As soon as Emily left, Tang Shen said to Wen Yizhuang, “I want to thank you.” She brought up her return to Starlight Elementary School earlier that day and seeing the newly delivered medical supplies.
Wen Yizhuang slowly rolled up a strand of noodles with a plastic fork. “You’re welcome. I thought you would accuse me.”
Tang Shen didn’t understand. “Why?”
He paused, the small fork in his hand motionless, and the noodles slipped right back into the styrofoam bowl.
“Because I’m on Cheng Kewei’s side. Part of what happened today was me pushing him from behind,” he said, his tone flat and even. “And you were helping the second branch. Doesn’t that make us enemies?”
“Kejia treats you as a friend. I thought you saw him that way, too.”
“We’re all friends,” he said, sounding entirely polite and amiable. “I’m friends with you, too.”
Tang Shen wasn’t buying it. “Kejia doesn’t care about this family fortune at all.”
“He might not care, but Madam Cheng does.”
“He isn’t the only one in the second branch.” Tang Shen used her spoon to stir the contents of her bowl. “I haven’t been here long, but I can still tell that everyone else is just trying to grab power. The one who actually cares about the company…” She emphasized her words, “…is Cheng Baoyi.”
“So?”
“Historically, when an emperor wants to choose a crown prince, shouldn’t he pick someone who is beneficial to the state and country?”
“That’s just wishful thinking on the part of the officials. If Liu Bang had really thought that way, he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to make Lady Qi’s son the heir. At the end of the day, human hearts are made of flesh. Whoever touches you the most, whoever is most advantageous.”
“So you’ve been helping Cheng Kewei just to win favor with the old lady?”
Right at that moment, Cheng Baoyi walked in.
Her face still wore that tense look from earlier, and upon seeing Tang Shen and Wen Yizhuang eating across from each other, her footsteps faltered slightly.
Wen Yizhuang had just finished his bowl of instant noodles, stood up, and smiled at Tang Shen as he dropped four words: “To each according to their ability.”
He brushed past Cheng Baoyi’s back as he left. She was currently looking down, rummaging through the cabinet, and pulled out a pack of crackers. Clutching the crackers, she sat down in the chair Wen Yizhuang had just vacated, leaned back against the backrest, and put her strength into tearing open the package.
The opening made a sharp pop. The air trapped inside burst out instantly.
She shoved a cracker into her mouth and asked, out of pure stubbornness, “How was your chat with him?”
Tang Shen knew she was sulking secretly. “I was thanking him for sending the medical supplies to Starlight Elementary School.” She immediately changed the subject. “I also want to thank you for donating supplies out of your own pocket…”
Cheng Baoyi didn’t respond, crunching on her cracker expressionlessly.
“…and you didn’t issue any press releases. You spent your own money, and nobody even knows you did it.”
Cheng Baoyi propped her elbows on the edge of the table, rested her chin in her palms, tilted her head, and finally glanced sideways at Tang Shen. “What’s the use? Who are the press releases supposed to be for? For Grandma, or for Cheng Kewei? Or to let Wen Yizhuang watch a joke?”
Her words were provocative and stubborn—that way, her true, vulnerable feelings wouldn’t be exposed.
Tang Shen quietly looked at her. “I heard what you were arguing about today, and I know how badly they pushed you today. But Wen Yizhuang and I weren’t discussing this matter.”
Cheng Baoyi didn’t take up the thread, suddenly tossing her cracker aside. “These taste awful!”
She abruptly stood up and started rummaging through the cabinet with a clatter, clearly fueled by anger. Maybe it was resentment, maybe it was a sense of grievance, but it all stemmed from the exact same thing. Tang Shen stood up as well and asked what she was looking for.
“What do I want? What do I want?” Cheng Baoyi repeated the question twice. The first time, it was still full of anger. The second time, her voice dropped lower, heavy with a strong sense of suffocation. Tang Shen bent down and pulled out a pack of instant noodles for her. “You probably haven’t eaten properly at all.”
Cheng Baoyi looked at the instant noodles, then looked at her.
Tang Shen casually placed them on the table nearby. “Eat your fill first. We can figure out the rest later.”
She left those words in the kitchen and returned to her room. She still had to tutor Cheng Kejia tonight, and she needed to prepare.
Tonight’s topic was Chinese history. Yesterday they finished the Contention between Chu and Han, and today they were starting the segment where Emperor Gaozu of Han and Empress Lü eliminated Han Xin. Cheng Kejia listened while furrowing his brow deeply, crying out that it was cruel. Tang Shen closed her book. “It’s cruel, but understandable. Sometimes, it’s either you die, or I die.”
Cheng Kejia suddenly called out, “Elder Sister.” Tang Shen turned her head; Cheng Baoyi had entered at some point. She was leaning against the wall, her expression neutral, and waved a hand. “You guys keep going.”
Tang Shen nodded and began telling Cheng Kejia about the story of how Liu Bang, after ascending the throne, wanted to depose the crown prince, while Empress Lü turned the tide.
“In Chinese history, many breathtaking and heart-stopping stories have revolved around the battle for the succession. For instance, the Xuanwu Gate Incident of the Tang dynasty, where Li Shimin killed his own brothers and forced his father to hand the throne over to him. After the death of the Hongwu Emperor of the Ming dynasty, his grandson Jianwen succeeded him and pushed to curtail the power of the feudal princes. The Prince of Yan, Zhu Di, raised an army under the pretext of ‘clearing the emperor’s side.’ During the Qing dynasty, the Kangxi Emperor reigned for a long time and had many sons; after the crown prince was deposed, several imperial princes openly and secretly fought each other to secure that seat.” She rattled off several examples in one breath and finally concluded: the temptation of power is too great—great enough to make fathers turn against sons and brothers slaughter one another.
