Before dawn, Wen Tingli was already running about everywhere.

Only through this busywork did she learn just how many procedures were required to bury a person.

Just buying a suitable coffin took her running down several streets. Beyond that, there was the matter of dressing the body, tailoring the burial clothes, renting a memorial hall, and other arrangements, all of which had to be handled at once. She barely had time to grieve before being swept up, breathless, in a mountain of concrete, tangled tasks.

Fortunately, by the next morning, Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen rushed over the moment they heard the news to help. When Huang Yuanshan heard that Wen Tingli couldn’t find a memorial hall to rent on short notice, she immediately called the funeral company to help mediate and find one.

As word spread further, that afternoon Principal Zou led a large group of down-to-earth students to pay their respects. Qiao Baoxin and several old schoolmates from Xiude also came to see Wen Tingli. Before leaving, Qiao Baoxin held Wen Tingli’s hand in silence for a long while, and said, “Take care of yourself.”

Toward evening, Lawyer Bao and Liu Yaqiao also came. Sister Yaqiao handed Wen Tingli a paper package, which, besides the condolence money from herself and Lawyer Bao, also contained a stack of unsigned cash.

Wen Tingli knew at once that this was money Li Chengying had asked Lawyer Bao to pass along on her behalf.

She couldn’t say a single word, her tears and a lump of heat choking in her throat. From the moment this happened until now, every friend around her had been doing their utmost to help her through this ordeal.

With everyone’s help, the memorial hall was successfully set up that same afternoon. The Wen family had very few relatives or friends in Shanghai, so they planned to keep the body in state for only five days before burial.

Dong Qinfang sent over a large wreath, and personally came to pay her respects at the memorial.

Late that night, several sneaky reporters suddenly showed up outside, ostensibly to pay respects, but actually kept taking photographs of Wen Tingli in her plain mourning clothes without pause. Once done, they slipped away as quietly as they had come.

Huang Yuanshan and the others puzzled over who had tipped off the newspapers, but Wen Tingli had no heart to look into it. The next morning, as she and Zhou Sao were busy serving breakfast to the guests, Yan Zhenzhen suddenly pulled her aside.

“Look at this.” Yan Zhenzhen held up that morning’s newspaper.

An article in the paper read:

[“‘Flower of Shanghai’ Top Contestant Miss Wen Tingli May Be Absent from the Finals”]

Wen Tingli’s mind was much more sluggish than usual, and she stared blankly at the lengthy text for a long while without reacting.

Yan Zhenzhen had no choice but to read it out to her word by word: “Miss Wen’s father passed away from illness the night before last; Miss Wen is currently immersed in grief…”

Wen Tingli suddenly shuddered all over.

Because of her father’s death, she had completely forgotten about the Xinxin competition.

It turned out the day after tomorrow was already Friday.

Yesterday, when Dong Qinfang had come to pay her respects, she likely hadn’t brought up the matter because Wen Tingli seemed too grief-stricken, but both of them knew perfectly well that at least half the audience who’d bought tickets had done so for her comic opera.

Reading through the article once, Wen Tingli felt her hands and feet turn to ice. So this was Qiu Dapeng’s real intention!

That day he’d come, it was to bring about her father’s death. He understood her father’s temperament all too well, and knew exactly how to deal him a fatal blow — if the soft approach wouldn’t work, then the hard one would. In short, he wouldn’t give up until he’d achieved his goal.

He had finally gotten what he wanted.

With her father’s death, no matter how much she had prepared for the finals, and no matter how many tickets Xinxin had already sold, she would ultimately have to set everything aside to arrange her father’s funeral.

And the moment she withdrew, Xinxin’s competition would inevitably plunge into turmoil.

However high the audience’s anticipation had been beforehand, the disappointment and anger, once they learned she’d withdrawn, would be just as great.

Xinxin would lose badly in this contest.

Once she’d thought it through, Wen Tingli was almost certain Yifeilin had Bailong Gang backing — otherwise Qiu Dapeng could never have come up with such a bloodless, murderous scheme.

Her poor father had become nothing more than a sacrifice for the Bailong Gang’s own profit — so lowly, like a speck of dust; because he had neither power nor influence, even his death had become a scheme orchestrated by villains.

A surge of sickly sweetness rose in Wen Tingli’s throat, and she nearly fell backward, but fortunately Yan Zhenzhen, quick-eyed, caught her in time, keeping her from collapsing before the memorial altar.

