Chapter 67: A Piercing Blow

Cheng Hui had no desire to pay attention to He Cheng. She stepped aside to reply to Xin Gan’s message: It’s all He Cheng’s mother—she invited my mom out shopping, specifically asked me to join, and said she wants to make me her goddaughter. But who wants that? She already had a mother and didn’t need a godmother.

Mrs. Cheng, mindful of the relationship between the two families, neither refused nor accepted the offer outright, merely sidestepping the issue with He Cheng’s mother. He Cheng’s mother, eager to forge a closer bond but unwilling to be too pushy, let the matter rest for now.

After pondering for a moment, Xin Gan advised, Wear that navy blue plaid dress—the one that looks really nice.

Cheng Hui immediately took it to the fitting room, changed, spun in front of the mirror, and sent Xin Gan a picture. She then asked, Has my brother called you since he got back?

Xin Gan replied, No.

Cheng Hui, indignant on her behalf, texted back: My brother is so clueless. He doesn’t keep in touch—doesn’t he worry you’ll be angry?

Xin Gan brushed off He Cheng’s situation and responded: Why would I be angry?

Cheng Hui continued: You don’t know, but he used to date a girl. The year he graduated college and was about to move to Beiyu, he asked her if she could wait for him a few years. At first, she did, but then he got busy at work, often went MIA, and before long, the girl got upset and started giving him the cold shoulder. He couldn’t make it back often, and he’s not the type to coax anyone; eventually, she started badmouthing him in front of their friends, and that was the end of it.

Xin Gan stared at the chat window for a while, deep in thought, and didn’t reply. Thankfully, WeChat didn’t show when someone was typing.

A few seconds later, Cheng Hui regretted having sent the message, realizing she might have said too much. She quickly deleted it. She wasn’t sure if Xin Gan had seen it, and when no reply came, she assumed she hadn’t, so she sent a couple of stickers to smooth things over.

Xin Gan replied with a sticker of her own, didn’t ask about the deleted message, helped her pick out a dress, and after a few more words, said she had to get to work.

Cheng Hui breathed a sigh of relief and patted her chest.

“Are you done?” He Cheng, having waited too long, strode over just as Cheng Hui was patting her chest, his tone cold and hard.

Cheng Hui jumped. “Why do you walk so quietly? You startled me.”

“I called you several times. You were so focused on your phone you didn’t notice,” he said.

“Oh,” Cheng Hui answered.

He Cheng, out of patience but compelled to stay with the Chengs, said, “Your mom’s in the next store looking at rings.”

Cheng Hui nodded, grabbed her clothes, and headed to the counter.

Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. He had known each other for years, but their relationship was lukewarm at best. If it weren’t for He Chuan and Cheng Jiu becoming close friends, the two families would have almost no connection.

To foster ties, Mrs. He bought a pair of diamond earrings worth six figures as a gift for Cheng Hui—a considerable sum for most families, showing she was making a real effort.

Mrs. Cheng had heard rumors about He Cheng. Though she liked He Chuan, that didn’t mean she held He Cheng in high regard. The boy looked hard to deal with—cold-blooded, difficult, not a warm-hearted child by any means.

So Mrs. He’s idea of making Cheng Hui her goddaughter was something Mrs. Cheng had already decided to refuse.

The diamond earrings were already boxed up by the sales assistant. As she brought them over, Cheng Hui, having finished buying her dress, came over to find her mother.

“Here you are, Huihui, just in time. See what Auntie bought you.” Mrs. He took the box from the assistant and presented it to Cheng Hui.

Cheng Hui instinctively glanced at her mother and feigned delight. “Aunt He, they’re beautiful! The diamonds are so sparkly.”

At some point, He Cheng had wandered over and, hearing this, curled his lip in contempt, making no effort to hide his disdain—even if Cheng Hui saw it.

Mrs. He beamed. “Do you like them, Huihui? Auntie wants to give them to you.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can accept, Aunt He. They look expensive—I can’t let you spend so much,” Cheng Hui said politely.

