Chapter 12: Ji Zhao

~This child is so pretty, ah…~

After eighteen years, Zhao Xiangwan finally saw her biological mother.

When she first learned the truth about her origins, she often wondered what her biological parents looked like.

Her adoptive parents were stocky, and her eldest and second brothers were also of medium height, but Zhao Xiangwan was tall and slender.

Her adoptive parents had ordinary looks—double eyelids, big eyes, and round noses. Zhao Xiangwan, however, had distinct features: sharp outlines, narrow double-lidded phoenix eyes, a high straight nose bridge, and a slightly upturned nose tip.

Genetically, her biological parents should be tall, with straight noses and almond-shaped eyes.

Wei Meihua was beautiful, with an oval face, big eyes, and a round nose. Apart from her figure, Zhao Xiangwan bore no resemblance to her.

“Oh, it’s just a cheap item, not high-end. I have things to do, so I’ll be going now,” Wei Meihua said modestly, waving at the flatterer with a forced smile.

[You country bumpkin. You only know about the Overseas Chinese Market ^[1]a store in China selling imported goods, often requiring foreign exchange coupons.. My coat is from Hong Kong, made by a top designer from Country F. You won’t find it in China. Even if you could buy it, with your round figure, a high-end coat worth 3,000 yuan would make you look like a gray mouse.]

She is Wei Meihua.

Hong Kong, Country F, 3,000 yuan… Wei Meihua’s world was far from Zhao Xiangwan’s.

Her rapidly beating heart suddenly calmed.

Wei Meihua walked past Zhao Xiangwan, glancing at her indifferently.

Tap, tap, tap—

Her high heels struck the pavement crisply.

[Where did this country girl come from? Her eyes are surprisingly bright. Too bad birth determines everything. Judging by her looks, she must be a migrant worker. Shabby and stingy, completely unpresentable. My Chenyang is much more refined—everyone says she looks like me.]

Wei Meihua’s cold gaze and condescending attitude kept Zhao Xiangwan from approaching her. She followed silently, listening to her thoughts.

[Chen Yang is a good girl—she has sharp eyes and knows how to curry favor with Zhou Jingrong. Thanks to her, we’re connected to the Xu Group. She even advised me to buy stocks. It was profitable. In 1987, Shenzhen Development Bank stock was 20 yuan per share. I bought 100 shares for 2,000 yuan and got 7 yuan per share in dividends in 1988, 10 yuan per share in 1989, plus a rights issue. I recovered my investment immediately. She’s truly my little lucky charm.]

Zhao Xiangwan paused.

[When Chen Yang graduates in three years and marries into the Xu family, with the Xu and Zhou families supporting me, maybe I, Wei Meihua, could even become the governor’s wife. Who would’ve thought this daughter would be so useful? If I win today’s card game, I’ll buy Chen Yang some nice clothes. I must win over the Xu family’s son.]

The sidewalk was lined with lush camphor trees, the setting sun filtering through the leaves. Yet, the scattered sunlight brought no warmth.

Ever since learning at ten that she was an illegitimate daughter abandoned in the countryside and replaced by Zhao Chenyang, Zhao Xiangwan had endured everything.

Zhao Qingyun had been cautious. When he searched for his daughter in Zhaojiagou, he concealed his official status, fearing extortion by country folks. After he left, Zhao Chenyang vanished. The only clue Zhao Xiangwan had was that Zhao Qingyun was a leader in Xing City. Even Qian Shufen knew nothing about his exact address.

In the 1980s, with limited transportation and communication, what could a ten-year-old girl do? Zhao Xiangwan could only study hard, get into Xing City, and position herself for success.

Now, after finally meeting her biological mother, her once-burning heart turned cold.

She was beautiful but shallow, motherly but calculating, obsessed with power, wealth, and luxury. Everything about her felt unfamiliar.

After eight years, Zhao Chenyang and Wei Meihua had grown close—Zhao Xiangwan had no place between them.

The provincial party committee compound was difficult to enter.
So was the threshold to her biological parents’ home.

If she approached Wei Meihua and told her the truth, would she believe her?

Having an illegitimate daughter must be a shameful secret Zhao Qingyun and Wei Meihua wanted to bury. If she had truly cared, how could she have abandoned her daughter for ten years? Now that she had formed a beneficial relationship with Zhao Chenyang, would she give it up?