Huang Yuanshan and several others rushed over. “What happened?”

That afternoon, everyone sat together to help Wen Tingli think of a plan. “You just focus on competing with peace of mind — we’ll look after the memorial hall for you. The competition is only three or four hours long; once you finish your own performance, you can leave. The award ceremony and such can be dealt with afterward — just give Miss Dong advance notice.”

Wen Tingli shook her head slowly.

Qiu Dapeng had wasted no time notifying his contacts at the newspapers, and had surely already planned his next move — whether she chose to compete or withdraw, she would face a storm either way.

Sure enough, by evening, two more evening papers had published pieces on the matter, though the headlines were entirely different from the morning’s — the gist being: Xinxin Department Store’s management has not yet received news of any contestant withdrawing, showing that the popular contestant Miss Wen values this performance highly, and her father’s death cannot stop her from shining brilliantly on finals night — audiences who already bought tickets are in for a treat that evening… and so on.

Zhao Qingluo was so angry her nose nearly twisted. “Why is this so sarcastic — they’re one step from outright calling Tingli someone who only cares about showing off and has no filial piety at all!”

Wen Tingli said mockingly, “Just wait — as long as I don’t withdraw on my own, tomorrow’s papers will say even worse things.”

Dong Qinfang, on her end, seemed to have guessed that all of this was orchestrated by Yifeilin. That evening she drove over hastily to the memorial hall, and asked earnestly, “What have you decided? Don’t feel you have to hold back — if you choose to withdraw, I, Dong Qinfang, will personally shoulder whatever comes after. But you need to tell me your decision as soon as possible.”

Wen Tingli only frowned in thought. Her father had just passed, and yet she would be up on stage performing comic opera — even if her performance that night was brilliant, she’d still end up branded unfilial afterward.

But if she didn’t go, it would inevitably drag Dong Qinfang and Xinxin into an embarrassing situation.

Besides all that, she had worked so hard to make it to the finals — how could she let it all go to waste because of Qiu Dapeng’s scheme?

She could just imagine how smug Qiu Dapeng must be feeling right now — that was the one thing she couldn’t stand!

Huang Yuanshan offered a suggestion. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll have our company’s Duan Miaoqing step in to save the show that night. With the face of these big stars, even if some in the audience are unhappy, it won’t spiral out of control.”

“That won’t work,” Dong Qinfang said. “The Bailong Gang, to guarantee their success, will definitely arrange people in the audience that night to stir up trouble. No matter who comes to save the show, they’ll end up getting scolded right along with her.”

Just as everyone was at a loss, Wen Tingli suddenly spoke. “I’ve thought of a way.”

Upon hearing Wen Tingli’s idea, Huang Yuanshan was overjoyed. “Wen Tingli, you really are something! It’s a great plan! But the problem is, which merchant would be willing to play the villain?”

Xinxin Department Store obviously couldn’t do it, since they were the organizer of the competition. If they followed Wen Tingli’s plan, Wen Tingli would indeed have ample reason to keep competing, but it would also stir up resentment among the audience toward Xinxin Department Store.

So they would need to find another merchant on short notice.

Dong Qinfang, being the straightforward sort, immediately stood up and said, “Since we’ve thought of such a clever plan, finding someone to do it quickly is the right move. Let me go try first — whether Xinxin wins or loses the competition is secondary; I truly can’t stand these underhanded tactics of theirs.”

Everyone stood to see Dong Qinfang out, but privately, no one felt very confident — just convincing a merchant to play the villain would take considerable time, not to mention drafting the contract and placing the announcement in the papers.

And there were only two days left before the finals.

As expected, all the way until the next morning, there was still no word from Dong Qinfang.

Correspondingly, since they still hadn’t received news of Wen Tingli’s formal withdrawal, the Bailong Gang began flooding the papers with articles, full of phrases like “the contestant surnamed Wen shows no concern at all for her father’s death,” “determined to gain fame at any cost,” “cold-hearted and unfeeling.”

Overnight, the small portion of the public who had been following the competition turned from enthusiastic interest to contempt, and many people called Xinxin demanding refunds on their tickets.

Huang Yuanshan could no longer sit still — if this went on, Wen Tingli’s reputation would be utterly ruined. She began seeking help everywhere, but different industries were worlds apart — her friends in the film world could certainly try to shape public opinion, but none of them had the ability to solve Xinxin’s predicament.

