With Tan Guiwang and Yu Hongjie now on board, Huang Yuanshan gained a powerful boost, and it wasn’t long before they’d settled on a start date for filming—August 5th.
Wen Tingli was often busy from dawn until dusk, yet she never felt the slightest bit tired—instead, she was practically bursting with excitement. Once the new film began production, it would mean Xiufeng, this “new ship,” was officially setting sail, and her own life would be stepping up to a new level as well. It made her feel like the blood in her veins was on fire every single day, brimming with energy from head to toe.
During this period, there were also some unexpected complications—technical issues on one hand, personnel troubles on the other. The former Huang Yuanshan handled with clever solutions; the latter, Wen Tingli resolved one by one.
She and Huang Yuanshan grew increasingly in sync, their mutual trust deepening by the day. This harmony and camaraderie between them deeply affected Li Zhen, Gu Jie, and the others as well—the whole company, top to bottom, was more unified than ever, everyone throwing themselves fully into preparations for the start of filming.
Given that most of When Spring Wind Blows Again consisted of night scenes, requiring even higher lighting standards in the studio than usual, Huang Yuanshan decided to place an urgent order with the American company for a state-of-the-art Bell & Howell camera, two Photophone sound recorders, film stock, and over thirty carbon arc lamps for night lighting.
Considering the finished product’s quality and the company’s long-term development, everyone agreed with this decision. It was a major expenditure—the company’s account balance dropped by more than half in one stroke—but fortunately, Wen Tingli still had considerable personal savings, and the box office royalties from The Sands of Time had already come through, so day-to-day operations weren’t a concern.
Some time later, they received the shipping manifest from the American company. Checking it, they found the equipment had already arrived safely at a port in Japan, and would reach Shanghai within another week.
Wen Tingli then discussed with Huang Yuanshan: they’d ensure Twin Pearls began filming first, and hold off on When Spring Wind Blows Again until all the equipment had fully arrived.
She also suggested holding a grand reception banquet before filming began—for one, it would give their new film an early boost in visibility, and for another, it would let them showcase Xiufeng’s strength before all corners of society. If done well, Xiufeng could naturally establish itself as a social fixture of Shanghai society, giving them greater connections and leverage down the road, whether for securing sponsorships or forming partnerships.
Huang Yuanshan enthusiastically agreed with both hands raised, and Wen Tingli set off for Minle Evening News to discuss the details of the event with Ding Hengjun.
Everything went unusually smoothly—the banquet date was set for the evening before filming began.
That morning, Cao Renxiu walked in, holding several invitation cards with an amused expression. “Boss Wen, look what I found. Boss Huang dropped these getting into her car—I called out after her several times, but she didn’t hear a word and drove off in a cloud of dust.”
“Let me see—oh, these are invitations.” Wen Tingli smiled. “These need to go out today. Sister Huang must have been in too much of a rush when she left. Give them to me.”
The three invitation cards were coated in dust. Wen Tingli wiped them clean one by one with a damp cloth—she didn’t even need to open them to know they were meant for Xiufeng’s most important guests, or Sister Huang wouldn’t have bothered delivering them personally.
Conveniently, she was already planning to visit Vice Chairman Weng of the Shanghai Film Association on other business, so she simply tucked the invitations into her bag.
Just as Wen Tingli had guessed, the first two invitations were for old friends—one for Dong Qinfang, proprietress of Xinxin Department Store, and the other for Yue Zhaoyun. Wen Tingli delivered them both in person.
As it happened, Yan Zhenzhen was also at Yue Zhaoyun’s place. Seeing Wen Tingli enter, she made a show of quickly hiding something into a drawer.
“I insist on seeing it!” Wen Tingli snatched it up.
It turned out to be a new novel manuscript Yan Zhenzhen had been writing. Back when she was still a student at Wushi Middle School, Yan Zhenzhen had already developed a deep passion for literature, though her family considered it a frivolous distraction and firmly opposed it. Even after starting university, Yan Zhenzhen hadn’t given up this hobby, often secretly writing short stories on the side. She’d apparently hit a snag somewhere recently, and since her idol Yue Zhaoyun happened to be staying temporarily in Shanghai, she’d brought her manuscript over to seek advice.
Wen Tingli dodged Yan Zhenzhen’s attempts to grab it back, skimming through it hurriedly, and said sincerely: “Oh, this opening is even better than the last piece!”
“Don’t tease me,” Yan Zhenzhen said, finally managing to snatch the manuscript back.
“I mean it sincerely. Don’t believe me, ask Sister Yue.”
Yan Zhenzhen shielded her face with the manuscript, but couldn’t help peeking out over the top, glancing hopefully at Yue Zhaoyun.
