Although Su Linlang had reached the main gate, she still couldn’t leave.

That was because He Mo, who had promised to accompany her, hadn’t arrived yet and had asked her to wait.

According to the servants of the second household, the second wife had fainted again, and He Mo was waiting for the doctor to arrive.

Unlike the first wife, Xu Wanxin, who was an ordinary woman, the second wife, Sun Linda, was a former superstar in Hong Kong.

She had gained fame for acting in romantic films and was once hailed as the “Queen of Romance Films.”

However, after becoming pregnant out of wedlock, she had knelt outside the old master’s room for three days and nights, with her belly visibly showing.

Only after the matriarch personally intervened was she allowed to marry into the family.

Later, she left the entertainment industry, devoted herself to supporting her husband and raising her children, and took care of the elderly matriarch until her passing.

She even went back to school and earned a Master’s in Economics from the University of Hong Kong. Known for her exceptional beauty and academic qualifications, she became the epitome of the ideal wealthy wife in Hong Kong society.

When Su Linlang first arrived in Hong Kong, Sun Linda was diagnosed with neurasthenia.

Her treatment was entrusted to her niece, Sun Jiaqian, who had a Master’s in Psychology from the University of Hong Kong and had also competed in the Miss Hong Kong pageant, winning third place.

Sun Jiaqian, who was both beautiful and well-educated, had even volunteered to serve as Su Linlang’s bridesmaid.

While waiting, Su Linlang asked the butler, Liu Guan: “Uncle Liu, who is the driver taking me out today?”

This was an important question, but she had deliberately waited until now to ask it.

She was confident Liu Guan would give her a satisfactory answer.

As expected, he said, “It’s my son, who is also the old master’s personal driver. He only has one quality: honesty.”

Liu Guan, who had served the He family faithfully for three generations, was someone they all trusted.

His son, by extension, would also be reliable—at least on the surface.

As they were talking, He Mo arrived. “Linlang, you’ve waited a long time. Are you unhappy?”

He had, of course, changed into a new outfit: a grey Armani suit that made him appear much more formal.

“Unlike you, who grew up cutting sugarcane on a farm and developed a robust physique, your aunt has a Master’s in Economics from HKU. She’s a beauty and a scholar who studied so hard she ruined her health. Linlang, you mustn’t laugh at her,” he added.

Wasn’t this a deliberate jab, implying she was a country bumpkin from the mainland?

Su Linlang didn’t get angry or anxious.

She replied casually, “Second Uncle could let Aunt go to the farm and cut some sugarcane. It’s good exercise, builds strength, and she’d recover her health naturally.”

Her tone was steady, but her sharp wit left He Mo fuming.

He clenched his teeth, thinking: Is she genuinely clueless or pretending not to understand my mockery?

He Mo forced a smile. “Asking your aunt to cut sugarcane? That’s a nice idea. But I’m afraid she’d get mad and divorce me, then go into business with Jiaqian. Hong Kong would gain two beautiful businesswomen, but our family would lose the only wife worth showing off!”

Oh, so he was implying she wasn’t “worth showing off.”

Su Linlang looked serious. “Second Uncle, you’re balding and have a belly. You need exercise too. I suggest you join Aunt and Jiaqian in cutting sugarcane. Wouldn’t that be even nicer?”

Is she truly ignorant or just pretending?

Blood rushed to He Mo’s head as he plotted his next move.

When they stepped out, he planned to slyly hint to reporters that He Puting didn’t accompany her because he disliked her, framing her as crude and unworthy of the family.

He imagined the media gleefully running with the story, mocking her, and making her the laughingstock of Hong Kong.

But just as he was relishing the thought, Su Linlang suddenly placed her hand gently on his waist and whispered, “Second Uncle?”

He turned around.

She smiled, her lips still showing traces of baby fat, reminding him she was just a child.

If she hadn’t been so overambitious in trying to seize control of the household, He Mo wouldn’t have bothered stooping to her level.