Wen Tingli’s heart sank heavily.

That evening, Yan Zhenzhen and Zhao Qingluo went home to bathe, Zhou Sao took everyone out to eat, and Huang Yuanshan hadn’t returned due to some business, leaving Wen Tingli alone to keep watch over the vast memorial hall.

She knelt before the altar, silently burning paper offerings, when suddenly footsteps sounded outside the door.

Wen Tingli turned in surprise, and just then saw a tall man lift the curtain and enter — it was Meng Qiguang. He wore a solemn black suit, and upon entering, glanced once at Wen Tingli before walking straight toward Wen Desheng’s memorial tablet.

Wen Tingli composed herself and bowed in return to Meng Qiguang.

“Mr. Meng.”

Meng Qiguang lit a stick of incense before the altar, then turned to look at the table on the right where condolence gifts were being recorded.

The Wen family had very few relatives, and the list in the condolence book was pitifully short. Most of the recent guests were Wen Tingli’s schoolmates, and students naturally couldn’t afford to be generous — after a certain row of names, some had contributed as little as fifty cents each.

Having glanced over this a few times, he raised his hand, took an envelope from his jacket pocket, and set it on the table.

“Please accept my condolences.” Meng Qiguang’s tone was considerably more solemn than usual.

Wen Tingli fell silent — given the extent of her friendship with Meng Qiguang, she really didn’t feel she deserved such a generous condolence gift.

She hurried out from behind the table, holding up the envelope to him. “Mr. Meng.”

Meng Qiguang, however, pushed her hand back.

“When I give condolence money outside, it’s always this amount. Once money’s given, there’s no taking it back. If you truly don’t want to accept it, then go ahead and burn it.”

Wen Tingli started to protest, but Meng Qiguang cut her off. “What, has Dong Qinfang still not thought of a good solution for you?”

Wen Tingli was taken aback.

“I’d rather not know, honestly,” Meng Qiguang said flatly. “But the papers have made such a fuss these past two days. The competition is organized by Dong Qinfang — now her own contestant is in trouble, how does she plan to solve it? She can’t just watch your reputation fall apart, surely.”

Wen Tingli said nothing. She hadn’t forgotten that Meng Qiguang was good friends with Gao Tingxin — by reason and by sentiment, there was no way he’d help the Xinxin side.

Meng Qiguang’s mouth curved. “Miss Wen really doesn’t need to think so badly of me. In business there are gains and losses — if I lose this round, I can just as well win it back elsewhere. I may be one of Yifeilin’s shareholders, but I wouldn’t stoop to harming a young girl this badly just for a bit of business.”

There was heavy mockery in his eyes, though it wasn’t clear whom he was mocking.

Though Wen Tingli remained on guard, her tone softened somewhat.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Meng. I’ve been busy with my father’s funeral these past few days, so I haven’t had time to discuss things with Miss Dong.”

Meng Qiguang gave no clear response, likely aware she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he didn’t press further, instead turning to survey the memorial hall, carefully reading over the names of mourners on each wreath. A trace of mockery suddenly flickered in his eyes.

Wen Tingli had no idea what Meng Qiguang was looking for. He seemed to ponder for a moment, then turned to look at her again.

She looked utterly exhausted.

“I really did come today to help you. Think of it as me stepping in for a cause I feel is unjust. If Dong Qinfang still hasn’t come up with a good plan by tonight, I’ll help you solve this.”

Wen Tingli still said nothing. He took a business card from his coat pocket.

“When my father died, he only left me a mess to clean up. In that respect, you and I are quite alike — both of us fighting our way up with bare hands.”

He surveyed the snow-white memorial hall once more, seemingly rather moved, lowered his head in silence for a moment, then said in a self-mocking tone, “It’s precisely because I’ve stumbled so many times along the way that I’ve developed the habit of weighing gains and losses in everything. But I don’t always want something in return — this time, for instance, I’ve genuinely come to help you.”

Seeing Wen Tingli still hesitant to accept, Meng Qiguang gave a faint laugh and set the card down on the table beside her. “When you’ve decided, call me.”

He walked off without looking back. Wen Tingli stood silent for a long while, then walked over and slowly picked up Meng Qiguang’s card. She could tell that this time, Meng Qiguang truly hadn’t been acting out of self-interest.

But just as he’d said himself, he had long since grown used to calculating gains and losses in every relationship. Even if this time he asked for nothing in return, what about the next time?