“Nonsense, it’s just a little gift from Auntie. If you don’t take them, you’re looking down on me.”

Mrs. Cheng saw through her intentions. “Mrs. He, please, there’s no need for gifts. Huihui’s still young, still in school. I don’t even buy her jewelry myself—I worry it’ll make her vain, wanting to compare with others.”

Mrs. He smiled, “I only said a word, and you gave me ten in return. I really like Huihui; she’s such a clever girl, easy to love. I can’t return the earrings now; they’re paid for. Huihui, you wouldn’t refuse Auntie’s kindness, would you?”

Cheng Hui was at a loss, looking to her mother for help.

Mrs. Cheng, unruffled, said, “Mrs. He, we’ve known each other so many years—there’s no need for all these gifts. You’re making it awkward. If you keep inviting us out shopping and spending like this, we’ll be too embarrassed to come. It’s too much of a burden.”

Cheng Hui, still young, could play dumb. “Aunt He, I really can’t take them. My mom will scold me at home—you wouldn’t want to see that, would you?”

Repeated refusals made it clear Cheng Hui had no wish to be her goddaughter. Mrs. He’s smile stiffened; the embarrassment was obvious, but for the sake of a good relationship for He Cheng, she forced herself to keep up appearances. As for the earrings, returning them was awkward, but keeping them was worse.

Cheng He wanted to buy milk tea, so Mrs. He told He Cheng to go with her.

While queueing, Cheng Hui gave He Cheng a cold look. “If you don’t want to wait, you can go. I can do it myself.”

He Cheng replied indifferently, “No need. I’m already here.”

Cheng Hui had disliked He Cheng from the moment she met him. He was sullen, difficult, and had bullied her when she was younger. Back then, she’d been too small to tell the adults, but as she grew, with He Chuan’s protection, she’d grown bolder. Still, she was wary of He Cheng—he was just not someone to trifle with.

Whenever He Chuan had trouble with her, he’d use He Cheng to scare her into behaving.

He Cheng didn’t leave, so Cheng Hui simply ignored him, playing with her phone.

He Cheng couldn’t understand why girls liked milk tea so much—to the point of waiting in a long queue for it. After a while, impatience got the better of him; he walked over to the rail and leaned against it, staring off, visibly on the verge of anger.

He was, in fact, quite handsome—youthful, striking, but his eyes were too brooding, and his cold demeanor made him seem aloof. That, too, was a type that girls found attractive.

Cheng Hui didn’t care, still waiting in line.

“Excuse me, may I have a word?” A stylish woman in sunglasses, looking to be in her early thirties and every inch the secretary to a high-powered CEO, approached He Cheng.

He Cheng glanced over, his tone insolent. “Talk about what? Who are you?”

“I’m an agent with MK Entertainment. My name is Tan Yazhuo.” The woman was poised, unfazed by his rudeness—if anything, she found it endearing, a sign of character. And he was undeniably photogenic.

She guessed his height at about 6’0”, with broad shoulders and great proportions—a natural model, perfect for all sorts of styles. He was, in fact, exactly the candidate she was seeking.

He Cheng sneered. “MK? An agent? And?”

“Here’s my card,” Tan Yazhuo said confidently, handing it over.

He Cheng didn’t take it, looking down at her with contempt. “I’ll ask again: why are you talking to me?”

“I think you have the right look. We’re recruiting models at our company, and I think you’d be perfect. Have you ever thought about it? Want to give it a try?”

He Cheng scoffed. “What year is this? You think I’m a gullible kid?”

“Our office address is on the card. You can come check us out in person, or look up my credentials online. We can set up an appointment to talk in detail. I think you’ll be interested.”

He Cheng gave a noncommittal sound, stuffed the card in his pocket, and said, “Maybe next time. I’ve got things to do.”

“All right, I’ll wait for your call.”

Cheng Hui, milk tea in hand, walked over and saw him talking to a woman, accepting something from her. She asked casually, “Who was that? Did you run into a friend?”

He Cheng replied, “None of your business, Miss Cheng.”