Zhao Xiangwan’s eyes darkened.

Wei Meihua sensed someone following her. She slowed down cautiously, clutching her pearl fish leather handbag. Tilting her head slightly, she glanced from the corner of her eye. Seeing it was the slender girl from earlier, she relaxed.

[Why is this country girl following me? Is she trying to blackmail me? These rural people are all the same—latching onto the rich. I’d better hurry. I can’t miss my 10 o’clock mahjong game at Jingsheng.]

Zhao Xiangwan suddenly found it amusing.

Since Wei Meihua thought she was a rural extortionist, why not play along?

Zhao Xiangwan quickened her pace, blocking Wei Meihua’s path. She clenched her fists at her sides, leaning forward slightly. “Aunt Wei? Hello, my… my last name is Zhao.”

Wei Meihua impatiently raised her hand, cutting off Zhao Xiangwan. “Okay, okay, I get it. You said your last name is Zhao. Are you from Zhao Qingyun’s hometown?”

She pulled out two bills from her purse and stuffed them into Zhao Xiangwan’s hand. “You came here from the countryside just for money, right? Here, take this and leave.”

Zhao Xiangwan looked down at the money—a fifty-yuan and a ten-yuan bill—then glanced up at Wei Meihua.

Having seen many of Zhao Qingyun’s country relatives come to Xing City seeking help, Wei Meihua was skilled at sending them away. “Listen, it’s not easy for us in Xing City. Old Zhao is just an office clerk at the provincial party committee and can’t help you. Take this money and don’t come back.”

The sun set, and dusk crept in. The autumn wind brushed against Zhao Xiangwan’s neck, but she didn’t feel cold. She pocketed the sixty yuan, gave Wei Meihua a deep look, then turned and left.

I now know where my biological parents live and have met my mother. This trip was worth it. Now, I’ll decide what to do next.

Patience—I never lacked it.

Wei Meihua watched Zhao Xiangwan’s tall figure disappear, feeling strangely unsettled. After a long pause, she stomped her foot and grumbled, “Outrageous! She took the money without even a word of thanks!”

_

A week later, Zhu Feipeng hosted a dinner to celebrate solving a major case.

Zhao Xiangwan had cut her hair short and wore a military green tweed jacket issued by the school, cinched at the waist with a matching belt. The crisp uniform accentuated her youthful energy and gave her a rare heroic air.

At dusk, Zhao Xiangwan, Xu Songling, and Zhou Qiaoxiu arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel.

The Four Seasons Hotel was the most luxurious in southern Xing City. The sixteen-story building, covered in a sky-blue glass curtain wall, gleamed in the sunset like a massive crystal column. A neon sign, three stories high, flashed the hotel’s name: “Four Seasons Hotel.”

With over 80 luxury rooms and suites, the first three floors housed restaurants and bars, the fourth to fifteenth floors contained guest rooms, and the top floor held a private club spanning 2,000 square meters. The club featured a 25-meter indoor heated pool and was not open to the public. The hotel symbolized top-tier luxury in the Hunan provincial capital.

Zhao Xiangwan wondered how an ordinary criminal policeman like Zhu Feipeng could afford to host a dinner there. Zhou Qiaoxiu, noticing her confusion, explained.

Zhu Feipeng’s parents left their jobs in the 1980s to start a business and became wealthy. They had hoped he would follow in their footsteps, but he had dreamed of being a police officer since childhood. Unable to change his mind, they let him study at the People’s Public Security University. After graduation, he was assigned to the Municipal Public Security Bureau as a criminal policeman, earning only 70–80 yuan a month.

Unwilling to see their only son struggle, his parents gave him 2,000 yuan in pocket money monthly. Generous by nature, Zhu often treated others. This dinner was both a celebration and a way to express gratitude to Zhao Xiangwan.

Xu Songling laughed. “Zhao Xiangwan, thanks to you, we get to eat at such a fancy place.”

Zhou Qiaoxiu smiled. “Zhu Feipeng’s mother manages this hotel, so he gets a discount. Better to keep the money in the family.”

The three entered the lobby, chatting and laughing.

The white marble floor gleamed under dazzling crystal chandeliers. In the largest banquet hall on the east side, violin music played while uniformed waiters moved about. A poster by the entrance bore bold calligraphy:

—Ji Zhao’s Personal Painting Exhibition.