“Xiao Wen’s right, it really is well written. Come, hand the manuscript over to me, I can’t wait to keep reading.”
This was tremendous encouragement for Yan Zhenzhen, who eagerly handed the manuscript back to Yue Zhaoyun, then pulled up a chair to sit right beside her idol.
Wen Tingli chatted with them a while longer before leaving. It was around noon, and the streets were sweltering with heat—she felt utterly disoriented from the temperature. Getting into her car, she opened the last invitation, finding Meng Qiguang’s name written on it. Sister Huang had some family connection to Meng Qiguang, and given his current influence and connections throughout Shanghai, inviting him to lend his support to the occasion was hardly surprising.
She drove to the Meng residence, parking under the crepe myrtle tree by the entrance and ringing the doorbell. The scorching sun overhead nearly melted her where she stood as she wiped her sweat, peering inside. Soon someone came out.
“May I ask who—” the Meng family servant began by routine, then suddenly exclaimed with delight, “You’re that Miss Wen Tingli, aren’t you? Our Mr. Meng is home, please, come in.”
Wen Tingli assumed this person had simply seen her films, and nodded with a smile. “Much obliged.”
She was shown to wait in the Meng family’s reception room, just as she had the last time she visited. Only this time, the wait dragged on unusually long—about ten-odd minutes passed before any movement stirred from the corridor beyond.
The sound was strange—”tap, tap, tap”—as if someone were slowly walking this way, leaning on a cane.
Wen Tingli was startled; this certainly wasn’t the sound of Meng Qiguang’s usual footsteps. A moment later, a young man appeared at the reception room door, leaning on a cane—and it was indeed Meng Qiguang.
He wore a silver-white set of pajamas underneath, with a black robe shot through with gold thread over top, as if he’d just woken from an afternoon nap—his hair slightly disheveled, his bare feet slipped into a pair of light house slippers. This casual state actually made him look somewhat more handsome than his usual immaculately dressed self. A cane was propped under his left arm—clearly the source of that strange tapping sound from before.
Wen Tingli was quite taken aback. “Mr. Meng, this is…”
Then she suddenly recalled that Meng Qiguang had been in a car accident a few months back, and quickly corrected herself: “Is Mr. Meng’s injury healing well?”
Meng Qiguang fixed Wen Tingli with a heavy gaze. For a few seconds, his face showed no expression at all, as if weighing whether to simply have her thrown out. After a tense silence, he finally spoke: “I’m touched Miss Wen still remembers this.”
Wen Tingli turned aside and cleared her throat. Since Meng Qiguang’s accident, she hadn’t once visited him in the hospital. If the two of them had simply stopped associating with each other after that, it would have been one thing—but showing up now, out of the blue, to deliver an invitation without so much as an explanation, felt inadequate.
She quickly said, in a sincere tone: “I wanted to visit you at the hospital several times, but with all those messy rumors circulating in the papers at the time, I thought it best to avoid suspicion and held off.”
She glanced down at his right leg, her expression conveying the most genuine concern. “I heard your injuries were quite severe at the time. Are you still having trouble walking?”
Meng Qiguang eyed her, then suddenly laughed. “If you didn’t care, you didn’t care. No need to put on an act now, Miss Wen—do you take me for a child?”
Wen Tingli was left speechless. Just then, one of the Meng family’s male stewards entered carrying a tea tray—only it wasn’t hot tea inside, but a bowl of ice cream still faintly steaming with cold, along with a bottle of chilled soda.
Meng Qiguang glanced toward Wen Tingli. Wen Tingli’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cold treats—she’d nearly been on the verge of heatstroke on the drive over, and this refreshment arrived at just the right moment. She thanked the steward sincerely: “Thank you.”
The steward glanced quickly at Meng Qiguang, and seeing him still standing there watching, moved to help him to a seat, but Meng Qiguang pulled his arm back. “That’s all for now, you may go.”
He then seated himself on the sofa unassisted, setting his cane aside. Once Wen Tingli had finished most of her drink, he finally spoke, his tone languid: “What brings you here?”
By now, he’d fully regained his usual air of worldly poise—quite unlike how he’d seemed moments before, almost childlike.
Wen Tingli quickly set her drink aside. “On August 4th, our Xiufeng will be holding an evening reception. Sister Huang and I would like to invite Mr. Meng to grace us with his presence—though I’m not sure if your health would permit it.”
She pulled out the invitation, extending it to him with a touch of hesitation.
Meng Qiguang looked up at Wen Tingli standing before him—he’d always stood half a head taller than her, and this was the first time his eye level had ever been lower than hers. He reached out, took the invitation from her hand, and unfolded it to read.
