Two middle-aged, greasy men were whispering in the dining room. The Song family’s apartment layout wasn’t quite square, with the dining room tucked at the tail end of the kitchen. The two, drunk and dazed, didn’t notice Song Chan returning home.
Song Chan hadn’t expected that, as she unlocked the door and bent to change her shoes, she’d overhear such explosive news.
“Upstream Fish” was Xie Qian?
Teen Idol was written by Xie Qian.
Song Chan had never heard of Xie Qian having any writing talent.
On second thought, if Xie Qian could excel in other subjects, why would it be strange for him to have writing talent?
The hottest young adult fiction writer was known for ornate prose and delicate style. That Xie Qian could write a tender, warm, and uplifting novel like Teen Idol gave Song Chan no reason to doubt.
She just hadn’t expected such a gap between Xie Qian’s appearance and his inner world.
Words reflect a person’s heart. Xie Qian’s cold exterior hid a vibrant, lively flame within.
This flame didn’t burn others but inspired positivity and encouragement.
Song Chan slowly straightened up, her cheeks slightly flushed, perhaps from bending over too long.
If Xie Qian didn’t want others to know he was “Upstream Fish,” she would keep his secret.
With that thought, Song Chan couldn’t help but return to her room, pick up Teen Idol, and start reading again.
This time, she’d read more carefully.
Through the pages, she could better understand the inner world of that aloof boy. Song Chan didn’t think this was love, just that Xie Qian felt so unique, sparking her curiosity: under what circumstances would Xie Qian reveal his true self to those around him?
In an apartment in Rongcheng.
A blurry, out-of-focus photo was handed to Zhao Dong.
Others might see nothing special, but Zhao Dong was shocked.
“Are you sure this is ‘Upstream Fish’?”
“Mr. Zhao, this is rare firsthand material. Other reporters’ photos were ordered deleted, but I secretly kept this one. It’s not clear, but I’d recognize him if I saw him again.”
The boy’s striking appearance was unforgettable.
The reporter selling the info patted his chest in assurance, but Zhao Dong didn’t need him to point it out, he knew who was in the photo.
Unforgettable after one meeting: it was Xie Jinghu’s son, Xie Qian.
Zhao Dong paid the fee, dismissed the reporter, and lit a cigarette.
Nicotine helped him focus.
He hadn’t expected the author rivaling Zhao’s Family Letters to be Xie Jinghu’s son.
Zhao Dong’s first reaction wasn’t anger. He figured Xie Jinghu likely didn’t know, especially since Xie had told him to think bigger and not focus on the small profits from publishing.
Zhao Dong’s first thought was of Sara Zhuo abroad.
That woman.
That ruthless, cunning woman had told him about Zou Weijun’s, Xie Jinghu’s wife’s, condition.
Sara Zhuo likely wanted to use him to deal with Zou Weijun.
And, by extension, eliminate Xie Qian, forcing the Xie family to accept Sara Zhuo’s children as heirs, since JinHu Group needed successors.
Zhao Dong broke out in a cold sweat.
He didn’t immediately tell Xie Jinghu or confront Sara Zhuo. Instead, he sought out Editor Han.
Zhao Dong’s autobiography was published by a subsidiary of Shandong Publishing Group. Through an intermediary, he contacted Han Qin.
Today’s Rongcheng Evening News and evening broadcast had put Han Qin in a foul mood. The magazine had learned about the trial, and while the leadership hadn’t said it outright, their support for Han Qin wasn’t as unconditional as before.
With no verdict yet, their attitude was already shifting. If a judgment came, would they make her the scapegoat?
In a bad mood, Han Qin was surprised by Zhao Dong’s call, especially since he asked about “Upstream Fish.” Relying on years of honed social skills, she didn’t hang up immediately.
When Zhao Dong asked if “Upstream Fish” was Xie Qian, Han Qin, hearing the name for the first time, denied it:
“I don’t know Xie Qian. Upstream Fish isn’t a male author. The author’s real name is Wen Ying.”
That sharp-tongued Wen Ying.
The Wen Ying who played pitiful in court.
Her biggest mistake was agreeing to Ni Sisi’s push to promote Wen Ying.
The new author she’d nurtured brought no glory, instead biting back and threatening her career. Han Qin’s loathing for Wen Ying matched her hatred for Zou Weijun and Xiao Ni.
Wen Ying, Zou Weijun, and Xiao Ni ranked equally in her disdain.
Han Qin was furious, but Zhao Dong was shocked.
“Upstream Fish” wasn’t Xie Qian but Wen Ying?
“Editor Han, are you sure?”
“Of course, she was in court today.”
Zhao Dong hadn’t heard Wen Ying’s name in a while.
Though Wen Ying still hovered around Xie Qian, Zhao Dong, now connected to Xie Jinghu, had abandoned his earlier plans.
Focused on winning the amusement park bid, he no longer cared about a high school girl like Wen Ying.
Compared to the amusement park investment, Wen Ying was insignificant.
But recalling how Wen Ying had offended him without consequence and was now becoming a bestselling author, Zhao Dong, with a heart narrower than a needle’s tip, felt irritated. Teen Idol and Zhao’s Family Letters had clashed in release. He’d thought Zou Weijun was behind it, but now it seemed Wen Ying was the one jinxing him.
Always ruining his plans.
“Mr. Zhao?”
As Zhao Dong zoned out with the phone, Han Qin’s patience waned.
Zhao Dong thought for a moment. “Editor Han, I’ve enjoyed working with Shandong Publishing Group. You published my autobiography, and I don’t want to see you caught in a scandal. If you think your current lawyer isn’t strong enough, I can recommend a capable one. By the way, I’ve had some contact with Wen Ying. She’s headstrong and unforgiving, hard to deal with. Have you considered another approach? I recall she’s not yet an adult. Have you asked her parents’ opinions?”
If she’s not an adult, she has guardians.
If Wen Ying wasn’t at the courthouse entrance, fine. But she attended the trial, yet vanished during reporter interviews, and they mistook Xie Qian for “Upstream Fish.”
How could a minor resist the lure of fame and not reveal herself?
Zhao Dong sensed something odd.
He wouldn’t personally deal with Wen Ying, but Han Qin could.
Zhao Dong offered advice, and Han Qin grew thoughtful.
From the first contract meeting at Rongcheng Publishing Group to today’s trial, Han Qin had never seen Wen Ying’s parents. She’d even wondered if Wen Ying was an orphan.
If not, why didn’t her parents show up?
A minor signing a publishing contract alone?
A minor going to court to fight a lawsuit alone?
