The call was from Tan Guiwang, the apprentice of Huang Yuanshan.
“Thank heavens, finally found you. How’s your recovery going? Everyone’s been very worried about you. Sister Huang said you were recuperating at a private hospital and told us not to bother you.”
Wen Tingli said quickly: “I’ve recovered pretty well already.”
Tan Guiwang’s tone paused suspiciously: “Can you come to the company this afternoon? Boss Liu is anxious to find you — the crew has suffered heavy losses, the whole company is in an uproar.”
Wen Tingli sensed something was off. She hung up and immediately called Huang Yuanshan, but the Huang family’s maid said Huang Yuanshan hadn’t come home yet. She then called a few other places, but still couldn’t reach Huang Yuanshan.
Wen Tingli rushed to the company with an uneasy heart. The moment she went upstairs, she felt the atmosphere was off — several senior staff looked grim, and Huang Yuanshan was pacing anxiously in the corridor.
Turning to see Wen Tingli, Huang Yuanshan hurriedly pulled her aside.
“Why did you come? Have you recovered from your injuries?”
Wen Tingli pointed toward the office: “They said Boss Liu had urgent business with me.”
Huang Yuanshan’s face changed slightly: “Ignore him, I just had a huge fight with him. Come, let’s go somewhere else and talk.”
But they heard Boss Liu inside the office say in a commanding tone: “Miss Wen is here? Have her come in right away.”
Wen Tingli and Huang Yuanshan exchanged a quick glance. Huang Yuanshan wanted to pull Wen Tingli away regardless, but Manager Cheng blocked them: “Can you hide from it today and hide from it tomorrow too? Besides, how long can you alone protect Miss Wen? This is a matter concerning the company’s survival — don’t be so willful!”
Wen Tingli had already had a premonition in her heart. She smiled at Huang Yuanshan: “Sister Huang, don’t worry, I can handle this.”
She went into the office alone, and saw Liu Menglin sitting behind a large desk smoking a cigar. She couldn’t help but be secretly startled — after just a few days apart, Boss Liu looked as though he’d aged a full five years.
Liu Menglin’s first glance swept over Wen Tingli’s face; seeing her features intact and unharmed, he seemed to secretly heave a sigh of relief. “Miss Wen, sit.”
Wen Tingli broke into a smile and nodded. Then Boss Liu said: “Regarding this fire, the police station still hasn’t found any leads. The perpetrator was quite experienced and left no suspicious clues at the scene. Now everyone thinks the key to solving the case lies with you. Miss Wen, think carefully — have you offended anyone recently?”
“Hasn’t the police station gone to question Deng Tianxing at all?”
In her view, Luo Shuhong and Deng Tianxing clearly had major suspicion on them. First, Luo Shuhong had been spying on her many times before the incident; second, she and Deng Tianxing were very familiar with the internal layout of the set; third, Deng Tianxing’s original loss of employment was also indirectly because of her, so it was no surprise at all that Deng Tianxing bore a grudge because of it. As long as they found Deng Tianxing, the mastermind, Luo Shuhong surely wouldn’t be able to escape either.
Boss Liu waved his hand: “The night it happened, Deng Tianxing was gambling at 181 Club the whole time — everyone at the gambling den that night can testify to this. And for half a month before the fire, he was almost daily hanging around the gambling den too. The police station has already ruled out the possibility of him being the perpetrator. Think again if there’s any other suspicious target.”
“Doesn’t he have any accomplices?” Wen Tingli almost blurted out Luo Shuhong’s name, but held the words back. She was still waiting on the results of Li Chengying’s investigation, and to avoid alerting the enemy, it wasn’t wise to point fingers at Luo Shuhong yet. This incident had already caused such a stir — if Qiu Dapeng or Deng Tianxing simply silenced her by murder, that would be bad.
She said in a low voice: “There is another suspicious target — Qiu Dapeng of the White Dragon Gang. He’s had a longstanding feud with my family; my father was killed because of him. Has the police station thoroughly investigated his whereabouts these past few days?”
“The White Dragon Gang?” Liu Menglin’s expression showed disbelief. “Who would dare provoke that gang of hooligans? Little Wen, no matter how you look at it, the police have basically confirmed this fire was aimed at you. I, Liu, merely suffered an unexpected calamity by association. Now the set has been burned to ashes — the losses in equipment and grounds alone total nearly a hundred thousand yuan or more. What’s more infuriating is that all the films now have to stop production — the losses there are incalculable. So tell me, Miss Wen, do you have any thoughts of your own?”
As he spoke, Liu Menglin’s shrewd eyes stayed fixed on Wen Tingli’s face.
Wen Tingli said calmly: “The most urgent matter is naturally to find the arsonist first. Whether it’s paying compensation or going to jail, every debt has its debtor.”
“What if the culprit is never caught?” Liu Menglin scoffed. “Surely Miss Wen has heard of this police station’s efficiency at handling cases. Not to mention this case might never be solved at all — even if by some stroke of luck they caught the culprit, can you guarantee this person could actually pay out compensation? At that point, who’s the one left holding the bag? Who’s the creditor? In the end, wouldn’t the company have to bear this loss?”
He changed his tack: “I, Liu Menglin, have never been an unreasonable man. But there’s no reason an employee’s private grudges with outsiders should drag the company down with them.”
Wen Tingli thought to herself: here comes the real point.
Sure enough, Boss Liu said: “By rights, a boss shouldn’t make things difficult for a young girl, but surely you’ve heard, the company’s situation hasn’t been good these past few years. I was counting on Beauty of the Southern Land to turn things around handsomely, who’d have thought this would happen — if we don’t find a way to make up for it, the company will soon have to close its doors. Miss Wen, can you bear it, letting so many of the company’s veteran employees lose their jobs because of your private grudge?”
Having said this much, Boss Liu, judging the mood had been sufficiently built up, gave a hypocritical long sigh: “Never mind, don’t fret too much — here, take a look at this first.”
Wen Tingli steadied herself and saw it was a contract.
“Fortunately, Beauty of the Southern Land has already wrapped filming. The editing department is working overtime right now — the film should be edited within half a month at the most. I’ll be busy contacting theaters for release on my end. If this film sells well, the company will be saved from a dead end. If we lose money again, then it’s truly over. Either way, once the film releases, Miss Wen will have officially debuted with our company (note). As for the losses from this fire, I won’t make things hard for you — you just sign a five-year contract with the company first. From now on, whether it’s filming or advertisements, your pay will be uniformly allocated by the company, and within a few years, this loss will be made up.”
Wen Tingli understood clearly in her heart — this last sentence was the real intention behind Boss Liu calling her here today.
Earlier, when dealing with the great lawyer Bao Yaoming, she had learned how to read contract terms. Looking at this one, it was appalling — according to the contract, from now on her pay would almost entirely be taken by the company, with only a small fixed monthly salary for her. Even for future advertisements, she’d only get ten percent of the pay, with the remaining ninety percent going to the company.
If she really signed this contract, she would essentially be selling herself into slavery to Gold Films!
And worse — sold for five years.
Liu Menglin tapped the ash off his cigar, saying slowly: “Making a young girl pay out such a huge sum of compensation is really inhumane. The company will take a loss, find a way to borrow around, and cover it for you first. From now on you just focus on filming with peace of mind — leave finding the culprit to the police.”
Wen Tingli smiled: “May I ask, Boss Liu, what if I don’t sign this contract?”