Cheng Hui’s face darkened. She was far too young to be called “Miss,” and the word itself had long since lost its positive connotations. It was by no means polite. She said nothing more and walked off.

From then on, Cheng Hui didn’t speak another word to He Cheng. When she finally got home, the more she thought about the day, the more upset she felt. She couldn’t help but call He Chuan to vent about everything that had happened.

He Chuan was still out socializing, a little tipsy. When he got her call, he found a quiet corner to relax in, smiling gently as he said, “Don’t be upset. When I have time, I’ll take you out.”

Cheng Hui let out a heavy sigh. “Why are you and your brother so different? You’re so nice—he’s just awful.”

“Me, nice? Since when?” He Chuan’s smile twisted. Only Cheng Hui would say he was nice; everyone who’d worked with him behind the scenes said he was sly and ruthless, squeezing every bit of profit out of them—a veritable capitalist.

“You’re not nice? I think you’re great. You can be a bit fierce sometimes, but compared to my brother, you’re way more gentle.”

“Oh, caught you—badmouthing Cheng Jiu again.”

“Is that how you are? I confide in you, and you betray me? I’ll never talk to you again.”

He Chuan licked his teeth and said, “Well, if I want to snitch now, there’s nothing you can do. Unless you beg me—call me ‘big brother’—then I’ll let you go.”

“I won’t! I’m in a terrible mood, thanks to your awful brother—he makes me so mad!”

Cheng Hui and He Cheng had always been at odds. He Chuan knew that, so he took another drag on his cigarette and asked, “You said my mom wanted to make you her goddaughter?”

Cheng Hui had just told him everything—including Mrs. He’s desire to make her the goddaughter.

She said, “Yeah, He Chuan, it’s not that I dislike your mom—it’s that I already have a mom. I don’t need a godmother. Maybe that sounds harsh, but my mom would get jealous and feel hurt. I don’t want that.”

“Understood. I’ll handle it,” He Chuan replied blandly, though it was clear he hadn’t known about it beforehand. Cheng Hui, long acquainted with him, was unreserved. She laughed, “Thanks, big brother He.”

She deliberately dragged out the words, voice muffled.

He Chuan’s mood suddenly brightened. “Okay, get some rest. I have work to do.”

“Did you drink?”

“A little.”

“Don’t drive, okay? Be careful—you don’t want to end up trending for the wrong reason.”

He Chuan was a well-known golden bachelor in Yongcheng. Once, he’d been photographed at an event, which made its way online and earned him a slew of adoring fans. Occasionally, he’d still be recognized on the street, but he wasn’t a celebrity, so the attention soon faded and life returned to normal—though some attention lingered.

As Cheng Hui was about to hang up, He Chuan said, “Wait a sec.”

She paused. “What is it?”

“Who’s the person you like? I’ll help you vet him.”

“I told you, I’m not saying! Goodbye, goodnight!”

Afraid she’d slip up, Cheng Hui quickly ended the call.

He Chuan stood where he was for a while, loosened his tie, let the wind cool his face, and finally returned to the banquet.

It was late when the event finally ended. He Chuan was the first to leave. His assistant drove and asked, “Where to, Mr. He?”

“The office.”

He Chuan pinched the bridge of his nose, reeking of alcohol.

The assistant didn’t dare say more and turned the car toward the company.

...

After some time at her new company, Xin Gan gradually adjusted to the environment and got along well with her colleagues. She was gentle and friendly, never refusing reasonable requests for help.

But in any office, with so many people around—especially women—no matter how agreeable she was, someone would take a dislike to her.

As time went on, rumors spread that she’d gotten her job through a connection with Song Chen. Without him, there was no way she’d have been hired.

Xin Gan had overheard her name mentioned in the women’s restroom, with people discussing her supposed relationship with Song Chen. The one spreading rumors was in her own department—a woman named Xiao Han, who’d been there a year longer. She was short with a baby face, giving an impression of innocence, and even Xin Gan had thought so at first.

The gossip circulated throughout the company.

