Wen Ying had thought about this issue before.
The million yuan Xie Jinghu offered—could Song Foxiang accept it?
From a lawyer’s perspective… if Wen Ying were Song Foxiang’s lawyer, she wouldn’t dare suggest taking it.
But Wen Ying wasn’t his lawyer.
She was just an emotionally charged bystander.
Hating Xie Jinghu’s despicable behaviour, she wanted Song Foxiang to give him a hard time, abandoning a lawyer’s professionalism and caution, letting emotions override reason!
That was terrifying!
Wen Ying comforted herself, “No one knows you were a lawyer in your past life,” but still felt ashamed.
It was fine for her physical age to revert to a high schooler, but how could her mental age regress too?
She’d gleefully watched the drama, subconsciously not taking Song Foxiang’s bold demand seriously.
Even knowing Song Shao was Song Foxiang’s nephew, Wen Ying hadn’t sensed anything wrong.
—Anyway, Xie Qian’s uncle was there!
Xie Qian’s uncle was a shield for Xie Qian, but a shackle for Xie Jinghu. With his uncle around, Xie Qian couldn’t lose out… so how did Xie Qian die in her past life?
Wen Ying was ashamed of her parasitic mindset, relying on Xie Qian’s uncle to shelter everyone. The thought humiliated her.
And in the end, it was Xie Qian who had to remind her.
Wen Ying could barely face him!
“I’ll tell Song Shao.”
Xie Qian saw her guilt, her face red as a monkey’s butt, but couldn’t guess her thoughts. His voice softened, “Don’t stress, maybe I’m overthinking. Just tell Song Shao. If he can persuade Editor Song, great. If not… it’s their fate.”
If it weren’t odd for Xie Qian to ask Wen Ying for Song Shao’s contact, he’d have spoken to him himself.
As they talked, the taxi reached the entrance of Wen Ying’s rented community. Xie Qian didn’t get out, watching her enter before telling the driver to head back.
Good thing he didn’t, as moments later, Wen Dongrong drove back with Chen Ru.
If Xie Qian had been seen sending Wen Ying home at night, her family would’ve caused a scene.
Wen Ying wasn’t sure if Song Shao was online, so she left a QQ message, planning to call him tomorrow noon if he didn’t reply.
The message sent, Song Shao’s grey avatar lit up—he was online, invisible.
Wen Ying couldn’t spill Xie Qian’s family matters, so she carefully worded her message, saying the million shouldn’t be taken. Expecting a tough explanation, Song Shao replied quickly:
“I didn’t plan for my uncle to take it. After Mr. Xie left, I suggested he donate half. Since you’ve reminded me, I’ll tell him to donate it all.”
Like tofu set by brine, one thing tames another. Who’d have thought Editor Song, who infuriated Xie Jinghu, feared his high school nephew?
Wen Ying typed, “I didn’t know you and Song Jie were cousins.”
Song Chan and Song Shao didn’t look alike.
Not that cousins had to resemble each other.
Song Shao was at Rongcheng No. 9 High, while Song Chan was at the provincial key school. Without this incident, Wen Ying wouldn’t have known they were related for who knows how long.
“Didn’t expect the world to be so small,” Song Shao replied.
Xie Qian trusting Wen Ying to pass the message showed deep trust.
Song Shao was surprised that Wen Ying, once a timid junior high student, could befriend a dazzling guy like Xie Qian in high school.
Song Shao didn’t keep chatting, soon bidding Wen Ying goodnight on QQ.
The next day at school, Xie Qian handed back the previous night’s test papers.
Surprisingly, the papers weren’t graded, but Xie Qian had annotated the wrong answers.
Xie Qian’s handwriting was beautiful; Wen Ying bet he’d practiced calligraphy as a kid.
Next to the wrong answers, he noted the knowledge points they missed and areas needing review, showing his seriousness to the three underachievers.
Xie Qian was so dedicated to their studies.
During break, Lin Lin called Xie Qian away, leaving the three underachievers to meet in the cafeteria with their papers.
Wang Xuezha blushed, “Two questions I knew, but I got them wrong.”
That was shaky knowledge, messed up by misanalysing the questions.
Wang Shuang wasn’t alone—Wen Ying and Li Mengjiao had the same issue.
Wang Shuang said he’d skip basketball at noon to correct mistakes, then spotted Qin Jiao getting food.
Li Mengjiao rushed to grab a tray for Qin Jiao.
With just over a month until the college entrance exam, Qin Jiao had declined a guaranteed spot to test her level. Friends avoided disturbing her studies, so meeting her was a surprise. Wen Ying noticed something different—Qin Jiao was wearing glasses!
“Got my eyes checked over the weekend, nearly 200 degrees,” Qin Jiao said.
She wasn’t used to the glasses, constantly pushing them up.
Glasses on Qin Jiao intrigued Wen Ying.
A goddess in glasses wasn’t less beautiful; it added charm.
“Jiao Jie, you look thinner!” Wen Ying worried about Qin Jiao’s health.
Qin Jiao sighed, “I eat three meals a day, plus a late-night snack, more than enough, but I’m still losing weight. No choice, though. Just over a month left—I’ll get through it.”
Unlike Xie Qian, who dominated the grade’s top spot, Qin Jiao was consistently top ten.
For someone with such grades to describe the exam as “getting through,” Wang Shuang, with a year and two months until his exam, felt his scalp tingle.
Qin Jiao worked hard.
Most students rushed to the cafeteria at the lunch bell, but Qin Jiao came half an hour later.
By then, the good dishes were gone, but no queuing was needed, which suited her.
Li Mengjiao soon returned with food, the cafeteria auntie giving extra meat—a perk for the star Li Mengjiao.
After eating, Qin Jiao explained a few wrong questions to the trio, treating it as a brain break.
“You don’t need to stress too much, you’ve got time,” she said to Li Mengjiao and Wang Shuang.
Wang Shuang had a family business to inherit, and Li Mengjiao, a rising star, was too busy for Rongcheng weekends. Good grades were just a bonus for them.
Wen Ying, however, was talented but from an ordinary family.
So Qin Jiao had different advice for her, urging her to study hard: “My dad said your script fees are decent. You won’t starve writing, but aim for a good university. A degree isn’t everything, but what comes with it matters. I felt that after last year’s college exchange in Shanghai.”
Though Rongcheng was Sichuan’s top city, its economic level lagged behind megacities like Shanghai.
Staying in Rongcheng was Qin Jiao’s comfort zone. Only leaving showed her how big the world was.
