Lin Qing finished her shower and came out, drying her damp hair with a soft towel.

Mom had already packed several boxes and was now glued to the TV, thoroughly engrossed in a drama called “The Wife and the Mistress Team Up to Take Down the Scumbag.”

“This show doesn’t even need a man — the wife and the mistress should just marry each other on the spot! Men are nothing but a nuisance.”

Mom spat out a sunflower seed husk and pointed at the TV as she commentated.

Men are nothing but a nuisance.

Mom wore her feelings plainly on her face.

She was clearly commenting on someone else’s story, yet somehow it sounded like a lament over her own life.

Lin Qing felt a pang of sadness.

Dad had passed away when Lin Qing was ten years old. From that point on, the two of them — mother and daughter — depended on each other and no one else, Mom standing alone in the world.

Mom was tall and sharp-tongued, and it wasn’t as though people in the small town hadn’t tried to set her up with someone over the years.

But Mom had always said no.

She never said it out loud, but Lin Qing understood clearly — it was all for her sake.

Mom always said her precious daughter was an Aquarius fairy and couldn’t go around being someone’s “unwanted baggage.”

As long as Mom didn’t remarry, Lin Qing would never be anyone’s baggage.

All these years had passed, and Mom had forgotten Dad, and forgotten love.

Lin Qing didn’t want it to be that way for her.

A phone ringtone broke through her thoughts.

It was a video call from Lu Zhou.

Lin Qing slipped into her small bedroom to answer it. The moment she pressed the green button, the noise and chaos from the other side came rushing through the screen.

It was obvious Lu Zhou had just finished a competition.

Behind him, the podium was covered in gold confetti. The venue was loud and bustling, and several ball-girl beauties in ultra-short skirts kept drifting into the frame.

“Lin Qing, let me ask you something — do you want to bring your mom to Shanghai?”

Lu Zhou pressed one hand over his ear, raising his voice to be heard.

“Yes.”

“And do you want to buy an apartment in Shanghai?”

“Yes.”

Lin Qing nodded with conviction.

“Then that’s your answer. You got what you wanted — stop overthinking the rest.” Lu Zhou said, trying to comfort her.

“But…” Lin Qing hesitated, a quiet ache in her voice. “But I don’t really want to sell the house back home either. After all, that house is the only place where the three of us — me, Mom, and Dad — ever lived together.”

When Lin Qing mentioned her father, Lu Zhou had a faint recollection.

Back in third grade, Dad used to come pick Lin Qing up from school all the time. Then one day, only Mom started showing up.

He never knew exactly why, but somehow, anything that had to do with Lin Qing — he remembered it all with unusual clarity.

Lu Zhou offered a quiet reassurance: “Memories can live anywhere. They don’t have to stay inside an old house.”

“Mm.”

Lin Qing knew he was right, but emotionally, she still couldn’t let go.

Pop! Whoosh!

Just then, the sound of confetti cannons firing and all kinds of celebration erupted from the other side of the screen.

Even though Lu Zhou was doing his best to stay focused on the call, Lin Qing could clearly tell that people were pulling at him from just out of frame.

Lin Qing knew she couldn’t take up any more of his time. She said a quiet “Thank you, take care,” and ended the call.

Long after the screen went dark, she felt a wave of regret wash over her — she hadn’t even asked him how the competition went.

Lu Zhou’s record was, as always, utterly beyond question. A force that swept all before it.

In university, he had already claimed the national championship, becoming the youngest and most promising golfer in the country. In international competitions, he had steadily climbed the ranks, winning each match without a shred of suspense.

Currently, he held a world ranking of 17th.

She really should have said something — “Lu Zhou, congratulations on taking the championship.”

But Lin Qing didn’t feel too bad about it.

Lu Zhou was a winner regardless of whether he had her blessing or not.

Just as a star doesn’t shine more brightly because a poet sings its praises — because it is already luminous enough on its own.

Midnight at the real estate agency.

The small riverside town had no nightlife to speak of.

A storefront hung with a worn-out sign rarely stayed lit this late into the night.

