He grew increasingly uneasy, and, holding his patience until she’d calmed down: “What on earth happened? I couldn’t reach you all night — do you know how worried I was?”

Wen Tingli’s tears spilled over. “A friend of mine was attacked by someone last night. I spent the whole night dealing with it… forgive me… I can’t say any more.”

She pressed her head against the crook of his neck, sobbing quietly.

Lu Shicheng gazed at her with concern, then suddenly asked in a low voice: “What if I said I want to know?”

He gripped her shoulders, pulling her back slightly to look into her eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that night — that it was your one and only, your last time deceiving me, that from then on you’d be one hundred percent honest with me? I’m not asking for a hundred percent — I just want to know what happened last night. Why do you look so heartbroken? Did someone wrong you?! Don’t make me worry sick like this!”

Wen Tingli, overwhelmed with guilt, turned her face away. “No one wronged me. This good friend of mine has always looked after me like an elder. Last night she went…”

She suddenly remembered Liu Xiangzhi’s warning, remembered the tragic state Li Chengying had died in, and felt as though pierced by ten thousand arrows. She abruptly turned to look at him with tear-filled eyes: “You once said you’d respect some of my secrets — why must you insist on knowing everything so clearly?!”

Lu Shicheng stared at her, mute, for a full half-minute, then, without asking another word, walked past her toward the door.

Wen Tingli started, chasing after him. “I’m sorry — I’m so grief-stricken my mind’s gone muddled, I’m talking nonsense, but please believe me — this time I haven’t deceived you at all, I’ve told you everything I possibly could.”

Lu Shicheng said slowly: “I once thought that as long as I cared for this person, nothing else would matter. Now I realize I’ve been deceiving myself all along — as long as even one secret exists, it breeds countless lies… Wen Tingli, my character isn’t as noble as you think. I can’t manage to ask nothing, think nothing, every time you break your word again and again!”

He pulled her hand off him. “Ask yourself honestly — is it that I don’t trust you, or that you’ve never truly trusted me from the very start?!”

“No!” Wen Tingli began to cry. “Please, give me a little time. Last night I just went through an extremely painful parting. My mind is in complete chaos right now — let me calm down and think it through properly.”

“Take as long as you need to calm down,” Lu Shicheng said hoarsely, his heart bitter as gall. “Perhaps in your heart, I’m simply not as important as you imagine. The two of us both need to think carefully about whether you and I are even suited for each other.”

With that, Lu Shicheng turned from her and walked straight out. Wen Tingli chased after him a few steps but couldn’t catch up — it went without saying that unless he himself wished it, not only could no one stop him, no one could even get near him.

For two whole days, Wen Tingli didn’t go to see Lu Shicheng.

She was still grieving Li Chengying’s sacrifice herself, and Lu Shicheng was likely still upset. Under these circumstances, even if the two of them met, it would only end unhappily.

She would often hold that blue velvet box and stare at it blankly, her heart aching with each look. She kept telling herself: once this storm passed, she’d find a chance to properly explain that night to him. She firmly believed that as long as two people truly loved each other, there was no knot of the heart that couldn’t be untied.

Fortunately, filming for the second installment of Graceful Detective had begun, and she could pour most of her energy into the new work, sparing her from being tormented every waking moment.

Huang Yuanshan told Wen Tingli there’d been gossip about her in the papers lately, but she had no heart to deal with it, and simply had the company handle it.

On the third day, just as filming wrapped, someone delivered a sealed letter to Wen Tingli.

It was from Head Nurse Liu — they’d sorted through some of Li Chengying’s belongings and wanted to give part of them to Wen Tingli.

The next evening, Wen Tingli disguised herself carefully and drove to Cixin Hospital.

Head Nurse Liu waited for her in the same storeroom as before. In just a few days, Head Nurse Liu had grown noticeably thinner — clearly, these days had been hard on everyone.

The two women faced each other in silence, both feeling a bitterness in their throats. Head Nurse Liu forced herself to steady her spirit and handed Wen Tingli a heavy bundle. “Sister Li didn’t leave behind much. We discussed it together and unanimously agreed this should go to you. Keep it safe — it’ll be of use one day.”

It turned out to be a bundle of bullets, more than twenty of them. Wen Tingli clutched it tightly to her chest.

“Does Dean Deng know?”

“She knows,” Head Nurse Liu lowered her eyes. “Dean Deng is deeply grieved, but—” she paused, “this was the path Sister Li chose for herself. The day she set foot on this road, she’d already prepared herself for sacrifice. You must believe — we won’t let Sister Li’s sacrifice be in vain.”

Wen Tingli’s chest heaved; she quickly turned her face away to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes. Head Nurse Liu gave her a new means of contact, and after that, said nothing more, only urging her to leave.

Wen Tingli slipped out and, walking through the stairwell, ran straight into Huang Yuanshan and Gao Xiaowen.

Anyone else might not have recognized Wen Tingli at a glance, but these two had seen her in disguise plenty of times before. Both froze for a moment, then hurried over and pulled her aside, whispering urgently: “You’re too bold — couldn’t you wait a couple more days to visit Meng Qiguang? Don’t you know how many reporters are at the hospital right now!”

“Reporters? Meng Qiguang? What are you two talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not here to see him — then why are you dressed like this?”

Wen Tingli’s heart skipped. “I’m here to see an old classmate of Xiude’s. What happened to Meng Qiguang?”

“He was in a car accident, badly hurt, still unconscious. I don’t believe you know nothing about it — it’s been in the papers the last few days.”

“I really didn’t know. When did it happen?”

“Monday evening, right near the intersection by the Grand Theatre.”

Monday? Wen Tingli’s heart clenched with grief — that was the very night Sister Li had been killed. She’d had no attention to spare for anything else that night.

Wait — a sudden clarity dawned on her! So many things had happened that night, and only now did she understand some of them.

