Chapter 12 – Stepfather’s Mistress

Down payment??!!

Didn’t the Jiang family always buy villas with a wave of the hand, paying in full every single time?

Du Ziteng’s heart gave a sudden “thump.”

There had always been a question he wanted to ask Jiang Yan, but he had held it back, thinking it inappropriate.

But now, seeing her driving a second-hand truck, selling off a massive villa in such a rush, and trading it for a top-floor apartment most people wouldn’t even consider buying, the doubts inside him could no longer be contained.

Gritting his teeth, quietly taking a breath, he finally spoke:

“Yan-jie, you’re in such a hurry to sell the villa, and you even changed cars… could it be that you’ve run into some kind of difficulty? If there’s anything I can do to help, even though I can’t compare to you financially, I’ve saved up a little over the years. If you need it, just say the word—”

His words trailed off when he saw Jiang Yan smiling at him, and his voice began to falter.

“Y-yan-jie, what is it? I didn’t mean anything by it, really. It’s just… back when my father had cancer, President Jiang and President Li organized the entire company to donate to my family. They even personally covered a lot of the medical expenses. Even though my father still passed away in the end, the Jiang family’s great kindness to us—I’ll never forget it for as long as I live.”

What he didn’t say was that his real estate agency also owed much to Jiang’s mother.

Back then, when Jiang’s mother was handling properties, she entrusted all the transactions to his firm. That was basically his first bucket of gold after quitting his old job to start his own business.

Now seeing Jiang Yan like this—could it really be like one of those TV dramas, where a wealthy heiress suddenly has her assets frozen?

Jiang Yan looked at his earnest, simple face and said, “Du Ziteng, do you trust me?”

Without even thinking, he nodded frantically like a pecking chick. “Of course!”

“A great expert told me that in three months, the apocalypse will come. I’m only telling you, so in the next two months, stock up on as much rice, flour, grain, and oil as possible, and buy some common medicines as well. That’s all I can say.”

Honestly, Jiang Yan didn’t think he’d believe such words.

Hadn’t she herself, before her rebirth, also heard about things like the Mayan prophecy that the world would end in some particular year?

And yet, those dates had long passed, ten years, eight years ago.

Sure enough, Du Ziteng gave a soft “ah,” looking at her in disbelief, and—almost imperceptibly—with a trace of pity.

Poor Miss Jiang.

It must be that President Li’s death hit her too hard, and now her mind wasn’t right.

Sigh. Rich or poor, every family has its own hardships.

But he was quick on his feet. Though he sighed inwardly, he swiftly smoothed over the awkward, heavy atmosphere:

“Ah, Yan-jie, stockpiling again? To be honest, I still have loads of ibuprofen left over from the mask stockpiling days, and we still have a mountain of salt at home too. Just yesterday, my wife teased me, asking when I’m going to serve my famous ‘salt-baked ibuprofen,’ hahaha.”

He deliberately avoided her mention of “the apocalypse in three months.”

To him, with the sun shining and the breeze so pleasant, talking about the end of the world was absurd. But he couldn’t bring himself to rub salt in her wounds either.

Hearing his lame joke, Jiang Yan didn’t laugh. Instead, her smile faded as she looked at him seriously and said with weight:

“Old Du, this time… listen to me.”

Some things were useless to say too much about.

Seeing her utterly serious face, Du Ziteng scratched his head awkwardly and said, “Yan-jie, I’ll listen to you. I’ll have my wife buy some when I get back. Rice, flour, grain, oil, and medicine—we’ll need them sooner or later anyway.”

Jiang Yan gave a small “mm” and said nothing more.

Before long, they reached Building A.

The five buildings of Shallow Water Bay were laid out in a pyramid formation, with Building A at the innermost point—the tip of the pyramid.

Right now, a moving truck was parked in front of the unit entrance, and workers in blue uniforms were busily hauling down a leather sofa.

Not far away, a strikingly beautiful young woman in a black dress was standing with a boy of seven or eight, giving directions.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and both her right arm and the boy’s left arm wore mourning armbands.

The moment Jiang Yan caught sight of her face, a surge of fury shot up inside her.

That beautiful woman was none other than Zhang Qiqi—the long-hidden mistress of her vile stepfather, Song Deming.

If not for the apocalypse in her previous life, when Song Deming brought her and her son to the villa in the mountains, she too would have died ignorant like her mother.

Back then, Zhang Qiqi had always lived in a villa Song Deming rented for her.

But now, strangely enough, she was moving into this ordinary residential complex.

A blessing in disguise! Searching high and low, only to find it handed right to me!

Thinking of her mother, who had drowned at sea with no body left behind, and of her own tragic fate in the last life, Jiang Yan’s chest burned with anguish, as if a thousand ants gnawed at her heart.

She longed to rush forward and cut down this shameless woman on the spot.

But now wasn’t the time—she didn’t yet have the means to kill Song Deming and Zhang Qiqi.

This was still a society of law. She had to endure.

Clenching her molars, digging her nails into her palm, she drew in several deep breaths to press down the urge for vengeance.

Now that they lived in the same building, she wouldn’t even need to seek her out.

Just endure. When the apocalypse arrived, she would deal with her slowly.

Then a strange thought flickered in her heart:

Could it be that because she had been reborn, and Song Deming had died, Zhang Qiqi’s path in life had changed as well?

Perhaps fate’s wheel had already been set in motion.

And if that was the case—could the timing of the disasters also change?

It seemed she had to advance all her preparations as much as possible.

“Hey! Be careful with that! That sofa is imported calfskin—tens of thousands apiece! If you break it, you’ll never be able to pay for it!” Zhang Qiqi’s words instantly revealed her true nature.

Du Ziteng glanced at her, pressed the elevator button, and muttered under his breath in defense of the movers: “The kind of person I hate most. Where does all that superiority even come from?”

Jiang Yan said nothing, her face solemn.

Her hat and mask covered her features completely.

Zhang Qiqi didn’t recognize her, of course.

Not that she cared if she did.

Soon, Zhang Qiqi and the movers went into the freight elevator.

Jiang Yan took a look too, checking the stairwell beside it.

Once the apocalypse came, with no water and no electricity, elevators would be useless—everyone would have to take the stairs.

Though she planned to hole up in her apartment for as long as possible, she still needed backup plans.

The stairwell was dim, littered with cigarette butts and trash, with a faint stench of urine.

Jiang Yan frowned and quickly turned back.

Meanwhile, the freight elevator crawled up and stopped on the 7th floor.

“Yan-jie, what is it?” Du Ziteng asked, surprised that she had suddenly gone over to the freight elevator.