After examining the wound on Meng Xinghui’s forehead, Yang Wenlun confirmed there were no signs of inflammation at the stitches. “Remember to watch your diet. No spicy food, soy sauce, or seafood.” He reapplied the medication, wrapped the wound, and then propped himself up against the headboard, grinning as he questioned the young man. “So, what’s your relationship with Shen Qiu?”
“Tell me! I promise I won’t tell him!” Yang Wenlun was dying of curiosity. He had finally seized the opportunity to ask Meng Xinghui while Shen Qiu was back at the Group.
Caught off guard, Meng Xinghui’s face flushed crimson. He waved his hands frantically, shaking his head. “It’s not what you think! We’re not in that kind of relationship. Please don’t misunderstand!”
We’re just debtor and creditor, he thought. Should I tell him we met because of an e-bike accident? That Shen Qiu’s dismissive comment—’ You’re a real honest one’—was just him playing me for a fool?
Meng Xinghui had always been painfully aware of his place. He had been a slow learner his whole life, forever teetering just below the passing grade on exams. He wasn’t as good-looking as others, had nothing to be proud of… A flicker of dullness and self-deprecation crossed his deep, fox-like eyes. He bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood.
Yang Wenlun marveled in amazement. As he finished sizing up Meng Xinghui, Meng Xinghui, utterly embarrassed, pulled the blanket up to cover himself.
“No way? Is he that kind? Saving a stranger for no reason, and even arranging a VIP ward? He waited for you the whole time until your surgery was over, and even while you were unconscious, he was watching over you every single moment. My Secretary Lin saw it all with her own two eyes.”
He even gestured to his eyes—he had seen it.
“That period of time really wore out my Secretary Lin. She had to keep an eye on the Group every day and still worry about Shen Qiu’s health.” Yang Wenlun clutched his chest in heartache, his eyes filled with the pain of a brother seeing his friend being exploited.
“That seductive figure of hers shrank a whole size.”
Meng Xinghui pricked up his ears to listen, then slowly lowered the blanket. His heart beat silently, and his eyelashes fluttered, as if in doubt: Did he really stay with— me the whole time? Why would 600 stay with me? After just a few simple meetings and interactions, this question took root and sprouted in his heart.
He received an affirmative and certain nod from Yang Wenlun.
What followed was the door swinging open and a briefcase flying in, striking him with merciless force.
“Ah!”
Yang Wenlun let out a miserable cry of pain, falling to the floor. He clutched the back of his head, feigning a terrible injury. His eyes glanced at the fair ankle of the person who had just entered. Before he even looked up from the white socks on her feet to her face, he opened his mouth to bluff and act spoiled: “Secretary Lin, you hurt me! You have to compensate me!”
“My demands aren’t high: just warm my bed for me,” Yang Wenlusaid, shamelessly making his request. If he hadn’t been considering his wife’s reputation, he would have dragged her straight to a hotel on the spot.
“Doctor Yang, watch your mouth. Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not your maid.” Secretary Lin’s gaze was cold enough to kill the shameless man on the floor. If it weren’t for President Shen, she would have taken out his third leg long ago. He was always hanging around, sending her trashy texts three times a day—morning, noon, and night.
Meng Xinghui witnessed the scene of the doctor lying on the floor and scamming people, and he also saw the Group employee who had been in the hotel’s executive office before.
Secretary Lin stepped over Yang Wenlun with a cold glare, walked up to Meng Xinghui, and handed him the flowers.
Yang Wenlun watched his wife’s domineering figure step over him, her long, slender legs and pert backside on full display. He rubbed his nose, his palm coming away bloody.
Meng Xinghui hugged the flowers. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I saw this bouquet and thought it was beautiful, so I bought it. Do you know the language of these flowers?” Secretary Lin’s voice was cool yet gentle.
Meng Xinghui looked down and touched the bouquet in his hands. The deep purple petals were layered and interwoven, silently telling a story.
“It’s repentance and forgetting, a chance to start over,” Secretary Lin said, her eyes fixed on Meng Xinghui.
“Xinghui, do you understand?”
A tear traced a path down Meng Xinghui’s cheek, startling Yang Wenlun into scrambling to his feet. “My little bro, you can’t keep crying! Your eyes just started getting better, and now you’re back to it.”
“If you cry yourself blind, the teacher’s gonna beat me,” Yang Wenlun added, his heart pounding. His teacher had repeatedly emphasized that he was to look after this man. Yang Wenlun was starting to wonder if he was even the teacher’s disciple at all. It felt like Shen Qiu was the real favorite—his mind always on others, his wife’s eyes always fixed on President Shen. He’d been stepped on and humiliated time and again, given absolutely no face.
Secretary Lin shot Yang Wenlua a cold glance, forbidding him from stepping forward.
Yang Wenlun’s legs remained rooted to the spot, helplessly accepting his wife’s silent command. Stop crying, little bro. You’re making my heart ache.
“So, what’s your choice? Everyone has to pay a price for their decisions. You’ve already paid yours. But what about his?”
As she spoke, she laid out everything she had uncovered, tearing through the facade Meng Xinghui had desperately tried to maintain.
Countless intimate photos of Gao Jiade and Lin Miao flooded the space.
Kisses, held hands, lingering gazes.