Boss Liu’s expression didn’t change: “Then, the losses from the set fire, the production costs of films like Sands of Time being halted… all of that will have to be borne by Miss Wen herself. This morning I had the accounting department calculate it — conservatively estimated at two hundred thousand yuan. If Miss Wen can produce such a huge sum within half a month, then naturally there’s no need to sign this contract. But if you can’t, then it won’t be up to you to be willful about it. Here’s my lawyer’s card — you can go to the law firm yourself and ask, see whether I, Liu Menglin, am bluffing you.”
When Wen Tingli left the company, she felt both amused and furious.
Liu Menglin really did take her for a child. No one in their right mind would believe his line of reasoning — in the end, she too was a victim in this whole affair. As long as the culprit was caught, even if Liu Menglin brought in every lawyer in Shanghai, he couldn’t pin the losses on her.
Right, the most pressing matter was to find the culprit as soon as possible.
She rushed straight to the French Concession police station.
The police’s account was identical to Boss Liu’s — only when Deng Tianxing was mentioned did one officer say: “That kid was up to his neck in gambling debts a while back, and recently, who knows where he got the capital, but he’s back at the tables again.”
Wen Tingli hastily asked the man: “Have you checked where Deng Tianxing got this capital from? Who has he been associating with recently?”
The officer immediately turned hostile: “Go on, get out — we police are discussing case matters, it’s not your place to butt in, little girl.”
And so, Wen Tingli was thrown out of the police station, but she wasn’t discouraged. She found a telephone exchange by the roadside and called Huang Yuanshan.
Huang Yuanshan was frantically searching for her everywhere: “Where did you run off to? You absolutely cannot sign that contract — it’s basically selling yourself into servitude — what? Luo Shuhong was egged on by Deng Tianxing into setting the fire? What? The one who poisoned you might have been her too?”
Wen Tingli calmly laid out her reasoning. Deep down she didn’t believe Luo Shuhong was the perpetrator — first, Luo Shuhong wasn’t fundamentally bad at heart, and wouldn’t go so far as arson and murder over something like this; second, during that period Luo Shuhong had left too many slip-ups, even occasionally seeming flustered when making a phone call on set, whereas whoever set the fire was clearly a very experienced hand.
Could it be that Luo Shuhong had some incriminating evidence in Deng Tianxing’s hands?
After hearing Wen Tingli’s conclusion, Huang Yuanshan was stunned: “Impossible — that day Luo Shuhong left with me in my car. When your place caught fire, she and I were together at a restaurant ordering food.”
Wen Tingli paused — this was too much of a coincidence. It just so happened that on the day of the incident, both Deng Tianxing and Luo Shuhong had alibis. She’d seen Deng Tianxing’s methods before — too crude to be worth mentioning. This time there had to be someone skilled directing from behind the scenes.
While pondering this, Wen Tingli raised her head to look across the street at the Dayuan Teahouse, a teahouse under the White Dragon Gang’s name. Usually one could often see White Dragon Gang members here drinking tea and discussing matters. It was now around ten in the morning, and through the second-floor window she could vaguely make out several men in silver-white jackets.
Someone with a grudge against her, experienced, and able to produce a large sum to bribe Deng Tianxing — originally she’d only been fifty percent suspicious, but now she was nearly certain Qiu Dapeng was the mastermind behind the scenes.
She hurried home, and while opening the door, in her distracted state, she accidentally flung her keys, which happened to land at the door of the Liu family across the way.
She went over to pick up the keys and noticed the box by the Liu family’s door was stuffed with a huge pile of newspapers. Entering the house, Wen Tingli asked Zhou Sao in confusion: “Have Mrs. Liu and her husband still not come back?”
“No, that gift I had you send last time still hasn’t been delivered. Isn’t it strange? Even visiting relatives in Hong Kong, this long a time, they should be back by now. Could something have happened to them?”
Something stirred in Wen Tingli’s mind: “You mentioned before which bank Mrs. Liu worked at, right?”
“Something called Taifeng Bank.”
Wen Tingli, without another word, ran to the chest and picked up that gift. “I’m going out for a bit.”
She soon found Taifeng Bank, and upon inquiring inside, learned Mrs. Liu hadn’t been to work in quite a long time.
“Ten days ago she suddenly called, saying she’d suddenly fallen ill, and asked us to help her process her resignation… Mrs. Liu has always been reliable at her job — this really isn’t like her at all.”
Wen Tingli quickly chimed in: “The neighbors have been puzzled too. Mrs. Liu asked me to buy some things for her a while back, and before I could give them to her, she disappeared. This pile of things cost her quite a bit of money — I can’t keep holding onto them forever. Could you tell me her phone number in Hong Kong? I’d like to mail the things back to her.”
The manager didn’t reply at first, only stared intently at Wen Tingli’s face, and suddenly seemed struck by inspiration.
“You’re that Miss Wen Tingli, aren’t you?! My sister and I went to see that stage play competition.”
Wen Tingli could only say cheerfully: “Yes, yes, yes.”
“My sister adores you so much — could I trouble you for an autograph?”
Wen Tingli happily wrote out a whole stack of signatures, and with that, everyone in the office became agreeable. A colleague who was closest to Mrs. Liu personally copied down the phone number for her. Wen Tingli thanked them profusely, and went downstairs herself to find a telephone exchange to call.
The moment Mrs. Liu heard Wen Tingli’s voice, she panicked.
“We’ve all fled to Hong Kong, and you still won’t let this ghost rest! I don’t know anything!”
Wen Tingli said urgently: “Mrs. Liu, please don’t hang up! I only found out today that you’d suddenly resigned. Has someone been giving you trouble? Can you tell me what exactly happened?”
Mrs. Liu trembled on the other end: “This — this has nothing to do with you!”
“I know — the White Dragon Gang came looking for you two, didn’t they?”
Under Wen Tingli’s repeated questioning, Mrs. Liu, trembling, recounted what had happened to them a while back.
It was a weekend last month. Mrs. Liu and Mr. Liu had gone dancing at the ballroom as usual, but the moment they stepped outside, several men suddenly rushed out from the side, sacked the two of them, and threw them into a car.
Mr. Liu nearly wet himself from fright on the spot; Mrs. Liu was relatively calmer, thinking they’d merely run into a gang of con artists, and stammered: “The wallet is right here, take the money and let us go.”
But the other side didn’t want money at all. They took them to a pitch-black room.
Someone pressed a cold blade against their necks.
“I’ll only ask each question once. Dare to stammer around it, and I’ll send you both straight to the afterlife. Last July, did the Miss Wen living across from you bring a man home?”
“No—” the moment the words left her mouth, the cold knife-tip pressed against her throat, and Mrs. Liu was frightened nearly to fainting, “I remember now, last year there was indeed some strange incident. One night I woke up and heard a lot of chaotic noise from across the way, as if several people were carrying someone in — the footsteps hurried and disorderly. I thought thieves had broken in, and was too scared to move. I heard Miss Wen say: keep your voice down, there are people across the way.”
“Did you not open your door to look at the time?”
“No — no, I was a bit scared, and besides, they only stayed in the corridor for a short while before going inside. Afterward there wasn’t a trace left in the hallway, which made me think I’d only dreamed it.”
“Besides Miss Wen’s voice, could you tell whether the others were men or women?” the other party asked sharply.
Mrs. Liu shook her head desperately.
“Neither seeing their faces nor hearing their voices — what use are your eyes and ears? Might as well cut them off and feed them to the dogs!”
Mrs. Liu let out a miserable scream: “Spare me! I truly heard nothing! Afterward I kept an eye out for a while, and never saw any strange people coming or going from the Wen household. Miss Wen has several young girlfriends who come by often to play — perhaps that night they were playing some game, so I didn’t think much more of it. I swear I really know nothing, otherwise I’d have told you everything already!”