Gradually, Xin Gan began to notice the probing, disdainful, even hostile looks from others. It was true she’d used Song Chen’s connection to join the company, but that was hardly a crime. She’d always kept a low profile, did her best to maintain good relationships, but some—like Xiao Han—just couldn’t stand her.

One afternoon in the cafeteria, Xin Gan ran into Xiao Han. She moved aside with her cup, giving Xiao Han room. Xiao Han didn’t hesitate, stepping forward and then pausing to look back at her. “Xin Gan, I have some questions about a project. Do you have a moment?”

Others nearby watched, as if waiting for drama. Xin Gan didn’t flinch. “I do.”

“Let’s eat together, then—we can talk as we go.”

Such directness was rare.

Though not experienced at work, Xin Gan could read people well enough. She knew Xiao Han wasn’t up to anything good—there’d be no slipping away, so better to face it openly. If something happened, at least her conscience was clear.

Several female colleagues joined Xiao Han at the table.

Xin Gan sat across from them. As soon as she did, the girl diagonally across knocked over her cup, spilling water all over the table. Xin Gan reacted too slowly; her skirt got splashed. She stood up, trying to wipe it, but it wouldn’t dry.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry! I accidentally knocked over my cup. Here, let me get you some tissues,” the colleague apologized, seemingly sincere, not joking.

Xin Gan accepted the tissue. “Thank you.”

Xiao Han and the others had dodged the water in time—Xin Gan, wearing a skirt, hadn’t been so lucky.

Xiao Han said, “Xin Gan, maybe you should go to the restroom and clean up. Your skirt’s white; if you’re not careful, it’ll be see-through.”

Xin Gan looked down. The white fabric was already stained dark, quickly turning transparent. She hurried to the restroom, but there was no quick fix.

...

Not long after, Song Chen heard about what had happened in the cafeteria. His assistant said, “Mr. Song, that Xiao Han from the design department is trouble. She’s been talking a lot about your relationship with Miss Xin.”

The assistant had caught the rumors. Knowing that Xin Gan was only Song Chen’s cousin by marriage, not what others imagined, he felt compelled to mention it.

Song Chen flipped through documents, indifferent. “Handle it yourself. Don’t bother me with it.”

But how to handle it? The assistant wasn’t sure.

Perhaps seeing through his confusion, Song Chen added, “Use your own judgment. I can’t teach you everything.”

“Yes, Mr. Song.”

Leaving the office, the assistant felt like crying. Was it always this hard to be an assistant these days—having to solve his boss’s private problems too?

...

When Xin Gan got home, her father was there and asked about her job over dinner.

Xin Gan poked at her bowl with her chopsticks. “It’s going all right.”

“All right? What kind of answer is that? Having trouble with your colleagues?” her mother asked, ladling her some soup.

Her father looked up at her.

Xin Gan didn’t want them to worry. She smiled. “Not really. There’s nothing wrong, I just haven’t gotten used to having graduated yet.”

“You’ll have to adjust. The workplace isn’t like school. At school, you’re allowed to make mistakes; at work, you’re not. You have to be diligent and persevering. If you run into real trouble, tell your father—I’m on your side.” Her father rarely spoke at length, and his face was as impassive as ever.

Her mother agreed, “He’s right.”

“I know,” Xin Gan said.

Her mother then asked, “Has Cheng Jiu called you since he got back?”

She asked every few days, worried that long-distance would weaken their bond.

Xin Gan took a sip of water, answering casually, “I’ve been busy lately—haven’t noticed.”

“What do you mean, haven’t noticed? Hasn’t he been in touch?” her mother pressed.

Xin Gan didn’t want to blame Cheng Jiu directly, so she took it on herself. “I’ve just been too busy. He did reach out; I didn’t reply.”

“Why didn’t you reply? That’s not good,” her mother said earnestly. “Cheng Jiu’s work is different from yours. If he can’t look after you, you need to take the initiative.”

Xin Gan hesitated. Take the initiative? She was already trying to avoid him, let alone reach out.

Her father noticed her hesitation and asked bluntly, “Is there a problem between you two?”