Chapter 7: The Fly Flies Away  

Wang Meifeng was in the midst of her tirade when Zhao Chen’s sudden “concern” caught her off guard. Instinctively, she followed his lead and began to vent: “Exactly! It’s driving me mad! My husband, fooled by some damned smooth-talker, invested in some so-called ‘high-return, risk-free’ financial scheme a while back! Called something like… ‘Golden Prosperity Wealth’! He threw in nearly a hundred thousand! And now, with the maturity date approaching, there’s not even a ripple! When we called to ask, they kept making excuses—system maintenance, delayed payouts! It’s infuriating! That’s money we’ve saved up for years!”  

Zhao Chen slightly furrowed his brows, adopting an expression of earnest empathy. He pulled out his phone, casually swiping through it as if searching for something, muttering to himself, “Golden Prosperity Wealth… that name… sounds familiar…”  

After a few swipes, his finger suddenly stopped. His frown deepened, his face turning grave and anxious, his voice lowering with an urgency that suggested he’d stumbled upon something dire. “Oh no! Auntie! You—you need to see this!” He thrust his phone screen right in front of Wang Meifeng’s eyes.  

On the screen was a push notification from a reputable local financial news app. A bold, red headline glared back at her:  

**URGENT EXPOSÉ! ‘Golden Prosperity Wealth’ Involved in Illegal Fundraising Scam! Police Have Launched Investigation! Investors Across Multiple Regions Left with Nothing!**  

Below the headline were photos of police raiding offices and arresting suspects.  

“What?!” Wang Meifeng shrieked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. She snatched Zhao Chen’s phone, her eyes bulging like copper bells as she devoured every word on the screen. The color drained from her face in an instant, leaving her thickly powdered complexion as pale as cheap paper. Her lips trembled, and her fingers turned white from gripping the phone too tightly.  

“N-no… impossible! Th-this has to be fake! Fake!” she muttered in a daze, her panicked eyes scanning the article’s description of the scam—high-interest bait, fake projects, pooled funds—exactly as her husband had described it. And the victims’ tearful accounts… A chill shot up from her feet to the crown of her head, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.  

“Auntie, calm down!” Zhao Chen steadied her wobbling figure with well-timed concern, his brows knitted in worry. “This news just broke this afternoon! The police are already on it! You need to call Uncle right now and confirm if it’s really this ‘Golden Prosperity Wealth’! If it is… we have to act fast! Any later, and you might not get a single cent back!”  

“Y-yes! Call! Call!” Wang Meifeng snapped out of her stupor, fumbling for her cracked old phone with shaking hands. She misdialed several times in her panic. All thoughts of berating Yu Ling or probing Zhao Chen’s financial status vanished—her mind was now consumed by the terrifying prospect of losing that hundred thousand. That was her lifeblood!

The phone finally connected, and Wang Meifeng unleashed a hysterical wail and barrage of accusations into the receiver: “Old Li! That Golden Prosperity Wealth you invested in—it’s in trouble, isn’t it?! It’s all over the news! It’s a scam! The police have arrested people! Where’s the money?! Where’s my money?!”

A man’s flustered and remorseful excuses seemed to come through the line, and Wang Meifeng’s voice suddenly rose to a shrill pitch, filled with despair and fury: “What?! You don’t know either?! You damned fool! I told you not to invest, not to invest! But you wouldn’t listen! Now look! It’s all gone! All of it! I’ll never forgive you!” She sobbed and shrieked, her voice piercing and grating, tears mixing with smeared eyeliner and mascara to carve two absurdly pitiful black streaks down her face.

She no longer cared about Yu Ling or Zhao Chen, nor about maintaining any semblance of dignity. Like a mangy dog with its backbone ripped out, she staggered toward the door in a daze, muttering frantically under her breath: “It’s over, it’s over… my money… I have to go back… I have to settle this with them…”

“Auntie, slow down! Watch your step!” Zhao Chen called out “concernedly” from behind, his tone dripping with “sympathy.”

Wang Meifeng didn’t even hear him. Without bothering to change her shoes properly (she had swapped into Yu Ling’s slippers earlier), she yanked the door open and stumbled out as if fleeing from ghosts, her high heels clattering a frantic, receding rhythm down the hallway.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, cutting off the chaos outside.

The entryway instantly returned to silence. Only the lingering scent of cheap perfume and the echoes of her wails served as reminders that what had just happened wasn’t a hallucination.

Yu Ling stared, dumbfounded, at the lightning-fast turn of events, then turned to look at Zhao Chen beside her, his face the picture of “innocence” and “concern.” She recalled his perfectly timed “shock,” his “concerned” gesture of handing over the phone, and that precisely calculated remark that had detonated Wang Meifeng’s panic—every step executed flawlessly, without a trace of acting, yet striking directly at her weakest point!

Was… was this really just a coincidence?

She abruptly turned her gaze to Zhao Chen’s phone screen. The shocking news notification was still there, its timestamp glaringly clear: five minutes ago—right when Wang Meifeng had barged in, spewing her nonsense.

A chill crept up her spine, mingling with a profound sense of absurdity. Had he been… just scrolling through his phone earlier? Or… had he been waiting for the perfect moment?

Zhao Chen seemed oblivious to Yu Ling’s probing stare. He glanced down at his phone, casually closed the news app, and resumed his gentle, harmless smile, as if the person who had just stirred up a storm without lifting a finger wasn’t him at all.

He reached out, brushing away nonexistent dust from Yu Ling’s shoulder with effortless naturalness, his fingertips warm and soothing.

“There, the annoying fly is gone,” he said lightly, as if he’d merely shooed away an insignificant insect. His eyes softened as they met Yu Ling’s. “The steak’s probably a bit cold by now. Should I heat it up? Let’s not let some irrelevant person ruin our Lingling’s good mood… or our delicious dinner.” His last words lifted slightly at the end, teasing and affectionate, his gaze flickering over the flickering candlelight on the table.

Yu Ling gazed into his clear, frank amber eyes, then at the phone in his hand that seemed to hold countless secrets. The enormous question mark in her heart was like a stone thrown into a deep pool, sending ripples that refused to settle.

This man… just how many unfathomable things lay hidden beneath his gentle, harmless facade?

Before she could ponder further, Zhao Chen had already turned toward the microwave (he insisted that microwaving steak was a culinary crime, but speed was of the essence now), his movements still composed and graceful. Picking up Yu Ling’s barely touched steak plate, he tilted his head and flashed her a clean, slightly expectant smile—like a cat waiting for praise after successfully sneaking a treat.

“Just now… did that count as a heroic rescue?” He blinked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Yu Ling watched his back wrapped in the Little Whale Apron, then glanced at the glass of wine shimmering seductively under candlelight on the table. Wang Meifeng’s pale, desperate face as she fled flashed through her mind again…

Strangely, her doubts and shock were replaced by an overwhelming sense of schadenfreude-laced relief and an indescribable warmth.

She couldn’t help but burst into laughter, all her earlier frustration vanishing as her eyes curved like crescents brimming with starlight.

“Mhm!” She nodded emphatically, her voice bright with post-crisis ease and a hint of playful cunning. “A distinguished service indeed! Your reward… is finishing my steak too!”