Chen Hong felt as though the sky itself were crashing down on her.
Even when the surveillance footage had just revealed the little devil lurking in Wen Ang's heart,
it still did nothing to shake the place her son held deep inside her.
However bad he might be, he was her precious boy.
"Whoever killed my son, I'll slaughter him!" Chen Hong shrieked at the top of her lungs. "And you good-for-nothing trash—I'll kill the lot of you!"
She lost control, jabbing a finger at the Bodyguards trailing behind.
Wen Quan, standing to one side, answered with a dark face, "Enough. Watch the setting—stop this hysterics."
His intent was to keep her from voicing criminal threats in public.
With Police still on scene, saying such things would make quiet handling impossible.
Though father and son had never been close,
an incident like this—whether for Wen Ang's sake or his own safety—meant these people could not be kept around.
On a yacht that small, not one Bodyguard had noticed how Wen Ang fell overboard;
either a traitor walked among them, or the whole lot were useless.
Drawing fat salaries yet allowing a fatal slip.
For morality's sake as much as practicality, someone had to pay.
Freshly bereaved, Chen Hong was in a state of hair-trigger sensitivity; Wen Quan's reminder struck her ear not as counsel but as sheer mockery.
Years of living under Wen Quan's thumb had left her perpetually on the verge of collapse.
Had it not been for Wen Ang, she could never have endured so long.
Now that the son she cared about most was gone, she refused to endure another minute.
Bracing against her grief, she rose and pointed at Wen Quan, cursing, "My son is dead—what face have I left to save? You heartless wretch, aren't you even sad? Has the dog eaten your heart?"
"What did you say? Do you even hear yourself?"
"Don't think I can't read your mind—you couldn't wait for him to die, could you?"
It was the first time Chen Hong had ever dared speak to him with such defiance.
Even Wen Quan had never imagined the woman who usually trembled beneath his feet would point at his nose and spit those words.
Reflexively he swung, slapping her hard. "Madwoman—spouting such drivel!"
As if the sting didn't register, Chen Hong glared at him with venom. "Look how furious you are—I must've hit the mark. I always knew it: you feared Ah-Ang, feared he'd replace you. The steadier he stood in the company, the more afraid you became—afraid your bastards out there would lose their cushy futures."
Suddenly, as though something else had flashed through her mind, she stabbed a finger at him again. "Was it you? Did you hire someone to kill Ah-Ang? Answer me!"
When Chen Hong tore the veil off his private thoughts, the muscles in Wen Quan's face twitched with malice.
Had they not been in public, this woman would already have been throttled to death by his hands.
"You've truly lost it—I'm his father."
Wen Quan admitted he both feared and disliked Wen Ang;
the son outshone him and knew about the illegitimate children he kept outside.
To secure his own position, Wen Ang had been quietly swallowing Wen Quan's shares.
Though Wen Quan kept a placid face, many a time the thought of erasing Wen Ang had crossed his mind.
Looking at Wen Ang's corpse, Chen Hong laughed wildly. "'Father'—how laughable. Stop the act; now I suspect the very person who ordered the killer is you."
The moment those words left her lips, Wen Quan snapped. He seized her throat, throttling her while snarling, "It's been too long since I disciplined you—have you forgotten what I'm like? Huh? You're asking for it, bitch."
Nearby, the Police found Chen Hong's earlier conduct revolting,
yet when her face turned purple they stepped in and pulled the pair apart… The farce, layered atop the case, kept investigators busy until deep in the night; only then did the crowd disperse. The next morning, when Jiang Cheng woke, the place beside him was already empty.
He glanced at the clock: after ten already.
"Yu Xiaoxiao," he called, but no answer came.
He grabbed his phone; at nine she had sent a wechat saying she'd left for work first.
Beside the bed lay the crimson-and-black Black Widow lingerie she'd slipped out of; Jiang Cheng picked it up with relish and breathed in its scent.
Mm, intoxicating~~~
Yu Xiaoxiao truly deserved her title of hard-charging career woman.
Even after the two of them had played well past midnight,
she still clocked in at the office first thing in the morning.
Closing her chat, Jiang Cheng opened the message Wang Jian had sent.
It was a location pin—clearly some restaurant.
After dropping the pin he'd added that after class the whole gang would head straight over, each bringing a date.
Two days earlier Wang Jian had messaged inviting Jiang Cheng to a group dinner.
Reason: today was his birthday, and the roommates wanted a midday get-together.
Jiang Cheng's impression of these roommates in this life was fairly good—
certainly better than the ones he remembered from his previous life.
Naturally he didn't refuse; he agreed on the spot.
When it came to friends, Jiang Cheng always followed his gut.
He could befriend top-tier Second-generation rich kids, yet just as easily hang out with ordinary university students.
Tapping the navigation link Wang Jian had sent, Jiang Cheng saw he'd picked a Cantonese place averaging 600+ per head, located in Jing'an District.
Generous as ever—though that was thanks to his well-off family.
After a quick wash-up, Jiang Cheng headed out.
Wang Sheng and several other Bodyguards were already waiting downstairs.
Seeing him, Wang Sheng stubbed his cigarette at once, bowed respectfully and said, "Young Master."
Jiang Cheng nodded at him. "Any news?"
Wang Sheng knew exactly what he meant.
"They fished the body up last night. The wen family's in an uproar—mainly over Wen Ang's shares. Wen Quan has several illegitimate kids outside and is maneuvering to have one replace Wen Ang in Wen'an Group, but Chen Hong won't have it."
Jiang Cheng nodded. "Good news. Keep watching."
"Yes, sir!"
"I'm having lunch with classmates. Give me the keys—I'll drive myself. Riding in the car is too flashy; you lot trail behind and keep a low profile."
The Military Training days had bonded them well, and Jiang Cheng had no wish to flaunt.
Everyone on campus already knew he owned super-cars, so driving one counted as low-key, right?
Wang Sheng glanced at the lamborghini reventón he'd been told to bring and broke into a cold sweat.
His boss's grasp of the word "low-key" was… open to interpretation.