Once she grew accustomed to seeking Meng Qiguang’s help, the boundary between them would only grow blurrier — and what he wanted was never simply the ordinary kind of repayment.

So, as far as she was concerned, this line could not easily be crossed. Some principles had to be upheld.

Suddenly hearing Huang Yuanshan’s voice outside, Wen Tingli, unable to find a place to put Meng Qiguang’s card, simply tucked it into her own wallet.

She waited all the way until morning, and still no reply came from Dong Qinfang.

By the looks of it, Dong Qinfang had run into considerable resistance the night before.

But tonight was finals night, and according to the plan she’d thought up, they needed to strike back by daytime at the latest.

She decided to go to Xinxin Department Store in person.

Fortunately, by the third day of the funeral proceedings, guests and errands had thinned out considerably. Wen Tingli asked Huang Yuanshan and the others to look after things for a couple of hours while she changed into everyday clothes and went to find Dong Qinfang.

Along the way, passing a newsstand, Wen Tingli recalled Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen sneakily hiding the newspaper that morning, and couldn’t help getting out to buy two papers. Sure enough, though thanks to Huang Yuanshan’s efforts there were now a few articles speaking up for her, more of the headlines were even worse than the day before.

[“Shameful? A Certain Pageant Contestant Disregards Filial Duty in Pursuit of Fame and Fortune.”]

[“Glory for a Moment, But Not for a Lifetime. Turn Back Before Fleeting Splendor Blinds Your Eyes.”]

Wen Tingli’s face went livid as she clenched the newspaper. Everything else aside, she only worried this would affect Hujiang University’s admission of her, since a student’s conduct had always been part of a university’s evaluation criteria.

A newsboy nearby looked at Wen Tingli, then at the paper in his hand, comparing the two back and forth several times, then made a scornful face at her. Wen Tingli couldn’t be bothered to pay him any mind, and simply jumped into her car to head to Xinxin Department Store.

Dong Qinfang wasn’t in her office. The staff in the management department told her that Dong Qinfang had mentioned that morning she had business to attend to at Sassoon House.

Wen Tingli, her heart burning with urgency, rushed to Sassoon House.

The Indian doorman at the entrance stopped her.

“Miss, who are you looking for?”

Wen Tingli showed him Dong Qinfang’s business card, and only then was she allowed inside.

But this building housed the offices of many companies, and Wen Tingli had no idea which floor Dong Qinfang might be on, so she decided to wait for her in the ground-floor lobby.

The lobby had many long benches. Wen Tingli found an inconspicuous corner to sit in, leaned her head back against the seat, and let out an exhausted sigh.

This scene happened to catch the eye of a middle-aged man passing by.

The man froze for a moment, then let his gaze fall on the white flower pinned at Wen Tingli’s temple, studying her with confusion for quite a while. He was about to step forward to ask her something, but with too many attendants around him, he couldn’t get away for a moment, and could only leave the building and get into his car.

This man was none other than Fang Da, who had gone to Cixin Hospital that night to pick up Lu Shicheng. Fang Da rode straight to the Lu residence, where the household steward, Old Chen, came out to greet him. “Young master just got back from Ningbo at five this morning, and I hear he didn’t sleep all night — he’s still in the study replying to correspondence.”

Fang Da said he understood, and after entering the study, closed the door behind him, then respectfully placed the letter in his hand beside Lu Shicheng.

“A telegram from Old Kuang in Bombay — Third Master Lu really did withdraw a large sum from the sugar factory’s account. Looks like he plans to funnel it to the Bailong Gang later. Should we intercept it?”

[Intercept it.] Lu Shicheng tossed the telegram back onto the desk.

Fang Da promptly acknowledged this. At that moment, Steward Chen came in to serve tea, and brought along that morning’s newspaper as well.

Fang Da glanced at the morning paper, and froze. “So that’s what happened.”

He looked up and explained to Lu Shicheng, “I just saw Miss Wen at Sassoon House earlier — at first I barely recognized her, since in just a few days she’s grown terribly thin. It seems there’s been a death in her family — she had a white flower pinned in her hair—”

Before he could finish, Lu Shicheng snatched the newspaper from him.

