Turning the Tables: The Fake Heiress’s Pawn Is Taken Down
Li Jianjun made his move.
His plan was simple:
First, build regular contact with Su Qing under the pretext of “inviting her to see patients in Hongxing Commune.”
Second, gather evidence of her relationship with Lu Zhanye during their interactions—preferably photographs.
Third, send the photos and proof to Su Zhirou, who would then use them to stir up trouble—like mailing anonymous letters.
In those days, the phrase “moral misconduct” could ruin a person’s career and their entire life.
Li Jianjun thought his scheme was flawless.
What he didn’t know was—from the very first day he appeared before her, Su Qing had already seen right through him.
Not only that—she’d already dug a trap just for him.
Week One
Following his plan, Li Jianjun formally invited Su Qing to Hongxing Commune through the proper channel of the village Party secretary.
Su Qing agreed without hesitation.
She went to the commune and carefully examined three villagers: one with a slipped lumbar disc, one with chronic leg pain, and a child with a lingering cough.
She treated all of them with ease.
The people of Hongxing Commune sang her praises.
Li Jianjun stayed by her side the entire time, fussing over her like an eager attendant.
Su Qing accepted his “kindness” with polite warmth.
When he offered her water for the third time, she smiled and said, “Comrade Li, you’re so thoughtful.”
Li Jianjun’s heart leapt—This girl really is easy to fool.
He had no idea that as she spoke, a faint, cold glint flickered in her eyes.
Week Two
Li Jianjun began probing cautiously about her ties to Lu Zhanye.
“Comrade Su, I hear you’re quite close to Commander Lu from the military region?”
“Yes—he’s hired me as a medical consultant.”
“I see… do you see each other often?”
“For work, mostly. I report on progress every few days.”
“And… it’s purely professional?”
Su Qing glanced up at him. That calm, unreadable look made his heart skip a beat.
Then she smiled. “Why do you ask, Comrade Li?”
“Oh—no reason at all—just curious—”
“Alright.” She looked back down to pack her medicine box. “If you’re just curious, then I’ll just answer casually—yes, purely professional.”
Li Jianjun let out a breath. He believed he’d tricked her.
In truth—Su Qing smiled silently when he looked away.
His acting was terrible.
So bad it felt like an insult to her intelligence.
Week Three
Su Qing set her plan in motion.
She did two things.
First—she “accidentally” let Li Jianjun witness a scene.
That day, as she finished her consultations and prepared to leave, Lu Zhanye’s jeep arrived to pick her up.
Before climbing in, she paused “right by the vehicle,” smiled, and exchanged a few words with Lu Zhanye through the window.
What she said didn’t matter. What mattered was the natural, unguarded warmth in her expression—something completely different from “purely professional.”
She knew Li Jianjun was watching from a distance. She wanted him to see it.
Sure enough—his eyes lit up. He’d finally “caught” what he thought was proof of an improper relationship.
A smile. A three-second pause by the jeep.
That was enough. Enough to write a heavily embellished letter to Su Zhirou.
Second—this was Su Qing’s real masterstroke.
She added something to his herbal tea.
Not poison. Just a tiny amount of an emetic refined from herbs in her private stock—colorless, odorless, and taking effect roughly forty-eight hours after consumption.
Symptoms: sudden, violent vomiting and diarrhea lasting three to five days.
Not fatal—but agonizing.
And crucially—its chemical composition was completely undetectable by medical testing methods available at the time.
Li Jianjun drank the tea. Su Qing watched him finish it with a smile, counting down in her mind.
Forty-eight hours.
Two days later, Li Jianjun collapsed.
He vomited until his bile ran dry, his body wracked with nonstop diarrhea. The barefoot doctor from Hongxing Commune took one look and diagnosed acute gastroenteritis—likely from eating something spoiled.
Eating something spoiled. Such a normal, innocent explanation. No one would suspect anything else.
As he lay weak and delirious in his bunk—Su Qing arrived.
She carried her medicine box, her face full of concern, her voice soft and gentle.
“Comrade Li, I heard you’ve fallen ill—I came straight over to see you—”
“Comrade Su…” He lifted his head feebly.
Su Qing knelt beside his bed, opened her box, and pulled out a small porcelain vial. “This is an antiemetic I mixed myself. It’ll stop the vomiting soon.”
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Li Jianjun took the vial and drank it all in one go.
Five minutes later, the vomiting stopped. Ten minutes later, the diarrhea eased. Half an hour later, he was able to sit up and eat porridge.
The way he looked at her now was filled with gratitude, guilt, and utter confusion.
He remembered Su Zhirou’s instructions: dig up Su Qing’s secrets, find her weaknesses, gather proof of her ties to Lu Zhanye. Then he thought of Su Qing’s gentle smile—and the medicine that had just saved him.
He fell silent.
Su Qing packed her things and stood up. “Rest well, Comrade Li. Call for me if you feel worse.”
At the door, she paused.
“Oh—one more thing.” She turned halfway around, her voice light and airy.
“Watch your wording when you write to Su Zhirou next time.”
Li Jianjun’s face drained of all color.
“You… how do you—”
Su Qing smiled—soft, serene, harmless as a blooming flower. But her eyes told a different story.
“Comrade Li,” she said. “I’ve cured your illness. That counts as a favor between us.”
“But it’s only one favor.”
“Next time—” She tilted her head. “It won’t be something as simple as a stomach bug.”
With that, she stepped out and closed the door behind her.
Li Jianjun sat shivering on his bunk, his hands and feet turning cold.
He thought back to the timing of his sickness—exactly forty-eight hours after drinking the tea she’d poured. He thought of that gentle, innocent smile.
A chill ran down his spine.
It was her. From the very start.
She’d known he was sent by Su Zhirou. She’d known exactly what he was up to. That “proof” of her closeness to Lu Zhanye hadn’t been something he’d discovered—it was bait she’d served him on a silver platter.
And that cup of tea—
From beginning to end, she’d been pulling his strings.
He’d thought he was the hunter. In truth, he’d been prey from the moment they met.
Li Jianjun buried his face in his pillow.
He made his choice: burn Su Zhirou’s letters, forget about the return quota, and stay as far away from Su Qing as possible.
That woman—she wasn’t human. She was a demon in disguise, smiling while she devoured you.
Meanwhile, after three long weeks of waiting, Su Zhirou finally received Li Jianjun’s reply.
It had only one line: “I can’t help you. Don’t contact me again.”
Su Zhirou tore the letter to shreds.
Useless. All of them, useless.
She sat at her desk, biting her lip, her mind racing with one thought: Su Qing. Su Qing. Su Qing.
That sickly girl she’d looked down on her whole life. The stand-in she’d thought would never rise above her station. Now she was untouchable—out of reach, beyond her grasp, even her hired pawn had failed.
She wouldn’t accept this. She couldn’t.
Clenching her fists, she thought of someone else: Lin Wanqing. The wealthy capital heiress—Lu Zhanye’s “fiancée.”
If her own power wasn’t enough—then she’d borrow something far greater.
Su Zhirou smoothed out a fresh sheet of paper and began to write. This letter wasn’t for a lowly sent-down youth—it was for the Lin family mansion in Beijing.
It read: “Miss Lin, I hold critical information about Su Qing’s background. She may not be the Su family’s biological daughter—instead, she could be the heir to a far more powerful clan. If true, she poses a far greater threat to you and Commander Lu than you can imagine.”
“I can help you—but I need one favor in return.”
She sealed the envelope, stuck on the stamp, and a cruel, triumphant smile curled her lips.
Su Qing, you think you’ve won? This game—has only just begun.