Chapter 11

Outside, a thunderclap shook the sky, lightning branching like twisted roots along the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain fell in sheets, draping the resort in a misty curtain, pounding the glass so hard that rivulets streamed down.
Xie Jinxing snorted, thinking to himself that this felt like some new urban horror story.
He fast-forwarded the surveillance footage at double speed, his casual smile slowly hardening.
Lu Xingyu had gone to deal with a fight, and the cameras had caught him. Watching himself from a godlike vantage point, his own movements seemed off, almost alien.
On the footage, he watched Su Ruan’s face with unusual interest, clearly appreciating her. Xie Jinxing felt a flicker of unfamiliarity. His long fingers tapped lightly on his trousers as his mind recalled several moments when “Su Ruan” had unexpectedly shown kindness.
So this was the kind of person he was, willing to help others?
If Liang Chengli knew what he was thinking, he’d probably laugh himself silly. Xie Jinxing had done plenty of reckless things growing up, but helping others wasn’t one of his virtues. Back then, he was a reckless mad dog. Not causing harm was the closest he got to a good deed.
So why had he gone out of his way several times to help a poor student who didn’t even meet his aesthetic standards?
His brow furrowed...
The first time he sent someone to the hospital was an accident, a timely good deed.
The second time, he helped cover medical costs for her mother without expecting anything in return. That could barely be considered a spontaneous act of generosity.
But the third time?
Gu An’an’s chirping words still rang in his ears, her flushed face vivid in his mind. He snorted. Was Xie Jinxing a free “five-hundred-a-day do-gooder” for anyone? There were countless poor people in the world, why single out Su Ruan?
Xie Jinxing had reached his achievements by age twenty-eight not just because of his family wealth, but due to a wolf-like instinct for detecting the scent of blood. Subconsciously sensing the strange and dangerous, he never relied on luck.
Something was odd.
His phone buzzed.
Picking it up, a red dot appeared on his WeChat contacts.
Earlier in the medical room, Su Ruan had timidly shared her grievances, explaining that she wouldn’t take advantage of anyone. Under the pretext of repaying the medical expenses he had covered for her mother in installments, she obtained his personal contact.
Half an hour later, she sent a friend request.
Though she had tried to avoid seeming too eager, the abrupt red dot betrayed her youth. A sharp-eyed adult could tell her impatience.
Xie Jinxing stared at the pink strawberry candy avatar but chose to ignore it.
The rain fell faster, splashing into a misty haze.
Lightning still flashed violently, threatening to strike at any moment. Gu An’an, at the first-floor lobby desk, anxiously ran her fingers through her hair.
Her room card was lost.
The front desk attendant maintained a professional demeanor, gently asking if she could recall where she’d lost it, and explained that the hotel’s room cards were unique. Entry required both the card and facial recognition. To protect VIP privacy, the front desk held no spare VIP cards; all backups were in the manager’s office.
Of course, the manager had just left for the day.
Gu An’an couldn’t help but think rich people’s lives must be incredibly secretive, requiring such intense privacy measures. On the bright side, if a runaway heroine stayed at this hotel, the chance of mistakenly barging into the wrong room and ending up in the billionaire’s bed would drop to zero.
She pushed aside the jumble of thoughts and tried to recall her steps from the day.
No luck, she had drunk too much pool water and couldn’t remember.
“I have a terrible memory, I just can’t remember...”
The attendant quickly reassured her: the main card loss would be handled. If she wasn’t in a hurry, she could head to the restaurant for dinner while they contacted the manager for a spare. It might take a little time.
“Thank you so much,” Gu An’an said, hands pressed together in gratitude.
The attendant smiled warmly, personally guiding her to the restaurant.
After two hours of swimming, Gu An’an was starving, anything in front of her looked like a little cake. She could probably devour an entire pig.
Apart from the annoying card system, the hotel was simply fantastic. Super fantastic. Super fantastic. Super fantastic.
Important enough to say three times.
She devoured three plates of Beef Wellington and finally understood why TV dramas showed heroines living well after suffering: steaks and red wine in a fine dining restaurant.
Her life felt complete. If only there were a handsome man across from her, it would be perfect.
Drinking her juice, a man sat across the table.
Gu An’an blinked. Even the temple deities weren’t this effective.
Hair down, dressed casually, having removed his designer suit, the handsome man took off his glasses, revealing sharp, classical phoenix-shaped eyes. His skin wasn’t pale but flawless, and his lips were unusually red.
“You’re Gu An’an, right?” He was the elite man who had accompanied Xie Jinxing earlier, Gu An’an remembered Lu Xingyu had called him her cousin.
Though she had stayed with the Xie family for over five years, she didn’t know him, apart from Grandpa Xie and Lu Xingyu’s cousins. Scratching her head, she realized she had never met him. “...Who are you?”
“I’m Lu Xingyu’s uncle, surname Liang. You can call me Uncle Liang.” He smiled, his phoenix eyes narrowing slightly.
Gu An’an glanced at him, he didn’t look much older than her. “Call you uncle?”
When Liang Chengli didn’t smile, he exuded authority; when he did, his warmth eased the tension. A natural social ease, friendly without being intrusive. “By the way, you grew up with Xingyu and happen to be classmates with that girl Su Ruan. I’m curious, can you tell me about it?”