Suppressing his own shock, Fang Da leaned in to look at the paper as he spoke. “The doorman said Miss Wen came to see Miss Dong Qinfang of Xinxin Department Store — I didn’t have time to ask further. Look at this headline: ‘The Contestant Surnamed Wen, Clearly in Mourning, Yet Still Devoted to…’ — this is truly outrageous! Losing her father is hard enough already, and now she’s being publicly condemned in print just for refusing to withdraw. The press’s pen is at its sharpest — at this rate Miss Wen won’t be able to shake off the reputation of being ‘unfilial.’ But from what I saw that night at Cixin Hospital, Miss Wen truly had nothing to be ashamed of in how she treated her sick father.”

Having finished speaking, he looked up — in the morning light, Lu Shicheng’s expression had turned frighteningly grim. His sharp eyes finished reading the article, and he grabbed the receiver on his desk to make a call, then suddenly seemed to catch himself, and, suppressing his emotions, turned and pointed at Fang Da, telling him to relay a message at once.

Ground floor lobby, Sassoon House.

“Miss Dong.” The moment Dong Qinfang appeared, Wen Tingli ran toward her.

Dong Qinfang shook her head the instant she saw Wen Tingli. It turned out that the night before, she had approached over a dozen merchants she knew, and gotten a strikingly uniform response: they couldn’t help.

At this point in events, everyone more or less suspected that Yifeilin had Bailong Gang backing behind it. To step forward at this juncture to help Wen Tingli and Xinxin would be no different from openly defying the Bailong Gang — and in business, harmony was valued above all. Why offend a gang of thugs for the sake of some unrelated girl?

“Don’t panic yet.” Dong Qinfang had always been steady. “There’s still most of a day left. I’ll go find some more friends who run restaurants and coffee houses. With conditions as good as yours, offering to shoot a free year-long ad campaign for their company, anyone would be tempted. If that still doesn’t work, I’ll sign the contract with you under Xinxin’s own name.”

“But then Xinxin would become the villain of the piece.”

“At least it would help get you out of it, wouldn’t it?” Dong Qinfang gave Wen Tingli’s shoulder a hearty pat. “To put it plainly, this whole mess started because I insisted on going head to head with Yifeilin. You’re only a contestant in the competition — there’s really no reason you should have to bear the consequences.”

She added regretfully, “If I’d known Yifeilin had Bailong Gang backing, I never would have started this fight. I don’t mind fair competition in business, but I can’t stand these filthy tactics.”

Around noon, Dong Qinfang came to find Wen Tingli with her own company’s contract in hand.

“There’s no other way.” She said helplessly. “Let’s get through this hurdle first.”

Wen Tingli knew this wasn’t the best solution, but given the circumstances, there was no other choice. Just as she was about to sit down and sign the contract, Gao Xiaowen happened to arrive.

Everyone in the room scrambled to hide the contract — though they trusted Gao Xiaowen, they were afraid she might accidentally let something slip in front of her elder brother.

But Gao Xiaowen’s eyes were sharp, and she snatched the contract before anyone could stop her.

“Well, well, here I was worrying myself sick over Wen Tingli, and it turns out you’d already thought of a solution.”

She looked it over for a while, then shook her head. “The plan’s a good plan, but the company’s wrong. Right now, Wen Tingli and Xinxin Department Store share the same fate — if this news gets out, everyone’s first reaction will be that Sister Qinfang came up with this plan on the spot to help Wen Tingli out of a jam. Not only will it fail to break the deadlock, it might even give the Bailong Gang more ammunition. Here’s what we’ll do — I’ll play the villain.”

Dong Qinfang asked, surprised, “Don’t tell me you have your own company?”

Wen Tingli rubbed her temples. “She does.”

Gao Xiaowen, looking quite self-important, produced a pearl-colored compact from her gleaming golden handbag and shook it playfully at everyone.

“Forgot to tell everyone: my very own ‘Aoshuang Company’ was officially founded last week.” She handed out business cards to everyone with great ceremony. “Our main business is women’s cosmetics, with powder cream as our flagship product. I already arranged with Wen Tingli ages ago that she’d advertise it for me in her films.”

The card read:

[Chairwoman of Aoshuang Company: Gao Xiaowen]

Huang Yuanshan couldn’t help but laugh. “Boss Gao, have you really thought this through? This is bound to bring criticism your way — can your brand-new company withstand that?”

