The next day, Han Tao reported the information he had gathered to Shao Kunye.
“Did you get everything I asked you to check?”
“Yes,” Han Tao said. “Wen Xi’s father was an arms dealer, Wen Weinan.”
“Wen Weinan?” Shao Kunye frowned. “Wen Xi is his daughter?”
“Yes.”
Just mentioning Wen Weinan’s name, most businessmen in the country would recognize it.
He had made his fortune selling arms and was one of the most famous private arms merchants.
Wen Weinan ran his business with three principles: no involvement with terrorism, no supplying drug lords, and no selling cluster weapons.
He was considered a rare clean figure in the arms dealing world.
Han Tao’s discovery surprised Shao Kunye—Wen Xi had this identity as well.
“Eight years ago, Wen Weinan’s family was traveling when they were ambushed. Wen Weinan and his wife were killed on the spot. Wen Xi had been hidden in the trunk of the car, so she survived.”
“At that time, the Jiang Family had close contact with the Wen Family, so after their deaths, Wen Xi was adopted by the Jiang Family.”
Shao Kunye was silent for a moment. “And the murderer?”
“The police never figured it out,” Han Tao said. “Wen Weinan made many enemies—foreign governments, competitors, internal traitors, even different factions within his own organization could have had a reason to strike him.”
“It’s said that just before the attack, Wen Weinan had refused to supply anti-tank missiles to a certain royal family of Salan. Many speculated they sent someone, but there was no evidence, so the matter was never resolved.”
Shao Kunye tapped his fingers on the armrest.
“Wen Weinan and his wife died, so Wen Xi had no other relatives?”
“Wen Weinan was his parents’ only son. His father died of liver cancer at seventy-two. There were some distant relatives, but they likely didn’t want to get involved in this kind of trouble.”
After all, Wen Weinan’s business was in arms dealing. Enemies were plentiful, and anyone careless could be targeted.
No one wanted such a thankless and risky endeavor.
No wonder Jiang Songde managed to profit from it.
Shao Kunye scoffed. “What about the Wen Family inheritance? He died and left nothing for his daughter?”
“After Wen Weinan and his wife died, Wen Xi was the sole heir,” Han Tao paused. “However, on Wen Xi’s coming-of-age day, all the Wen Family inheritance was transferred to the Jiang Family’s name.”
Shao Kunye was not surprised.
If there wasn’t profit to be made, why would Jiang Songde have been so kind to adopt Wen Xi?
Still, despite taking all that money, Jiang Songde had raised Wen Xi like this.
“Kind-hearted,” Shao Kunye muttered sarcastically.
What interested him more, however, was the chip that Jiang Songde wanted from her.
At that moment, a sweet, soft voice interrupted. “Young Master Shao, Mr. Han, breakfast is ready. You can have some.”
Wen Xi came out from the kitchen holding the breakfast. Under her pink apron, her legs were pale and slender, her knees naturally tinged with pink.
Shao Kunye glanced at the breakfast she carried.
She had thoughtfully prepared two portions.
He let out a faint, unreadable laugh. “Wen Xi, you’re clever at taking my things to make favors?”
Without warning, Shao Kunye was angry. Wen Xi was confused, softly explaining, “I prepared more because Mr. Han is here.”
It wouldn’t be polite to only prepare food for Shao Kunye.
And Mr. Han had rescued her at the Jiang Family; she only wanted to thank him.
Shao Kunye snorted coldly. “You’re spending my money now, aren’t you? Did you ask me first?”
Wen Xi lowered her eyes, saying nothing.
“Don’t take my things to give as gifts,” Shao Kunye said in a harsh tone. “Or get out.”
Wen Xi nodded almost imperceptibly, looking slightly wronged.
Shao Kunye was really petty.
Mr. Han was his subordinate, yet he didn’t even allow him to eat breakfast.
People who worked under Shao Kunye were truly pitiful.
Unaware that his image had become a ruthless tyrant in Wen Xi’s mind, Shao Kunye gestured, and Han Tao immediately left without question.
Shao Kunye tapped the armrest. “What are you standing there for? Trying to starve me?”
Wen Xi snapped back to attention and hurriedly carried the tray to him, like a little servant serving tea in ancient times.
Shao Kunye took a bite of the sandwich, speaking slowly. “After your parents died, you gave that inheritance to Jiang Songde?”
Wen Xi stiffened, looking up at Shao Kunye.
Shao Kunye read the look in her eyes: it was asking, How do you know about my family?
Shao Kunye coldly laughed. “When a stranger shows up in my house, shouldn’t I check the facts?”
Wen Xi had no way to refute him. Even adopting a small cat or dog requires checking for disease—much less a living person.
Wen Xi whispered, “Uncle Jiang said that if he handed the inheritance to me, I wouldn’t manage it well. It would be better to give it to them.”
“Besides, the Jiang Family took me in. I can’t just eat and drink for free.”
Shao Kunye snorted.
That counts as eating and drinking?
Even his dead dog lived better than Wen Xi.
But looking at Wen Xi, like a delicate flower raised in a greenhouse, she didn’t understand such complicated matters. She was only left to be consumed until nothing remained.
Seeing her fragile frame, Shao Kunye casually asked, “The Jiang Family treated you this badly from the start?”
Wen Xi lowered her eyes. “No. At first, when Uncle Jiang adopted me, they were kind.”
But after signing the inheritance transfer contract, the Jiang Family changed. They beat and scolded her and even made her sleep in the doghouse.