She couldn’t wait any longer! She wanted to see Lu Shicheng right now!

“So are you two heading to Meng Qiguang’s room now? I won’t go in — I’ll leave through the back.”

“Alright, do be careful, so you don’t get spotted again.”

The three parted ways at the stairwell, but just then, someone called out behind them.

“Yuanshan, Miss Gao.”

Turning around, it was none other than Mrs. Qiao and Qiao Xingchu.

“Are you two here to visit Qiguang too?” Mrs. Qiao asked curiously, eyeing Wen Tingli. “And who’s this?”

Gao Xiaowen calmly stepped in front of Wen Tingli. “Oh, this is Miss Liao, a friend from our factory — she has a skin condition and can’t be exposed to wind, she’s here to pick up medicine.”

In that moment, Huang Yuanshan discreetly nudged Wen Tingli with her elbow, and Wen Tingli made her exit immediately.

Mrs. Qiao gazed thoughtfully at Wen Tingli’s retreating figure, then suddenly seemed to recall something, raising a hand to point forward — but Qiao Xingchu cut in quickly to stop her: “Mother, let’s go in.”

Mrs. Qiao gave her son a meaningful look and swallowed the rest of what she was going to say.

The group had just reached Meng Qiguang’s room when they saw several unfamiliar men coming up the stairwell.

Gao Xiaowen and Huang Yuanshan exchanged glances; Huang Yuanshan specifically waited until Mrs. Qiao and her son had gone into the room before saying quietly: “Probably reporters that Chen Maoqing brought in. Ever since Graceful Detective premiered, it’s overshadowed his company’s new film, and he’s furious about it — he’s been scheming lately to find some fault with Wen Tingli. But he’s forgotten — Wen Tingli isn’t who she used to be. This kind of petty scheming can’t bring her down anymore.”

The moment Wen Tingli left Cixin Hospital, she went straight to the Lu residence to find Lu Shicheng, only to find he wasn’t there.

She then hurried to Huiqun Hospital, but she’d forgotten just how tight-lipped the Lu family was about such matters. She spent ages asking around at the nursing station and still couldn’t find out what floor Old Master Lu was on. Finally, she had a flash of inspiration and told a few of the Lu family attendants: “I have something urgent to report to Mr. Kuang. Could you please help me pass word to him?”

Before long, Kuang Zhilin came downstairs. At first he didn’t even recognize the disguised Wen Tingli, standing on the steps looking around in confusion.

“Mr. Kuang.” Wen Tingli called to him softly from the shadows.

Kuang Zhilin laughed in astonishment. “Miss Wen? Do you always go out like this? Young Master Cheng might not be able to get away right now.”

“I just need a couple words with him — it won’t take long.”

While the two of them were talking, there was movement upstairs too. Someone hurried over to Third Master Lu’s wheelchair and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

“An unfamiliar middle-aged woman? Looking for Kuang Zhilin?” Third Master Lu narrowed his eyes, thinking it over, then sneered. “I’d bet it’s that actress looking for Lu Shicheng instead — this sort of woman always loves this kind of trick. Rare opportunity — go across the street to the newspaper office and get a few reporters over here, and the rest, follow exactly what I tell you—”

He gave detailed instructions.

“Keep it discreet — that boy’s sharp, don’t let him catch on.”

Wen Tingli waited downstairs for a while, but Kuang Zhilin never came back down; instead, she saw one of the Lu family attendants approaching from a distance.

“You’re Miss Wen, aren’t you?” This man’s manner was extremely warm. “Our Old Master isn’t doing well right now, and Young Master Cheng can’t get away for the moment — he asked me to take you to the rest room in the back to wait for him.”

Wen Tingli’s heart leapt with joy — he’d softened after all. But the next instant, she eyed the man behind her suspiciously: “Where’s Mr. Kuang?”

“A few of the professors upstairs are discussing sending for specialists from Beiping overnight with Young Master Cheng. Mr. Kuang’s busy making calls right now — worried you’d be anxious, he sent me down quickly to pass the message. Miss Wen, please, this way.”

Wen Tingli followed with lingering doubt, studying the man’s back carefully as they walked — why had she never seen this person around Lu Shicheng or Kuang Zhilin before?

The moment Kuang Zhilin got upstairs, he lowered his voice to tell Lu Shicheng: “Miss Wen is here.”

Lu Shicheng answered without a thought: “Have her leave.”

Kuang Zhilin coughed into his fist. “Miss Wen said she just wants two words, then she’ll go.”

Lu Shicheng didn’t respond.

Kuang Zhilin sighed inwardly, and drew out his words: “Shall I tell Miss Wen not to wait, then?”

He waited a moment, and seeing Lu Shicheng showed no sign of responding, this suited Kuang Zhilin’s own wishes just fine. He turned to leave — but as he walked, he suddenly heard movement behind him.

Turning around, he saw Lu Shicheng coming his way, brushing past him with a frown, hurrying downstairs.

Kuang Zhilin had no choice but to stop where he was, sighing with a heavy heart.

“The rest room is just ahead — it’s quiet there, Young Master Cheng arranged it specially. Miss Wen, no need to worry.”

Wen Tingli made an assenting sound.

The man continued: “Young Master Cheng hasn’t eaten anything all day. When you see him later, do try to persuade him to take better care of himself.”

This time, there was no reply from Wen Tingli. The man didn’t think much of it and kept walking a bit further, then suddenly turned around — only to see Wen Tingli dashing off in the opposite direction, already a good distance away in the blink of an eye.

The attendant, startled, took off after her. “Miss Wen, where are you running? The rest room is this way!”

Wen Tingli scoffed inwardly — people close to Lu Shicheng would never presume to say so much on their own initiative.

More importantly, whenever it concerned her, Lu Shicheng never left it to others — even if he truly couldn’t get away himself, he’d arrange for someone like Kuang Zhilin to handle it. He’d never casually send an attendant she’d never even met to fetch her.

