Xiang Yun didn’t know what Wen Yuxuan was getting at and answered with a look of pure impatience. “Why would I tell you?”
She was already irritated by her presence; now, with the woman pestering her nonstop, Wen Yuxuan wished she could shut her up for good.
Seeing Wen Yuxuan’s attitude, Xiang Yun seemed to piece something together. She gave a short, bitter laugh, then said something oddly out of place.
“Wen Yuxuan, is there really anyone around you who loves you?”
“What do you mean by that?” Wen Yuxuan’s face darkened.
At the restaurant that day she’d watched Chen Qingmian being taken away by Chen Yu’an. From the way Wen Yuxuan had acted, Xiang Yun was pretty sure Wen hadn’t been scheming—she didn’t have the brains for it. So why had Chen Yu’an shown up at the restaurant at all? Someone had to have tipped him off.
The most likely candidate was Shu Yi. Shu Yi’s money mostly came through Wen Yuxuan; he couldn’t resist her. He’d been forced to take that drug. And yet he hadn’t wanted Chen Qingmian to be harmed, so he must’ve called Chen Yu’an. Now it all fit: why Wen Yuxuan and the girl had both been there but Shu Yi hadn’t—because he’d been the one who set things in motion.
Xiang Yun fell silent and flopped onto the bed in the middle of the room. At least there was still a bed to lie on. Where they were headed next, even sleep would be a luxury.
Wen Yuxuan scowled at her. The sight of Xiang Yun sprawling there made her look disdainful. “Lower-class people are still lower-class. Always filthy.”
Xiang Yun shut her eyes, not wanting to argue.
A short time later a ruckus arose outside the villa. The front door was knocked on, and Tan Si hurried to open it.
Several men in suits stood there. The one in front wore a garish patterned jacket and grinned broadly when he saw Chen Yu’an. He waddled forward and spoke in halting Mandarin.
“Boss, where’s the goods?”
Chen Yu’an lifted his eyes without ceremony. His gaze was cool and cutting as he looked at the man. “Where are they?”
The man’s smile faltered under that look, replaced by a cautious politeness. “Of course they’re ready.” One of the men behind him stepped forward and handed over a sealed envelope.
As the man passed the packet he began to chatter. “That girl—oh, we won’t forget her. First day at the plant, she cried like crazy, so small and fragile—we were all worried she’d die of it. And then the next day she’s a different person; no crying, not saying a word. Her eyes…they were so fierce, like she could eat you. Nobody dared go near her.”
“On the third day a man in a black robe showed up. He was with her every day. We don’t know what they did in the room—our job’s just to collect and handle things, so we didn’t pry.”
Chen Yu’an listened, pulled out his phone, and swiped through a few pictures before sliding the screen across to the man. “Is this the man in the black robe?”
The man in the floral jacket peered at the phone, squinting as he tried to recall. Then he nodded energetically, pointing at the screen. “Yes, that’s him. Always mysterious when he came, but he paid well—our golden goose for a while. He always asked for that girl; everybody knew she was his. So none of us touched her.”
Chen Yu’an gave a cold hum, put his phone away, and said, “He’s upstairs. Move him yourself.”
The man handed over the folder with exaggerated deference and waved the others up toward the attic. Soon Wen Yuxuan’s shouting echoed from above again. These men didn’t bother with subtlety; if someone disobeyed, they used force. In short order Wen Yuxuan fell silent.
When they brought her down, she had two huge, red handprints on either cheek and had fainted; they were carrying her like a sack.
“Boss, we’ve taken the people.”
The man in the floral jacket bowed low to Chen Yu’an. Chen Yu’an didn’t bother looking up; he responded with a single, cool murmur.
Not bad cargo, considering. One was rough-looking with an ugly scar—useful for manual labor. The other—soft-skinned and tender—would be a different sort of “benefit” for the men.
Another commotion outside, engines revving, and then the cars peeled away.
Chen Yu’an opened the folder. A dossier with a man’s information stared back at him. As he flipped through the pages his expression hardened.
“Contact Mr. Si,” he ordered Tan Si. “Arrange for him to come here.”
“Yes, sir.” Tan Si bowed and sprang into action.
...
Elsewhere, Chi Yu finished a call and sat on the bed, debating whether he should tell Jiang Zhirou that Chen Yu’an had disappeared. He didn’t know enough about what Jiang Zhirou still remembered—how much of Chen Yu’an’s history she retained, whether she still remembered him as the brother from her days in the capital. Too many unknowns made him hesitate.
The knock on his door came just then. He thought it might be Jiang Zhirou and rose to answer, but a voice he knew called from outside.
“Mr. Chi, are you asleep? Mr. Si wants to speak with you.”
He glanced down at the robe on his shoulders and said, “Wait a moment. I’ll be right there.”
Minutes later Chi Yu sat primly in the upstairs study, buttoned and composed. Si Mosheng sat opposite, eyes steady as ever.
“I heard you gave Zhi a safety lock,” Si Mosheng said leisurely.
Chi Yu raised a brow. Si was quick on the rumors—this was, after all, his territory; nothing stayed hidden long here. He wasn’t trying to boast—besides, the thing in Jiang Zhirou’s hand hadn’t been his gift.
“No,” Chi Yu replied. “I bought the aquamarine heart. She didn’t take it.”
Si Mosheng’s eyes narrowed with a flash of meaning. “The aquamarine heart from the corner shop?”
Chi Yu frowned. The shopkeeper had insisted it was a one-of-a-kind treasure—could he have been lying? Still, despite the doubt, Chi Yu nodded.
“Yeah.”