Chapter 49 – “So This 800,000-Yuan Dress Isn’t Waterproof After All?”

Tu Shanju gave the woman a couple of glances—then suddenly smiled.

“Well, that’s still better than someone who wrecks other people’s families and takes over their homes. Auntie, I’d suggest you savor this last peaceful meal of yours—your nemesis is back, after all.”

Slightly crooked forehead, weak moral compass, asymmetrical cheekbones—prone to falling for married men. Willow-like brows with a mole at the tail—naturally flirtatious, inclined to thievery. Overly thick lower lip with downward-tilted corners—greedy and lazy.

She checked every box of a classic mistress.

And the moment the woman had spat out those snide words, Tu Shanju had already read her fate.

She had a natural “nemesis” in her destiny.

That nemesis? Her current husband’s son.

Or rather, not just a nemesis, but the nemesis to every woman her husband would ever marry. This woman was just the latest victim in line.

Han Linran stared at her in shock. “You—what do you mean? Who are you? You know Lu Cheng?”

Then her expression twisted. “Wait… don’t tell me you’re the one seducing Lu Cheng?!”

Tu Shanju: “…A brain is a useful thing.”

With that, she turned and walked off, unwilling to waste another word.

The woman reached out, trying to grab her.

But Tu Shanju seemed to have eyes in the back of her head and effortlessly dodged.

Han Linran lunged too hard and, thrown off balance by her high heels, stumbled straight into a small decorative fountain nearby—splash!

Tu Shanju tsked.
“800,000 yuan for a dress… and it’s not even waterproof.”

“You!”

Tu Shanju didn’t even spare Han Linran a glance and calmly exited the restroom.

The moment she stepped out, her phone rang—it was Xie Shiyu.

Probably worried since she’d been gone too long.

She told him she’d be right back.

When she returned to the private dining room, Xie Shiyu looked her up and down carefully.
“Something happened in the restroom?”

Tu Shanju nodded. “Mm, ran into some snobbish auntie who judges people by appearances.”

Xie Shiyu frowned. If it made her use those words, it had to be serious.

He knew that in their line of work, there was a strict rule: you don’t use magic on ordinary people, unless it’s protective.

Sort of like the principle that a gun should never be aimed at civilians.

Because if mystics were allowed to use their powers at will on civilians, the world would be chaos.

So he was worried she might’ve been wronged, and reached for his phone—ready to investigate who exactly had bullied her.

But Tu Shanju, catching onto his intent, curled her lips into a confident smile.
“Xie Shiyu, I didn’t get bullied. No one capable of bullying me has been born yet.”

She even lifted her arm and gave it a little flex—proving that even without mystic powers, she was tough.

Xie Shiyu looked at her smug expression and chuckled lowly.
“Alright then. Let’s eat before it gets cold. Try this baked escargot—I think you’ll like it.”

Tu Shanju was instantly distracted by the food and forgot all about the earlier encounter.

After polishing off the appetizers and mains, the final course was classic French macarons. Tu Shanju had eaten plenty back in Yun City, but none as good as these.

While she was happily munching away, Xie Shiyu hesitated before saying,
“Xiao Jiu, I’ve got two childhood friends—Lu Zeyuan and Qi Chen. We’re meeting tonight. Wanna come?”

Tu Shanju paused mid-chew, eyes lifting with a hint of confusion.

He quickly added,
“No pressure at all. If you don’t feel like it, I’ll just take you back to the old house after dinner.”

Tu Shanju pursed her lips. “I never said I didn’t want to go. Xie Shiyu, we’re engaged. Your friends will eventually be my friends too—we’ll have to get along. I may not be great at socializing, but I trust your judgment. If they’re your friends, I’m sure they’re good people.”

Just that one sentence made Xie Shiyu’s eyes light up like stars. His lips curled up with a smile he couldn’t hide.

Tu Shanju didn’t know what he was grinning about, but she’d noticed: in the past few days, he’d been smiling a lot more than when she first arrived.

Still eating her dessert, she thought of something and asked,
“What time’s the meetup? I want to swing by the old house and change first.”

It was her first time meeting his friends—she wanted to look presentable.

“Eight tonight, at Lu Zeyuan’s bar,” Xie Shiyu replied.

Tu Shanju nodded, popped the last macaron into her mouth, wiped her hands, and said,
“Alright, I’ll go take care of something in the meantime. I’ll head back to the old house myself later.”

Seeing that she was done eating, Xie Shiyu set down his coffee.
“Nothing urgent at the office this afternoon. Mind if I tag along? I can drive you, and we’ll go back together afterward.”

Tu Shanju hesitated. Would it be bad if he saw her beat someone up…?

But as soon as she thought that, she felt silly.

He’d seen her slap Bai Yu already—he knew exactly what she was like. There wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen.

“Alright, let’s go. I’m heading to Erlang Shen Microloan Company on Changhong Road Commercial Street.”

Xie Shiyu’s brows furrowed slightly at the name.

It was a name he wasn’t unfamiliar with.

And the reason this tiny loan company stood out in his mind? Because it had a terrible reputation.

Its boss, who went by the very juvenile nickname “Erlang Shen,” was infamous for being ruthless. He ran an underground gang—also called the Erlang Shen Gang—that frequently danced on the edge of legality.

Though Xie Shiyu couldn’t recall the boss’s real name… why was Xiao Jiu going there?

Puzzled but curious, he accompanied Tu Shanju to the commercial street.

Meanwhile, at the very same Erlang Shen Microloan Company that Tu Shanju mentioned, the atmosphere inside the chairman’s office was far from peaceful.

A man wearing a loud floral shirt and red velvet trousers sat in the center of the room, a thick gold chain around his neck. He was sipping tea leisurely on the sofa.

A long scar stretched from his brow to his ear, giving him a vicious look.

Lying on the floor opposite the tea table was an unconscious middle-aged man. On the couch beside him sat a terrified woman, face streaked with tears, her hand reddened from being scalded by a teacup she didn’t dare put down.

The scarred man sneered,
“Come on, sis, drink up. Don’t waste my good tea. I don’t serve this to just anyone.”

The woman sobbed softly, the tea in her trembling hands spilling slightly from fear.

The man clicked his tongue impatiently and shot a look to his underlings nearby.

The goons instantly understood and swung their baseball bats—hard—onto the legs of the man kneeling on the floor.

“AAAH! MY LEG!!”
The man, who had been unconscious, screamed awake in agony.