The card bore only Huang Yuanshan’s handwriting. His lips curved slightly. “Very well, I understand. By the way, should I be calling you Boss Wen now?”
He watched her with an amused smile.
Wen Tingli pretended not to catch the teasing edge in his tone, nodding readily with a broad smile. “Indeed, I’m one of Xiufeng’s owners now.”
She extended her hand with mock solemnity to shake his. “I hear Mr. Meng has quite a sharp eye for business. I do hope Xiufeng will have the chance to work with you someday.”
It was a gesture of equal footing between them.
Meng Qiguang looked down at her outstretched hand for a long moment before finally, slowly, shaking it—though he withdrew his own hand quickly afterward, his expression somewhat odd. “It’s only been a little over a year… I truly can’t imagine what you’ll be like a year from now.”
Though he was looking at her as he said this, his voice was very soft, almost as if he were speaking to himself.
Back home, Wen Tingli recounted to Huang Yuanshan how the invitation deliveries had gone.
“Miss Dong and Sister Yue will definitely come. As for Meng Qiguang… he didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either.”
Huang Yuanshan, however, spoke with complete confidence: “Don’t worry, he’ll show up to support us. Meng Qiguang is the type who always shows his friends face.”
That evening, the first to arrive was Principal Zou of Wushi Girls’ Middle School, bearing an enormous flower basket, beaming with pride as she embraced Wen Tingli. “Your old principal is so proud of you.”
Wen Tingli’s eyes welled with heat. She hugged Principal Zou tightly, her mind drifting back to her school days at Wushi—there seemed to be so much she wanted to say to her old principal, yet in the end, all she could do was smile through tears.
Zhao Qingluo and Yan Zhenzhen, who had walked this whole journey alongside Wen Tingli, were equally moved by the scene, silently stepping forward to embrace her as well.
Everything remained unspoken, yet understood.
Guests continued arriving one after another, but Meng Qiguang was nowhere to be seen for a long while. Huang Yuanshan seemed puzzled: “That’s odd. He must be tied up with something important.”
It was nearly ten o’clock when someone finally announced Mr. Meng had arrived. Due to his injury, Meng Qiguang had rarely appeared in social settings lately, so the moment he made his entrance, nearly half the guests rushed over to greet him.
Wen Tingli watched from a distance—unlike before, he wasn’t leaning on his cane this time, walking in directly instead. Looking closely, though, she could tell his right foot wasn’t landing quite naturally, and his pace was noticeably slow.
Feeling she ought to go greet him properly this time, Wen Tingli approached, just in time to hear Meng Qiguang say with a laugh: “Not lame yet—the doctor just says I’m still in recovery, and shouldn’t walk too much on this injured foot.”
Just then, Gao Xiaowen and the others came over to find Wen Tingli, pulling her away. By the time she came back out, Meng Qiguang was nowhere to be found in the crowd.
She thought nothing of it, having two waiters prepare some wine to bring back to the main hall for the guests, when suddenly she heard someone calling to her from a side room: “Wen Tingli.”
“Mr. Meng?”
Meng Qiguang approached, taking a glass of wine from a waiter’s tray. “You two may go. I’d like a word with Miss Wen.”
The two of them were left alone in the corridor, Meng Qiguang gazing calmly at the lively scene down the other end.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be hosting such a grand banquet.”
Wen Tingli looked at him, puzzled.
“A tall tree catches the wind. Your company’s been in the papers constantly lately, and tonight you’re hosting a huge gathering of guests, all sorts of people. Aren’t you worried you’re inviting trouble?”
Wen Tingli thought it over. “But Xiufeng is a film company—we’ll be relying on box office and connections going forward. Being too low-key simply isn’t an option.”
“But don’t forget, you have enemies.”
Wen Tingli’s heart skipped. “Has Mr. Meng heard something?”
“Some things are still uncertain, but let me offer you a piece of advice: don’t hold any kind of ceremony for tomorrow’s start of filming. Shut the doors and just get to work quietly. Going forward, keep a close eye on your equipment and personnel too. There’s a saying—a hidden arrow is hard to guard against—”
Just then, Gao Tingxin and Gao Xiaowen, brother and sister, came over.
“So this is where you two were hiding, having a private chat. Mind if we listen in too?”
The next day, Twin Pearls began filming as scheduled. Heeding Meng Qiguang’s warning, Wen Tingli decisively canceled the planned opening ceremony. She’d also originally intended to run a front-page story about Xiufeng’s new film starting production in Minle Evening News, but scrapped that plan for the same reason.