She pointed behind him. “Why didn’t you check when you pulled up your pants? Your underwear’s rolled up and sticking out.”

What?

The meticulously dressed Second Master He, with his underwear showing?

Had he been too hasty while being intimate with his wife earlier?

He Mo instinctively turned to look.

Seizing the moment, Su Linlang gave him a hard shove and tripped him with her foot.

The sound of camera shutters clicked rapidly as He Mo stumbled out the door.

He fell flat on his face.

Wealthy families’ weddings are always a media spectacle. Any photo of the newlyweds would guarantee a story.

The reporters gathered outside the He residence today were especially numerous.

After all, rumors of a kidnapping had spread.

Just two days ago, He Puting’s grand wedding had made headlines.

That same night, a shooting occurred in the Cross-Harbour Tunnel, and a bullet-riddled Mercedes was pulled out, still shedding shell casings.

Although the license plate had been removed, seasoned reporters identified it as He Puting’s car.

The He family hadn’t reported it to the police or held a press conference, fueling speculation that He Puting had been kidnapped.

Reporters, eager for details, camped outside the He residence, ready to turn any tidbit into a sensational story.

When the doors opened, the journalists rushed forward, only to see Second Master He tumble down the steps in an ungraceful heap. Cameras flashed wildly.

But the real focus was Su Linlang. As soon as she stepped out alone, microphones were thrust toward her.

“Miss Su, how does it feel to be newly married? Where is He Puting? Why didn’t he come out with you?”

“Is it true he’s been kidnapped? Are you going to rescue him? Should we join you?”

“How much is the ransom? Can you reveal the amount?”

Hong Kong reporters were relentless, their questions cunning traps.

Inside, He Puzhu, who had been laughing arrogantly, froze. His older brother kidnapped?

That couldn’t be true, could it?

He Mo was thrown to the ground face-first and struggled to get up, only to be trampled by the swarm of reporters.

His head and body were stepped on repeatedly during his attempts, leaving him completely flattened as the reporters’ stepping stone.

Steward Liu wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling uneasy. This is bad, he thought. The reporters’ questions are so tricky, and the young mistress is inexperienced. What if she falls into their trap and reveals something by accident?

But Su Linlang remained calm. Flash after flash from the cameras lit up her face, and she didn’t even blink.

She neither spoke nor moved. Her composure unsettled the reporters, who eventually grew quiet.

As silence fell over the scene, everyone turned to her, watching her in a hushed anticipation that lasted at least three minutes.

This was the commanding presence of a former interstellar general.

Finally, she spoke in crisp, standard Mandarin:
“Thank you all for braving the heat to be here today. On behalf of Pu Ting, I express my heartfelt thanks!”

The crowd was momentarily dumbfounded.

This was Port City, where Cantonese was the dominant language.

Mainland newcomers often rushed to learn Cantonese to shed their accents and avoid discrimination from locals.

Yet, Su Linlang spoke Mandarin with such natural ease, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Her unapologetic use of Mandarin somehow made her seem particularly sincere.

Some reporters tried to bring up the kidnapping case, but every time someone jumped in with a question, Su Linlang locked her sharp gaze onto them.

This unnerved the others, who then jostled to push those interjectors out of the prime spots, creating a strange, silent commotion.

At last, Su Linlang accepted a microphone marked with a TVB logo and stepped forward to face the cameras.

She was about to speak, and all the microphones surged forward.

He Mo finally managed to climb to his feet, his face covered in shoe prints.

He was about to shout in anger when Su Linlang began speaking in a bright, clear voice:

“Today, we are heading to offer respects at the temple, a solemn and sacred occasion. Pu Ting has a minor cold, and it would be disrespectful for him to sniffle before Buddha. Therefore, I decided he should not attend.”

She didn’t directly address whether her husband had been kidnapped but provided a reasonable explanation for his absence.

He Mo felt an itch in his nose.

Wiping it, he realized his nose was bleeding profusely.

Staggering backward, he glanced toward He Pu Zhu inside the house and then at Steward Liu, both of whom looked utterly stunned.