Her husband spoke up hurriedly beside her: “I remember now — last summer, I once saw Miss Wen go into a pharmacy to buy medicine, right across the street. I saw with my own eyes her buying nourishing ointment and a big pack of gauze.”
“Gauze?”
“Yes — yes, gauze. I wondered about it too, since her old grandfather had already died in the hospital — who were these things bought for? But the two of us were at work all day, and every night when we came back we never heard any commotion from across the way, nor saw any strangers coming or going. As time passed, we let it go.”
The man at the head of the room seemed to explode with rage, slamming the table hard. “I knew it had to do with that wretched woman!”
But he soon calmed down again.
“The two families have been neighbors this long — have you ever seen Miss Wen holding a gun?”
The couple shook their heads like rattle-drums. The knife-tip pressed closer to their throats again, and Mr. Liu cried out miserably: “Never seen it is never seen it — you could kill us and it’d still be never seen.”
The other party said coldly: “When you go out after this, if you dare leak a single word of today’s business—”
“Bang” — a chandelier overhead seemed to be shattered by a gunshot, accompanied by the crash of glass and metal, sharp fragments flying and scratching their feet and shins. Mr. and Mrs. Liu screamed in fright.
Recalling this, Mrs. Liu still had lingering fear: “We were locked up for a full day and night. After we got out, we didn’t dare inquire who had kidnapped us, and bought boat tickets that very night to flee to Hong Kong. I never expected you, Miss Wen, would…”
She seemed a bit guilty: “By rights, we should have warned you before leaving, but we were simply too terrified — did they come looking for trouble with you afterward? Please forgive us, given the situation at the time.”
“I understand, I know.” Wen Tingli said understandingly.
On her way back, Wen Tingli’s expression was unprecedentedly cold.
Ever since that incident, Qiu Dapeng and his son had almost entirely vanished from her life. Aside from the occasional news item about the White Dragon Gang in the papers, she knew nothing of their current state.
Until recently, when suspicious footsteps began appearing behind her…
All the signs indicated that Qiu Dapeng had long since secretly colluded with Deng Tianxing. Deng Tianxing had presumably used some means to coerce Luo Shuhong into helping investigate her, and once Luo Shuhong dug up the pistol locked in her private cabinet, this news had passed from Deng Tianxing to Qiu Dapeng’s ears.
To Qiu Dapeng, this news was nothing short of a bombshell. To further confirm his suspicions, Qiu Dapeng simply had people kidnap Mr. and Mrs. Liu.
Then came that fire that night.
At this point, the whole sequence of events was clear beyond doubt.
Qiu Dapeng would absolutely not let her go — this much Wen Tingli was quite clear on, just as she herself had been waiting for the chance to avenge her father this past year.
Now that this venomous snake had taken the initiative to strike, could she just sit and wait to be slaughtered? Clearly not. Wen Tingli calmly began to plan.
Qiu Dapeng sat with narrowed eyes, leaning back in a rattan chair, unhurriedly turning two heavy jade walnuts in his hand.
Before him, several of the White Dragon Gang’s underlings reported back gloatingly.
“The French Concession police station got the gang’s hint and has stopped investigating further. Boss Liu of Gold Films, seeing no way to find the culprit, simply put all the blame on Wen Tingli alone. Such a huge loss is enough to torment her half to death.”
Qiu Dapeng said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes: “If we’d burned her to death cleanly from the start, would there be all this trouble afterward? You can’t even manage a small thing like this properly — what am I supposed to say to you?”
The group all shuddered together.
“The fire was set, the set was completely blocked front and back — by rights, that Wen woman shouldn’t have been able to escape even with wings. Who could have guessed she had such strong luck! To this day we still haven’t figured out how she got out. Unfortunately, that night, for fear of being seen, we didn’t leave any lookouts at the scene.”
Qiu Dapeng raised a hand to silence them, and asked expressionlessly: “When did Lu Shicheng return to Shanghai?”
“End of last month — wait, sir, do you suspect it was Lu Shicheng who saved Wen Tingli that night?”
Qiu Dapeng gave no definite answer: “Wen Tingli hasn’t been back to the Wen residence these past few days — could she have been recuperating at the Lu residence this whole time?”
“Hard to say. The Lu residence is sealed up tight as an iron bucket, top to bottom. We’ve tried many methods, but we simply can’t get a shred of information out. If it really was Lu Shicheng who saved Wen Tingli that night, it wouldn’t be strange for him to have conveniently found her a quiet place to recuperate afterward.”
Another man said: “Master Qiu, what should we do about this? We wanted to kill Wen Tingli quickly to avenge the young master, but who knew Lu Shicheng would come back. From how things look, the two of them seem to be getting close again — going forward it’ll be much harder for us to make a move.”
Qiu Dapeng slowly let a smile spread across his face: “Putting out a fire is simply human nature — this proves nothing. Perhaps that night Lu Shicheng just happened to be passing by. Everyone has compassion; he couldn’t just watch Wen Tingli burn to death. Don’t forget, he was gone for the better part of a year, and even after returning to Shanghai, he never once took the initiative to seek out Wen Tingli. In my view, that fresh passion of his has long since faded.”
After thinking it over, he still felt uneasy, and waved a hand: “Go, fetch Master Chen for me. I’ll write a letter to Third Master Lu first. Third Master Lu and Lu Shicheng are uncle and nephew — he’d know best what method to use to get Lu Shicheng away from Shanghai. If Lu Shicheng leaves the moment he’s asked, it proves he doesn’t care much for Wen Tingli’s safety, and we can take the opportunity to strike at Wen Tingli again.”
Soon someone brought Master Chen over, and Qiu Dapeng sat there dictating a letter.
He continued: “Wen Tingli survived a brush with death — she’s bound to be extremely wary now. We need to set up a scheme first to get her to lower her guard… What she lacks most right now is money. Just focus your thinking in that direction. As for Liu Menglin, the boss of Gold Films, find a way to put out a bit more ‘evidence’ in front of him, so he’s sure to keep after Wen Tingli relentlessly.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and that Deng fellow absolutely cannot be left alive. Do it soon, and make sure it’s clean.”
Suddenly someone in the inner room shouted at the top of his voice: “Father, Wen Tingli must be kept alive! She absolutely cannot be allowed to die so easily!”
Qiu Dapeng got up and strode quickly into the inner room. Though he had long since accepted his son’s paralysis as fact, every time he saw his son unable to move, a shadow still passed over his face.
He sat by his son’s bedside, his face full of pained affection.
“You needn’t worry about these matters. Father has his own plans.”
Qiu Lingyun grabbed his father’s arm in turn: “No, you must promise me you’ll spare Wen Tingli’s life first. She’s ruined me so terribly — if I don’t torment her properly for a while, how can it settle the hatred in my heart?”
Qiu Dapeng reached back and picked up the newspaper by the bed — the front page was an advertisement for Gold Films’ upcoming release of Beauty of the Southern Land in major theaters.
At the very top was a photo still of a young woman — unmistakably Wen Tingli.
“Don’t think Father doesn’t know what’s on your mind. How many times have you looked at this photo? This little wretch has ruined you so badly, yet you still think of her all day, wanting to spare her life? Keep her around to harm you further? Son, lust is a blade over the head!”