Xiufeng’s inaugural production thus began in an unusually low-key manner.
Wen Tingli spent the entire day on edge, but to her relief, once filming began, everything went remarkably smoothly. She quickly settled into her role, working seamlessly with the other actors and with Yu Hongjie and the rest of the crew.
They wrapped three scenes successfully in a single day, well ahead of everyone’s expectations. At the end of the day’s shoot, Huang Yuanshan clapped enthusiastically. “Excellent, couldn’t have gone better! Xiufeng’s off to a fantastic start—how about we celebrate tonight at Dongxing Restaurant?”
Everyone agreed with delight, and this joyful atmosphere eased half of Wen Tingli’s lingering worries.
The next day, things remained calm at the studio as well. Wen Tingli began to reassure herself—perhaps Meng Qiguang’s information simply hadn’t been accurate this time.
Two more days passed, and estimating the American shipment must be nearly due, she sent Cao Renxiu and Tan Guiwang to the port with the pickup documents to collect it. Instead, the two didn’t return until late that night, and the moment they walked in, it was clear they brought bad news: “Our shipment’s gone missing.”
Huang Yuanshan and Wen Tingli exchanged a quick glance. “What do you mean, the shipment’s missing?”
Tan Guiwang wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, agitated. “We searched every warehouse at the port, couldn’t find it anywhere. By the end, the Japanese manager there even started questioning whether our pickup documents were forged.”
“That’s outrageous!” Huang Yuanshan cried, alarmed. “Tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment, and it just vanishes without a trace?”
Wen Tingli calmly instructed Cao Renxiu: “Renxiu, call the American company right away and verify the shipping number again with them. Li Zhen, go find out everything you can about this Japanese shipping company.”
Before long, Cao Renxiu had gotten through to the American company, who confirmed the shipping number was correct, and promised to contact the Japanese shipping company immediately to sort things out, with an answer by tomorrow at the latest.
“If the shipping number’s correct and the ship arrived safely at port, how could our goods just vanish into thin air?” Huang Yuanshan suddenly stamped her foot. “Alright, everyone, don’t panic—I think I know who’s behind this!”
She hurriedly dialed a number.
The moment the other end answered with a “Hello,” she couldn’t wait to start shouting into the receiver: “Liu Menglin, haven’t you had enough yet? I held back before out of respect for all those years we worked together! I never imagined you’d push things even further—you really think Huang Yuanshan is afraid of your dirty tricks?!”
Liu Menglin seemed stunned for a few seconds on the other end, then began shouting back just as furiously, his voice loud enough to be heard from across the room.
“Bullshit, when I, Liu Menglin, want to take someone down, I do it openly and above board—since when do I need dirty tricks? The last two times were just a lesson for you both. I’m tired of dealing with the likes of you now. When exactly did I play any dirty tricks on you? Damn it, woman, spit it out clearly!”
Huang Yuanshan first held the receiver at arm’s length, then hung up in frustration. “Guess it wasn’t him.”
She slammed the table. “Then it must be Chen Maoqing! That scoundrel loves his dirty tricks! I’m going straight to Huamei to demand our equipment back, and if he won’t hand it over, I’ll burn their whole studio down!”
Li Zhen walked in just as this scene unfolded, quickly stepping in to hold Huang Yuanshan back. “I’ve already had someone check into it. This Japanese shipping company is an old, established firm, over twenty years in business, with an excellent reputation. By all rights, Chen Maoqing shouldn’t have the reach to pull strings at a major shipping company like this—that’s tens of thousands of silver dollars’ worth of equipment we’re talking about. No one would risk damaging their own company’s reputation over one man’s personal grudge.”
“Then who else could it be?” Huang Yuanshan, finally grasping the seriousness of the situation, said anxiously, “Besides those two, who else has it out for us?”
Wen Tingli had spent most of this time frowning in thought. Hearing Huang Yuanshan’s last question, she suddenly looked up. “I think I might know what’s going on. Sister Huang, don’t panic. Once I’ve confirmed who’s behind this, I’ll call you right away.”
She drove straight to the Meng residence to find Meng Qiguang.
It was eight in the evening—prime hours for Shanghai’s social elite to be out and about—so Meng Qiguang likely wouldn’t be home. No matter, she’d wait at the Meng residence until he showed up.
As it turned out, Meng Qiguang was home, though dressed as if about to head out. When the servant led Wen Tingli in, he happened to be in the front hall, reaching for his coat.
He didn’t even ask why she’d come, simply pausing to look at her.
Wen Tingli had no patience for pleasantries, getting straight to the point. “Mr. Meng, our company’s equipment vanished without a trace at the port tonight. I suspect you’d already heard some rumblings about this beforehand—please tell me honestly, is this the Bailong Gang’s doing?”
