What good could come from opposing such a lawless little ruffian?
Wei Mingzhen slumped dizzily into a chair: "Why would I run? This is my home... Miao Jing still has to go to school, she has the high school entrance exam coming up, she needs to get into a key high school..."
Chen Yi's gaze swept over them—exactly. Miao Jing still had to study. As long as they kept an eye on Miao Jing, where could this mother and daughter possibly run?
Miao Jing's face was pale and calm, silently bearing the weight of their stares—what could she do? She was powerless.
Time drifted along until Miao Jing's third year of junior high began—Wei Mingzhen told Miao Jing to register at school and live in the dormitory.
Chen Yi was curled up on the sofa playing games, hearing the mother-daughter conversation but not moving a muscle, not even lifting an eyelid.
The two spoke privately, with Wei Mingzhen warning Miao Jing to have less contact with Chen Yi, to be careful at school, and to seek out her homeroom teacher if anything happened. When Miao Jing asked about the death benefits and insurance money, Wei Mingzhen refused to disclose anything, only saying she didn't want the house—she'd leave it to Chen Yi. She wanted the money.—A large sum, totaling seven or eight hundred thousand. Wei Mingzhen didn't want Chen Yi to know, afraid he'd covet it and take it all, worried he might do something extreme for that money.
"Mom, this is Chen Yi's father's money..." Miao Jing swallowed hard, frowning. "Don't argue with Chen Yi."
"Chen Libin lied to me. He said he had millions, that even if we divorced I'd get over a million," Wei Mingzhen gritted her teeth. "Chen Yi isn't Chen Libin's son. If we give him the money, he'll just gamble it away. Chen Libin would be so angry he'd jump out of his coffin."
"Mom..."
"Don't side with Chen Yi. I'm your mother. Who is he?"
Wei Mingzhen had her own plans. When registering, she gave Miao Jing several thousand extra, telling her to hide it in the school dormitory—it might come in handy someday.
That day, Wei Mingzhen left early in the morning, saying she was going to the power company to ask about something. She left empty-handed, circled the city several times, then finally took a taxi to the train station. On the way, she called Miao Jing's homeroom teacher.
Miao Jing answered the phone and heard her mother's hushed voice say that a man would be waiting at the school gate in half an hour to pick her up. She was to go with him to the train station—the tickets were already bought.
The call ended abruptly. Miao Jing's mind went completely blank, her heart leaping into her throat, her steps feeling as if she were walking on clouds.
Was Wei Mingzhen taking her... and running?
In a daze, she walked out and stood at the school gate for a moment. Sure enough, there was a man—one she'd seen before, connected to Wei Mingzhen—who immediately grabbed her and tried to pull her into a taxi. Miao Jing shrank back fearfully. The man urgently explained that her mother had already left Tengcheng by train and was waiting for them at the next stop so they could meet up.
"Where are we going?" Her face was pale, sweat beading on her forehead. "Did you plan this beforehand?"
"Get in the car first, hurry up! The train station isn't close."
The man tugged at Miao Jing's arm, trying to get her into the taxi. Miao Jing, bewildered, took two steps forward. Suddenly, Bo Zai rushed over from the side, aggressively reaching for Miao Jing. She jumped in fright, stunned by the sudden turn of events. Dragged left and right by the two men, she heard Bo Zai shouting fiercely: "Help!! Someone's kidnapping! They're kidnapping a student!!"
Bo Zai's voice was especially shrill: "Help!! Save us! Call the police, 110, call the police quickly!"The security guard at the school gatehouse heard the commotion and rushed out swiftly. The man, upon hearing the word "police," sensed trouble and let out an "ouch" before diving into a taxi, abandoning Miao Jing and fleeing.
The guards gathered around, and Bo Zai released Miao Jing, grinning as he claimed it was all a joke. After a brief interrogation, someone nearby laughed and called out, "Little sister."
Chen Yi strode over.
Miao Jing’s entire body stiffened like stone. She mechanically turned her head, her terrified gaze meeting his smiling, handsome face and the pitch-black, sinister look in his eyes.
Chapter 11: He Turned and Went Inside, Whistling Softly
She had picked up her phone twelve times.
Chen Yi sat sprawled in a chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his thick brows furrowed. His attitude was, of course, arrogant. Perhaps if the call connected, he could offer an olive branch—he could pick her up after work, and they could discuss the moving situation again. He could move out and leave the apartment to her...
After two rings, Miao Jing directly hung up. A moment later, a WeChat message arrived, saying she was in a meeting with colleagues and had made her own arrangements. She told him not to worry about her and to focus on his own matters.
A meeting so late at night.
He stared at the line of text on his phone screen, his expression slightly cold and indifferent. His tongue scraped against his cheek, and finally, his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth.
Fine.
He leaned back comfortably on the sofa, his long legs lazily propped on the coffee table. The smoke filled his chest, swelling until it ached, and only then did he slowly exhale. The rich, thick mist swirled, blurring his features.
In September, Tengcheng was still hot and stifling. Chen Yi got up and went to the billiards hall, where he played pool alone all night. The next day, Bo Zai came by and found Chen Yi lying on the sofa, looking listless—a state he’d been in frequently lately. When Bo Zai spoke to him, Chen Yi gave a vague "hmm," his hands stuffed in his pockets, and wandered out absentmindedly.
Back home, the apartment was, of course, empty. The coffee table was piled high with cigarette butts. Since Miao Jing had returned, the siblings hadn’t grown close. Their chat history was sparse, and that day, she had only sent him one message: the milk in the fridge was about to expire, and he should take care of it.
Chen Yi made some calls to find some entertainment—dining out or karaoke, inviting friends for a game of mahjong. The response was immediate. Tu Li also showed up, and they laid out a table of fine food and drinks. Everyone chatted animatedly, faces flushed and voices lively. Chen Yi smoked one cigarette after another, and even at the karaoke bar, he was his usual unrestrained self. Tu Li played mahjong with Dai Mao and the others, glancing over to see him clutching a beer and sinking into the sofa to watch music videos. Colored beams of light flowed over his deep-set features, exuding a despondent yet rakish charm.
After the revelry ended, Chen Yi called a designated driver to take him home. Tu Li clung to his arm, noticing his lazy, slightly tipsy demeanor as he gazed out the window, his profile sharp and handsome, a lighter clutched in his hand. She pried his fingers open—the silver lighter was scorching from his body heat, and she shivered at the touch, her body going soft. She slipped the lighter into his pants pocket, her fingers teasing him inside.
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