Chapter 19: Early in the Morning, Don’t Flirt

Upon returning to the Zhou household, the servants were already packing the luggage. They filled two Maybachs, three Lincoln stretch limousines, and three cargo trucks to the brim.

Every year at this time, when spring arrived and the flowers bloomed, the old master and the old lady would go to reside at the temple on Nanshan for a period, claiming it was to recite sutras and pray for blessings—praying for the prosperity and flourishing of the Zhou family.

Wen Ni found it all rather baffling. If the ancestors truly answered every prayer, safeguarding their descendants’ health and the family’s prosperity, then why couldn’t they grant themselves eternal life? Wasn’t it all just self-deception?

Wen Ni stepped down from Zhou Jingyi’s car and walked over, just in time to see Shen Xue’ning giving orders. This had always been Min Xianshu’s task, but perhaps, due to being punished and sent to Nanshan Temple with the old lady, Min Xianshu had been in a foul mood and passed the responsibility to Shen Xue’ning.

Shen Xue’ning stood there, issuing commands with an air of authority—as though she were the mistress of the Zhou family—her demeanor brimming with self-importance.

Upon seeing Wen Ni, Shen Xue’ning paused briefly, then softened her expression into a gentle smile, approaching Wen Ni and asking, “How is your studio these days?”

Wen Ni had always disliked Shen Xue’ning’s smile, which concealed daggers behind its sweetness. Her voice hoarse, Wen Ni replied, “At least it’s better than your notorious counterfeit Shen Silk.”

She paused, then put on a look as if she had spoken out of turn, hastily covering her mouth. “I nearly forgot—last year, your Shen Silk plagiarized our designs, got fined by the Market Supervision Bureau, and was publicly criticized. After the Shen family felt disgraced, you weren’t allowed to use the Shen name to swindle anymore. Now it should be called Xue’ning Silk, right? But Shen Xue’ning, to compare your current works with what I created at six years old is an insult to me.”

Shen Xue’ning’s face flushed a deep red. She took several deep breaths. “Wen Ni, it doesn’t matter that you’re not yet the cultural heritage successor. Even if you were, so what? Traditional silk-weaving will inevitably be abandoned by the times. Our AI-driven silk, whether in speed, technique, or cost, far surpasses yours.”

“So why then,” Wen Ni countered, “does the Zhou family and the luxury fashion house choose not to collaborate with your cost-effective methods?”

Shen Xue’ning scoffed, “They just want to preserve the last dying notes of traditional silk.”

“Can’t you even manage a dying note?” Wen Ni retorted.

Fuming, Shen Xue’ning pointed at Wen Ni. “You’re just being unreasonable. When the Wen family’s silk falls into decline, don’t come begging me to buy you out.”

Wen Ni laughed. “Look at yourself—can’t tell daydreams from reality anymore.”

With that, Wen Ni waved her hand, swayed her hips, and made her way toward the living room.

Shen Xue’ning pressed her lips together, a shadow flickering in her eyes. Just then, Zhou Jingyi passed by. Shen Xue’ning hurried to call to him, “Uncle!”

Zhou Jingyi’s expression was cold and aloof, as if he hadn’t seen Shen Xue’ning at all. His face was as distant and elegant as a high mountain flower. He gave a slight nod, eyes fixed ahead, and walked inside without a glance.

Shen Xue’ning couldn’t help but turn to watch him leave. A man like Zhou Jingyi was truly exceptional—so far above the ordinary, few would dare even to dream of him. In the end, he would surely marry a socialite from another prominent family, a union so powerful it would shake all of Beijing.

The next morning, Wen Ni rose early to join the Zhou family in seeing off the elders. Before leaving, Min Xianshu called Shen Xue’ning aside.

The two exchanged a few quiet words. As Min Xianshu departed, her gaze toward Wen Ni brimmed with malice, as though blaming her entirely for their “exile” with the old lady to the temple.

Wen Ni waved with a smile, delighted to see Min Xianshu’s face darken. Pleased, she yawned and went back to catch up on sleep—today she still had an IV drip to get, and work resumed tomorrow. Wen Ni loved silk-weaving, but not being a beast of burden. Yet, in this world, aside from a few celestial beings in heavenly palaces, everyone was a beast of burden.