The moment she uttered the name “Bailong Gang,” her fists clenched involuntarily.
She hadn’t dealt with that pack of scoundrels in a long time, but she would never forget how filthy their methods could be.
Meng Qiguang nodded calmly. “Yes.”
Fury flickered in Wen Tingli’s eyes. “Where did Mr. Meng get this information? Has that man surnamed Qiu really survived?”
Meng Qiguang shook his head. “I haven’t seen the man surnamed Qiu myself. This time, it was Gang Leader Cao who acted personally. Perhaps he was swayed by the elder and younger Qiu’s earlier provocations, unwilling to watch you thrive so openly. Or perhaps other members within the gang egged Gang Leader Cao on to teach you a lesson.”
Wen Tingli gritted her teeth. At least now she knew who was behind it—she finally had some direction to work with.
“I know what to do now. Thank you for telling me directly, Mr. Meng. Farewell.”
She turned to leave, but Meng Qiguang caught up and grabbed her arm.
“Where are you planning to go?”
Wen Tingli tried hastily to pull her arm free. “To get our equipment back.”
“From who? How? This isn’t one of those civilized film companies you’re used to dealing with—this is Cao Zhenyuan.”
“I have my own methods!” Instead of letting go, Meng Qiguang only tightened his grip.
Her expression hardened. “Let go!”
Meng Qiguang gave a short laugh. “Wen Tingli, do you think just because you’ve handled a few troubles yourself before, you’re now invincible? If you still have your wits about you, you should know this is beyond your ability to solve alone.”
Wen Tingli narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe it’s Mr. Meng’s place to lecture me on how to handle things!”
She began to struggle against his grip, but Meng Qiguang, without another word, pulled her insistently back the way she’d come. Ahead lay the direction of the reception room; he pulled her right up to the door. “Wait here until I get back!”
She felt a flash of alarm—Meng Qiguang seemed intent on locking her in.
“What are you doing? Let go of me now, or I won’t be responsible for what happens next!”
“And what exactly do you plan to do to me?” He held her arm firmly. “You’re heading straight into a den of tigers and wolves. Not only will you fail to get your things back, you might not even make it out with your life. This matter is mine to handle. Trust me, by tomorrow morning, your equipment will be delivered to you safe and sound, without a scratch.”
As he spoke, he pushed her toward the reception room, when he suddenly felt something hard press against his chest. Startled, he glanced down to find Wen Tingli somehow holding a gun.
The barrel pressed coldly against his chest.
Her voice was just as cold.
“If you don’t want to die, get out of my way!”
The air froze for an instant. Meng Qiguang slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.
He didn’t retreat—instead, he pressed forward against the barrel of the gun, several steps closer, until Wen Tingli found herself pinned firmly against the wall.
“Go ahead, shoot,” he murmured low against her ear.
There was a soft click as Wen Tingli decisively cocked the gun, yet her finger, resting on the trigger, hesitated, unable to pull it.
“Scared?” Meng Qiguang laughed softly. “Don’t hold back. Go ahead, shoot me. You think I care?”
Wen Tingli’s mind raced. She could tell Meng Qiguang truly wasn’t afraid, but she had to consider the consequences of killing a man.
Slowly, she shifted the gun barrel toward his abdomen instead.
Meng Qiguang raised an eyebrow. “Changing the target? Just enough to teach me a lesson, without bearing consequences you can’t handle?”
He smiled and nodded. “Wen Tingli, you truly are remarkable. Even now, you can still calmly calculate the cost and benefit of every move.”
“I admit it, I can’t afford the consequences of killing you,” Wen Tingli said through gritted teeth. “But I promise you this—if you don’t let go of me right now, I’ll make sure you’re stuck in a hospital bed for another two or three months!”
“That sounds like far too much trouble.” Meng Qiguang tapped his own chest. “Might as well shoot me right here. It’d be much more satisfying—because tonight, I fully intend to cross a line with you.”
Before she could react, he leaned down swiftly, kissing her cheek, then following through to press his lips against hers.
Bang.
The gunshot rang out. But Meng Qiguang had already anticipated it, and in that split second, he seized her wrist, forcing the barrel to the side.
The bullet grazed his waist, striking the wall behind him.
The servants came rushing over in alarm. “What happened?”
Meng Qiguang barked flatly, “Get out!”
Once quiet had settled again, he looked down at his own shirt, now sporting a fresh tear, faintly smoking at the edges.
Just half a centimeter closer, and that bullet would have struck his abdomen.