So much for “even a tiger will not eat its own cub.” In the face of ultimate interests, all of that is a lie.
Cheng Baoyi sat on the edge of Cheng Kejia’s bed, listening quietly for a moment, before silently walking away.
How could Tang Shen have expected that day’s conversation would turn out to be a dark metaphor for Cheng Baoyi’s destiny?
Over the next few days, Tang Shen didn’t see Cheng Baoyi around the house. That evening, as she accompanied Kejia in studying, she heard voices downstairs the entire time. Kejia was clearly distracted, lifting his head to look out the window from time to time. When Tang Shen asked him what was wrong, he whispered, “My sister hasn’t come home for two days, and she hasn’t even come down to eat.”
Tang Shen said perhaps she was busy.
He didn’t reply, lowering his head back to his problems, though it was unclear if he was actually reading them. After a long while, he said, “…Mom didn’t call her.”
Growing up in a complex place like an urban village, Tang Shen was deeply versed in the meaning of self-preservation. No matter how complicated the Cheng family was, it had nothing to do with her, a mere tutor. But she also knew that working in such an environment took more than just hard work; she knew who called the shots in this household, whose words carried the most weight, and who was genuinely worth relying on.
As for the old lady, her politeness was just etiquette, and she gave her plenty of superficial respect. But in this household, only if Cheng Baoyi remained standing could Tang Shen keep her footing.
With Cheng Baoyi crumbling right now, where should she go from here?
For the next several days, Tang Shen still didn’t catch sight of Cheng Baoyi.
She knew something must have gone wrong.
Regarding the redistribution of equity and decision-making power, meetings had been held several times both at home and at the corporate office, but they amounted to nothing more than shouting matches with zero progress. During the two most crucial meetings, Cheng Baoyi was nowhere to be found.
Nobody had even notified her.
On the day the second meeting ended, she returned from the industrial building and saw the meeting room door tightly shut. Everyone else was gone; she thought it strange, but didn’t think much of it. She ran an errand to one of the retail stores, and when she got back, the meeting had already adjourned.
She went to find Tan Meiqi and noticed her mother wearing a look of self-satisfied contentment. She found it strange, yet expectant, thinking perhaps the matter had been resolved.
She asked, “What’s wrong? Was there a meeting today?”
Tan Meiqi paused, carefully burying the joy on her face. “Oh, nothing much. Just had a meeting to talk about company business. Everything’s settled.”
蒋 “What was discussed? Why wasn’t I called?”
Hesitation appeared on her face, but she quickly smiled and said, “It’s already been resolved, it’s fine.” She got up to pour water, her back turned to her daughter, her voice nonchalant. “You’re usually busy, and you don’t like dealing with these things anyway, so we didn’t call you.”
This matter couldn’t be kept under wraps forever, but Tan Meiqi didn’t want her daughter to hear it from her own mouth, nor did she want any extra complications.
Cheng Baoyi quickly found out that the first and second branches had re-divided their interests and spheres of influence. The final result was a happy ending for everyone—the second branch kept those two retail stores, the dividend payouts were higher than before, and they were held in Tan Meiqi’s name to safeguard them for her son.
The sole price was that Cheng Baoyi’s power in the factory was curtailed, placing her under even tighter constraints from the first branch.
Cheng Baoyi still held some expectations for her mother, thinking she had been hoodwinked. She turned around to find her, intending to confront the first branch together. Tan Meiqi stammered evasively, “They’re powerful and we’re weak; let’s not sour relationships.”
“That’s all the more reason not to back down! Those are my things—by what right do they touch my things? Let’s go find Grandma together and clear things up!” As she spoke, she reached out to pull Tan Meiqi.
Tan Meiqi sat on the sofa. Cheng Baoyi tugged, but couldn’t budge her. She looked at her mother’s face again, seeing an expression she was familiar with, yet hadn’t seen in a very long time.
Right. When she was little, whenever Mommy wanted to coax her into doing something she was reluctant to do, she would buy her a gift—maybe chocolates, maybe a picture book—and then speak in a soft, gentle voice. The expression on Mommy’s face right then was exactly the same.
In that instant, she understood everything. Her hands dropped, and she stared blankly at her.
“Did you agree to this voluntarily?”
“I… I had no choice… Those two retail stores were left to Kejia by your daddy in the first place, I can’t afford to lose them…”
“Then why sacrifice me?!”
Tan Meiqi was shocked. In front of outsiders, Cheng Baoyi was unyielding and fierce, but turning around to face her mother and younger brother, she was just a little flower with zero aggressiveness. How could she now glare with reddened eyes and bare her teeth at her own mother, claiming her rights had been violated?
Tan Meiqi chose to play the role of an even more delicate flower. “But you were the one who always said so, weren’t you? You said you weren’t happy working there, that you were constantly being stonewalled by them over production… Taking advantage of this process streamlining to hand over the core operations so you have fewer responsibilities and can enjoy some peace and quiet—isn’t that for the better?” She sighed again, looking deeply pained for her daughter. “I couldn’t bear to watch you being bullied by them every day, being unhappy with your work…”
Cheng Baoyi stood there quietly, watching her mother’s eyes redden and her lips tremble. When she finally finished speaking, Cheng Baoyi moved her lips expressionlessly. “Are you done?”
Tan Meiqi looked up at her, somewhat startled.
How could this cold-faced woman be her devoted daughter?
“Alright, you’re done.” Cheng Baoyi calmly nodded. “My turn.”
“What?” Tan Meiqi remained dumbfounded.
“Starting today, you and Kejia represent the second branch. I represent myself, and myself alone.”