Volume One, Chapter 20: Wen Renjing

Getting into the car, Zhongli laughed heartily, pounding the steering wheel, “This is hilarious, hahaha!”

Jiang Yihuan rolled down the window, pulled out a cigarette from her pocket, bit it between her teeth, and lit it. “This is just the beginning. The real show is yet to come.”

Zhongli also grabbed a cigarette from the pack and said, “This feels great. Much better than when we were in the States. What’s the plan next?”

Jiang Yihuan exhaled smoke slowly, her gaze fixed on the event hall’s entrance, cold and sharp like poisonous weeds spreading in a dark winter pond.

She spoke each word deliberately, “Of course, repay them in their own way.”

She intended to ruin Shen Qiming’s reputation and warm her mother’s cold afterlife with the blood of the Shen family.

Zhongli blinked playfully and said, “Take me with you, take me with you!”

Jiang Yihuan teased, “I heard Grandpa Zhong hired several tutors to teach you etiquette, planning to straighten out this crooked sapling you are. If Grandpa Zhong knows I’m leading you into mischief, he’ll beat me up.”

“Ha, it’s already crooked. No matter how much you prune it, it won’t grow into a towering tree. I just pray my grandpa lives a long life, my brother stays ambitious, and earns a fortune, so I can quietly live as a rich heir doing nothing.”

After saying this, Zhongli folded her hands together and mouthed some rapid, unintelligible prayers.

When she finished, a smile played on her lips as if she had already seen the gods grant her cheeky wish.

Jiang Yihuan laughed at her expression and asked curiously, “Are you so happy every day because you get to do bad things?”

Sometimes, she wondered if her mother hadn’t died, would she have grown up as happily as Zhongli?

But alas, there are no “ifs” in this world.

“No, no, no,” Zhongli shook her finger, looking at Jiang Yihuan like she was wrong. “I’m happy because I have no brains.”

Jiang Yihuan laughed so hard tears came to her eyes.

Zhongli stubbed out her cigarette, hooked her arm through Jiang Yihuan’s, and rubbed her head affectionately. “Take me along, I can help with a lot.”

“Alright, alright, you’re coming.”

Zhongli clapped her hands gleefully, “YES!!”

Jiang Yihuan smiled knowingly. She understood Zhongli’s meaning.

The two had been partners in crime since childhood—not because Zhongli was mischievous, but because she was afraid Jiang Yihuan would be bullied.

Zhongli feared she couldn’t stand up to the Shen family alone, so she insisted on staying by her side.

Sometimes, Jiang Yihuan hated fate for taking her mother away; other times, she was grateful for bringing Zhongli and Zhou Jingmo into her life.

Perhaps this was fate’s way of making amends.

Zhongli happily started the car. Just as she was about to shift gears, a muffled “bang” came from the hood.

Both were startled and simultaneously looked out the window.

A tall man with sharp features stood in front of the car.

He wore a white high-neck wool sweater under a gray suit, topped with a camel-colored wool coat—exuding the aura of an Italian nobleman.

He tilted his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he looked mockingly at Zhongli.

Jiang Yihuan sensed gossip in the air and asked Zhongli with a half-smile, “Do you know him?”

Zhongli’s face darkened as she forced out the words through clenched teeth, “The owner of 911.”

Her blind date.

Wenren Jing, heir to Hongyuan Real Estate, notorious in Rong City for being a playboy.

Zhongli had told Jiang Yihuan about him before, and Jiang nodded knowingly.

“So what’s going on? You hit his car and didn’t pay?”

“I’d rather curse his grandmother,” Zhongli muttered angrily as she opened the door and stepped out, glaring at Wenren Jing, “Don’t stand in the way of a good dog, got it?”

Wenren Jing half-lifted his eyelids, smiling slyly at Zhongli, “Why so angry? You seemed pretty happy at the event just now.”

“None of your business. Move.”

“No.”

Leaning against the car like a spoiled rich kid, Wenren Jing casually spun a silver lighter in his hand, grinning provocatively, “Where are you going? Take me with you, or I’ll just stay here forever.”

Zhongli stepped closer, smirking, “May I ask why?”

“No reason. I just want to tag along. What’s wrong with that?”

His tone was so matter-of-fact it was as if refusing to take him along would be unreasonable.

Zhongli was momentarily speechless.

Counting the car accident, this should be the third time she met Wenren Jing. The other was at the blind date restaurant where she had thrown a glass of red wine at him.

No matter how you looked at it, they should be enemies who’d glare at each other on sight.

How could they be going out to play together?

How did this man make it sound so reasonable?

Zhongli tapped her temple with a finger, “Have you been to the hospital yet, Wenren?”

Wenren Jing smiled, “What? Do you have a hospital contact you want to recommend?”

Zhongli was speechless.

Damn, she’d met her match.

“Let me check for you. Now, kindly step aside smoothly.”

“No. If you don’t take me, I’ll call Grandpa Zhong and tell him you ruined Jiang Sheng’s launch event.”

That hit Zhongli right where it hurt. She ground her teeth, staring at Wenren Jing, torn between punching him once or twice.

Jiang Yihuan poked her head out the window, “Are we leaving or not? I’m freezing to death.”

The car wouldn’t start, no heater, and it was below minus twenty degrees outside. She was turning into an ice sculpture.

“Let’s go.”

Zhongli didn’t even look at Wenren Jing and got back in.

Wenren Jing opened the door and slid into the back seat.

Jiang Yihuan raised an eyebrow, puzzled, and looked at Wenren Jing in the rearview mirror. “What’s going on?”

Zhongli took a deep breath, gritting her teeth, “What a pain in the ass.”

She started the engine and stomped the accelerator.

Wenren Jing waved his hand with a grin. “Hello, my surname is Wenren, given name Jing—Wenren Jing.”

“Jiang Yihuan.”

“Oh—" Wenren Jing dragged out the sound, “So you’re Jiang Yihuan.”

Jiang Yihuan raised an eyebrow, realizing she was somewhat famous.

“You know me?”

Wenren Jing was casual and cocky, “Who in the circle doesn’t know Zhou Jingmo’s been in New York for years because of his sister? I was wondering why he suddenly shifted focus back home these past two years. Turns out it’s because he came back with you.”

Jiang Yihuan was silent for a moment, then smiled faintly, “You misunderstand, Mr. Wenren. He went to New York because it’s the global financial center, not because of me.”

“Oh? Sounds like rumors then. I was just guessing, no offense. Don’t take it to heart, Sister Yihuan.”

“Not at all.”

Zhongli hissed, “Who’s your sister? Why do you like to flatter yourself so much?”

“No choice, I’m just naturally friendly,” Wenren Jing leaned back in his seat, grinning slyly. “Besides, Sister Yihuan didn’t say much, but you reacted so strongly—jealous, maybe?”

“I think you’re just shameless.”

Jiang Yihuan watched their banter and chuckled softly. “You two combined are over fifty years old. Can you stop bickering like elementary school kids?”

Zhongli snorted coldly, “Like I want to.”

Wenren Jing licked his lips and asked Jiang Yihuan, “Where are you headed?”

“To race cars. Interested, Brother Wenren?”

Wenren Jing was momentarily taken aback. Female racers were rare; most noble families wouldn’t let their daughters touch extreme sports, preferring horseback riding instead. Racing was truly uncommon.

“You two together?”

Jiang Yihuan nodded. “Yes, Zhongli’s pretty good.”

Wenren Jing looked meaningfully at Zhongli and suddenly found the girl rather interesting.

He chuckled, “Alright. I don’t know how to play, but I can tag along and learn.”