Qiu Lingyun’s face flushed and paled by turns: “Son merely feels — rather than let Wen Tingli die in a muddled way, why not let her die with full understanding. Doesn’t she look down on me? I’ll make her serve as my slave and servant instead. For someone like her, that would be a hundred times more painful than simply killing her outright. Besides, Father, since you’re going to strike anyway, why not set up an even bigger scheme, having Wen Tingli mistakenly kill Lu Shicheng herself? That way, her reputation, her future, her beloved — all buried by her own hand. Wouldn’t that be far more satisfying than just shooting her?”
Qiu Dapeng’s eyes lit up.
“If we could really pull that off, we needn’t worry about winning back Boss Cao’s trust and favor. Last time, the old man suffered such a huge loss at Lu Shicheng’s hands and hasn’t found a chance to turn the tables since. Boss Cao has also long coveted the Lu family’s shipping business and factories — if this time we could use Wen Tingli’s own hand to kill Lu Shicheng, Third Master Lu could naturally take over control of the Lu family, and at that point, the White Dragon Gang could officially climb aboard the Lu family’s great ship. What business venture would be beyond our reach then?”
Qiu Dapeng pondered a moment, then smiled and shook his head: “No good. Lu Shicheng has too many skilled men and strong forces under him — careful not to lose more than we gain trying to steal a chicken.”
“Talk all you want, but in the end Father simply doesn’t dare touch Lu Shicheng. Don’t forget — if it weren’t for saving him that night, son wouldn’t have ended up in this state. Grandfather Lu is old now, and Third Master Lu is on our side — even if it’s eventually traced back to us for killing Lu Shicheng, so what?!”
Qiu Dapeng frowned, pacing. Qiu Lingyun, paralyzed in bed for the better part of a year, his whole body full of pent-up rage with nowhere to vent, couldn’t wait to continue: “Boss Cao has broad connections — we’ll work it out together with him, there’s bound to be a chance to strike! Best to time it right after Wen Tingli’s Beauty of the Southern Land releases — let her just taste being a big star before she falls from the clouds! And another thing — doesn’t Lu Shicheng think he can command the wind and rain? I’ll make sure he dies at a woman’s hands instead.”
Wen Tingli soon got in touch with Li Chengying.
Upon learning the full account, Li Chengying agreed to come find Wen Tingli right away. For this, Wen Tingli felt indescribably grateful: “Sister Li, you’re so good to me.”
“As if you haven’t secretly helped us out plenty of times yourself,” came the voice on the phone, always so warm. “Now that you’re in trouble, we certainly can’t just stand by.”
Head Nurse Liu chimed in on the phone with a laugh: “Little Wen still thinks of herself as an outsider.”
While planning the operation, Li Chengying happened to mention that Lu Shicheng had been seen lingering and scouting around near the Wen household that night.
Wen Tingli didn’t know quite how to explain her current relationship with Lu Shicheng to Li Chengying. Thinking of this whole affair, she knew she needed to give Lu Shicheng a timely warning — if Qiu Dapeng was set on avenging his son, then his hatred for Lu Shicheng wouldn’t be any less than his hatred for her.
She called the Lu residence.
But Steward Xu told Wen Tingli that, due to an urgent matter in Nanyang, Young Master Cheng had set off in the night and wouldn’t be back for a few days. Different from last time, this time Kuang Zhilin had gone along to Nanyang as well.
“Did Young Master not tell Miss Wen?”
Wen Tingli was completely at a loss: “Is there any way to reach Mr. Lu quickly right now?”
“Only by telegram. Please note down this number, if you would.”
After sending the telegram, there was no word at all from the Lu family. Fortunately, the White Dragon Gang showed no movement for the time being, but Wen Tingli knew this was merely the calm before a coming storm. On the surface she prepared diligently for her end-of-term exams, but in truth she could hardly sleep at night, one eye practically kept open.
To guard against the White Dragon Gang striking secretly, she cancelled all her social engagements.
On the day her final exams ended, Wen Tingli saw a news item in the school library’s newspapers: a washed-up celebrity named Deng Tianxing had come out of an opium den and, unluckily, was hit by a passing car. Due to severe injuries, he died shortly after being sent to the hospital.
Nearby residents all confirmed that Deng Tianxing had suddenly run into the middle of the road himself, and the police also found nothing suspicious about the cause of death, only having the driver pay some compensation to Deng Tianxing’s widowed mother before quickly releasing him.
Such incidents were not uncommon in the red-light districts, and combined with Deng Tianxing’s career having been in decline for a long while, the news item didn’t attract much attention.
But Wen Tingli knew this was a dangerous signal. Having eliminated the only witness, Qiu Dapeng would next move against her.
This meant her opportunity had also arrived.
Sure enough, that same day, someone came forward to the French Concession police station to provide a lead: a week before the incident, they’d seen Wen Tingli buying two barrels of Mobil gasoline at Xincheng Trading Company.
The ones saying this were several clerks from Xincheng Trading, who could provide the signed receipt from Wen Tingli’s purchase; besides that, a rickshaw puller who regularly worked that street also swore to the truth of it.
“That day I was the one pulling Miss Wen Tingli — she wore a hat and wrapped a scarf around herself, clearly afraid of being recognized, but I recognized her as that little star at a glance. Yes, yes, yes, she’s been in the papers a lot lately…”
The French Concession police station immediately summoned Wen Tingli for questioning.
After hearing the whole account, Wen Tingli couldn’t help laughing: “First of all, why would I buy gasoline? Are you suggesting I set fire to myself? Second, even if I wanted to set a fire, I wouldn’t be so foolish as to let so many people see me doing it — how is that any different from a murderer loudly announcing they’re going to buy a knife before the act? Is the great French Concession police station really falling for such nonsense?”
“Why you bought the gasoline, you know better than anyone. It’s not just one witness identifying you now — there are quite a few people in that area who can testify to this. Are they all framing you? Who could possibly orchestrate such a scheme?”
Wen Tingli sneered coldly: “The culprit was capable of engineering such a massive fire to try to kill me — is there anything he wouldn’t be capable of doing? Why don’t you look into the relationship between Xincheng Trading and the White Dragon Gang?”
The two officers exchanged a guilty glance, and quickly changed the subject: “Speaking of this fire, doesn’t Miss Wen find it strange herself? You keep saying someone set the fire to murder you, yet you came out of that huge blaze completely unscathed.”
“That’s because Mr. Lu Shicheng happened to arrive and save me when the fire broke out — otherwise I would have already perished in the flames.”
“But you ended up perfectly fine in the end, didn’t you? The timing was rather too convenient.” one of the officers scratched his head. “Miss Wen, through our investigation over this period, we’ve come to understand a bit about your relationship with Young Master Lu. You very much want to reconcile with him, don’t you? This fire practically created a perfect opportunity for you.”
Wen Tingli, rather than get angry, laughed: “What exactly are you trying to say. There are a hundred ways to reconcile, and I’d choose the most foolish, most dangerous one instead? Don’t you know he and I both nearly died in that fire?!”
As she spoke, someone came in: “Boss Liu Menglin of Gold Films is here to bail Miss Wen out.”
Half an hour later, Wen Tingli walked out of the police station with a composed expression, following Liu Menglin.
Liu Menglin’s eyes couldn’t hide his excitement: “Don’t worry, I’ll have the company lawyer come deal with this right away. With the company backing you, they can’t sue you. Go home and rest well — don’t think about anything.”
Wen Tingli understood clearly in her heart, though — the White Dragon Gang framing her was exactly what Liu Menglin had been hoping for, since now he had even more leverage to force her to sign that contract.
She couldn’t help but furrow her brow. Actually, regarding Liu Menglin’s “extortion,” she’d initially dismissed it — even if he talked himself blue in the face, she was still one of the victims here.