“Fast hands, ruthless heart. Where are you aiming for next?” Meng Qiguang gripped her chin. “Doesn’t matter, aim wherever you like. Tonight, I need some answers, and I won’t rest until I get them!”
A crisp click sounded near her ear—both of them understood what it meant: the gun was being cocked again. The first shot had been a warning. This one would be meant to kill.
But he didn’t even glance at it, instead tilting her face upward, allowing his gaze to roam freely, unrestrained, across her features.
In this moment, he made no effort at all to conceal his desire to conquer her.
“Why won’t you ever let me help you, even once? Aren’t you someone who can afford to lose?”
Their bodies pressed close together; Wen Tingli could clearly feel the pounding of his heart against his chest—fast, urgent.
He wasn’t nearly as indifferent as he pretended to be.
Her finger remained steady on the trigger as she said, word by word: “Because I don’t want to owe you anything. You ask for too much. I can’t afford to repay it.”
“But Lu Shicheng, you could afford him?” He gripped her face tighter. “And I knew you first.”
“He respected me. Unlike you—no matter how much you pretend to show respect on the surface, deep down, you’ve never truly regarded women as equals.”
For the first time, something close to bewilderment crossed Meng Qiguang’s face.
“The moment you asked me to become your woman, whatever there was between us became impossible.” Seizing the moment while he was distracted, she shoved him away with all her strength, raising the gun to aim squarely at his chest, warning him not to come any closer.
“Stay where you are. I don’t want to waste another bullet.”
Meng Qiguang remained unmoved, continuing to walk toward her. She fired a shot at his feet instead, and snapped: “Since you want an answer, I’ll give you one, plain and clear. I know that in your eyes, I’m nothing but an ambitious orphan girl. You look down at me from your lofty height, observing me like some novel little pet. To men like you, women fall into only two categories: women of noble birth, and women you toy with for fun. The former are the ones you’ll eventually marry—refined, composed, considerate, because your life needs a wife of good breeding to complete the picture, much like a luxury car parked outside your family estate! The latter, the ones outside your household, the wilder and less proper, the better—because that’s what makes them entertaining to you.
“So the moment I appeared at that banquet at the Qiao residence, I caught your interest. You thought you had me all figured out, thought you had every confidence you could win me over, after all, you’re a man with far more to offer than Qiao Xingchu ever was. So when I ran into trouble, you took advantage of the moment to press me to be with you. Be with you? Have you ever once considered what kind of life I actually want for myself? A year, two years from now, once you’d grown bored of me, you’d simply trade me in for a new canary, and I, your old plaything, would be tossed aside and forgotten. Only the most naive of women would ever believe such empty promises! What must gnaw at you even more is that this orphan girl actually refused you—and ever since, you haven’t been able to let it go. Not because you love me so much, but because you simply need to prove to yourself that you’re no less a man than anyone else!”
Meng Qiguang didn’t interrupt, only listening in silence as she continued.
“Even now, this very moment, you still believe I should simply submit to your arrangements, that you can trample over my own wishes and meddle in my affairs however you please. And when I refuse to obey, you try to lock me up in your own house.” She laughed coldly. “Spare me your self-satisfied conquering fantasies—I’m not some prize you failed to win! Even if I’d never met Lu Shicheng, you still never would have conquered me, not in a hundred years! From the very moment you began to look down on me in your heart, whatever there might have been between us became impossible.”
“Finished?” Meng Qiguang finally spoke.
He paused, then said, his voice low and steady, his expression grim: “I’ll take what you’ve said and think it over carefully. Everything else can wait. But tonight’s matter, I’m still handling—because I refuse to stand by and watch you walk to your death! Don’t worry, I never intended to ask for any kind of repayment from you this time, because I’m not quite that low.”
Wen Tingli slowly stepped backward, retreating until she’d put sufficient distance between herself and Meng Qiguang, then turned and fled at a run.
She heard footsteps behind her—Meng Qiguang chased a few steps, then stopped.
She closed her eyes and pressed forward into the night wind, running without pause until she reached her car, yanking the door open and leaping inside.
After driving some distance, a car approached from the opposite direction—it was Sister Huang’s car. Wen Tingli quickly honked her horn.
The two pulled their cars over to the roadside.
“Where did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Huang Yuanshan’s face was drenched in sweat. “I’ve already found out a bit more—it seems the Bailong Gang might be behind this after all.”
“I already know about that, but I’ve also thought of a way to deal with them. Sister Huang, go back first—I’ll handle this.”
Huang Yuanshan was alarmed. “No, absolutely not, that’s the Bailong Gang. Anyone who gets involved with them ends up covered in trouble. I still have some connections through old friends and elders back home—let me try. You get straight home right now.”
