The woman’s advice didn’t soothe Xie Jinghu; it sparked defiance.
Yes, he’d done wrong.
Big brother Xie Yuping always scolded him, Zou Weijun fled to Rongcheng, those were his dues.
Xie Yuping had the right, Zou Weijun had the right, but what right did Xie Qian have?
Xie Qian, his son, disrespected him as a father. Xie Jinghu couldn’t accept that. He believed he deserved to maintain authority over Xie Qian, even if the family shunned him.
Why?
Because he’d paid for Xie Qian’s upbringing.
Not just before, Xie Qian was still living off his money.
If Xie Qian had any backbone, he wouldn’t take Jinhu Group’s shares.
The film company, too. Xie Jinghu scorned Jiashin, yet didn’t want Xie Qian to have it. It was his hard-earned wealth, to give as he pleased. Xie Qian showed no respect, so why should he get anything?
But on New Year’s Eve, Xie Jinghu didn’t want to argue with the woman on the phone, even if she hadn’t said anything wrong.
“Giving him something isn’t out of the question, but it depends on how. If he gets everything his way, he’ll be harder to control. Stop saying who’s wrong. The world’s not black-and-white. If we’re talking first come, first served, you were first.”
“Jinghu, we both know that’s not true. I came first, but I didn’t stay. I was more at fault. I shouldn’t have come back to find you.”
Her voice was hoarse, pausing as if wrestling with a decision, “I’ve researched depression lately. Foreign studies are ahead of ours. Zou’s illness, well, I shouldn’t say this, but I mean no harm. If she could recover faster, the family might judge you less. Have you considered taking her abroad for treatment?”
Zou Weijun’s depression stemmed from this woman, yet now she played the saint, researching and urging Xie Jinghu to get Zou better care.
Anyone with sense would feel deep distrust, seeing her as crocodile tears, alarmed by her cunning.
Xie Jinghu thought differently. Over years of reunion, she never spoke ill of Zou Weijun or hinted at wanting him to divorce. He believed her concern for Zou’s condition.
Treatment abroad?
A year ago, that might’ve been a good idea.
Sending Zou Weijun abroad would’ve taken Xie Qian along, solving Xie Jinghu’s troubles.
Not now.
Xie Jinghu believed Zou Weijun’s illness was long gone. Could someone with severe depression build a career? He scoffed at her Rongcheng publishing venture, but its industry success was undeniable.
Suggesting Zou Weijun go abroad now? Neither she nor Xie Qian would agree.
Xie Qian owned a Shanghai Hongqiao plot worth nearly two billion, likely to be demolished, plus five percent of Jinhu Group’s shares. Why would he leave?
Xie Jinghu grew irritated.
In just over a year, Xie Qian’s “chips” had grown, gaining momentum. Unchecked, Xie Jinghu wouldn’t sleep easy.
He needed to divert Xie Qian’s focus from key businesses.
The woman’s earlier advice resurfaced.
Indulge Xie Qian, give him “something.”
“Abroad for treatment won’t work. The film company for Xie Qian, I’ll think about it.”
Moments later, Xie Jinghu changed his mind. The woman wasn’t surprised.
She’d guided him to two choices.
Sending Zou Weijun and Xie Qian away was impossible, so he’d pick the first.
Achieving her goal, she didn’t gloat. Her approach remained measured, knowing the line between mistress and wife. Overstepping annoyed men.
Once Xie Jinghu decided, she didn’t push, chatting briefly about family matters before hanging up.
Xie Jinghu mulled it over, smoked two cigarettes at home, then called Xie Qian, “Still want to invest in film? If you do, meet me tomorrow. We’ll talk. Your uncle opposes it, so don’t tell him yet. Show results first, he’ll come around. What do you think?”
Xie Qian thought he’d just baited the hook, expecting Xie Jinghu to test it longer.
He didn’t expect such haste.
Unfazed, Xie Qian stuck to his pace, “I don’t think that’s good.”
Xie Jinghu sneered, “Scared? I thought you were tougher.”
He hung up.
In the courtyard, Xie Qian smirked at the ended call.
Xie Jinghu was so eager, even using reverse psychology.
No matter, it suited Xie Qian’s plan.
He’d let Xie Jinghu stew a bit longer.
His phone buzzed twice, Wen Ying’s texts.
“Watching the gala?”
“When are you back in Rongcheng? Want me to pick you up at the airport?”
Pick him up how?
Hamster couldn’t drive.
Xie Qian stifled a laugh, replying seriously, “What’s the rush? Finished the practice papers I set?”
“!!!!”
Another buzz, Wen Ying’s reply a row of exclamation marks. Xie Qian couldn’t hold back his laughter.
Over a thousand miles, through texts alone, without hearing her voice, Xie Qian could picture Wen Ying’s vivid, lively expression, brightening this New Year’s Eve of sparring with Xie Jinghu.
Still smiling, Xie Qian returned to the living room.
Xie Qi, surprised, nudged Xie Tang, “Tang Jie, don’t you think Xie Qian’s changed a lot? Is he confused? He never smiled like that before.”
“Has he?”
Xie Tang thought, of course, he’s got a girlfriend.
Xie Qian hadn’t announced it, so she kept his secret, “Family upheaval makes you grow. His changes are good. Fighting for himself beats giving everything away.”
Xie Qi nodded.
It made sense.
Poor Xie Qian, so tough.
Handsome, smart, rich, all strengths.
But those could be undone by a muddled father.
Xie Qi pitied Xie Qian’s struggles, frustrated by his own lack of influence as a military school student, unable to help.
Xie Qian didn’t know he was pitied.
He only knew Xie Jinghu would soon be.
After making Xie Jinghu wait four days, Xie Qian met him.
He rarely visited Jinhu Group’s office. On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, with no regular staff, only on-duty workers remained. Assistant Qi led Xie Qian respectfully to Xie Jinghu’s office. No choice, Qi had called Xie Qian countless times to secure this meeting.
Xie Jinghu’s office was grand, his window seat exuding authority.
He cut to the chase, “You want to invest in film? Jinhu owns Jiashin Film Company. I can give you its management, but nothing’s free. You’ll need to trade something for it.”