But now, matters were growing increasingly dire. On her end, she still hadn’t found evidence to prove Qiu Dapeng had ordered the fire, while on the police’s end, witnesses and evidence pointing to her as the arsonist kept surfacing one after another — and this was only the beginning. Given Qiu Dapeng’s methods, more filth would surely be smeared on her afterward.
Unless something changed, she would very soon go from victim to suspect. If Liu Menglin wanted to take advantage of the chaos, the unlucky one — her — might well become the party responsible for compensating for this fire. If she insisted on refusing responsibility, the only path left would be a lawsuit.
But she didn’t have that much money or time to spend fighting them, and even if she hired a lawyer to fight this case, what benefit would there be? Given Liu Menglin’s influence in the film industry, who knew how much unfavorable public opinion might surface against her. Once the lawsuit ended, not only would she likely never get another film role, but her standing at school would also be badly affected.
She hadn’t forgotten her agreement with the school when she first started filming: acting was fine, but it absolutely could not damage the school’s reputation, or she’d bear the consequences herself.
So, only two paths lay before her: either sign the contract with the company, using this to secure Liu Menglin’s and the company’s support, so she wouldn’t be fighting the police and Qiu Dapeng entirely alone.
Or, if she stubbornly refused to sign, she’d have to pay her way out of disaster with money.
But where could she raise such a huge sum?
That evening when Wen Tingli got home, she told Li Chengying about the day’s events. Li Chengying proposed another plan: the police station was clearly in cahoots with Qiu Dapeng — rather than search for evidence to expose Qiu Dapeng’s crimes, why not switch from assassination to kidnapping instead.
Kidnap Qiu Dapeng, and force him to pay out the money himself to cover the fire damages.
But a kidnapping operation carried far more variables, meaning Li Chengying’s people could expose themselves at any moment. Wen Tingli quickly vetoed this plan.
Besides, once such a huge sum passed through her hands, the White Dragon Gang and the police would immediately trace it back to her, bringing one trouble after another to her door.
“I’ve thought it through — as long as Qiu Dapeng is alive, Xiao Taozi and I will never have a peaceful life.” Wen Tingli’s gaze grew distant. “Only by eliminating him can we be free of future troubles for good. As for the money, I have another idea.”
Saying this, her expression brightened: “I can more or less guess how Qiu Dapeng plans to dig a pit for me — why don’t we turn his own scheme against him…”
Under the relentless push of Liu Menglin and the various veterans at Gold Films, Beauty of the Southern Land was officially set to premiere on the sixth day of the first lunar month, simultaneously at Gold Theater and Empire Theater.
As the release date approached, the police station began pestering Wen Tingli daily, with new “ironclad evidence” continuing to surface beyond what was mentioned before, and the number of “eyewitnesses” growing ever larger.
Even within Gold Films itself, someone wrote an anonymous letter denouncing Wen Tingli.
The letter claimed: before the incident, Wen Tingli had often quietly loitered near the back door; the night it happened was the last scene being filmed for Beauty of the Southern Land, and after wrapping, everyone happily went out for a celebratory late-night meal, but Wen Tingli made an excuse to stay behind, so that when the fire broke out, only she and Old Lu were on set. The accuser also claimed that no suspicious persons had come or gone from the set that day, and reasonably suspected this fire had been engineered by Wen Tingli to win Young Master Lu’s sympathy.
Faced with these repeated new developments, Liu Menglin, while still nominally protecting Wen Tingli, gave her a final ultimatum: either produce a hundred thousand yuan within ten days to bear part of the company’s losses, or obediently sign the contract with the company — otherwise he would no longer defend her in the company’s name.
Huang Yuanshan, furious, stormed into Liu Menglin’s office to argue the matter out: “Wen Tingli set fire to herself? You’re this old and you believe such nonsense? A big boss not focused on catching the real arsonist, but bullying a young girl all day — is that supposed to be some kind of skill?”
Boss Liu slammed his hand on the table: “You’ve got skills, do you? Why haven’t you brought me the real culprit to see? That evidence came from the police department’s investigation, not something I, Liu Menglin, conjured out of thin air! Even if Wen Tingli didn’t personally set the fire, it’s undeniable this fire started because of her, isn’t it? If she hadn’t made enemies out there, why would the set have been burned to nothing? Now several films are stalled in production, with hundreds of employees waiting on me to pay their wages — I, the boss, am about to be driven to jump off a building! Huang Yuanshan, it’s easy to talk without carrying the burden yourself — or how about you pay Wen Tingli’s compensation instead?”
Without a word, Huang Yuanshan pulled out a check from her pocket and slapped it on the table.
“For the films I invested in last year, I put in quite a bit of my own money too. Right now I only have twenty thousand yuan left in my account — take it as a down payment! I’ll find a way to come up with the rest for her. You withdraw the case right now!”
Wen Tingli, listening in from outside, was moved but hurried in to push the check back into Huang Yuanshan’s hands: “Sister Huang, this is my problem — take your money back quickly.”
Boss Liu simply threw the both of them out, and afterward refused to accept Huang Yuanshan’s check.
The next morning, Wen Tingli received a call from a Mr. Chen at the French Concession court, claiming that the French Concession public tribunal had received a civil case related to her, and telling her to prepare to appear in court.
Things having reached this point, Wen Tingli had no choice but to “put on a show of desperation” while preparing two courses of action.
The first was to “openly” raise money.
She first sent a pile of old clothes she no longer wore to the pawnshop to sell, and while at it, anonymously tipped off the newspapers, and sure enough, the next day the papers ran a story about “young star selling old clothes to raise money.”
At the same time, she “openly” commissioned Mrs. Pan, Boss Xiang, and others to help her secure advertisements — of course, under her own personal name.
But with the New Year approaching, nearly every company was preparing to close for the holidays, and after asking around at many places, there wasn’t a single opportunity to be found.
After a few days, word had spread that Wen Tingli was desperately trying to raise money. This morning, Gao Xiaowen called: “No, no, no, it’s not to give you money — I know you’re still trying to figure it out yourself. It’s my brother’s two friends — their company wants to shoot some New Year goods advertisements to run in the papers. One of them you know, and the other is also a very trustworthy old friend. Get ready, I’ll drive over and pick you up right away.”
Arriving at the Gao residence, Gao Tingxin was in the parlor playing cards with a few guests. Meng Qiguang sat to the right of the card table, and across from him were two elaborately dressed young ladies.
Gao Tingxin, in high spirits, made the introductions: “These are the two young ladies of the Yan family, of Ningbo Candy King fame — Miss Yan the elder and Miss Yan the younger. Get to know each other. As for Mr. Meng, I don’t suppose I need to introduce him further?”
Meng Qiguang said nothing, but Miss Yan the younger looked curiously at Wen Tingli: “You two siblings certainly know how to recommend people — this Miss Wen isn’t just pretty, she’s got a naturally cheerful face too. Seeing a face so full of joy and good fortune during the New Year, who wouldn’t want to buy a few more tins of candy? Sister, don’t you think so?”
Seeing they were two women bosses, Wen Tingli’s guard relaxed by half at once, and she hurried to flash her brightest smile and shake hands: “Miss Yan the elder, Miss Yan the younger, how do you do.”
She then bowed slightly toward Meng Qiguang: “Mr. Meng, how do you do.”
Once seated, the two Miss Yans sipped tea while subtly asking about where Wen Tingli went to school, what advertisements she’d done before, seeming quite satisfied with her.
Gao Xiaowen struck while the iron was hot: “Miss Wen is very busy — she’s only taking a break in between filming right now. Once things get busy after New Year, you and I might not even be able to arrange time with her. Since you’ve already made up your minds, why not settle it today?”