“Sister Huang, calm down and listen to me. This feud with the Bailong Gang is one I created myself. This is a mess only I can clean up. And besides, don’t forget, you’re the head of Xiufeng—everything you do reflects on the company’s future. If you don’t want the Bailong Gang latching onto Xiufeng permanently, this time, please, stay out of it entirely. Only if I handle this myself can we truly put an end to it for good. Trust me, I’ll take care of this cleanly and thoroughly.”
Huang Yuanshan stared at Wen Tingli, alarmed.
Wen Tingli said quietly: “Don’t you trust me, Sister Huang?”
Huang Yuanshan gritted her teeth. “Of course I trust you! Fine, I won’t get in the way. I’ll go home and wait for news from you. But remember this: the equipment, the film stock, all of it is just material things. Worst case, we start over from scratch! Promise me—whatever you do, don’t push yourself too hard!”
Wen Tingli felt a weight lift from her chest—at least Sister Huang always trusted her unconditionally.
She helped Huang Yuanshan open her car door and watched her get in.
Once Huang Yuanshan had driven off, Wen Tingli took a different route back to her own home, picked up the phone, and dialed a long-unused number.
“Hello, I’m looking for Li—” A pang of grief struck her suddenly; she would never again hear that steady, gentle voice on this line. She forced down the bitterness rising in her throat. “I’m looking for Head Nurse Liu…”
The voice on the other end recognized her immediately. “Is that you, Xiao Wen?”
Wen Tingli’s eyes burned with sudden heat. “It’s me, Head Nurse Liu.”
An hour later, Wen Tingli arrived punctually at the agreed meeting spot.
At one in the morning, the long, straight road was utterly deserted—perfect, since she needed some quiet time alone to think things through. She walked to an inconspicuous corner and leaned against the wall, lost in thought.
Sister Li had once mentioned, while she was still alive, that they had inside contacts within the Bailong Gang—which was how they’d managed to rescue Zhu Zihe’s mother from the gang’s clutches so swiftly that time.
And then, when they ambushed Qiu Dapeng, they’d once again escaped completely unscathed.
She was certain Sister Li had been cultivating this connection for far longer than just a year or two…
Only they would know how to properly deal with the Bailong Gang.
Lost in thought, she heard light, quick footsteps approaching from behind. Wen Tingli, understanding without needing to be told, followed the figure forward, and the two of them slipped one after the other into a roadside shop.
“Head Nurse Liu.”
“Xiao Wen!” Head Nurse Liu removed the hat from her head.
“Don’t worry, I’ve already found out where your equipment is being kept. We’re moving tonight—you’ll have everything back by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“What are you thanking me for? That night, if you hadn’t risked your life to save us, we wouldn’t have even gotten to see Sister Li one last time—whether she’d have kept her body intact at all is anyone’s guess. This is something we all owe you.”
Wen Tingli lowered her head, tears welling. “No—Sister Li helped me so many times. I only regret I couldn’t save her sooner.”
“Silly girl, that was never something within your power to do. You’ve already done more than enough for us.” Head Nurse Liu gently smoothed the stray hairs from Wen Tingli’s forehead. “This whole affair must have worn you down terribly, hasn’t it? You’re clever—figuring out to come to us for help so quickly. We’ve carefully considered your proposal, and you were right—if we want the Bailong Gang to stop troubling you two for good, we need to strike precisely at their weak point. Don’t worry, everything will be handled exactly as you laid it out.”
Wen Tingli let out a deep breath of relief, bowing deeply to Head Nurse Liu. Head Nurse Liu caught her by the arm. “Don’t thank me yet—we need your help with something too.”
She held up a small leather case to show her. “Tonight’s operation was decided last-minute. One of our people was originally supposed to leave tonight to deliver something to Ningbo, but since he’s needed to help move the shipment instead, those plans got upended. It’s urgent—we may need to ask you to make the trip in his place. I wonder if—”
Wen Tingli resolutely took the case from her hands. “No problem.”
Head Nurse Liu nodded silently, giving her detailed instructions, finishing with: “…Memorize this address. Deliver the item and come straight back.”
At four in the morning, the whole city lay deep in slumber, yet the Bailong Gang’s headquarters remained as lively as ever.
People everywhere.
Mahjong players, opium smokers, drinkers, men discussing business, others listening to folk tunes… the place looked no different from a bustling marketplace in broad daylight.
In stark contrast to the clamor out front, the back hall was silent as a tomb.
This was Gang Leader Cao’s private reception area—no one dared enter uninvited without the old man’s word. At the moment, the only sound in the spacious room was the ticking of a Western clock, until someone finally broke the silence.