She was certain something was fishy here — though she still hadn’t worked out exactly what — but she decided to run first and figure it out later.

Just as she’d guessed, she hadn’t run far before she saw, up ahead, several men in flat caps sneaking in through the hospital’s side entrance. Without hesitation she changed direction, dashing frantically to the back alley and getting into her car. The moment she started the engine, she heard people shouting and giving chase behind her.

Wen Tingli drove more than ten li before stopping to catch her breath. Thinking back over what had just happened, she quickly figured out who was behind it, and, unable to wait to strike back, drove swiftly to the Huang residence to find Huang Yuanshan.

Lu Shicheng stood on the front steps, scanning the area, then searched through the bushes and around the back building — but Wen Tingli was nowhere to be found.

He frowned, calling her name softly.

“Wen Tingli?”

No response.

Lu Shicheng immediately sent someone upstairs to fetch Kuang Zhilin. “Where exactly did you see Wen Tingli just now?”

“Right on the steps,” Kuang Zhilin said, utterly baffled. “What, did Miss Wen leave that quickly?”

Lu Shicheng suddenly looked up toward the second floor. “Where’s Lu Kejian?”

Someone immediately reported: “Third Master’s gone out.”

Lu Shicheng said, expressionless: “Find him. Tell him I have something to ask him.”

Then, to Zhou Wei: “Go to the Wen residence. If Wen Tingli’s gone home, don’t tell me — but if she hasn’t, call me back immediately.”

Wen Tingli talked things over with Huang Yuanshan for a while, then went home and called reporter friends at the newspapers to find out what was going on.

Ever since the incident of being slandered for having “given birth out of wedlock,” she’d made a point of cultivating her own connections in the press.

It’s not being schemed against that one should fear — it’s staying still and doing nothing about it afterward.

After several rounds of phone calls, a few reporters who were friendly with Wen Tingli told her the full story. As she listened, taking notes, the details matched exactly what she’d already suspected.

The next morning, the first thing she did upon waking was call Kuang Zhilin, but Zhou Sao told her instead: “Mr. Kuang came by the house last night.”

Wen Tingli was startled. “When was this? Why didn’t I know at all?”

“You were fast asleep at the time. I’ve seen you sleeping poorly these past few days, so I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Besides, it wasn’t anything urgent — Mr. Kuang just came to ask why you left before Mr. Lu came out to see you.”

Wen Tingli’s heart lurched; she couldn’t wait to finish breakfast before rushing to find Kuang Zhilin. The moment she sat down, she saw the morning paper’s headline.

[Renowned Shanghai Industrialist Old Master Lu Hongjun Hospitalized Suddenly Two Days Ago.]

“…The old master remains unconscious to this day. His condition is so critical precisely because no family member was present when he fell ill — sources say his only grandson spent the entire night carousing with some starlet surnamed Wen… the word ‘unfilial’ has never been so vividly embodied.”

Another tabloid went so far as to write a doggerel verse.

[Grandfather suddenly stricken with ‘heartache,’ grandson escorts beauty to the movies, ‘heart blooming with joy.’]

The accompanying photo showed Lu Shicheng standing shoulder to shoulder with a young woman outside a cinema.

Wen Tingli’s brow twitched — this was clearly an old photo, secretly taken last year when she and Lu Shicheng had gone to see a film at the Carlton!

Running it now was clearly meant to muddy the waters.

Another photo showed her own blue Austin car, parked right outside Huiqun Hospital.

Thank goodness she’d run fast enough last night!

Otherwise, today’s news would surely have carried several more photos of her “secretly meeting” Lu Shicheng at Huiqun Hospital last night — which would have given Lu Shicheng yet more “ironclad evidence” of unfiliality.

By the time she reached the company, Huang Yuanshan and Liu Menglin were already discussing this article.

“Last night before bed, Wen Tingli had already had two articles pulled — but overnight another one popped up out of nowhere. This has got to be Chen Maoqing’s doing.”

“He doesn’t have that kind of pull,” Liu Menglin waved a hand. “Look closely — this news is clearly aimed at Lu Shicheng. Only one person would dare go after Lu Shicheng so openly.”

He held up three fingers.

Huang Yuanshan spat out: “He’s only doing this to seize power — Wen Tingli never provoked him! Now look what’s happened, she’s being called a jinx and a fox-spirit seductress everywhere… I don’t believe Chen Maoqing had nothing to do with this either. He’s wanted to spread rumors about Wen Tingli and Lu Shicheng for ages, just never dared offend Lu Shicheng — but now with Third Master Lu’s backing, of course he wants to blow this up as big as possible.”

Wen Tingli spotted another newspaper still in Liu Menglin’s hand and snatched it to look closer.

[A Certain Red-Hot Starlet Secretly Visited Her Sweetheart at Cixin Hospital Last Night.]

“…Last night in the surgical ward at Cixin Hospital, a certain wealthy madam personally witnessed the starlet emerging from a man’s hospital room. Apparently fearing recognition by fans, the starlet had gone to great lengths in disguise, wearing a wig and a loose duck-egg blue qipao, appearing from a distance like a middle-aged woman — but this madam, having dealt with the starlet many times before, recognized her at a single glance. The starlet emerged with tears streaking her face, clearly deeply worried about the man’s condition.”

Huang Yuanshan felt a headache coming on. “No need to guess — this has got to be Auntie Jiang’s doing. She probably approached those reporters after we left and, since Auntie Jiang has always disliked Wen Tingli, of course she’d exaggerate everything to them. Not that I blame her for the misunderstanding — even Xiaowen and I thought Tingli was there to see Meng Qiguang at the time.”

“Did you really go to Cixin Hospital last night?” Liu Menglin looked startled.

Wen Tingli’s mind was in turmoil — the Hujiang Daily had such a wide circulation, there was no way Lu Shicheng hadn’t seen this piece.

