Pursuit and Jealousy

4

Wen Ran was indeed headed in the same direction as Shen Yan—after all, her suitcase lay conspicuously at the center of his living room. Yet she had far more pressing business to attend to: returning to the company to meet with Chairman Wen.

Upon entering Wen Zhi Cheng’s office, she found a visitor already present. Without a moment’s hesitation, she flung the door open. The guest was an old acquaintance—a scion of the leading technology conglomerate, Shang. Casting him a cool glance, she addressed Wen Zhi Cheng bluntly, “During the week you dispatched me on that business trip, have you been secretly consulting a lawyer to draft your will?”

Wen Zhi Cheng’s brow furrowed instantly. “What nonsense are you spouting? Can’t you see I have guests here? Get out!” he thundered.

Tilting her head toward the guest, Wen Ran declared, “Did you hear that? My father ordered you to leave.” The guest, Shang Junyan, merely raised an eyebrow, slowly lowering his crossed legs as he began, “Uncle, then I shall…”

Before he could depart, Wen Ran cut him off sharply, “Hand me a lock of hair—I’m having a paternity test done. I care not whether your will bears my name, for it is plain without even thinking that I have no share; I only wish to know if I am truly your flesh and blood. Tomorrow, I’ll even confront your ex-wife for a strand of her hair to determine from whence this bastard sprang.”

At these words, Wen Zhi Cheng’s anger flared. “Wen Ran!” he roared.

Her luminous eyes turned ice-cold as she retorted, “Have I erred? You and Cao Yiyun are wed, and all the company’s profits are jointly yours. After you divide everything with her and leave it all to your darling daughter Qian Ge Ya, what difference is there between me and a bastard?”

“Get out of my sight!” he bellowed.

In his fury, disregarding the presence of Shang Junyan, Wen Zhi Cheng seized an ashtray from the table and hurled it at her. The object hurtled toward her forehead, yet Wen Ran stood her ground, unflinching and resolute, gritting her teeth as she glowered at him. Swiftly, Shang Junyan intervened—catching the ashtray before it could strike her—and, without a word, placed it gently on the table. Its collision with the surface rang out crisply in the quiet office.

Without further utterance, Wen Ran snatched the ashtray and flung it against the wall. With a resounding crash, it shattered into countless fragments that scattered across the floor. Her eyes, now aglow with a bloodlike scarlet, declared, “Had it not been for Shang Junyan, my head would have been split open by you, Wen Zhi Cheng. I now know—I am nothing but a bastard.”

At these words, Wen Zhi Cheng’s lips trembled as he hurried toward her, pleading, “No, Ran Ran, father just…” Yet she spared him no glance and turned away in silence. As he called after her, “Ran Ran, appearances are deceptive. When your mother and I divorced, all I ever desired was you—what I did just now…” his voice trailed off as Wen Ran opened the door to find Qian Ge Ya standing outside, forcing him to fall mute.

Shang Junyan stepped forward in a low tone, “Uncle, I shall go see Wen Ran.” But Wen Ran required no one’s attendance; she departed swiftly—racing down the elevator to the parking lot—and with a burst in her Ferrari, sped away. Wen Zhi Cheng offered no retort, for her words proved unassailable.

Later, when Shang Junyan called her, she curtly hung up and made straight for the square-dancing park. In years past, when aggrieved, she sought solitude; but now, she found solace in watching the lively square dances, for in that vibrant crowd one could find meaning in life. Mesmerized, she watched the dancers for ten minutes before the rhythm awakened the dormant dancer within her, and soon she joined in for a spirited twenty-minute square dance.

Her spirits finally lifted, Wen Ran returned to her car, where a WeChat message from Shang Junyan greeted her: “Which cemetery do you fancy? Brother will buy it for you.” Nearly choking on her surprise, she called back curtly, “What did you discuss with Wen Zhi Cheng? Did he call you, or did you call him?” With a trace of sarcasm, Shang Junyan replied, “Who are you speaking to? Where is your courtesy?” For a full minute, silence reigned.

Her parents had divorced—her father remarrying, his new wife accompanied by an elder “sister”; her mother too, remarried, her new husband bringing along an elder “brother.” That so-called sister was none other than Qian Ge Ya, a true scoundrel, while the so-called brother was Shang Junyan—a good man, yet somehow more nefarious than the villain himself. Reluctantly, Wen Ran called out, “Brother.” Shang Junyan snorted softly, “Since you’ve pleaded, you’ll cease your defiance.” Clenching her chest with pent-up anger, she said nothing further.

Understanding her mood, Shang Junyan then explained, “He wishes for my company, your Wen family, and Shen’s firm to collaborate. Shen has the land; the Wen family possesses park-building expertise; and our tech company has the technology. If I agree to collaborate with you, Shen will follow suit. Your father is desperate to finalize this project and has asked me to expedite it—time is of the essence.” Wen Ran grasped the truth: the power to decide the collaboration lay squarely with the Shang side—Chairman Shang Ming had long entrusted that authority to Shang Junyan—and, owing to a favor he owed her, the ultimate decision now rested with her. Thus, if she withheld her consent, perhaps even Shen Yan would be forced to beg her favor. This leverage was so potent that it sent her mind spinning in a dizzying, almost ecstatic whirl.