When Wang Xiaoke heard the familiar voice, her heart sank. “Excuse me, sir, how did you get my phone number?” she asked.

“I have my ways,” Chen Ze replied impatiently, his tone resembling a creditor chasing down a debt. “Now’s not the time to talk about that. Where’s the money? Are you planning to renege on your promise?”

Chen Ze’s aggressive demeanor, as if afraid Wang Xiaoke would run away, irritated her greatly. “I’m still at work. I’ll give it to you after I get off,” she said, feeling stifled, and was about to hang up when a thought struck her.

“By the way, when my dad sent you to the hospital earlier, didn’t he do anything for you?” she asked tentatively.

“What do you mean by that?” Chen Ze maintained his overbearing tone.

“For instance, covering your medical expenses. After all, you got hurt at our place. He couldn’t have just ignored it, right?” Wang Xiaoke’s tone became much more patient when the matter concerned her own interests.

“No, he didn’t. Wait, are you implying I pocketed your family’s money?” Chen Ze’s tone turned sharp, and Wang Xiaoke had no doubt that if he were standing in front of her, he would be yelling with his hands around her neck.

“That’s not what I meant,” Wang Xiaoke immediately backed down under his aggression.

Annoyed, Chen Ze lashed out, “If he had done that, do you think I’d be wasting my time and effort chasing you down for it?”

“Let me tell you, it’s bad enough that you and your dad are stingy, but how can you have zero sense of responsibility? My injury wasn’t caused by your dad, so I won’t hold him accountable. But you—look at yourself. Do you have even a shred of maturity?”

“When you make a mistake, you should take responsibility. That’s something even kindergarteners understand. Yet you keep making excuses, avoiding your responsibilities again and again. Honestly, I’m embarrassed for your former ethics teacher. They actually produced a student like you!”

Chen Ze continued his endless tirade, as if it hadn’t been him who stopped Wang Chengyao from paying the medical bills that day.

Already feeling guilty, Wang Xiaoke became even more submissive under his reprimand, shrinking like a child being scolded.

“Please don’t get upset. If you end up with some after-effects from anger, I wouldn’t know how to handle it. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure to bring the money to you today,” she said hastily.

As soon as she finished, she immediately hung up. She wasn’t about to risk hearing him claim she’d made him so furious he became dizzy or incoherent—that was trouble she couldn’t afford.

At the Wang household, Wang Chengyao was currently having breakfast with Feng Jin. However, his mood was far from calm as he worried about his only daughter, who had been away from home for two days now.

Looking at the seat where Wang Xiaoke usually sat, now conspicuously empty, the almost fifty-year-old father sighed deeply and said to Feng Jin, “Tell me, why did Xiaoke have to fall for Ningning’s boyfriend, of all people?”

“Chengyao, you know as well as I do that emotions aren’t something anyone can control,” Feng Jin replied. Her demeanor was elegant, with arched brows and almond-shaped eyes that exuded the gentle grace unique to Eastern women.

“Even so, no matter how heartbroken she is, she shouldn’t have vented her anger on a guest in our home,” Wang Chengyao said, shaking his head at the memory of Chen Ze’s miserable state two days ago. Just thinking about it gave him another headache over his wayward daughter.

“Chengyao, are you saying Xiaoke was the one who injured Chen Ze?” Feng Jin asked, her expression lighting up with sudden realization.