The two women looked a bit taken aback. Gao Tingxin hurriedly said: “Sister, you’re being too hasty—”
Meng Qiguang hadn’t said a word this whole time; needless to say, he’d already seen that Wen Tingli was more anxious than anyone else at the table.
Gao Tingxin looked at Meng Qiguang, then at Wen Tingli, and clapped his hands heartily: “Miss Wen, Qiguang’s factory just got a new health tonic, and they’re planning to run advertisements over New Year. It so happens the original actress fell suddenly ill, so filming’s been stalled. Xiaowen saw he was anxious and recommended you. Qiguang, now that Miss Wen’s here, what do you think?”
Meng Qiguang casually tossed a card onto the table: “Everything about her suits me fine — just that her fame is a bit small.”
Before Wen Tingli could respond, Gao Xiaowen’s eyes widened: “Brother Meng, what kind of talk is that — Wen Tingli’s new film is about to release any day now, and it’s Gold Films’ biggest production this year. By the time you want to hire her for an ad later, her price will be far more than this.”
Meng Qiguang looked Wen Tingli over again with feigned seriousness, then said to the man behind him: “Go fetch the contract for Miss Wen to look over.”
Wen Tingli curiously opened it, and drew a sharp breath — Meng Qiguang was offering her a full hundred thousand yuan in pay.
Looking again, it turned out to be a seven-year contract.
The contract stipulated that Wen Tingli could no longer take on other medicine, health supplement, or snack advertisements, or the Meng family would have the right to hold her accountable.
Sure enough, there was no such thing as a free lunch under heaven, but this was still far more reasonable than Boss Liu’s slave contract.
Most tempting of all, the payment would be deposited into her account in one lump sum, removing any future worry about splitting profits with a company.
Wen Tingli’s heart raced, but her tone was still somewhat hesitant: “May I ask if Mr. Meng has any special requirements regarding the content of the advertisement?”
Meng Qiguang looked meaningfully at Wen Tingli: “What, is Miss Wen worried I’d have you film something inappropriate?”
“That’s not what I meant, I mean—”
“I’ve already arranged for Huang Yuanshan to direct the shoot — the content will be up to her to decide. If Miss Wen still has concerns, I’ll find someone else to film it.”
Provoked by this, Wen Tingli hurriedly clutched the contract to her chest: “Let me think it over carefully — I’ll give Mr. Meng my answer as soon as possible.”
At this point, Miss Yan the younger also grew a bit restless. If Wen Tingli really signed with Meng Qiguang, there’d be no possibility of cooperating with them, and with New Year approaching, where else could they find such an agreeable actress?
She hurriedly signaled her sister with her eyes, but her sister remained unmoved, so she could only say to Wen Tingli with a smile: “Miss Wen should think it over carefully — our Yan family’s offer isn’t low either.”
Wen Tingli had inexplicably become the belle of the ball.
But before Miss Yan the younger could bring the contract to the table, Miss Yan the elder secretly signaled her sister to hold off, still looking somewhat hesitant. Gao Xiaowen seized the moment: “Oh, it’s past six already — let me have them bring dinner up, everyone can talk over the meal?”
Wen Tingli’s social skills didn’t disappoint Gao Xiaowen. Over the course of the dinner, Wen Tingli not only reinforced Miss Yan the younger’s goodwill toward her, but also successfully won over Miss Yan the elder.
After a few rounds of drinks, Miss Yan the elder, holding up her wine glass with drunken, misty eyes, complained to Wen Tingli: “To be honest, our Yan family has had our eye on the Shanghai market for quite some time now, but competition here is fierce, and it’s not easy for an outside brand to break into the local market. I’m also a cautious person by nature — just arranging for local department stores to stock our goods took me the better part of a year, and just when I’d finally designed some appealing holiday sweets, our factory machines broke down and delayed us for months.”
Wen Tingli said understandingly: “Miss Yan, being such a clever person, surely knows the saying: good things take trouble to come by. Think about it — my film just happens to release right around New Year. If you run your advertisement in the papers at the same time, it’s as if the whole film industry is promoting your product for you — isn’t that a hundred times better than your original plan? This is what’s called — better late than early, but timed just right.”
Miss Yan the elder pressed a hand to her chest, laughing: “Miss Wen really is a delightful thing — I do love hearing her talk.”
As the gathering broke up, Miss Yan the elder finally softened, and in her tipsy state, had someone bring over the contract. Gao Xiaowen seized the chance to have another lamp brought over, so Wen Tingli could properly compare the terms offered by both parties.
After looking it over for a while, Wen Tingli picked up her pen to sign the contract on the left, when Meng Qiguang suddenly reminded her: “Miss Wen, are you sure about this?”
Wen Tingli hesitated for only a minute before still choosing to sign her name on the Yan family’s contract.
Gao Xiaowen personally escorted the two Miss Yans to their car, while Gao Tingxin called a separate car from a car rental company for Wen Tingli. Just as the two of them reached the front garden, Gao Tingxin suddenly stopped in his tracks: “I forgot something — Miss Wen, wait for me a moment.”
Not long after he left, Wen Tingli heard someone behind her say: “Turn around.”
Wen Tingli hesitated a moment, then still turned to look back.
“Mr. Meng seems to quite enjoy giving orders.” she said, half-joking.
Meng Qiguang got straight to the point: “I offered more money — why did you sign with the Yan family?”
Wen Tingli shrugged: “Maybe it’s just that I prefer working with women.”
“I’m asking seriously — can Miss Wen be a bit more earnest?”
Wen Tingli straightened her expression and said quite sincerely: “Regardless of everything else, thank you for tonight, Mr. Meng.”
“Thank me for what?”
“Thank you for the timely help in my hour of need.”
Meng Qiguang said teasingly: “Since you know it was timely help, why won’t you accept my kindness?”
“They didn’t require me to sign on for seven years straight — I don’t want to be tied up with the same company for that many years.”
Meng Qiguang had nothing to say to that.
After a moment, he turned to look ahead: “Seven years or one year, it’s all just a formality anyway. If one day you don’t want to film anymore, I’d never force you to. You’re in a difficult bind right now — why not take this money to get through your current troubles?”
Wen Tingli thought about it, lowering her eyes: “That’s exactly why I can’t accept this money even more. Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Meng.”
Meng Qiguang studied her for a long moment: “I only wanted to remind you — the Ningbo Yan family only looks impressive on the surface, but inside they’re already in trouble. Not many people in Shanghai know this, even the Gao siblings are kept in the dark about it. They already owe a great deal on their warehouse debts alone — there’s no way they could produce a hundred thousand yuan in spare cash to hire you for an ad. That contract is likely problematic — I urge you to think it over carefully.”
Wen Tingli’s eyes showed thought, then she smiled: “I understand, thank you for the reminder, Mr. Meng.”
Meng Qiguang was instead taken aback; he looked at her thoughtfully.
Wen Tingli added: “I don’t think I have anything on me worth scheming over. I’ve decided to trust them, just this once.”
Meng Qiguang wisely didn’t press further: “Fine, since you’ve already thought it through clearly, I won’t say anything more.”
He glanced back: “Gao Tingxin won’t be out for a while yet — let me see you out.”
The two of them walked out one after the other. Along the way, Wen Tingli suddenly stopped, took a letter from her pocket, and handed it to Meng Qiguang.
“By the way, this is a letter Baoxin sent from Beiping. That night, I passed along what Mr. Meng said to Baoxin — whatever she has to say should all be in this letter.”
Meng Qiguang took it.