Wen Ni rode the elevator with Zhou Jingyi. She sniffed the air. “Did you put on perfume today?”

He frowned and ignored her.

Wen Ni leaned in, sniffing at his shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Zhou Jingyi twisted around, catching Wen Ni’s hands and pinning them behind her, pressing her against the elevator wall. Wen Ni’s nose hit the wall—tears sprang to her eyes from the pain. “Zhou Jingyi, you’re such a bastard.”

His gaze flickered to the red light of the surveillance camera blinking in the corner. In a low, harsh voice, he chastised, “Wen Ni, it’s too early for your antics.”

“My fever’s gone,” she corrected.

Suddenly, Zhou Jingyi spun her around. Wen Ni, smiling brightly, gazed at him. For the first time, Zhou Jingyi’s eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity. “Wen Ni, what exactly is your aim?”

Her husband had only just died, yet here she was, brazenly flirting with a man she barely knew.

Wen Ni smiled. “No aim at all. Who doesn’t appreciate beauty?”

Zhou Jingyi narrowed his eyes, studying her, clearly aware she was lying. He suddenly recalled the assistant’s phone call on the night of Wen Ni’s great victory. His expression grew inscrutable.

He leaned closer. Wen Ni wrapped her arms around his neck, but he caught her hands instead. His voice was edged with danger and temptation. “Wen Ni, who are you trying to get back at?”

Wen Ni’s body stiffened, then immediately went limp, slumping against Zhou Jingyi. He stepped back half a pace, and Wen Ni tumbled to the floor, landing hard. Her backside ached; she sat there for a long moment before getting up, glaring at him. “Don’t you know how to be gentle with a lady?”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

Grinding her teeth, Wen Ni used the elevator wall to pull herself up. “Zhou Jingyi, are you so insecure about your looks? Must I have some ulterior motive to want to seduce you? With a face like yours, kids want to grow up fast, old folks want a taste of youth, and married women wish their husbands would just drop dead!

I just like your face. What of it? Is that so hard to understand? I’m a widow, you’re single—if I pursue you, is that a crime against heaven?”

As she finished, the elevator stopped at the fifth floor—Wen Ni’s suite. She stormed out, fuming.

Zhou Jingyi watched the elevator doors close again, expressionless. Returning to the sixth floor, he made a call. “Replace the old house elevator footage from the last five minutes with new surveillance.”

The other party acknowledged. Zhou Jingyi clicked his tongue, then continued, “Accelerate the search for evidence about Zhou Mingfan impersonating Zhou Linchuan.”

The answer was affirmative.

At that moment, in a room at the top of the house, thick curtains blocked out the morning light. A man in a gray sweatshirt sat in an ergonomic chair before eight screens of varying sizes—some mounted on the wall, some held aloft by stands, two pitiful laptops propped up against the wall.

His slender fingers danced across the keyboard for several minutes before the Zhou family’s surveillance footage appeared on the screens. He located Elevator A and casually rewound ten minutes. The images that appeared left him as petrified as the stone lions outside the Zhou family gate.

Was that Zhou Jingyi?

He quickly cut the footage, then filled in ten minutes of blank surveillance in its place—seamless. As for the deleted video, it should have been destroyed completely, erased without a trace. But his fingers hovered over the delete key for a long time. In the end, he decided to send it to Zhou Jingyi.

Wen Ni was preparing to head to the hospital. Coming downstairs, she found Zhou Jingyi in the living room, his face dark as ink and his cold, stern features as if someone owed him money.

Wen Ni walked over. “Uncle, I haven’t provoked you this time, have I?”

Zhou Jingyi’s long fingers gripped his phone. Thinking of the video just sent, and the ridicule along with it, his anger stirred. He shot Wen Ni a cold glance.

“Oh, so it really was me?” Wen Ni exclaimed. She was about to tease him when her phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she answered swiftly, “Suisei, what’s wrong?”