The town had only so many properties, only so much business. On ordinary slow days, everyone clocked out at four-thirty to go home and cook dinner.

Tonight, though, the boss hadn’t gone off for his usual mahjong game and bath. Instead, he sat rigidly upright in the main office.

“Boss, something about this whole thing feels really off!”

The boss shot him a sideways glance. “You think I need you to tell me that?”

“That Lin lady said she was in a hurry to sell, sure — but how could there already be a buyer the second we listed it? I barely even got the listing up.”

“Exactly! And paying in full. We could recite backwards the names of every household in this town with that kind of cash on hand! So if this buyer isn’t from around here, what on earth do they want with a run-down house like this?”

“The call came from overseas, Boss. You think this might be a foreign scam?”

The pudgy, greasy boss continued his eye roll. “You ever heard of a scammer who wires you money first? Didn’t Xiao Zhou say the company account just received a hundred thousand as a deposit?”

“Then it’s money laundering!”

“Yes, yes! Money laundering!”

The two agents who had dealt with Mom that afternoon immediately fell into agreement.

“Who on earth buys a house just by giving a street address? And refuses to haggle on the price, on top of that.”

“Hey, Boss — you think this person might actually be an idiot?”

“You’re the idiot!” The boss rapped the man on the head. “The person on the phone made it perfectly clear — we’re the ones undermining the market. Selling at this price drags down property values for the whole neighbourhood. Whoever buys this unit is going to have a hard time reselling it later.”

The agent clutched his head, still muttering stubbornly: “Never seen anyone buy or sell a house like this. Too strange for words!”

Strange, indeed.

“Boss, should we report this to the police?” someone suggested.

The agency boss thought it over, then straightened up, patted his beer belly, and slapped the desk as he rose to his feet: “Report what? Just close the deal, get the money, finish the transaction! Everyone keep your wits about you — eyes sharp, all twelve of them!”

In one lifetime, crossing paths with three con men is perfectly normal.

But in three lifetimes, you might never come across a “fool” like this one.

Hold on tight.

Longquan Group.

Peter sat across from Liang Meng and slid an iPad toward her.

Liang Meng scrolled through it casually. It was filled with online comments — abuse, attacks, and vicious remarks directed at her.

“In the Chinese music scene, I only listen to Zhou Zelong — who does this Miss Liang think she is?”

“Without Zhou Zelong, who would even know Longquan Group existed? Go eat dirt.”

“I bet Miss Liang chased after Zhou Zelong herself, and when he rejected her, she turned her feelings into hatred. Has to be!”

“Zhou Zelong is the nation’s idol — an ungrateful company like this doesn’t deserve him.”

“I am firmly boycotting all products under Longquan Group.”

“Apparently this Miss Liang is the second daughter. Her older sister has far better taste.”

“Ha. I’d like to see what kind of new spokesperson this so-called ‘Group’ rolls out. Who could possibly top Zhou Zelong and win people over?”

“Longquan Group is going to crumble in this woman’s hands.”

“Go ahead and switch — I already cleared out all my Longquan Group stocks this morning.”

In truth, in her private moments, Liang Meng had already scrolled through all these predictable remarks many times over.

Her immune system was strong.

Still, Liang Meng played the part of someone who barely ever checked the comments, and returned the iPad to Peter with a mildly irritated expression.

“What’s this supposed to mean?” she asked.

He wanted to pledge his loyalty to her — so where was his offering?

“I had a PR firm trace the IP addresses behind these comments. A lot of them are coming from Southeast Asian locations. There’s likely an army of paid trolls behind it.”

Peter took his iPad back.

“And?” Liang Meng laced her fingers together, rested her chin on them, and fixed him with a steady gaze.

Peter pressed his lips together, lowered his eyes, and didn’t dare meet her stare.

Liang Meng cut straight to the point. “You’re trying to tell me these comments might be the work of Daiwei’s people?”

Peter said nothing. After a long pause, he gave the faintest nod.

Denouncing Daiwei within Longquan Group was the same as denouncing the man behind him — Liang Xing. The fact that Peter was willing to nod, however reluctantly, amounted to a clear declaration of loyalty.