And to make matters worse, Kuang Zhilin had also seen her the night before — Lu Shicheng need only ask Kuang Zhilin whether her disguise last night matched the description in the article to know the truth.

Under these circumstances, anyone would assume she’d gone to Cixin Hospital to visit Meng Qiguang last night.

She pressed her forehead with one hand, thinking it over, then straightened up with renewed resolve. “I’m going to Cixin Hospital right now.”

“What are you going there for?” Liu Menglin jumped up to stop her. “To find Lu Shicheng? Between these two articles, even a fool could see it: last night you first went to Cixin Hospital to weep over Meng Qiguang, then rushed straight to Huiqun Hospital to see Lu Shicheng — that’s playing both sides at once! If it weren’t for that acquaintance who happened to spot you at Cixin Hospital, these two men would still be kept in the dark for who knows how much longer — what man could stand for that? You think Lu Shicheng will even see you now?!”

Wen Tingli turned back to him. “Why wouldn’t he see me? Do you think everyone jumps to conclusions the way you do?!”

“You—” Liu Menglin nearly choked with anger. “Fine, fine, fine — you think you’ve grown your own wings now, talking back to me left and right!”

Huang Yuanshan hurriedly stepped between them. “Tingli, don’t get angry — Boss Liu has a point, this kind of thing is easy to misread. You’d better think about how to explain it to Lu Shicheng. Didn’t you say you went to see an old Xiude classmate last night? Get her to back up your story, that should do it.”

How could she explain? There was no such old Xiude classmate to begin with.

Cixin Hospital was an insurmountable obstacle standing between her and Lu Shicheng. Her only options were: either disregard the safety of Head Nurse Liu and the others and tell Lu Shicheng the whole truth, or swallow her pain and say nothing.

Liu Menglin was still grumbling: “If you can’t think of a good solution, Wen Tingli’s bound to end up with a reputation for being ‘fickle,’ which would hurt Graceful Detective‘s box office — never mind that, we’ve got Spirit Pearl Legend catching up in numbers now — the real worry is it ruining the second installment’s performance.”

Ignoring Liu Menglin’s attempts to stop her, Wen Tingli called Zhou Sao. During the day, with Xiao Taozi at kindergarten, Zhou Sao was home alone; Wen Tingli instructed her over the phone to go discreetly to Huiqun Hospital right away.

Zhou Sao called back before long: “I couldn’t see Mr. Lu, nor Mr. Kuang either. They said specialists were brought in overnight from Beiping, and they’re conducting a joint consultation with local doctors right now. The hospital’s packed with people waiting to inquire after Old Master Lu — I couldn’t even get your card through to anyone.”

That afternoon, Zhou Sao tried again, with the same result.

Liu Menglin sneered from the sidelines: “Told you so, didn’t I? Lu Shicheng’s furious right now — he won’t see you no matter what.”

Wen Tingli sat quietly for a moment, then picked up her bag and stood.

“Where are you off to now?”

“To find someone who can actually help me sort this mess out, of course!”

Wen Tingli moved swiftly. That night, Movie Star and Teatime Evening News simultaneously ran a seemingly unrelated feature story on their front pages — a personal interview with Luo Shuhong of Golden Age Film.

Not long before, Luo Shuhong had publicly announced her retirement from the film industry, sparking no small amount of discussion. In three and a half years in the business, Luo Shuhong had never become a major star, but her greatest virtue was that she never threw her weight around on set as the “daughter of an opium tycoon” — instead she’d always been remarkably diligent, taking every role, however small, seriously, and over the years had won herself a loyal following of fans.

Her departure was met with regret across the literary and film circles; two newspapers had already arranged personal interviews with her some time ago.

In this interview, when asked by the reporter why she was leaving the film industry, Luo Shuhong sighed.

“Society tends to hold a distorted view of actresses — every word and action gets misread. Take filmmaking itself: no matter how hard or exhausting, I don’t fear that. What I truly can’t bear is slander and character attacks. Perhaps I’m just not strong-hearted enough — for my own peace of mind, I have no choice but to distance myself from this world of right and wrong…”

She laughed and added: “Take, for instance, this whole business making the rounds these past two days about Miss Wen Tingli ‘having a foot in two boats’ — the truth is, that very night she and Sister Huang came to my house to see me off, and afterward spent the whole evening at my place chatting about the trade — yet somehow it got twisted into that story. Isn’t this a perfect example of ‘chasing shadows and throwing mud’?”

The moment these two articles were published, public opinion did a complete about-face overnight. The barrage of insults aimed at Wen Tingli in the papers vanished entirely, and the reporters who’d been so eager to morally condemn her began instead turning their pens against one another.

Liu Menglin flipped happily through the two newspapers. “Ha ha ha ha, that Chen fellow’s finally tasting the flavor of ‘lifting a rock only to smash his own foot.'”

“I heard Huamei’s major shareholders are causing a stir too — saying there are irregularities in the company’s books, forcing Chen Maoqing to hand over the top seat.” The company’s veteran staff were all smiles. “That’s what they call ‘when the wall falls, everyone gives it a shove’! That man’s got far too many filthy tricks up his sleeve — he should’ve seen this coming. Though, come to think of it, Chen Maoqing’s had quite the run of bad luck lately — could someone be deliberately working against him behind the scenes?”

“Who knows. He’s offended so many people over the years, there’s bound to be a few formidable enemies he shouldn’t have crossed. Miss Wen, you’ve had a rough few days — hey, where’d she go, she was just here a second ago.”

Wen Tingli was already on her way to the docks.

There had never been any anonymous tipster — the photographs had come from her. To guard against Chen Maoqing, she’d been quietly setting this plan in motion since last month.

She remembered that day — she’d gone to Principal Zou’s home to repay a debt, and a maid named A’Xi, trying to get friendly with her, had mentioned a “short film company manager” who kept pestering her for information about Lu Shicheng’s movements, saying that if Lu Shicheng ever came to Principal Zou’s house, she should notify him immediately.

