Hearing this, Ming Lan’s doubts faded somewhat.
This did sound like something Xixi would do.
“Then why bring this up now…” Ming Lan looked at her and asked the crucial question.
Gu Wangshu met her gaze without flinching.
“It includes twenty percent of the shares in Xinda Group.”
Ming Lan’s expression changed.
“You…” She stared at Gu Wangshu, her voice growing even softer. “You want the shares?”
A faint smile touched the corner of Gu Wangshu’s lips. “I’d like to try.”
Ming Lan leaned back against the sofa, her eyes fixed on her daughter’s face.
As she looked at Gu Wangshu, she felt an unfamiliarity she had never experienced before.
There was something in Xixi’s eyes that she had never seen before—a kind of ambition.
Subtle, restrained, but undeniably present.
Like a flame shielded by transparent glass—visible, burning, yet untouchable.
This was something she had never glimpsed in Xixi’s eyes before.
“Xixi,” she straightened up, looking earnestly at Gu Wangshu. “Do you want to work at Xinda Group?”
“Mom, what if I said I want more than that?”
Ming Lan’s breath caught for a moment.
“What do you mean?”
Gu Wangshu’s voice remained low, but each word was spoken clearly.
“I already own five percent of Xinda Group’s shares, left directly to me by Grandfather. With my cousin’s twenty percent, I’d have twenty-five percent.”
Ming Lan said nothing, but her fingers unconsciously tightened on the fabric of the sofa armrest.
Gu Wangshu looked at her, pausing briefly before delivering the final line.
“Mom, Father only holds twenty percent.”
As these words settled in the living room, even the ticking of the wall clock seemed to pause for a moment.
Twenty-five percent versus twenty percent.
Gu Bingwen had managed Xinda Group for so many years, wielding absolute authority as if he were the sole master of the entire enterprise. Yet, in reality, he held only twenty percent of the shares.
Xinda Group had gone public in 1970, with the remaining shares dispersed among several old shareholders and public investors.
His control over the group relied not on an absolute majority of shares but on years of accumulated connections, the loyalty of the management, and the tacit consent of other shareholders.
If Gu Wangshu acquired her cousin’s twenty percent, she would already surpass her uncle in terms of shareholding alone.
What this meant, Ming Lan could not possibly fail to understand.
Xixi was preparing to challenge Gu Bingwen.
The living room remained silent for a long while.
Outside the window, the setting sun had fully emerged from behind the clouds, its golden light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and casting long shadows of the two figures across the room.
Ming Lan looked at Gu Wangshu, and Gu Wangshu looked back at her.
“So,” Gu Wangshu finally spoke, “between Father and me, will you support me?”
This was the heart of the matter.
Ming Lan gazed into Gu Wangshu’s eyes, and in those clear, calm depths, she saw something.
Not a plea, not a coquettish appeal, not the dependence of a daughter on her mother.
It was an equal, solemn, and slightly probing gaze—like one person inviting another to join a high-stakes gamble.
“Xixi,” Ming Lan’s voice was soft, yet carried a weighty tone. “We are mother and daughter.”
Gu Wangshu smiled.
The corners of her mouth curved up, and the two dimples on her face appeared faintly for a moment before quickly disappearing again. But that fleeting smile stirred something bittersweet and warm in Ming Lan’s heart—she hadn’t seen her daughter smile like that in a long time.
“Thank you, Mom,” Gu Wangshu said.
Ming Lan reached out and patted the back of her hand, letting her fingers linger for a moment before withdrawing.
“Is there anything you need me to do?” she asked.
Gu Wangshu shook her head. “You don’t need to get involved with the group’s affairs. Just carry on as usual, do what you normally do. Keep everything the same, so no one suspects anything.”
Ming Lan nodded.
“However—” Gu Wangshu’s tone shifted, “we should keep our distance from this Mr. Zhong from Beijing.”
Ming Lan was slightly taken aback. “Why?”
“Regardless of how you look at it, producing my cousin’s will and getting everyone to recognize its validity won’t be easy.”
“Everyone present remembers what my cousin said in the hospital back then. Now, suddenly, a will appears, contradicting what she publicly stated—there are bound to be complications.”
She paused briefly.
“And Mr. Zhong, after all, was my cousin’s ex-husband. Since he happens to be in Hong Kong, there’s no need for us to invite trouble.”
After listening, Ming Lan remained silent for a moment before slowly nodding.
“You make a good point. However, this Mr. Zhong is likely in Hong Kong on business. His visit is probably just a courtesy call, so you don’t need to worry too much.”
As she spoke, she turned her head to look at Gu Wangshu, her gaze suddenly sharpening.
“I think the person you really need to convince is Mr. Ji,” Ming Lan said.
Ji Junde.
Ming Lan was right.
For the will to be recognized, Ji Junde was the key.
He had been the sole witness and agent throughout the entire process of Gu Wangshu’s inheritance issue and was the vice chairman of Xinda Group. If Ji Junde acknowledged the will’s legitimacy, it would be like stamping it with a gold seal of approval.
“I know,” Gu Wangshu said, her lips curving slightly. “I’m confident.”
“Mom,” Gu Wangshu continued, “even though you enjoy playing cards and mahjong these days, you still have a sharp eye for things.”
Ming Lan was momentarily stunned.
She stared at Gu Wangshu for a long while, unsure whether she felt embarrassed by the praise or touched by the words.
After so many years of marriage into the Gu family, after being a decorative trophy wife for so long, those around her—including herself—had almost forgotten that she, too, came from a prominent Shanghai family.
In her youth, she had helped manage the Ming family’s businesses, but over time, living in this exquisite cage had dulled her senses.
And today, her daughter told her, “You still have a sharp eye.”
Ming Lan lowered her head, looking at her intertwined fingers. Her nails were painted with a pale pink polish, neatly trimmed.