“So how do we respond?”

Liang Meng turned her capacitive stylus between her fingers and looked around at the people in the room.

Spotting a problem didn’t make you talented. Solving it did.

“President Liang, may I ask you something in private?” Peter said, lowering his voice cautiously. “Why are you so set on replacing Zhou Zelong?”

Liang Meng’s eyes flickered, and the corner of her mouth curved with a barely perceptible slyness.

She studied Peter for a long moment, quietly glad she’d found the right person to work with.

In that case, she’d tell the right person the truth.

“Because I think he’s… too old!” Liang Meng said with self-assurance, rising from her chair and strolling leisurely around it. “The audience has watched him from age twenty to forty — aren’t they tired of him? Longquan Group needs fresh, young blood.”

“President Liang — is it really just about age?”

“Of course there’s more to it.”

Liang Meng clicked across the floor in her sharp stilettos, her pale, slender ankles bare, slowly circling around to stand behind Peter.

“The most honest reason? I simply don’t like this person. I. Don’t. Like. Him.”

She bent forward and lightly tapped his shoulder three times, her voice dropping to a murmur near his ear in a drawling, devil-may-care tone.

Like a mesmerizing, venomous snake spirit.

“…That makes this very difficult to work with,” Peter said, his expression troubled.

Not because he lacked ability.

Liang Meng was simply impossible to work with.

“Too old.”

That reason alone would cement Liang Meng’s reputation as “ungrateful,” “casting aside those who’d served their purpose,” and “utterly heartless” — it wouldn’t do a single thing to repair Longquan Group’s battered public image.

If Peter weren’t so desperate to climb the ladder, he would never have entangled himself with this “young mistress” in the first place.

“That leaves us only one option,” Peter said, steeling himself and forcing a steady tone. “Since we can’t get the trending topic taken down, we’ll have to buy another trending topic to bury this one.”

Given how deep Liang Meng’s contempt for Zhou Zelong clearly ran, the “Second Miss” was obviously a lost cause on this front.

Since no emotional appeal of any kind was going to work, the only path forward was standard technical maneuvering.

Buy someone else’s trending topic. Drown out your own.

“Perfect!”

Liang Meng was immediately on the same page as her new subordinate.

“Let’s buy this one.”

She flipped her iPad around and pointed at the 19th trending topic.

[China’s New Generation Golf Star Lu Zhou Claims First LPGA Career Title]

“President Liang — are you serious?”

Peter stared at her in disbelief.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Liang Meng smiled, her brows curved with amusement as she turned the question back on him.

But the sharp arrogance baked into her very core was etched clearly in her eyes, as it always was.

The Liang Family’s “useless Second Miss” — the reputation was well-earned.

She didn’t have a clue what she was doing, and yet she insisted on calling the shots.

If replacing Zhou Zelong had been a mistake, then buying a golf trending topic was proof that the water had overflowed from her head entirely.

The Second Miss of the Liang Family had rivers, lakes, and seas sloshing around in that brain of hers.

Never mind the fact that golf had a limited mainstream following domestically — this “Lu Zhou” person was someone Peter had never even heard of.

Clearly a new face, or at least his management team was, buying their way onto the trending charts.

Ranked 19th on the list — barely hanging on before dropping off altogether.

Buying this trending topic would be a complete waste of money. There was absolutely no way it could bury Liang Meng’s reputation, which had already hit rock bottom.

The cover-up would only make the original offense more obvious.

Word had it that Miss Liang Meng had studied international finance and public relations at a foreign university.

Apparently, all that education had gone straight into her makeup bag and her designer handbags.

Peter rose from his seat, said “I’ll take care of it,” and stepped out of the CEO’s office.

Liang Meng let her gaze go slack, pulled out her phone, and looked at the empty list under “New Friends” — not a single name. She glanced back at Peter’s retreating figure with a sharp, resentful look.

Her lips carried a helpless, cold smile — like a brilliant, vivid bloom of flowers touched by a bitter frost.

Liang Meng knew it: a new trending topic was on its way.