“Who caused all this in the first place if not my brother?” Gao Xiaowen said carelessly. “I can’t just stand by and watch Wen Tingli get hounded like a rat in the street. Worst comes to worst, I’ll just rename the company once this blows over. Wen Tingli, don’t look at me like that, I know you’re touched to pieces — no need to kowtow to me nine times, I just happen to think you’re going to be a big star one day! All you need to do is give my powder cream a few extra shots on screen when you can. Alright, alright, time’s ticking, I’ll have our accountant draft the contract right away.”

Wen Tingli, choked with emotion, threw her arms around Gao Xiaowen, who put on an exaggerated fuss, though in the end she couldn’t help gently patting her good friend’s shoulder.

At lunch, everyone’s appetite had returned, especially Wen Tingli’s — just imagining the look on Qiu Dapeng’s face when he saw the paper filled her with pure delight.

But an hour later, Dong Qinfang suddenly called the memorial hall looking for Wen Tingli.

“Come to Xinxin right away.”

Wen Tingli, puzzled as to why it wasn’t Gao Xiaowen calling, asked, “What’s wrong? Did something go wrong with the contract?”

“No.” The voice on the other end switched to Gao Xiaowen, sounding even more excited than Dong Qinfang. “Sister Qinfang and I were just about to send our finished article to a newspaper we know, and the paper told us someone had just sent over another piece — and it just so happens someone thought of exactly the same plan to break the deadlock as you! Who? Come see for yourself. Oh, and on your way over, remember to buy a copy of the new Xinshen Evening News — I guarantee you’ll be thrilled the moment you see it.”

Bailong Gang headquarters, Qiu Dapeng smiled as he played chess with Cao Zhenyuan.

That Yifeilin had come out victorious this round was, in large part, thanks to him — Qiu Dapeng. Gang Leader Cao’s expression had brightened considerably these past few days, and today at noon he’d even specially invited Lingyun to join them at the table. Anyone could see that, after this affair, Gang Leader Cao’s trust in father and son had grown even deeper than before.

Only, he’d never expected Wen Tingli’s temperament to be so stubborn — even pushed to such lengths, she still refused to withdraw.

Well, then she couldn’t blame him for playing dirty!

Outside, someone suddenly knocked. A’Lu hurried in.

Gang Leader Cao asked, beaming, “Well? Have most of the tickets for ‘Flower of Shanghai’ been refunded by now?”

“Something seems off.” A’Lu, bracing himself, handed over several newly arrived evening papers.

Qiu Dapeng leaned over to look, and several startling lines of text drilled straight into his heart.

It was a very short news item, but because it had been published in the widest-circulating paper, Xinshen Evening News, it carried unusual weight.

The headline read: [“Ms. Wang Anping, Vice President of the Shanghai Women’s Association, Protests Qiuhua Company’s Greed and Betrayal of Conscience for Profit.”]

“This afternoon, this paper received a complaint from Association President Wang: Qiuhua Company signed a partnership agreement with ‘Flower of Shanghai’ top contestant Miss Wen Tingli. It was stipulated that after the finals, Miss Wen would shoot advertisements under the identity of [Champion of Flower of Shanghai]. Miss Wen, inexperienced in worldly affairs, failed to notice the trap hidden in the terms… A few days ago, following her father’s sudden death, Miss Wen resolved to withdraw from the competition. The party in charge at Qiuhua Company, citing breach of contract, is demanding tenfold compensation for the company’s losses…”

Beneath the article was a photograph of the original contract between Qiuhua Company and Wen Tingli, the signing date clearly marked as the previous month.

Qiu Dapeng’s face went from red to blue, then gradually from blue to black, and finally to ashen gray.

This was an extraordinarily clever move — with this, Wen Tingli would become a thoroughly sympathetic victim, and the public, moved by pity, would flock to support Xinxin. Yifeilin was facing certain defeat!

“It’s fake!” he snarled through gritted teeth. “It has to be fake — this is clearly some fake company drafting up a fake contract on the spot to help Wen Tingli out of a jam! I don’t believe for a second there’s a legitimate company willing to go this far for some unrelated little girl!”

Cao Zhenyuan, furious, hurled the newspaper into Qiu Dapeng’s face. “You idiot! It’s already in print, and you’re still running your mouth! Seeing you act so clever makes my blood boil! Get out, get out, get out! One more word and I’ll put a bullet in you myself! You dog! What are you all standing around for — go find out everything you can about this Qiuhua Company right now!”

A’Lu, bracing himself, said, “Already checked, sir. It’s a company under the Lu family’s name — the shareholder is… Lu Shicheng.”