“She’s living a very meaningful life now. In her letters she often talks to me about her ideals and aspirations. I think, for her, Beiping is only a starting point.” Wen Tingli watched his expression. “She probably hasn’t decided yet whether to come back and face the family — give her a bit more time.”
Meng Qiguang tapped the letter: “Among all the younger generation of the Qiao family, Baoxin is the one most like me — never acting rashly, but once she’s set her mind on something, ten oxen couldn’t pull her back. In that regard, she’s more accomplished than her brother.”
Perhaps because Qiao Xingchu had been mentioned, for the rest of the ride, neither of them was in the mood to speak further. When the car arrived, Meng Qiguang opened the door for Wen Tingli and watched her get in.
“Thank you.” Wen Tingli said again, looking at him.
Meng Qiguang seemed to want to say something, but in the end only helped close the door for her.
Wen Tingli watched his retreating figure from inside the car, and quietly let out a breath.
The next morning, the Yan family sisters sent over a check for thirty thousand francs, with the remainder to be paid after the advertisement shoot. The set had already been arranged too — they’d rented Fulin Company’s studio, with the makeup artist and director already in place. The first commercial would take about two days to shoot.
The two Yan sisters proved true to their word.
It seemed everything was going smoothly.
Wen Tingli arrived at Fulin Company promptly at six in the evening. The moment she reached the entrance, a staff member came forward enthusiastically to greet her. “Miss Wen, this way please.”
Inside, she saw the two Yan sisters sitting beside the director, waving to her. After a few pleasantries, a staff member led Wen Tingli to the dressing room in the back to change.
The Meng residence.
A servant came in and said: “Sir, dinner is ready.”
Meng Qiguang was distractedly flipping through a newspaper.
It was old news from a few days back, about the sudden fire at Gold Films’ studio.
“At the time of the fire, a certain new actress was changing in the dressing room, and narrowly escaped the flames… Afterward, police discovered several barrels of Mobil gasoline at the scene, suspecting malicious arson, etc.”
Meng Qiguang’s expression grew increasingly grim. Suddenly the phone rang, and the steward walked over to relay: “Sir, Manager Cheng from the factory has an urgent matter for you.”
Meng Qiguang’s gaze remained fixed on the newspaper; after a moment’s thought, he abruptly stood up: “Get the car ready, I’m going out.”
Fulin Company was about a forty-minute drive from the Meng residence. By the time Meng Qiguang arrived, the sky had gone completely dark.
He got out of the car hurriedly, but found the windows of Fulin Company brightly lit, and the two Indian guards at the gate chatting idly — everything appeared perfectly calm.
For a moment, Meng Qiguang suspected he’d overthought things, but just then, a sudden, sharp, jarring sound came from inside.
The two Indian men looked at each other: “What was that noise?” But Meng Qiguang’s expression had already changed; he quickly pulled a gun from inside his coat and ran inside.
Fulin Company was already in chaos, with several people trying to flee toward the back. Meng Qiguang grabbed hold of a man at random and demanded: “Where is she?”
“Who?”
Meng Qiguang pressed the gun against the man’s forehead: “Wen Tingli!”
“She — she’s in the dressing room in the back.”
Meng Qiguang dragged the man toward the back building. The dressing room door was locked; Meng Qiguang kicked it open.
Inside the room, someone lay bound hand and foot on the floor.
Meng Qiguang rushed forward to lift the person up, but it wasn’t Wen Tingli — it was an unfamiliar woman.
“Makeup Artist Chen?!”
The director, who Meng Qiguang had marched in at gunpoint the whole way, cried out in alarm at the sight, “Where’s Miss Wen?”
Meng Qiguang tore the cloth gag from Makeup Artist Chen’s mouth. She shook her head, trembling.
“I — I don’t know anything.”
Before she’d even finished speaking, Meng Qiguang already had the gun pressed to her temple, and said with a cold laugh: “Know a bit more now? Did the White Dragon Gang have you set up a trap against Miss Wen? Speak! Where did you take her?!”
The woman went pale as gold paper with fright, pleading miserably: “Spare me, Mr. Meng, we were forced into it too. Besides, Miss Wen wasn’t fooled — she tied me up here and ran off herself.”
Meng Qiguang froze.
Wen Tingli had put on Makeup Artist Chen’s hat and coat, and under cover of darkness, slipped along the path from Fulin Company’s dressing room to the back door, then jumped into a waiting car.
The driver in the car nodded to her knowingly, and the car sped forward.
Along the way, Wen Tingli took the invalid check the Yan family had given her out of her pocket and slowly tore it into pieces.
Near the Paramount Ballroom, Wen Tingli didn’t get out of the car, but waited silently inside, like a black cat waiting to hunt in the deep night.
Before long, she saw a group of White Dragon Gang lackeys crowding around Qiu Dapeng as they came down.
Qiu Dapeng, quite drunk, staggered over to a car parked by the street, waving vaguely at his men: “No need to support me… I’m not drunk. Go on, you all go ahead.”
The group noisily got into another car, while Qiu Dapeng drove his own car and turned to head toward the end of the street. Wen Tingli and her companion quietly followed in their car.
After driving for half an hour, Qiu Dapeng’s car stopped in the alley behind Dayuan Teahouse, but he didn’t open the door or get out, only waited in the car for someone.
Wen Tingli didn’t dare let her guard down. According to the intelligence provided by Li Chengying’s informant planted within the White Dragon Gang, whenever Qiu Dapeng had personal matters to handle, he always tried to avoid the gang members, coming here specifically to assign tasks to his own trusted men — tonight was no exception.
Before long, someone came out of the teahouse’s back door and got into Qiu Dapeng’s car.
Qiu Dapeng, being somewhat drunk, and this being his own turf, spoke without any caution, his voice carrying quite a distance.
“Still no word back from that end?… Could the Yan sisters have backed out? Hmph, they wouldn’t dare — don’t forget the Yan family still owes the White Dragon Gang three shiploads of goods… Now that Lu Shicheng’s back, tonight we must make that little wretch into a murderer without fail.”
Wen Tingli sneered coldly at first, but her expression changed abruptly upon hearing the rest.
As he spoke, Qiu Dapeng’s voice suddenly dropped lower. Wen Tingli, growing suspicious, saw that man — Qiu Dapeng’s underling — lower his head and climb out of the car, hurrying toward the mouth of the alley. It seemed Qiu Dapeng had finished giving his instructions.
Qiu Dapeng remained in the driver’s seat, ready to start the car, when suddenly the side door was pulled open, and a cold gun barrel pressed against his temple.
Then, someone spoke close to his ear — a young woman, her voice clear and crisp, yet the words she spoke sent a chill through the body.
“By rights, I should settle accounts with you properly before doing this, but there’s no time now — die!”
Without hesitation, she was about to pull the trigger when the man cried out: “Spare me, heroine—”
Wen Tingli and her companion outside were both stunned — the man in the car wasn’t Qiu Dapeng at all. Suddenly recalling the figure that had hurried toward the alley mouth just now, Wen Tingli said in a low, urgent voice: “Damn it, the one who got out of the car earlier was Qiu Dapeng! Chase him!”
She raised her elbow to strike the back of this man’s head hard, when her companion called out: “Watch out!”
Wen Tingli instinctively ducked down; in that split second, the front windshield shattered with a crash, and something warm sprayed across her cheek like a fine mist. She reached up to touch it and found her hand covered in blood — the bullet had passed straight through the windshield and struck the White Dragon Gang man in the forehead.
He died on the spot.
Wen Tingli’s heart pounded urgently; she gritted her teeth and asked: “Why does Qiu Dapeng’s gun still have bullets in it?! Wasn’t his gun swapped out beforehand?”