At the time, Wen Tingli had claimed not to know the man — but afterward, she’d suddenly realized that A’Xi’s description matched Chen Maoqing’s various features to a tee.

On top of that, at that party at the Gao residence, she’d personally witnessed Chen Maoqing encouraging Yu Peiling to seek out Lu Shicheng in the bridge room.

From then on, she’d kept a wary eye on him.

She was someone who drew a clear line between right and wrong, and when it came to enemies, her desire for revenge ran deep. This man surnamed Chen had wronged her repeatedly — if she didn’t make his life thoroughly miserable, she wouldn’t be Wen Tingli.

After so many days of preparation, Chen Maoqing had finally tasted what it was like to be the rat everyone shouts to beat in the street.

She felt an immense sense of satisfaction in her heart. Before making her move today, she’d specifically had Kuang Zhilin give advance notice, because once she acted, it would inevitably expose the fact that Chen Maoqing and Yu Peiling had repeatedly sought out Lu Shicheng. If Lu Shicheng didn’t want to be dragged into it, she was prepared to think of another way.

She hadn’t expected Lu Shicheng to cooperate with her plan without the slightest hesitation.

He could have chosen not to go this far — he could have refused to accept the label of “unfilial” — but he’d stood up and taken it anyway.

This left her heart not only moved, but also aching with an indescribable bittersweetness. She couldn’t wait to see him.

Unfortunately, these past two days, Lu Shicheng had been at the hospital watching over Old Master Lu the whole time, a place far too public to go openly looking for him.

Just now, when she’d contacted Kuang Zhilin again, she’d unexpectedly learned that Lu Shicheng was escorting Old Master Lu back to Nanyang that very day, to recuperate.

Kuang Zhilin had also mentioned that this trip might keep Lu Shicheng away from Shanghai for one or two months. First, he needed to smooth over the Nanyang branch of the Lu family’s dissatisfaction over the “unfilial” incident; second, he had to handle matters concerning the Nanyang bank and rubber plantations.

Wen Tingli sped toward the Zhoujiadu docks. To avoid being recognized, she borrowed Huang Yuanshan’s car, and this time didn’t disguise herself as a middle-aged woman, but instead put on a man’s Western suit and trousers, tucking her hair up under a flat cap — from a distance, she looked like a slender young male student.

The moment she got out of the car, she heard the ship’s whistle sound long and low.

Wen Tingli ran along the dock toward the boarding stairs, where someone stopped her: “What are you doing?”

Wen Tingli craned her neck to look up at the deck while pulling a blank notepad from her bag and handing it over. “I have an urgent matter — I need to find Mr. Lu Shicheng. Please give him this, he’ll know who I am the moment he sees it.”

The man took the notepad and walked off. Wen Tingli waited on the spot for about ten minutes, but he never returned.

By then, dockworkers were carrying luggage aboard one after another, and since Wen Tingli happened to be standing right by the stairs, she kept getting bumped in the shoulder or arm.

She had to step aside. Looking back, she saw a “mountain” of sandbags piled up not far from the dock, and went to crouch behind them, still staring fixedly toward the deck. She waited and waited, but Lu Shicheng never appeared. She felt her heart churning as if in a frying pan, when suddenly she heard footsteps behind her, and saw someone standing there looking at her.

Wen Tingli’s face lit with wild joy: “I thought you were on the ship!”

She hurriedly pulled the flat cap off her head.

“It’s me!”

Lu Shicheng, of course, already knew it was her. The moment his car had arrived at the dock, he’d recognized her from inside the vehicle.

He hurried to pull her aside, glancing warily around them at the same time.

Wen Tingli looked at him and smiled. “Don’t worry, I was very careful on my way here — no reporters followed me.”

He asked her, keeping his tone as flat as he could: “What are you doing here?”

Wen Tingli lunged toward his chest, but he pulled her off him and stepped back himself.

Wen Tingli stamped her foot in frustration — he really had some kind of psychological aversion to closeness; every time they had a falling-out, he’d refuse to let her come near him. She asked him: “You’re taking your grandfather back to Nanyang to recuperate, aren’t you? I heard it might be one or two months?” “Yes.” His answer came so crisp and clean.

“But — you told me yourself that day, that the two of us just needed some time to cool off. We hadn’t even finished talking it through — how can you just leave like this?”

Lu Shicheng didn’t respond.

“I know you’re angry with me. I have to tell you — that night I really did go to Cixin Hospital, but I wasn’t there to visit Meng Qiguang. In fact, I don’t even know which room he’s in. Mrs. Qiao was talking pure nonsense. I never had ‘a foot in two boats’ — from start to finish, you’re the only one in my heart—

“Fine, you’re probably thinking I’m lying to you again. I hate that I have no way to prove any of this right now, but believe me or not, I have to tell you: not just two nights ago, but even Monday night, I never once saw Meng Qiguang. I only found out about his car accident after the fact, and I haven’t gone to visit him once since it happened. If you’re jealous over him and me, then you’re the biggest fool in the world!”

The “biggest fool” suddenly spoke up: “So who did you go to Cixin Hospital to see that night?”

Wen Tingli’s heart pounded faster than it ever had — he was too sharp; he’d already keenly sensed that all these events were connected to Cixin Hospital.

As she fell silent, Lu Shicheng simply observed her calmly.

Whenever her secret came up, she always wore this same nervous, uneasy expression, as if one more step forward would send her plunging off a cliff.

At moments like this, something deeply uncomfortable would well up in his chest — he wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or something else.

And in the process of waiting for her to think up some new excuse to fob him off, he always felt as though an unknown rival stood before him.

He loved her, he resented her, and more than anything, he felt disappointment.

If even once, she would yield for his sake — he could keep deceiving himself. But she never managed it, not even once.