Oh... he was fishing for information.
Gu An’an swallowed her juice, her large, expressive eyes spinning.
Though young, her expressions were vivid. Lips glossy from the juice, long curled lashes fluttering with every emotion. Every tiny thought on her face.
Liang Chengli found her alertness amusing, like a little animal. “Don’t worry, I’m not meddling in kids’ affairs. I’m just curious, Xingyu seemed smart before, how did he become... less so?”
Now Gu An’an was wide awake.
She had wanted to complain for ages! Few sane people existed in this book. Su Ruan aside, anyone tangentially involved acted like their brains had been dissolved in acid.
“Love makes people blind, Uncle!” Gu An’an said. “Besides, Lu the Mole has never been very bright!”
“Lu the Mole?” Liang Chengli laughed. “What’s that?”
“No eyes, digs blindly in the ground. Lu Xingyu, Lu the Mole.”
Suddenly, Liang Chengli connected with the girl’s wavelength. Surprisingly accurate.
He pondered: “Do you know how Xingyu met that little girl?”
“Love at first sight.” Gu An’an recalled the scene, goosebumps. The original story was cheesy, heavily borrowed.
Su Ruan’s meeting with Lu Xingyu was more of a school setting. She had just finished work and passed the basketball court. Lu Xingyu was playing with the basketball club. A ball slipped from his hand, hitting Su Ruan. She fainted from low blood sugar.
Despite his spoiled demeanor, Lu Xingyu had manners. He carried the unconscious girl into the medical room and that’s how they met.
Liang Chengli’s expression was subtle.
“What about that Zhou family kid?”
“I don’t know.” Gu An’an, full from dinner, prepared to leave. She looked up; Liang Chengli’s smile indicated he had no intention of leaving.
No matter how approachable he seemed, his innate aura commanded respect.
She pulled out her phone, opened the campus forum.
Jinchuan University’s forum was top-notch, like a mini-headlines platform. Searching Su Ruan’s name returned many posts. Entering Zhou Jiayu’s keyword brought up the ‘live incident’ from before.
The stories were dramatic: Su Ruan working at a bar, spilling a drink on Zhou Jiayu, causing a scene with the heir and his friends.
Gu An’an: “...”
Liang Chengli: “...”
Truly... unbelievable.
“Does this girl have some genetic disease?” Uncle Liang asked.
“...I don’t think so. But her mother had uremia,” Gu An’an replied. She hadn’t read the book fully, unsure if the heroine later needed a kidney.
Sweet romance novels rarely showcase heartbreak and loss, but idiotic romances might. This book’s table of contents was still vivid in her mind: complete funeral arrangements included.
“Hmm... I know you’re anxious, but don’t rush. I’ll think it over.”
Gu An’an shivered, considering sneaking a peek at Su Ruan’s medical report to check her blood type, don’t want a rare blood type surprise later.
Liang Chengli ignored her musings, messaging Xie Jinxing cheerfully.
Xie Jinxing was en route to the Vassa Charity Auction. The elder was unwell and couldn’t host; he was urgently covering.
The charity event, co-organized with prestigious international families, could generate tens of millions in revenue. As host, the Xie family couldn’t miss it.
While driving the Bentley smoothly, Xie Jinxing reviewed the auction materials. His phone buzzed.
Liang Chengli: [Guess how Xingyu met that little girl?]
Xie Jinxing glanced but ignored it.
The messages kept coming. Liang Chengli, usually quiet, was unusually verbose today, recounting teenage romance stories in detail.
Finally summarized: [Tsk tsk, young but quite crafty. Not very original though.]
Reading about Lu Xingyu and Su Ruan, Zhou Jiayu and Su Ruan, Xie Jinxing recalled himself. That odd student had twice collided with his car, once a Bentley, once a Maybach.
A brief smile crossed his lips in the neon-lit darkness.
At the hotel, Gu An’an licked her lips; the juice had dried, leaving them tight. She looked at Liang Chengli, laughing oddly at his messages, and remembered something, she forgot to relay a message from the principal to Xie Jinxing.
This man was clearly Xie Jinxing’s friend; he must have contact information.
“...Just say it directly.” The little girl stared, eyes shining green, all impatience. Liang Chengli placed his phone on the table, unbothered.
Gu An’an licked her lips again, cautiously asked, “Uncle, do you have my uncle’s WeChat?”
“Hm?” Liang Chengli squinted, his smile softening. “You want your uncle’s personal contact?”
“It’s okay if not.”
Intuition telling her danger, Gu An’an quickly added, “You can just pass a message for me.”
Liang Chengli leaned back comfortably in his chair.
“Well... um...” Gu An’an scratched her head, “Our school is holding the Eight-School Basketball League. The principal asked me to see if my uncle has time to watch.”
“That?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” Liang Chengli’s smile was genuine. “I’ll pass the message.”
Satisfied, Gu An’an grabbed her bag to leave.
“Wait a sec.” Liang Chengli, like summoning a puppy, pulled out his WeChat code with a smile. “How about we add each other?”
Gu An’an looked at him.
Smiling, he returned her gaze.
Swiftly, Gu An’an pulled out her phone, opened WeChat, and scanned Liang Chengli’s code.