Her companion clearly was equally confused: “I don’t know — should we—”
They heard Qiu Dapeng cursing up ahead: “Trying to ambush me — I’ll show you whose luck runs out first! Tonight I’ll tear you all to pieces.”
Wen Tingli raised her gun and leapt from the car to chase after him; if Qiu Dapeng escaped this alley tonight, it would be much harder to kill him afterward. Chasing not far, she saw a tall, sturdy figure stumbling ahead through the snow. Wen Tingli raised her gun, aiming at his back.
Bang bang bang bang—
Four shots fired in succession, at least three of them striking home! Qiu Dapeng dropped to his knees at once! That collapse felt as though he’d knelt right onto Wen Tingli’s heart.
She felt an incredible rush of satisfaction, her eyes reddened, about to fire the fourth shot to finish him off, when Qiu Dapeng, clutching his shoulder, unexpectedly turned and fired a shot back at her.
Wen Tingli dodged aside, about to give chase again, when a whistle suddenly sounded behind her — two long, one short. Wen Tingli quickly pulled back and turned around; this was the signal she and Li Chengying had agreed on beforehand — once out on an operation, one had to follow orders, never act on impulse.
Then someone caught up and pulled her aside — it was Li Chengying, who had rushed over.
“There’s a traitor on our side — there might be an ambush ahead. Let’s retreat first.”
Wen Tingli broke out in a cold sweat. Just then, another gunshot rang out from up ahead.
Qiu Dapeng clearly wasn’t going to survive this — with that last shot, his body toppled heavily to the ground.
Wen Tingli was startled, exchanging a quick glance with Li Chengying in the darkness. Li Chengying’s shock was no less than Wen Tingli’s own; she immediately clapped a hand over Wen Tingli’s mouth and pulled her back into hiding.
The next instant, several people came from the direction of the alley mouth, two of them seemingly carrying something heavy between them, walking all the way to near Qiu Dapeng before gently setting the “thing” down.
Wen Tingli watched, not even daring to breathe loudly — that “thing” was clearly a living person, and when set down on the ground, was still breathing.
Once things had settled, another figure emerged from the shadows, his steps steady and light, like a young man, tall in stature.
Wen Tingli’s whole body trembled.
She watched this figure walk unhurriedly to Qiu Dapeng’s side, looking down at him coldly on the ground.
The ground beneath Qiu Dapeng was already awash with blood; seeing the face above him, he seemed both shocked and full of hatred, gasping out: “It’s you!”
Then followed a stream of incoherent curses.
The figure paid no attention, turning instead toward the “heavy thing” set down earlier, crouching down to place the gun into that person’s hand.
Wen Tingli’s eyes went wide with shock. Then she watched as this figure personally clasped the “thing’s” hand, raised the gun barrel, aimed at Qiu Dapeng’s chest and abdomen, and fired off several rounds cleanly.
Qiu Dapeng’s cursing stopped abruptly.
Having finished this, the figure, as if by chance, glanced up in Wen Tingli’s direction. Wen Tingli’s heart trembled — no matter how dark the surroundings, she could recognize who this was.
Fortunately, Lu Shicheng quickly withdrew his gaze, but that look was undoubtedly a silent warning.
Wen Tingli didn’t dare move at all.
Once the man had left, Li Chengying quickly pulled Wen Tingli to the end of the alley and into her companion’s waiting car.
The moment they pulled out of the street, they heard the sound of cars roaring in — clearly the White Dragon Gang’s large force had arrived.
Not until she got back home did Wen Tingli’s heart finally stop pounding in her chest. She went into her room and took off the borrowed coat and hat, pacing back and forth in front of her desk, quite beside herself.
Glancing up unconsciously at the mirror, she was startled by her own blood-covered face — though the blood had already dried, it gave off a strange, ferocious look.
Yet she found she inexplicably liked this version of herself in the mirror. The blood, the ferocity — all of it seemed to give off a subtle sense of ruthless power.
An hour had passed since it happened, but she was still immersed in that intense high, unable to pull herself out of it. Lost in thought, she looked down at her right hand, slowly raised it, and made a “shooting” gesture at the mirror, saying softly: “Bang.”
Then she laughed freely — she couldn’t describe how thrilling that moment of striking Qiu Dapeng with her own hand had felt.
All of this was thanks to Li Chengying’s help. Over this half month of preparation, she’d witnessed time and again the capability within Li Chengying — this woman’s grasp of human psychology, her judgment of crises, her speed in responding to complex situations, all left her deeply impressed — just as she’d felt when dealing with Dean Deng before. What these women possessed was exactly what she now most admired and aspired to — power.
Now, this power was slowly growing within herself too — how could this not fill her with joy?
Tonight, she had finally killed that venomous snake with her own hands. If not for the traitor within the White Dragon Gang, she could have kept firing until he was riddled with holes.
Once her thoughts calmed, she began to carefully recall the scene in the alley.
Tonight’s situation had been far more complicated than she’d imagined — she wasn’t the only one who wanted Qiu Dapeng dead.
Two forces had converged, and in the end, everyone got what they wanted.
That man…
She had to admit, he’d handled it rather beautifully. Even now, her heart still throbbed in her chest; she sat slowly before the mirror, replaying the details of that moment over and over. Looking up, her eyes shimmered with a fine glimmer, like gemstones, like stars in the night sky, lighting up the clever smile at the corner of her mouth.
The next day, the newspapers were full of the news of Qiu Dapeng’s assassination.
He was Boss Cao’s right-hand man in the White Dragon Gang, always under close public scrutiny; this incident stirred up quite a storm.
Besides Qiu Dapeng, the police found another body at the scene — to be precise, this one wasn’t quite dead yet — and upon investigation, it turned out to be Deng Tianxing, who had “died” in a car accident a while back.
On the way to the hospital, Deng Tianxing personally confessed to the police: he had killed Qiu Dapeng.
Unfortunately, before the police could get the full story straight, Deng Tianxing breathed his last.
Afterward, the police speculated that Deng Tianxing and Qiu Dapeng had long had dealings — evidence being that Qiu Dapeng had once helped Deng Tianxing pay off two gambling debts, suggesting the two had likely been involved in some shady dealings. Afterward, to distance himself, Qiu Dapeng had secretly arranged the car accident to eliminate Deng Tianxing.
Not long after, Deng Tianxing’s mother also met with an “accident” back in their hometown.
Having luckily survived that attempt on his life, Deng Tianxing harbored deep resentment toward Qiu Dapeng from then on. He first found a chance to kill Qiu Dapeng’s trusted aide in the car, then fired three rounds at Qiu Dapeng himself.
But he himself, too severely wounded, bled to death.
Although the suspect had personally confessed to the crime, the case still held quite a few doubtful points — for instance, when Deng Tianxing’s car accident happened, there had been plenty of witnesses who could confirm it was indeed Deng Tianxing involved; his injuries had been so severe that he reportedly died the moment he was brought to nearby Huiqun Hospital — so how exactly had he survived? And how had he later found the opportunity to strike at an old fox like Qiu Dapeng?
Furthermore, that night both Qiu Dapeng and his aide had guns on them, while Deng Tianxing, severely wounded, had somehow managed to take on two men at once.
Yet all these doubtful points, due to the police’s incompetence at finding evidence, became impossible to trace back to any answer.
Wen Tingli sat in a rickshaw, flipping through the newspaper in her hands, and the more she read, the more the corners of her mouth curled upward. Beaming with satisfaction, she set down the paper and got off to walk into the company.