He thought again of how she’d looked that morning when she’d come to find him — heartbroken didn’t begin to describe it. No, it wasn’t just her heart that had broken — her very soul seemed shattered. Who was that person, really?! To leave her so wretched, so haggard, overnight. He looked at her, a flicker of hope in his eyes as he spoke again: “If I told you it truly bothers me — would you be willing to yield, just this once, for my sake?”

She lowered her head in shame.

He nodded, and when he spoke again, his voice had grown hoarse.

“There was never any misunderstanding. Meng Qiguang, or any other secret — I’m only willing to believe what you tell me with your own mouth. But you’ve never been willing to explain. In your heart, my feelings clearly don’t matter that much.”

Wen Tingli’s vision blurred with tears. “If I didn’t care about your feelings, I would have walked away long ago. Whatever you doubt, you shouldn’t doubt my true feelings for you. This time, you were willing to take the blame rather than do any less — that alone shows how much you care. Do you know how moved I am? My heart isn’t made of stone! I care about you, I love you, far more than you could ever imagine! We both feel true to each other — why must we stake everything on this stubborn standoff? Aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it someday?”

Lu Shicheng turned to look back at her sharply. “So you do know — actions matter more than sweet words. Every time, you’d coax me with words like these, and then lie to me again, or vanish for an entire night, and each time, I’d wonder in my heart: who were you with? Why does this person weigh so heavily in your heart? What exactly am I to you?! I don’t want to keep sinking deeper into a relationship that leaves me constantly anxious and uncertain! If you insist on asking why — is that reason enough?”

Wen Tingli watched through tears as he boarded the ship, and watched the ship set sail.

He must have been too furious to think straight — not once did he look back.

It seemed this time he was determined to forget her. In the depths of anger and heartbreak, she too drove off from the docks in a fit of pique, swearing she wouldn’t look back either — but the moment she got home, she threw herself onto the bed and burst into tears.

Crying and crying, Wen Tingli fell asleep on the bed.

Perhaps because she’d just been through such an intense emotional upheaval, she dreamed many dreams. In the dream, she saw herself and Lu Shicheng hazily together at the Great World amusement park — he held her hand, leading her everywhere, buying her ice cream, laughing in a way that was so handsome, his voice carrying a heartbreaking tenderness.

She was so happy she felt she might go mad, and playfully snatched the ice cream from his hand — but the instant she reached for it, there was nothing before her but emptiness.

Panicked, she searched everywhere for him in the dream, when she suddenly tripped over something at her feet — it was Li Chengying, lying there covered in blood.

“Sister Li—” Wen Tingli woke from the dream crying out, the room pitch black, unsure what time it was, her face streaked with tears, the scene from the dream still vivid before her eyes.

Wen Tingli looked in a daze toward the shadows of the trees outside the window, her heart aching as though a chunk had been gouged out of it, throbbing again and again.

She desperately wished it had only been a dream. Right now her mind felt numb — she didn’t want to think about anything, couldn’t do anything, only wished to lie still in the darkness forever.

Some time passed before she suddenly felt her stomach burning with hunger, and listlessly got out of bed, planning to go downstairs to find something to eat.

Zhou Sao, it turned out, was still awake, and seeing her come down, hurried to hand her a letter. “This is the check Miss Dong just had someone send over — be sure to keep it safe. A lot of people called for you earlier too — Miss Huang, some director surnamed Hong, the owner of the waterworks company surnamed Li… and Young Master Gao too, be sure to call them all back later… Are you hungry? I’ll make you a bowl of noodles.”

Wen Tingli slumped sideways onto the sofa.

Those people calling for her weren’t about anything personal — just work matters or social obligations.

With Graceful Detective‘s renewed success, her life had grown increasingly hectic; every day there were countless things requiring her personal attention, every day new people wanting to make her acquaintance.

This feeling hadn’t been so pronounced during the Southern Beauty period, but now, she vaguely sensed she’d become something like a magnetic pole, with more and more people gravitating toward her, gradually forming a small sphere of influence centered on herself.

Money and power poured toward her from every direction.

Once, she would have reveled in all this. But tonight, perhaps because her mood was so wretched, facing all of it, she felt only emptiness and exhaustion.

Even the enormous advertising fee on the check failed to stir any excitement in her.

Zhou Sao continued on: “Mrs. Pan called earlier too, inviting you over for mahjong. Rather than moping at home, you might as well go sit with her for a while. Did you see that letter on the coffee table? It’s from the landlord over on Rong’an Lane — must be some friend of yours who doesn’t know we’ve moved yet, still sending mail to the old address.”

Wen Tingli murmured a dull acknowledgment.

By the time she finished her bowl of noodles, she suddenly noticed Zhou Sao was no longer in the living room.

With no more chattering voice nearby, she was struck by an overwhelming loneliness — for the first time in her life, she felt how vast this Western-style house truly was; no matter which corner she wandered into, all she could hear was the sound of her own footsteps and her own breathing.

She curled up on the sofa, wrapping herself tightly in a blanket.

But loneliness would not let her be — it burrowed into her blanket, burrowed into her heart.

Ever the strong one, on this lonely night, she tasted, for the first time, the flavor of vulnerability.

No, she couldn’t let herself sink into this feeling. She needed to escape to somewhere lively and bustling.

Should she go sit with Mrs. Pan? At the very least, she wouldn’t feel this lost the way she did right now. Just then, she noticed the letter on the coffee table again, picked it up to look — strangely, the envelope had no return address written on it, only a single line: “To Miss Wen Tingli, personally.”

[Little Wen: Reading this is like seeing you in person.]

Wen Tingli leapt up from the sofa at once — it was Dean Deng’s handwriting! The old lady had written her a letter.

She couldn’t wait to keep reading.

