Only then did Su Liang learn of Han Qian's divorce. With a flourish, he declared he would take Han out for a wild night, mentioning a young acquaintance he'd recently met at a bar—Marco Xin. As they chatted, the two of them stepped into a modest restaurant, neither grand nor shabby. They ordered a private room, four dishes, and a case of beer—demanding the finest available.
The finest turned out to be none other than Tsingtao Pure Draft.
Twelve yuan a bottle.
Su Liang cracked one open and filled two glasses, chuckling as he spoke.
"Brother Qian, we've got a holiday tomorrow—how about we unwind a bit tonight?"
Han Qian took a sip of beer, smiling faintly.
"Unwind, my ass. You've wrapped up your business, but I'm still swamped. Tomorrow I've got dinner with my landlady and her family. They helped me a lot when I was renting—can't let kindness go unacknowledged."
Su Liang took a long swig and sighed with satisfaction, then grinned.
"Brother Qian, you take relationships too seriously. Some things can't be resolved over one meal, and some kindnesses don't need to weigh on your heart. Sure, not everyone owes us goodwill—but maybe, just maybe, someone's kind to you simply because they want to be, not because they expect something in return. Take me, for example—doesn't matter why you're good to me. I just know you are. I won't fuss about repaying you—let's just drink."
Han Qian gave a helpless smile.
"Good to you, my ass—I just can't handle everything by myself."
"Enough with the chatter. We'll take it easy tonight—didn't President Yan say she'd treat us soon? I'll drink with you properly then. Oh—almost forgot to tell you—Yu Dongsheng's mom is close to some senior execs at the company. No idea what exactly she does, but the guy's basically a spoiled mama's boy here to 'experience life.' He's taken a liking to Wu Siwan—just ignore him from now on."
"Oh," Han Qian replied.
Two bottles each, then Su Liang paid while Han Qian headed to the bank. Just as he stepped into the Glory building, his phone rang—it was Wen Nuan. Han gestured for Su Liang to go on ahead. On the call, Han told Wen he planned to invite the landlady and her son for dinner at home tomorrow. If it made her uncomfortable, she could take the opportunity to go shopping. But his phrasing misfired.
On the other end, Wen Nuan exploded.
"What, am I some shameful secret you can't show anyone? You planning to bring Yan Qingqing home? Fine—then I'll go see a movie with Lin Zongheng."
"Go ahead! See whatever the hell you want! Still hung up on Yan Qingqing? Suit yourself!"
"Just wait. I'll come pick you up tonight. Got things to discuss. Bye now."
Before the call even ended, her secretary stepped in and informed her that President Lin had asked whether Vice President Wen was free for dinner. The chairman had invited her to dine at his residence. Wen Nuan looked at the secretary, who looked back at her. Then Wen asked a simple question—did she want a bonus this month? The secretary smiled knowingly.
Another rejection?
Since returning, Lin Zongheng had been trying to take Wen Nuan out to dinner. She was never free in the evenings, and even lunch was elusive. He was almost about to invite her to breakfast—only to learn she always ate before coming to work. She used to sleep in and skip breakfast entirely. When had that changed?
Now she was punctual, ate breakfast—and no longer liked him.
Lin Zongheng couldn't figure out what went wrong. He refused to believe Han Qian could possibly replace him in Wen Nuan's heart. He decided to ask her in person. As he headed down, the elevator doors slid open to reveal Wen Nuan standing outside in a white tailored suit, car keys twirling playfully on her finger. But Lin's gaze locked onto her long, elegant legs—straight trousers, a fitted blazer, dainty heels enhancing her statuesque form.
"Xiao Nuan, I was just on my way to find you."
Only then did Wen notice him in the elevator. She stepped in with a smile and said softly:
"Looking for me? Oh—about Uncle Lin's dinner invite? Sorry, I really can't make it. I've already made plans with friends for tomorrow and the day after. I have to pick someone up after work. Once I'm free, I'll host a proper dinner to make it up to President Lin."
"If you're busy, I won't press. I'll explain to my father. Where are you off to now? Let me drive you."
Ever the gentleman, Lin Zongheng maintained his gracious demeanor. Wen Nuan smiled with a glint in her eye.
"I've got some time—I'm going to get my car washed. It wouldn't be proper to bother President Lin for that. If you've time to spare, maybe think about the land near the airport. Who knows—Glory might just pull off a miracle. Anyway, this is my stop—bye now, President Lin."
Not giving him a chance to reply, Wen quickly exited the elevator. As she recalled the women's voices she'd heard during her last call with Lin, she cursed herself—had she lost her mind back then, letting him fool around abroad and even justifying it with cultural differences?
Disgusting.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized—even with all his flaws, Han Qian was still better than Lin Zongheng. Then she remembered Yan Qingqing's brazen line:
"My prairie, my horse—I do as I please."
Regret washed over Wen Nuan. She never should've forced Han Qian to repay that four million. Truth was, she hadn't really wanted the money. She'd only demanded it out of pride and lingering resentment from the divorce. Afterwards, she'd used the debt as an excuse to tease him, to stay at his place.
And because of that stupid money, that shameless Yan Qingqing had barged in.
Wen Nuan felt thoroughly cheated.
As she drove, the memory of Yan Qingqing pretending to be an escort and calling Han Qian pushed her over the edge. She floored the gas pedal.
Half an hour later, the tow truck arrived.
The front bumper was wrecked. The headlights were shattered beyond repair. A crack spidered across the windshield.
Wen Nuan stood with arms crossed, watching her Alfa Romeo get hauled away, feeling no real sorrow or anger. She stomped her foot, then pulled out her phone and called Li Jinhe.
"Let me borrow Old Wen's car for a few days. I crashed mine into a pole."
Li Jinhe was momentarily stunned, then quickly asked if she was hurt. Hearing that she was fine, he exhaled in relief and murmured:
"Your dad's car is too old-fashioned—not really your style. Why not take mine? It's just collecting dust anyway. Didn't Han Qian say my car suits you better?"
"The Panamera?"
"I've got an electric car too—but that one's off-limits. I need it for my poker runs. Your car's gonna take time to fix. Come get mine now—I've got plans later."
"Weren't you and Old Wen off to Sanya?"
"Who's the parent here—you or me? You think I need to report my whereabouts to you? Take it or leave it—say it now!"
"Taking it. Gotta pick someone up tonight."
Behind her, Lin Zongheng had been waiting to offer concern and care after the call ended. When he heard she'd crashed her car, his first reaction was worry—but soon, a spark of joy.
Her car's totaled. This is my chance!
But to his dismay, Wen Nuan spoke to Li Jinhe with perfect composure, casually admitting to the crash. Had Li's temper mellowed? As Lin pondered, Wen Nuan had already walked out of the underground garage. He dashed after her, but she was already in a cab. From beginning to end, she never acknowledged him, never gave him a word.
Perhaps she hadn't even noticed him there.
Her thoughts weren't on Han Qian or Lin Zongheng anymore.
Now, they were all about that vixen—Yan Qingqing.
Meanwhile, Yan Qingqing was flipping through Wen Nuan's profile, driven by sheer boredom and mischief.
"Tsk tsk... born with a silver spoon in her mouth, the perfect little heiress—good family, good looks, good breeding. So how the hell did she end up marrying Han Qian? And how could she just let go of a guy like that and walk away from Changxiang? She must be a complete idiot."