Shao Kunye was unsurprised.
It was obvious Jiang Songde’s early kindness was a ruse to seize Wen Xi’s inheritance.
Once she had no more value, the Jiang Family naturally stopped pretending.
Shao Kunye pondered for a moment. “Have you confirmed the inheritance your parents left you?”
Wen Xi thought for a moment. “Uncle Lawyer said my parents only left me some money. The rest was unimportant.”
Shao Kunye smiled meaningfully.
Unimportant?
With all of Wen Weinan’s business, nothing else could be unimportant.
The most valuable asset was likely the Wen Family arms empire.
It seemed the lawyer had already been bribed by Jiang Songde.
Wen Xi couldn’t help asking, “Young Master Shao, why are you suddenly asking this?”
Her gaze was wary, suspicious. Clearly, she had doubts.
Shao Kunye calmly said, “Just asking.”
His eyes fell on Wen Xi’s wrist. Because it hadn’t been treated, the wound looked redder than yesterday. “Aren’t you going to take care of that?”
Wen Xi’s attention was drawn.
She looked down at the wound. “It’s fine. It’ll heal soon.”
At that moment, Wen Liyang, quietly eating in the corner, spoke up. “Mom is lying. She was still crying in pain last night!”
Shao Kunye raised an eyebrow at Wen Xi. She looked embarrassed and shook her head at Wen Liyang.
“Don’t listen to Liyang,” Wen Xi explained. “I’m fine. Injuries like this heal in a few days anyway.”
Shao Kunye wasn’t interested in her wounds. If not for avoiding her suspicion, he wouldn’t have asked. “What does it matter to me?”
Wen Xi stiffened, eyelashes lowering, casting a shadow. “I know. I’ll go clean up the kitchen.”
She placed the tray on the coffee table in front of Shao Kunye, ensuring he could reach it, then returned to the kitchen.
Shao Kunye looked at her frail back, then at the breakfast. Wen Liyang’s words replayed in his mind—Wen Xi curling up pitifully on that narrow bed, frowning, silently whining as her wound throbbed.
A sudden irritation rose in his chest. “Han Tao.”
Han Tao entered. “Young Master Shao?”
Shao Kunye said impatiently, “Get a doctor to treat her wound.”
Han Tao paused, looked toward the kitchen at Wen Xi, and immediately went to contact a doctor.
After a while, Wen Xi finished cleaning the kitchen and was about to take Wen Liyang back to their room when Han Tao brought in a woman.
Seeing Wen Xi’s puzzled look, Han Tao said, “Young Master Shao sent a doctor to treat your wound.”
Wen Xi froze, instinctively glancing toward Shao Kunye outside in the yard.
He was standing on the steps, back to her, casually making a call, radiating a lazy elegance.
“Thank you for the trouble,” Wen Xi said awkwardly to the family doctor.
This was the same doctor who had examined her last time while she was unconscious; she hadn’t seen him before.
The doctor examined her wound. “It’s inflamed. No one treated it after you came back?”
Wen Xi shook her head. “I usually let wounds heal on their own.”
The doctor paused, noticing the scars across her body, clearly from years of neglect.
Feeling pity for the girl, he was especially careful in his treatment.
“If it hurts, tell me.”
Wen Xi obediently nodded.
In fact, she was stronger than he imagined. She didn’t make a sound during treatment, and even when it hurt, she only frowned slightly.
It wasn’t so much strength as forced endurance.
In an environment where no one cared, even intense pain wasn’t pitied; one had to endure it alone, like a stray dog licking its wounds in a deserted corner.
“Wound’s treated. Avoid water and spicy foods for a while,” the doctor instructed.
Wen Xi nodded obediently. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Oh, this is scar ointment. Apply twice a day.” The doctor handed her a bottle labeled in English she couldn’t read.
Wen Xi looked at him, confused.
Seeing her confusion, the doctor smiled. “Young Master Shao had me bring it. Last time, I noticed many old scars on your body. It won’t remove them completely, but it will significantly fade them.”
After a while, Shao Kunye returned from his call and saw Wen Xi sitting on the sofa, holding the bottle, looking up at him with her big eyes.
Shao Kunye asked casually, “Why are you looking at me?”
Wen Xi carefully held the bottle. “The doctor said you sent it to me.”
Shao Kunye held a cigarette between his lips. “So?”
Wen Xi looked at him sincerely. “Thank you.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, and she felt a bit of moisture in her eyes. “After my parents died, no one has ever been this kind to me.”
Shao Kunye raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m being kind to you?”
Wen Xi nodded seriously.
Shao Kunye let out a cold laugh. Every night, he had Wen Xi drink water with medicine in it, and she still thought he was a good person.
In her mind, the concept of a “bad person” probably didn’t exist.
“I’ll apply it carefully,” Wen Xi said, her eyes full of determination. “If you think my scars are ugly, I’ll try not to let you see my back in the future.”
She suddenly felt a little relieved—fortunately, Jiang Tinglu and the others had only hit her on the back. If the front had been scarred, Shao Kunye might never have been able to touch her at all.
Holding the ointment bottle with such earnestness, she no longer seemed bothersome.
At that moment, Han Tao’s phone rang. He answered and walked over to Shao Kunye. “Young Master Shao, the goods Jiang Songde requested are ready.”
Shao Kunye’s lips curved slightly. “Arrange it. Tomorrow night, the dock—transaction.”