The agreement was made in triplicate. Chen Ru’s signature alone wasn’t enough—under Wen Ying’s firm insistence, Wen Dongrong also signed his name.
Wen Dongrong wore a helpless expression, as if he were a doting father indulging Wen Ying’s antics.
Wen Ying kept one copy for herself, handed one to Chen Ru, and entrusted the third to Deng Yaomei:
“Yaomei, you’re the most impartial. Be our witness.”
Deng Yaomei stole a glance at Wen Dongrong, but her friendship with Wen Ying outweighed her fear of him. She wiped her hands repeatedly on her apron before accepting the document.
“Alright, I’ll keep it safe!”
Wen Dongrong’s eye twitched.
A little nanny…
Wen Ying smirked inwardly. She’d love to see if her face-loving father would dare renege in front of Deng Yaomei.
With the agreement signed, Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong had no desire to linger in Rongcheng. After a hurried dinner, they prepared to leave. Now holding the agreement, Wen Ying was magnanimous with her parents: “Be careful on the road, and don’t worry about me. I’ll work hard!”
Chen Ru didn’t even glance at her, dragging Wen Dongrong downstairs.
Deng Shangwei grabbed his car keys and followed, offering to drive them back.
Chen Li sighed repeatedly. “I know you’ve started forming your own ideas lately and want to prove yourself to your parents, but did you have to use such drastic measures?”
Wen Ying gave a wry smile. “Auntie, if I didn’t go drastic, do you think my parents would listen?”
Chen Li nodded in agreement.
But for Wen Ying to keep up with tutoring over the two-month summer break while earning over ten thousand yuan? That was pure fantasy.
The agreement forbade Chen Li and Deng Shangwei from providing any help. Even if Chen Li wanted to slip Wen Ying some extra “wages,” it wouldn’t count. For Chen Ru to acknowledge Wen Ying’s victory, she not only had to produce the tutoring fees, tuition, and living expenses but also explain their legitimate sources.
Wen Ying thought for a moment. “I won’t take the part-time job at Uncle’s company. I need to find another way to earn money, or my mom won’t accept it.”
Chen Li asked what her plans were, and Wen Ying said she needed to think it over.
Chen Li could only let her be.
The worst outcome wasn’t Wen Ying dropping out—she’d definitely continue school. But if she lost this bet, the mental blow would be severe.
And with this win, her parents would likely seize the chance to forcefully “correct” her “rebellion.”
Chen Li was deeply worried.
Wen Ying, smiling, locked the agreement in a drawer.
Chen Ru believed Wen Ying couldn’t possibly earn over ten thousand yuan in the summer and barred Chen Li and Deng Shangwei from helping. At least she hadn’t gone so far as to demand they charge Wen Ying for food and lodging.
With no living expenses, every cent Wen Ying earned could be saved.
Past nine that evening, Deng Jie dragged Deng Hao over, clutching a piggy bank. “Sister Ying, Mom said you’re in a tough spot. Want to borrow my money?”
Deng Hao sniffled. “Brother, the piggy bank is mine.”
Deng Jie waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter whose it is. Are you willing to help Sister Ying or not?”
Deng Hao was a bit reluctant, but with Wen Ying smiling at him, he couldn’t admit to being stingy. He puffed out his chest and nodded.
“Okay, give it to Sister Ying.”
Wen Ying hadn’t expected her two little devilish cousins to be so sweet.
Deng Jie was nine, Deng Hao just six. Touched, Wen Ying couldn’t resist pinching Deng Hao’s chubby cheek.
“Keep your piggy bank for now. If I can’t earn enough, then give it to me.”
Deng Hao instantly snatched the piggy bank and bolted, shouting as he ran, “Sister Ying didn’t want it, not that I wouldn’t give it!”
Deng Jie, three years older, stayed behind, scratched his head, and finally managed, “Ying, good luck,” before chasing after Deng Hao.
The warmth didn’t stop there—Deng Yaomei came too.
She slipped into Wen Ying’s room, shut the door tight, and pulled out a bankbook. “It’s not much, Ying. Take it for now.”
Deng Yaomei sent most of her monthly wages home. The three thousand yuan in the bankbook was her personal savings, stashed away at a hundred yuan a month.
It hadn’t been taken by her father because Chen Li taught her to lie, underreporting her wages by a hundred each month. She’d saved for over three years.
Wen Ying was moved and amused. “Did you coordinate with Deng Jie and them? How could I take your money? My parents wouldn’t believe you’d give me all your savings—they’d just think Aunt and Uncle found a workaround to help me.”
Deng Yaomei whispered, “I asked Sister Chen. Tutors charge you 100 yuan an hour. You learn and then tutor me—I should pay you too. This money’s your tutoring fee. It’s not against the rules.”
A provincial key high school teacher could charge 100 yuan an hour for one-on-one tutoring. Wen Ying? She’d be lucky if people didn’t scoff at her lack of credentials teaching elementary kids. She wasn’t tutoring Deng Yaomei for money!
Wen Ying pushed the bankbook back. “Yaomei, I know you want to help, but I can’t take this. Don’t you trust I can win this bet on my own? And if you measure our friendship with money, I’ll get mad.”
Deng Yaomei wanted to believe in Wen Ying, but earning that much in two months seemed impossible.
Wen Ying refused, so Deng Yaomei pocketed the bankbook, thinking she’d offer it again in two months.
Luckily, Chen Li and Deng Shangwei didn’t try slipping her money. After seeing Deng Yaomei off, Wen Ying pulled out a dozen magazines and started studying.
That night, she read until midnight. The next day, with no tutoring, she stayed home, mimicking the magazines’ styles.
The Deng family had a computer, rarely used except for Deng Shangwei’s occasional card or Minesweeper games. Wen Ying commandeered it.
Magazines now accepted email submissions—convenient and cost-free, no postage needed.
Wen Ying typed swiftly, her fingers clacking on the keyboard. What slowed her wasn’t speed but brainstorming.
Today, she wasn’t Lawyer Wen or Secretary Wen—she was an emotionless writing machine!
She wrote over ten thousand words in a day.
Two short stories—one for *Huahuo*, one for *Aige*. After an hour of revisions and multiple checks for errors, she sent them off.
She used the same pen name for both: “Fish Against the Current,” fitting her current mindset.
Submitting to magazines was one way to earn money.
But it wasn’t enough.
As a newbie, magazines wouldn’t pay her top rates. A hundred yuan per thousand words would be generous. Her two stories, if both published, would net her just over a thousand yuan.
Even if she submitted to every youth magazine out there and all were accepted, they might not publish soon. She’d only get a fraction of the fees before school started in September.
Distant water couldn’t quench near thirst—she needed other options.
As she pondered, Qin Jiao’s text arrived.
“Wen Ying, I finished my exam today. When are you free?”