[The other day I received the package Ping sent me — inside were the nutritional supplements and the padded clothing you asked her to send on your behalf… I tried the clothes on, they’re light and warm… You’re always so thoughtful and considerate. I’ll remember to take the supplements every day, and hope not to disappoint your kind intentions…]

Looking at the many instances of the character “Ping” scattered throughout the letter, Wen Tingli’s tears fell from her eyes without warning. “Ping” was Li Chengying’s code name. When Dean Deng had written this letter, Li Chengying had not yet been killed.

[Ping also mentioned in her letter that your new film has been released. Fortunately, I happened to be in the city on business, and there was a cinema showing your film. I went to see it — it was wonderful! I fell in love with your portrayal of Fu Zhenzhen almost instantly, your performance was so natural, so lively and delightful, so real it felt like someone you’d meet in everyday life.]

[The papers seem to classify you as a naturally gifted actress — what do you think of yourself?]

[I hold a different view. You’re a clear-headed girl — once you set your sights on a goal, you overcome every obstacle to achieve it. Compared to so-called talent, it’s the strength of your character that’s the true source of your success. I can only imagine how much effort you must have put in, both to secure these two roles and to perform them so well…]

These words flowed into Wen Tingli’s heart like warm spring water; as she read on, her heart gradually settled, though tears still swam in her eyes.

[…Now, you’ve achieved success, you’ve achieved renown, and in the future you’ll go on to even more remarkable personal accomplishments. While I’m happy for you, I also carry some worry — over the years, I’ve known many friends in the arts world just as gifted as you, who, after achieving impressive success, quickly lost themselves in the world of fame and fortune. Don’t underestimate how corrosive this glittering world can be to one’s character, my young friend — I hope you won’t think these words too presumptuous of me.]

Wen Tingli murmured to the letter: “No, this is exactly the advice I need… Sister Li sacrificed herself, and Lu Shicheng has left too. My heart aches like it’s being cut apart. Please, point me toward the right path… otherwise I’m afraid I’ll lose my way.”

Her tone was so earnest, as if Dean Deng were sitting right across from her.

Strangely, these words written on the page seemed to carry a kind of real, tangible power.

[Once a person achieves great success, their life inevitably undergoes a drastic transformation. Even if that person is content with what they’ve achieved, those around them will urge her to keep climbing higher. And yet, beyond one mountain lies a taller one; beyond one reputation lies an even greater one. No matter how far people chase, this road has no true endpoint. If a person’s vision remains fixed solely on personal success, she becomes, in effect, a blind woman with open eyes — endlessly chasing after fame and fortune for herself alone, until… she collapses from exhaustion on this endless road.]

[So promise me — no matter how far you go from here, don’t let fame and fortune lead you by the nose. Don’t waste your youth in a life of decadent excess… Treasure your talent, and try, as much as you can, to do things that carry real meaning.]

Wen Tingli clutched the letter tightly, her body slowly sinking down to sit on the carpet.

In the past, she might have thought Dean Deng’s words were needless worry. Now, every word felt as though it struck straight at her heart — Dean Deng clearly understood human nature deeply, and had foreseen, well in advance, the difficulties she would come to face.

This life of decadent glamour was, indeed, beckoning to her.

She now had her own car, her own network of connections; things once out of reach were now easily within her grasp. Every night brought new invitations to dinners, her ears filled constantly with voices flattering her.

This kind of life could addict a person without her even realizing it.

Before, at least she’d had Sister Li — everything Sister Li did had constantly inspired her. Now that Sister Li was gone, she felt like a ship that had lost its guiding beacon, suddenly stranded in place.

Pain, especially, could shake a person’s resolve to its core; tonight’s rupture with Lu Shicheng had left her utterly deflated. At a time like this, drowning herself in a life of glittering excess out of spite would be an easy way to numb herself.

Precisely because she sensed her own willpower weakening, she felt especially frightened and lost tonight.

“Beyond one mountain lies a taller one; beyond one reputation lies an even greater one. If a person’s vision remains fixed solely on personal success, she becomes a blind woman with open eyes.”

Wen Tingli turned these words over carefully in her mind, and little by little, the fog in her heart began to clear.

She recalled once asking Dean Deng a question: “You and I were strangers before all this — why would you take such a risk to help me?”

Dean Deng had said, half-teasingly: “I simply couldn’t bear to see a clever girl like you thrown out of school for no good reason.”

Now, she herself had gained a certain degree of social influence, just as Dean Deng once had. Perhaps it was time to raise her sights higher, and go help some other “Wen Tingli” out there, someone once as desperate and cornered as she had been.

Wait a moment! She finally understood what Li Chengying had been trying to say with her final, unfinished words.

Sister Li had said: “Save people. Save more people.”

Wen Tingli buried her face in her knees, hot tears streaming down.

If she hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes, even she wouldn’t have believed such heroes existed in this world. Such fools, truly! In the eyes of the world, they were probably nothing but hopeless fools!

She read the letter over and over, until every word had burned itself deep into her heart. Only then did she strike a match and set the letter alight.

She wasn’t certain she’d achieved full self-redemption — because even now, thinking of Lu Shicheng still brought a faint ache to her chest — but as the letter crumbled into a swirl of black butterflies, she felt something new taking root and beginning to sprout, quietly, within her heart.

Kuang Zhilin stood at the cabin door, looking in. Lu Shicheng sat behind his desk, poring over documents — he’d been like this ever since boarding the ship the night before, working without sleep, without eating, busy handling all manner of matters, busy receiving the doctors overseeing Old Master Lu’s care — as if, so long as he kept himself constantly occupied, he’d have no room left to think of anything else.

Kuang Zhilin sighed silently to himself — when a person was tormented by their own inner demons, there was little an outsider could do to help; however painful, they had to walk through it alone.

But if he kept going without rest or sleep like this, even an iron man would fall seriously ill.

With a heart full of worry, he cleared his throat and stepped forward to speak to Lu Shicheng. “Young Master Cheng, Manager Liu says someone wants to discuss the Nanyang sugar mill partnership.”

