Ruan Jiajia completely lost her composure and, without a second thought, lunged forward to snatch it:
“Give me your phone!”
Ruan Zhi was prepared for this; she quickly pulled her hand back and ducked behind Ruan Xiuming’s wheelchair.
She didn’t actually have any recording—she’d just known Ruan Jiajia’s temperament well enough to trick her.
Ruan Jiajia’s grab came up empty, and in a fit of rage, she tried to chase after her.
Suddenly, an antique vase shattered with a loud crash at her feet, sending shards flying onto her legs.
Startled, she let out a shriek and cowered where she stood, too afraid to move.
“Ruan Jiajia, how long do you plan to keep this up?!”
How could he have given birth to such a brainless daughter?
Ruan Xiuming was so furious he clutched his chest and gasped for breath:
“From this moment on, without my permission, neither of you is allowed to set foot outside this house. All your bank cards are frozen. As for what you did last night, keep it buried deep inside—not a word is to be said to anyone, especially the Rong family.”
He shot a fierce glare at Lin Qinglan and her daughter, who were sitting as still as mice,
“If I hear even a single rumor that harms Xiao Zhi, I’ll hold both of you responsible. Don’t blame me for being ruthless then.”
The mother and daughter’s faces turned pale and ashen as they gritted their teeth and swallowed their resentment.
Ruan Xiuming barked again, “Apologize to your sister!”
The air froze for several seconds.
“I won’t! What kind of sister is she to me anyway!”
Ruan Jiajia shouted through her tears, glaring venomously at Ruan Zhi before turning and storming upstairs.
Worried about her, Lin Qinglan ignored Ruan Xiuming’s furious expression and ran after her.
Silence fell over the living room.
“Xiao Zhi, it’s Jiajia and your aunt who’ve wronged you. Rest assured, your uncle will definitely see this through and give you a proper resolution.”
Ruan Xiuming looked at Ruan Zhi, who was keeping her eyes downcast and her head bowed, his dark gaze tinged with an indecipherable emotion.
“As for Young Master Rong… you don’t need to worry. Jiajia and your aunt won’t say a word; he won’t find out. I’ve already warned them. You…”
“Uncle.”
Hearing him mention Rong Che, a pang of sorrow welled up in Ruan Zhi’s heart. She raised her eyes to interrupt him, a hint of detachment on her pale face.
“Last night, that scumbag didn’t get his way—I escaped. You can have my aunt contact that person to confirm it.”
Unless this matter was clarified, no one could guarantee that the mother and daughter wouldn’t turn around and spread the rumor that she’d been defiled.
“No need for confirmation. Uncle believes you.”
Ruan Xiuming paused for a moment, his expression serious, his tone firm.
Yet, from an angle Ruan Zhi couldn’t see, a twisted, strange gleam flashed across his eyes.
Excellent. Little Zhi is still pure.
Ruan Zhi’s long, curled eyelashes fluttered slightly. After a few seconds of silence, she said:
“Uncle, I’m moving out.”
She had originally planned to bring this up after the New Year when school started, but now that they’d come to blows, she had to bring it up sooner.
“This is your home. Where do you plan to move to?”
Ruan Xiuming frowned. “If it’s because of Jiajia and your aunt, you don’t need to worry. I’ll keep them in line. After this, they won’t…”
“Uncle.”
Ruan Zhi called out to him suddenly, her clear almond-shaped eyes brimming with bitterness.
“I was lucky to escape last night, but I won’t always be that lucky. In this house, I have to be on guard against my ‘family’ every single moment… It’s too exhausting.”
Judging by the look Ruan Jiajia had just given her, she’d never be able to guard against everything if she continued living in the Ruan household.
“I’ve never coveted the Ruan family’s wealth, nor did I know anything about Grandfather’s plan to bequeath his estate to me. I just want to live a peaceful and stable life—I ask my uncle to grant me this wish. Sooner or later, I’ll have to move out and live on my own; I can’t stay in this house forever.”
“I refuse!”
Ruan Xiuming’s hand, resting on the wheelchair, clenched suddenly as he said in a deep voice:
“Years ago, I swore an oath at my older brother and sister-in-law’s graves that as long as I live, I’ll take good care of you and never let you suffer the slightest injustice. Even if you get married and have children in the future, your uncle has a responsibility to continue looking after you.”
“This was my oversight. You just stay here at home; I’ll send Jiajia abroad.”
“…”
Ruan Zhi pressed her lips together.
“Uncle, you raised me and made sure I never wanted for anything—that’s the best care you could give me.”
She took a deep breath and bowed slightly toward Ruan Xiuming:
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll come back another time to pack my things.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the door.
Ruan Xiuming stared at her stubborn, unyielding back as she walked away without looking back, his gentle, refined features turning somber and dark.
“Xiao Zhi, you’re no longer listening to your uncle.”
His Xiao Zhi had always been gentle and obedient—she’d always listened to him. As he’d suspected, he really shouldn’t have let her date.
Bolstered by the confidence the young master of the Rong family had given her, she was no longer under his control.
The disappointment in Ruan Xiuming’s voice made Ruan Zhi’s eyes sting. She hesitated for a moment, then resolutely quickened her pace.
Once she stepped out of the villa, her body swayed. She felt dizzy, as if all her strength had been drained from her body, leaving her weak and limp. She leaned against the wall, resting for quite a while.
*
It was deep winter in Rongcheng, and the cold wind bit sharply.
Halfway up Zitan Mountain, along the wide, deserted road, the golden ginkgo leaves had already withered and fallen.
A vintage green Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled over the fallen leaves.
“Boss, Lady Rong heard you’d returned to Rongcheng. She called first thing this morning, asking when you’d be free to visit the Rong family mansion. Young Master Che also said he’d like to come see you.”
Assistant Zhang Ze turned to report to the man in the back seat, his thick Hong Kong-accented Mandarin sounding a bit awkward even to his own ears.
But there was no choice—the boss had given orders: while it was acceptable not to speak Mandarin in Hong Kong, it was mandatory in Rongcheng.
Rong Junheng, clad in a black overcoat, leaned back against the chair, his eyes closed as he rested.
His black leather gloves lay casually tossed on the armrest beside him. His long legs were spread wide, his posture relaxed and bold, while his slender, well-defined right hand idly twirled the black ring on his left ring finger.
“I’ll be back tonight.”
He lifted his eyelids slightly, his gaze shifting to the view outside the window.
The Phantom was smoothly navigating a curve when he spoke, seemingly offhand:
“That girl from last night—did you… find out anything?”
The rest of the words abruptly vanished between his thin lips, his deep, dark eyes fixed on the inner side of the curve, on a slender, black figure teetering on the edge.
That face…
had blossomed so exquisitely beneath him just last night.
The Phantom quickly rounded the curve. Just as he was about to look away, his peripheral vision caught something, and his gaze sharpened:
“Stop the car.”
Zhang Ze was wondering why his boss had cut himself off mid-sentence when the car came to an abrupt halt. He quickly turned his head to look.
But all he saw was Rong Junheng’s back as he stepped nimbly out of the car.
At the bend where the Phantom had just passed, beneath a ginkgo tree, a solitary black figure lay sprawled on the ground.