The agreed-upon statement was merely to say that Pu Ting was unwell and unable to leave the house. But Su Linlang had added a personal touch, making her explanation even more convincing. Moreover, she subtly hinted at the harmonious relationship between her and her husband, portraying them as a loving couple.

Her use of Mandarin, with its unique tone of earnestness, actually persuaded the reporters.

Yes, she made the reporters—who came prepared to investigate a kidnapping—believe that Pu Ting was perfectly fine and simply suffering from a minor cold.

…

One reporter said, “It seems like Mr. He hasn’t been kidnapped and is safe. Congratulations!”

Another added, “Who would’ve thought that Mr. He was so devoted to his wife? Congratulations on your wedding, Ms. Su!”

“Congratulations on your marriage, Ms. Su,” chimed in others, raising their hands.

Steward Liu quickly handed out red envelopes at Su Linlang’s suggestion, as she switched to Cantonese with a warm smile: “Thank you, everyone. Please accept these small tokens. See you next time!”

Her eyes swept over the crowd, and wherever her gaze landed, people instinctively stepped aside.

Gradually, the reporters made way, opening a clear path for her.

She strolled through the passage leisurely, got into the car, and left.

…

Steward Liu turned to He Mo. “Second Master, your nose might need some treatment.”

He Mo was baffled.

Dealing with such cunning reporters was beyond even the most seasoned figures like the First Madam, Xu Wanxin. Only his wife, Sun Linda, who was an actress and well-read, could manage such poise and ease.

But how had Su Linlang done it?

And why had she pushed and shoved him earlier? Was she crazy? Was she trying to kill him and take over the family fortune?

The crass, wild, uncultured mainland girl—He Mo wanted nothing more than to drag her out of the car and teach her a lesson.

But, of course, he couldn’t. His elder brother was in a coma, his nephew kidnapped. Stirring up the reporters now would only tie the He family to an even bigger mess and put them in a worse position!

Wiping his bloodied nose, He Mo gritted his teeth. “When she comes back, I’ll make her understand the power of the Second Master!”

…

Su Linlang was facing a case that would undoubtedly be recorded in the annals of Port City history—a kidnapping that shook the city.

She had dealt with the reporters, ensuring they wouldn’t chase her car today.

He Mo, with his smashed nose, would obediently stay home and handle the kidnappers’ calls without provoking them into harming Pu Ting to make a point.

Now, Su Linlang had to focus on finding the key person—the insider helping the kidnappers.

If Xu Tianxi was clean and He Mo stayed behind, that left only one person: the driver taking her today.

Out of favor with the old master, Su Linlang had been assigned his prized Rolls-Royce Silver Spur for travel.

It was a car of prestige, with the family chauffeur, Liu Bo, at the helm—a man often described as particularly honest.

But as soon as Su Linlang got into the car, she noticed something off about this “honest man.”

Liu Bo, in his late twenties, wore a crisp white shirt and polished black shoes, presenting himself immaculately.

Yet, he seemed unusually restless, repeatedly rubbing the double-R emblem on the steering wheel with one hand while occasionally wiping his nose with the other, as if it itched. Such nervous behavior was hardly befitting a grown man.

Outside the car, reporters continued snapping photos furiously. Su Linlang waved goodbye with a smile, waiting until the last flash faded before reaching out and slapping the back of the driver’s seat. “Hey, Brother Liu?”

Liu Bo instantly straightened, as if a needle had jabbed him in the back. “Are… are we leaving now?”

“Of course,” Xu Tianxi replied from the front seat. “Second Master isn’t coming with us, not with his nose bleeding like that.”

The elegant off-white Silver Spur slowly pulled away, leaving the reporters behind as it descended from the serene Tai Ping mountain into the bustling city below.

But before he could pry it open, a hand forcefully pressed down on his, pinning it firmly against the armrest box. The icy cold barrel of a gun was immediately pressed against his temple.

It was her—the newlywed young mistress, Su Linlang.

She… she was holding a gun.

A handgun!