“Qiguang, I still don’t understand—what exactly is this Wen girl to you? Going to such lengths for her sake.”
Meng Qiguang gazed up at the ceiling, laughing at himself. “Nothing at all.”
“Then aren’t you getting the short end of the stick? She’s not even your woman, yet here you are, pleading her case with me in the dead of night.”
“Gang Leader Cao.” Meng Qiguang checked his wristwatch. “Dawn’s nearly here. If you’re satisfied with the terms I’ve offered, have someone return her belongings soon, and don’t trouble her again in the future. If you’re not satisfied, we can keep talking it through.”
Cao Zhenyuan tapped his silver pipe. “It’s not that I’m not giving you face, Meng. It’s just that this Miss Wen has tried to harm my people more than once. If I don’t teach her a proper lesson, not only will Elder Qiu refuse to swallow his anger, but our Bailong Gang’s own reputation will be at stake too, so—”
Meng Qiguang’s expression darkened slightly, lending his handsome, composed face an unexpected air of severity.
Cao Zhenyuan eyed him sideways, about to speak again, when the phone on the desk rang out sharply.
Cao Zhenyuan glanced instinctively left and right, but having dismissed everyone earlier for privacy’s sake, he had no choice but to answer it himself.
At first, he only frowned as he listened. But as the call went on, his eyes suddenly went round.
“…you useless bunch of fools, go find it immediately! What do you mean? What do you mean the flour we lost earlier turned up in the warehouse out of nowhere? Bullshit—
“You think I don’t know this is a trade?
“All of it?!” Cao Zhenyuan sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me think this over properly. What’s there to look for? Our Bailong Gang isn’t unfamiliar with the rules of the underworld either—if word got out, we’d be a laughingstock. Lucky for her! Let this one go, just this once!”
As he spoke on the phone, Meng Qiguang looked up sharply, watching Cao Zhenyuan with rapt attention.
Once he’d hung up, Cao Zhenyuan paced in a circle, muttering under his breath, then finally stopped and gave Meng Qiguang a cold laugh. “Well, now I’m thoroughly convinced she really isn’t your woman.”
Meng Qiguang held his breath and asked: “What happened, did she get her things back?”
Cao Zhenyuan gave a bitter snort. “Yes. This little girl has far more nerve than you gave her credit for. She didn’t need your help at all.”
He continued grumbling on, and as he spoke, Meng Qiguang’s expression shifted through several unreadable emotions, his gaze fixed distantly on the telephone, saying nothing more for a long while.
Morning, at a Shanghai dock.
Wen Tingli avoided the crowds, walking to a quiet public telephone booth to call the office.
“It’s me.”
Cao Renxiu’s delighted voice came through from the other end. “Ah! It’s Boss Wen. Yes, our shipment’s back! Just before dawn, two large crates simply turned up out of nowhere at our office. I was so confused—wondering if some hero had come to right a wrong on our behalf—and then Boss Huang said it must have been some hero surnamed Wen who did it!”
Wen Tingli couldn’t help but laugh.
“Don’t worry, Boss Wen, we’ve already checked everything—it’s all completely intact and undamaged. Boss Huang was worried sick, though she didn’t dare go running around either—she stayed at the office all night keeping watch. She finally couldn’t wait any longer and just drove off to find you.”
Wen Tingli felt a rush of mixed emotions, falling silent for a moment before saying: “When Boss Huang gets back, please tell her for me: I need to be away for a few days. While I’m gone, I’m counting on everyone to work extra hard.”
Cao Renxiu paused in surprise, but by now she supported Wen Tingli’s every decision without question, and quickly said: “Alright, Boss Wen. Please take care of yourself.”
Li Zhen and the others crowded in, eager to grab the receiver, calling out in a jumble: “Boss Wen, are you heading out? Don’t worry, while you’re away, we’ll work with Boss Huang to keep Xiufeng running smoothly. Stay safe out there, we’ll all be waiting for your one your return.”
Even through the phone line, she could feel the warmth and sincerity radiating through.
Wen Tingli’s lips curved upward. After this whole ordeal, Xiufeng seemed to have grown even more united than before.
A warm feeling spread through her chest. She hung up the phone, stepped out of the booth, put her sunglasses back on, and let out a long breath toward the rising sun—that quiet, steady composure radiating from deep within her made everyone who passed by unconsciously turn to look.
Wen Tingli, as always, paid no mind to the glances of others. This time was no exception. She admired the light on the horizon for a moment, unbothered, then turned gracefully, and carrying the small leather case in hand, walked off toward the bustling docks.