And then, the cold, brutal bank statements from the joint account Meng Xinghui and Gao Jiade had shared. Transaction after transaction, every single one transferred to a sole account in Gao Jiade’s name.
All his previous money was gone.
And the final straw that broke the camel’s back was a photo of Gao Jiade’s mother hugging Lin Miao. She was smiling warmly, stroking Lin Miao’s head, while Gao Jiade gazed at the two of them as if they were his only family.
“Gao Jiade’s mother was brought to Kyoto over ten days ago. She’s living with him and Lin Miao now. It seems she never tried to find you. Or more accurately, she never cared about you at all.”
“You’ve always known that you couldn’t let his mother know about your relationship. From the very beginning, your love was doomed.”
Tears fell onto the photo, and the transfer records were covered in wet tear stains, blurring the numbers.
“Stop it, just stop. I was just trying to deceive myself. Why did you have to tear me down like this?” Meng Xinghui wiped his tears, but the pain in his eyes was nothing compared to his heart being torn to shreds by the photographs.
Yang Wenlun couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He leaned in and whispered a plea to his wife, “Let’s be more gentle. Look, he just woke up. He needs to stay in a good mood.”
A cold glare met Yang Wenlun’s gaze, and he obediently shut his mouth. Fine, he’d just keep quiet.
Secretary Lin recalled President Shen’s words before leaving the meeting: “He’s like a hedgehog—pitiful and tragic, yet he makes my heart ache.”
A knock sounded at the hospital room door.
Yang Wenlun opened it to find two police officers in uniform.
They both presented their badges. “Hello, we’re from the Penglai Street Police Station in Anyang District, Kyoto. The hospital called to inform us that the victim has awakened, and we’d like to conduct an interview.”
Meanwhile, the Group’s private WeChat group was buzzing with disbelief.
What? What? President Shen has been ousted!
Hey, be more tactful. He’s stepping down as Group President to become the President of Qingxiang.
But isn’t that a blatant demotion? I mean, what is the Chairman thinking? Letting his brother’s son take over as Group President?
My boss said the President didn’t say a word. He just watched the shareholders vote, without even trying to defend himself or fight for the position. Shen Ziqi is practically flying high on a branch now, not even pretending to be humble.
Sigh, I overheard it from my boss and the HR director. Every single shareholder voted in favor. After all the blood and sweat President Shen poured into this company, these people have been raking in dividends for years. Now they’re just turning their backs on him. My poor President Shen!
The sunlight gradually faded, leaving the office split between bright light and deepening shadow.
The phone on the desk vibrated incessantly with new messages. Shen Qiu rose from the dim, shadowed side of the room, picked up the phone, and opened the WeChat group chat. He scrolled through the entire conversation, then silently tapped the “Like” button.
He sent a message: Exactly. Poor President Shen.
Keep up the good work, everyone. He followed it with a seven-figure red envelope.
The WeChat group went silent in an instant. Countless employees looked up from their screens, blinking in confusion. Wait, who invited President Shen into the group?
Suddenly, a man shot to his feet, ecstatic. “Hahaha! I grabbed fifty thousand yuan! YES!”
The red envelope was emptied within ten seconds. The group chat erupted with accusations of “shameless scoundrel” and “who grabbed it so fast?”—clearly, the culprits were those slacking off at work.
Shen Qiu exited the chat and pulled a book from the second shelf of Area A. The title page bore a name: Shen Qiu, written by a three-year-old Shen Qiu. Flipping through the pages, he saw them filled with elegant, neat handwriting—each stroke a testament to his early intelligence. In the corners of some pages, he had drawn crude little stars, a mark of the same rebellious streak he shared with his mother.
“Meng Xinghui, have you made your choice?”
Everyone must pay a price for their choices, including him.
The moment the book was closed, a group of administrative staff entered the conference room. Shen Ziqi was already impatient, demanding that Shen Qiu vacate the President’s office. “Cousin, do you need our help?” Shen Ziqi had always hated this brilliant cousin of his. Shen Qiu was born as the crown prince of the Shen Group, while he was destined to eat only the scraps Shen Qiu allowed him to have.
Why should Shen Qiu get everything he wanted so easily? Every time he heard his father praise how capable Shen Qiu was, Shen Ziqi felt a surge of loathing.
Shen Qiu remained completely unfazed, his voice calm and detached. “No need. Shen Ziqi, don’t be too arrogant, or you might cross my father’s line.”
Shen Ziqi sneered. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you, defying my father. I do whatever the Chairman tells me to do.”
“Just like a lapdog, doing whatever he’s told,” Shen Qiu said, pointing to the files on the desk. “Here, these are my handover materials. There’s a folder on the computer desktop with the Group’s project files. It contains market analysis of our competitors’ projects as well as our own. For anything else, you can ask the gentleman behind you. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to share everything he knows.”
Shen Ziqi opened his mouth to retort, but Shen Qiu’s next words cut him off. After hearing the quick handover, Shen Ziqi was stunned. Had he really prepared everything this fast?
“When a President resigns, the Group needs to conduct a financial audit. During this time, I’ll be taking my unused vacation days. Do not disturb me unless it’s necessary,” Shen Qiu declared. Just then, the movers he had hired arrived.
“If there’s nothing else, please leave. I need to clear this space,” Shen Qiu said, turning his back to coordinate with the movers.