Lu Shicheng, still looking at the documents in his hands, said: “Show him in.”

Before long, Manager Liu came in, and eagerly handed Lu Shicheng a business card. “This person is currently in Singapore — as soon as you agree, he can come pay his respects at any time.”

Printed on the card were the words: Lichuan Corporation.

Lu Shicheng shot Manager Liu a sharp glance and tossed the card back at him. “Remember this: the Lu family does not do business with the Japanese.”

Manager Liu flushed red. “My apologies, my apologies — I was careless. Young Master Cheng, please don’t hold it against me — I’ll have someone decline him right away.”

After Manager Liu left, Lu Shicheng said, without looking up: “Once we dock, settle Manager Liu’s wages in full and tell him he needn’t come back after this. As for anyone in the mill who’s grown close to him lately, look into them thoroughly too — anyone who needs to be let go, let them all go.”

Kuang Zhilin nodded, then glanced over at the tea table by the window — the lunch on the tray sat completely untouched. If this kept up—

He couldn’t help but speak up: “Yesterday, you and Miss Wen—”

Lu Shicheng cut him off. “Is there anything else?”

Kuang Zhilin spoke earnestly: “If it really comes to it, I could have someone look into where Miss Wen actually went that night. I know it’s too late to investigate now, but at least it would clarify what happened that night—”

Lu Shicheng threw down his pen, stood, and walked out of the cabin without looking back.

Kuang Zhilin sighed helplessly.

Lu Shicheng stood by the railing, gazing out at the rolling river, lost in thought. After standing there in silence for a while, feeling his thoughts in complete disarray, he suddenly turned and said to someone: “Have the purser send me all the old Shanghai newspapers from last Monday through Wednesday.”

The attendant looked somewhat puzzled: “Old newspapers?”

“Yes.”

The purser soon gathered together all the old newspapers from the previous week that could be found on the ship and sent them over. Lu Shicheng casually opened the topmost one — the very first headline read: [Textile Tycoon Meng Qiguang Hospitalized After Car Accident, Sent to Cixin Hospital], dated Monday evening.

Lu Shicheng’s heart gave a sharp pang; without hesitation, he crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it far away.

Just then, the ship happened to sway, and the ball of paper, having already been thrown some distance, rolled right back to his feet.

Lu Shicheng closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair.

It had been over a dozen hours now since he’d seen Wen Tingli the night before, and yet the moment he grew still, he could still hear her voice in his ears: “If I didn’t care about your feelings, I would have walked away long ago. Whatever you doubt, you shouldn’t doubt my true feelings for you!”

His mind in turmoil, he opened his eyes and glanced down at his feet, and with a stern expression, crouched down to pick up the crumpled newspaper, smoothing it open bit by bit, reading it by the lamplight.

He patiently read through the entire article about Meng Qiguang’s accident, then quickly scanned the next story. Once he’d finished that paper, he moved on to the next.

And so he went, working his way through over a dozen old newspapers, not skipping a single article, scrutinizing every word carefully, not even overlooking the advertisements in the side columns.

He read through the whole afternoon and found no leads. By evening, he ate a little something and continued searching at his desk.

He didn’t even know what exactly he was looking for.

All he knew was he couldn’t let it go — or perhaps, he simply couldn’t bear to.

How laughable.

All he knew was that he was obsessively determined to uncover some kind of “truth.”

In fact, sifting through old newspapers was about the most inefficient method of investigation imaginable — but it was the only way to protect her “true identity” to the greatest extent possible. He wanted to investigate this himself; whatever he found, at least he would never betray her.

And so, without sleep, he searched on through the night, until he’d gone through nearly every old newspaper on the ship, still finding nothing.

Just then, Kuang Zhilin suddenly brought in two crumpled papers. “These were found in the first mate’s cabin — he said he likes to buy the smaller tabloids to read, and these are ones he read last week. Earlier he assumed Young Master Cheng only wanted the major papers like the Hujiang Daily, so he didn’t think to bring these over.”

Lu Shicheng hurriedly took the papers and said to Kuang Zhilin: “I’ll look through these myself.”

Kuang Zhilin left the room with a head full of questions.

Lu Shicheng returned to the lamp and opened the paper. Just as Kuang Zhilin had said, this one was filled almost entirely with trivial, inconsequential news.

One of the tabloids was called “Absurdity Grove” — and true to its name, its stories were indeed rather “absurd,” half fact and half fiction.

But as he flipped through it, his attention was suddenly seized by an inconspicuous little article.

[Last night, an unidentified man met a violent end on Rue Cassini in the French Concession — blood on the road, a shocking sight.]

The date was exactly the night Wen Tingli had gone missing.

The article read: “At the time of the incident, quite a few residents gathered to watch. The owner of a certain tobacco shop recognized the man at once as someone who’d come into his shop that afternoon to buy cigarettes — the brand favored by the Japanese, ‘Yamato Cigarettes.'”

The article further noted that police from the French Concession had rushed to the scene upon hearing the news and swiftly transported the man to the hospital — but everyone present could tell he had already been dead for some time. Some also said there was a large trail of blood from another person on the road, but that person had vanished without a trace.

“How strange! How many people were actually present at the scene? Who was this man, and why are the French authorities being so tight-lipped about it? By our paper’s observation, some unnamed hero must have carried out this assassination!”

Lu Shicheng’s gaze fixed, and he checked the date again to be certain.

No mistake — it was last Monday.

[Assassination of a Japanese man]

[An unnamed hero, it’s said]

[Blood on the road, a shocking sight]

Lu Shicheng focused with total concentration, reading and rereading every detail of the article over and over.

By the time he finished, he sank back into the sofa in stunned disbelief.

Outside the window, the river water slapped against the deck with a rolling roar — much like the turbulent waves crashing within his own heart at this very moment.