
As Zhong Yong’s thoughts wandered, Xie Jinghu suddenly asked, “Secretary Zhong, have you booked the return flight to Beijing?”
“President Xie, I got you a ticket for tomorrow—”
“Change it. We leave tonight.”
Xie Jinghu’s tone was flat, emotionless.
Zhong Yong was surprised.
He thought Xie Jinghu would linger, but after one distant glimpse of Zou Weijun, he was leaving early.
Zhong Yong glanced up. Xie Jinghu was leaning back, eyes closed, looking almost enigmatic. Zhong Yong felt a chill: was Xie Jinghu really just an arrogant, impulsive man?
The 100 million compensation—was it Xie Qian outsmarting his dad, or Xie Jinghu’s deliberate choice?
Zhong Yong had been watching the drama unfold, looking down on Xie Jinghu despite his CEO status. But if Xie Jinghu was so incompetent, how had Jinhu Group’s investments not tanked?
People are multifaceted. Zhong Yong reflected, realizing he shouldn’t judge so hastily.
…
“Got it. Thanks.”
Xie Qian hung up.
His dad had pulled strings to interrupt his mom’s trip. She returned, he followed her from afar, did nothing, and was now leaving Chengdu.
So why come to Chengdu? To get beaten and pay compensation?
Xie Qian set the matter aside, pocketed his phone, and looked at the three “slackers” on the sofa.
