Chapter 9: Can He Be Forgiven?

The deletion of AS Group’s statement caused a minor ripple, briefly making it onto the tail end of trending topics. However, real-time discussions were sparse—after all, the heat of the matter had already faded.

Some people speculated, “Could this Lu Hui really be the one President Xie publicly acknowledged?”

But as soon as the idea was raised, it was swiftly dismissed. “Impossible. If it were really the same person, why would they go to such lengths to issue that statement in the first place?”

“I feel like it’s probably just a mix-up by the staff. Lu Hui is 80% likely the fiancée Xie openly admitted to.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

“Is this company insane? Are they playing us? When they first released the statement, I thought they were about to take this to court. And now, just a few days later, they quietly delete it? Doesn’t a company this big feel embarrassed?”

“A lot of small-time celebrities who joined in on the hate train were from Star Entertainment. Looks like they ended up mocking their future boss’s wife. Wonder how they’re feeling now.”

Obviously, they weren’t feeling great. These opportunists followed the crowd, stepping on Lu Hui when they thought she was just another attention-seeker who wouldn’t amount to anything.

Now, they weren’t sure what was going on. Regret set in, and they hurriedly deleted their past snide remarks from social media.

Lin Tong had never seen such a phenomenon before. Watching those in the industry, who normally looked down on others, voluntarily erase their own words, he couldn’t help but marvel. “Hui Hui, you don’t really know Xie Ran, do you?”

Lu Hui pulled her thick coat tighter and exhaled a puff of white breath. “I do.”

Lin Tong flicked the ash off his cigarette. “Are you really his fiancée?”

Lu Hui firmly denied it. “Why are you cursing me?”

Lin Tong: “…”

He was speechless and rolled his eyes. “How is that a curse? Do you know how many people would line up from the Forbidden City to the West Station just for a chance to marry Xie Ran?”

Lu Hui slumped into the back seat of the taxi, her face looking listless. “Whoever wants to marry him can go ahead. I’ll never have anything to do with him in this lifetime.”

Lin Tong, the self-proclaimed relationship guru, instantly understood the situation. He spoke with certainty, “He treated you like trash, and now he regrets it and wants you back.”

Lu Hui: “?”

Lu Hui: “Don’t insult me.”

Lin Tong was dying of curiosity but couldn’t pry any gossip out of her. Giving up, he changed the subject. “Make sure to log in and engage on Weibo tonight.”

Lu Hui asked seriously, “Do I even have fans?”

Lin Tong grinned. “Of course! I bought you 500,000 followers, and now you’re at 550,000!”

Lu Hui said she got it. Then promptly forgot about it when she got home.

As expected, Lin Tong knew she wouldn’t follow instructions. He spammed her with WeChat voice calls, urging her to go online.

Lu Hui gave up and posted three selfies on Weibo. “I’m so beautiful (▽).”

Natural, unpretentious, and shamelessly self-absorbed—there was simply no response to that level of narcissism.

After posting, Lu Hui immediately went offline without checking any comments.

—

By the time she got home, it was already late. The Sheng family’s lights were still on, but most people had already turned in.

Lu Hui hadn’t eaten dinner, and no one had left food for her. The housekeeper had already gone home.

Feeling hungry, she patted her empty stomach and decided to cook herself a bowl of noodles.

In the kitchen, Lu Hui skillfully turned on the stove, brought a pot of water to boil, and covered it with a lid. She grabbed some green onions from the fridge, chopped them into small pieces, and mixed seasoning in a bowl.

Once the water boiled, she dropped in two servings of noodles—one portion wasn’t enough to fill her up.

The aroma of beef noodles filled the air. Just as she sat down with her bowl, barely getting comfortable, Sheng Zhaoming appeared out of nowhere.

Wearing cotton slippers, he walked across the floor without a sound.

He frowned. “Do you even know what time it is?”

Lu Hui ignored him and slurped up a mouthful of noodles.

The man sat across from her, narrowing his eyes lazily as he watched her. His lips curled slightly in dissatisfaction. “It’s almost ten. The noise from the kitchen was disturbing my sleep.”

Lu Hui took a sip of hot soup, then, after deliberately ignoring him for a few minutes, finally looked up with a blank expression. “Are you aging prematurely?”

Sheng Zhaoming clenched his teeth, lifting his hand only to force himself to put it back down.

Lu Hui could tell he was pretty pissed off, but she had no idea why. She was just making a bowl of noodles—how much noise could that even cause? It’s not like she was drilling holes in his ear with a power tool.

If such a tiny sound could wake him up from sleep, wasn’t that proof he was aging prematurely?

Dressed in pajamas with his hair lazily tousled, Sheng Zhaoming looked like he had little energy. His expression was downright sour. In the past, Lu Hui would have been scared. But not anymore.

By the time she finished eating, only a bit of noodle broth was left in the bowl.

She looked up again, and Sheng Zhaoming was still staring at her.

Wiping the corner of her mouth, Lu Hui gave him a complicated look and said, “Brother, I know a few reputable doctors. I’ll send you their WeChat contacts. It’s nothing serious—just get it treated.”

Her words sounded utterly sincere, but to Sheng Zhaoming, they dripped with sarcasm.

He got up coldly. “The Sheng family has rules. We don’t keep meals past a certain hour.”

Lu Hui simply responded, “Oh, but my last name is Lu.”

Sheng Zhaoming actually laughed in frustration. She was going to be the death of him.

—

The next morning, the Sheng family’s dining table was unusually full.

Sheng Weicai instructed Sheng Zhaoming to take his two sisters to the Cen family’s grand patriarch’s birthday banquet that Saturday. The Cen family had several high-ranking officials in their ranks and maintained close ties with the Shengs.

This wasn’t an event just anyone could attend.

Sheng Zhaoming readily agreed, but his gaze lingered on Lu Hui for a moment. He had already made up his mind—not to take her.

A stepdaughter with no official status—what would it look like to bring her along?

With so many privileged elites attending, who knew if she’d try something underhanded? To be safe, he wouldn’t bring her.

As soon as Sheng Weicai left, Sheng Zhaoming told Lu Hui the truth. “No need to prepare an evening gown. I can only take Lianlian.”

He softened his words slightly. “There are limited invitations. I have no choice. Don’t think I’m favoring one over the other.”

Lu Hui didn’t care whether she went or not.

To her, these high-society banquets were tedious, full of complicated etiquette, and ultimately not worth it.

“Got it.”

For some reason, the freezing weather wasn’t the only thing irritating Sheng Zhaoming. This odd, uneasy feeling only grew stronger with Lu Hui’s indifference.

Was she just pretending?

Did she no longer want to chase after wealthy husbands?

Wasn’t she supposed to be jealous?

His face darkened. Without another word, he stood up and left.

Lu Hui didn’t bother seeing him off.