Zou Weijun’s response left Zhao Dong speechless.
Zhao Dong had always thought Xie Qian was just a kid, but with Xie Jinghu wary of him and Zou Weijun backing all his decisions, Xie Qian was more than just a high schooler.
For a moment, Zhao Dong felt a pang of jealousy.
Xie Qian’s life was too charmed.
Though irritated inside, Zhao Dong kept his composure, turning to Xie Qian with a smile, “Young Master Xie, are you planning to break into the film—”
Peng Guoqing suddenly knocked over a soup bowl, splashing broth on himself and some onto Zhao Dong, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Whoops, sorry, it wasn’t on purpose!” Peng Guoqing’s apology was exaggerated, grabbing a greasy napkin to wipe Zhao Dong, who recoiled.
“No big deal, don’t move!”
Restaurant staff hurried to clean up, making further small talk awkward. Zhao Dong glanced at the oil stains on his shirt, fighting nausea, and shot Peng Guoqing a glare. So this was the Peng family’s spoiled son, who’d invested in Jiaxin Film Company, bailing Xie Qian out.
Just another trust-fund kid coasting on family wealth, too crude for the big stage.
Disgusted inside but maintaining his poise, Zhao Dong said, “I won’t disturb Young Master Xie and Mrs. Xie’s meal.”
The minor mishap gave He Zhinian a sigh of relief, sparing him the dilemma of whether to greet Zou Weijun.
Dai Chenglan was seeing Zou Weijun up close for the first time.
Though friends with Xie Jinghu’s mistress, Dai Chenglan had to admit some women were suited only for affairs, while Zou Weijun was born to be a proper wife—graceful, refined, fit for any occasion. But that very grace might not appeal to some men who preferred flashier types.
He Zhen sensed the subtle tension.
What was going on that his parents and Zhao Dong knew but he didn’t?
Zhao Dong and the He family left.
Xie Tang quietly gave Peng Guoqing a thumbs-up: sacrifice a bit to thwart the enemy—room for improvement, but well done!
Peng Guoqing, who’d worn new clothes for dinner with Xie Tang, didn’t mind the soup stains one bit. Fireworks burst in his heart.
Heh, Xie Tang praised him!
Glancing at Xie Qian, who also looked approving, Peng Guoqing puffed up with pride. He’d nearly let Xie Qian’s film company secret slip to Wen Ying—call him a genius!
Wen Ying hadn’t noticed anything odd, but Peng Guoqing’s smugness made her suspicious.
Something felt off.
Seeing Xie Qian’s calm demeanor, she wondered if she was overthinking.
She barely had time to think about the He family, her focus mostly on Zou Weijun, who seemed emotionally steady.
Right, Zou Weijun probably didn’t know who Zhao Dong was.
Wen Ying relaxed slightly.
On the way back to the hotel, she texted Xie Qian, “Will you tell Aunt Zou?”
Xie Qian replied quickly, “I’m thinking about it.”
For two years, “Xie Jinghu” had been a taboo topic between mother and son. Xie Qian never brought him up.
Zhao Dong’s bold greeting at the restaurant put Xie Qian on alert.
He could keep everything from his mother, but he couldn’t stop others’ malicious hints. If Zhao Dong had ill intentions, Zou Weijun deserved some warning.
Maybe it was time for an honest mother-son talk.
Seeing Xie Qian had a plan, Wen Ying didn’t press further. With her signing tomorrow, she needed to mentally prepare.
Back at the hotel, Xie Qian said he wanted to talk to his mother. Zou Weijun smiled, “No need. I know what you want to tell me.”
She knew?
About Xie Jinghu’s investment in the He family.
About Dai Chenglan’s tie to the woman abroad.
Even about Zhao Dong?
When did she find out, and how much?
Xie Qian, rarely at a loss, froze.
Zou Weijun chuckled at his reaction, “Alright, get some sleep. Focus on what you want to do. Instead of worrying about me, think about how to tell Wen Ying.”
Thanks to Peng Guoqing’s quick thinking, Zhao Dong’s words were cut off.
But Xie Qian wouldn’t always be so lucky.
Wen Ying would eventually learn about Jiaxin Film Company. How would she feel hearing it from someone else?
Zou Weijun couldn’t quite grasp what her clever son was thinking.
Xie Qian gave a soft hum.
“I know. I’ll find the right moment to tell her.”
That night, lying in bed, Xie Qian drafted a text, then deleted it. He’d wait until after the signing.
…
At the He family home.
It was late when they returned. Dai Chenglan went to wash up, while He Zhen discussed Slan Biotech’s market channels with his father, He Zhinian.
Shanghai, a top-tier city and fashion hub, was ideal for Slan’s medical aesthetics venture.
It was also the He family’s long-time base, where He Zhinian’s connections gave Slan a strong boost.
The hardware was there; He Zhen’s mind was the software.
Though some ideas seemed green due to lack of experience, He Zhinian was immensely proud of his son.
Their talk was warm and productive. After business, He Zhinian asked about Rebecca, still in the UK, “She’s helped us so much. Don’t let her down.”
He Zhen nodded, then suddenly asked, “How did we connect with Boss Zhao? I don’t recall him in our family’s circle. How did we suddenly start such deep cooperation?”
He Zhen had long sensed something off.
Though studying in the UK and not involved in family business, his father had been grooming him, so he knew their network.
He’d met his father’s business friends growing up, but Zhao Dong came out of nowhere.
Business relationships typically grow from unfamiliar to trusted, starting small and scaling up with trust. Yet their deal with Zhao Dong was massive from the start. What was their connection?
He Zhen had questions but hadn’t voiced them until tonight.
He Zhinian was struck silent.
His son’s question hit a sore spot he couldn’t answer.
Why the deep tie with Zhao Dong?
Because Xie Jinghu played matchmaker.
Xie Jinghu invested in the He family’s factory.
His mistress abroad was Dai Chenglan’s friend.
To be precise, the He family first linked with Xie Jinghu, and with his guarantee, they deepened ties with Zhao Dong.
He Zhinian couldn’t say this. If he did, He Zhen would have bigger questions—why didn’t they greet Xie Jinghu’s son and wife tonight?
