Xie Qian sought Jiang Youjia to invest in shares but didn’t approach Wen Ying, even though he knew Wen Ying had nearly three million in royalties from the second quarter of *Teen Idol*, with another payout due in May for the third quarter. It wouldn’t be hard for Wen Ying to scrape together three or four million to invest in Xie Qian’s venture.
However, Xie Qian couldn’t touch Wen Ying’s money. It was earmarked for investing in Tianjiao.
Wen Ying used to talk about buying a house in Shanghai, but she no longer mentions it, showing that investing in Tianjiao is more important to her.
Xie Qian also had a more private motive. He didn’t want Wen Ying to know about his takeover of Jiaxin Film Company just yet.
Jiaxin wasn’t fully under his control. Integrating the company and dealing with shareholders required a tedious, troublesome process that clashed with the “all-knowing, all-capable” image he maintained in front of Wen Ying.
What if his “little hamster” knew he had a fallback and became less rigorous in her creative work?
Or, given her pride, what if she couldn’t accept his help?
At first, it wasn’t the right time to tell her. Now, he felt he could delay a bit longer. The more he delayed, the harder it was to find the perfect moment to come clean.
Unexpectedly, before Xie Qian could bring up money, Wen Ying approached him during a study session, lowering her voice to ask, “You’ve been going to Shanghai a lot lately. Is everything okay with the logistics company? Or has Zhao Dong done something again?”
Zhao Dong’s shady dealings with the He family always made Wen Ying uneasy.
She didn’t yet know that the company Zhao Dong and the He family set up was Silan Biotech. If she did, she’d be even more worried, as in her memory, Silan Biotech was supposed to be founded by He Zhizhen upon his return, but this time it happened early.
Wen Ying had altered many people’s fates—not just those close to her, but also her adversaries. The butterfly’s wings had stirred a storm she couldn’t fully control.
Though she hated to admit it, the truth was clear: her foresight about Xie Qian’s future had long since failed.
“Zhao Dong hasn’t done anything. Don’t worry. Even if he did, it’d be because I wanted him to,” Xie Qian said confidently, bolstered by his successful acquisition of Jiaxin Film Company.
Using real people as a challenge, breaking it down and solving it, was deeply satisfying. Written exams rarely stumped Xie Qian anymore, but real-life challenges were far more thrilling.
Wen Ying had once told Xie Qian they should be honest, trust each other, and communicate promptly. At first, both did well, but Xie Qian’s sharp mind noticed Wen Ying was hiding things.
For instance, how did she know Dai Chenglan and He Zhizhen?
Xie Qian never pressed her, respecting her privacy.
But similarly, he chose to keep things from her.
Whether to surprise her or spare her worry, once the habit of withholding began, it snowballed, making “no secrets” an empty promise.
Xie Qian’s brilliance let him achieve what he wanted. He saw his omissions as considerate, shielding Wen Ying from trivial distractions. But this was just teenage arrogance.
A hidden danger was planted, and one day, Xie Qian would pay for this self-assured “thoughtfulness.”
Neither Xie Qian nor Wen Ying knew a storm was coming. They were still bickering over whether Xie Qian needed to borrow money—a playful argument, one offering, the other refusing, looking to others like a young couple flirting.
Li Mengjiao was reluctantly eating their dog food.
With her increasing commitments, Li Mengjiao faced growing pressure to balance work and studies. To stay close to the academic genius, she requested a seat change to sit in front of Wen Ying and Xie Qian.
During study hall, some students did homework, some read novels, others chatted. Li Mengjiao worked on a test paper Xie Qian gave her, multitasking by eavesdropping.
Millions, and Wen Ying was willing to lend it to Xie Qian.
Was dating this expensive nowadays?
But Wen Ying’s parents were remarkably trusting, letting her manage millions in royalties. Li Mengjiao thought of her own surrendered ad revenue and acting fees, sulkily writing “C” on her test.
For questions she didn’t know, she always chose “C”—a classic trick for struggling students.
After finishing, Li Mengjiao turned to hand her paper to Xie Qian for marking, striking up a conversation with Wen Ying. “The essay contest finalists are out. How’s the reader voting going? Is the tally smooth? I heard from Teacher Yuan that Tianjiao wants to buy the rights. Isn’t she jumping the gun? Why not wait for the final rankings and buy based on that?”
Yuan Fenghui’s move to buy film rights now was “thrifty.”
The short story finalists were the top twelve out of thousands of submissions, as were the long-form entries. Only the best made the judges’ cut.
Tianjiao paid the sponsorship fee, and Yuan Fenghui was eager to reap the benefits.
Now was the best time to buy rights. The short story rankings weren’t final, and the long-form entries weren’t published yet, making the rights cheap.
But cheap comes with risks. Without final reader votes for short stories or market feedback for long-form works, Tianjiao had to rely on its own judgment to pick valuable stories.
Yuan Fenghui was busy with the *Galaxy and You* music album production. Through Wen Ying, she accepted Xie Qian’s advice to act overwhelmed, raising her offer repeatedly to find someone to replace Huang Yongjuan.
In reality, Yuan Fenghui had already hired a Taiwanese music producer through old connections, and the album was progressing smoothly.
She was keeping it from Hu Man and Huang Yongjuan, delegating much of the work, including buying the contest’s film rights, to Mrs. Wang.
Mrs. Wang was overwhelmed.
She was confident in networking and scheming, but judging a story’s adaptation potential was beyond her.
Her high school education could outshine her husband, Wang Jun, but not this task.
Her best option was to consult Zou Weijun, which she did. Zou Weijun just smiled, saying Mrs. Wang could surely pick right, offering no specific advice.
Faced with goddess Zou’s trust, how could Mrs. Wang admit she couldn’t?
Failing to get help from Zou Weijun, Mrs. Wang turned to Wen Ying. Li Mengjiao was her scout, trying to pry information from Wen Ying.
