Chapter 18: The East Wind of Yore

“Being taken in by the Shang family isn’t your fate—it’s theirs. What’s the matter? Aren’t they lucky to have a granddaughter who’s both beautiful and considerate? The Shang family can easily afford to raise you; even if they had ten thousand like you, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Take the matter of Shang Biehan, for instance. Grandpa Shang was constantly worried, and Jiuxu, though young, was mature beyond his years. How much joy have you brought to the Shang family?”

Xu Wanjun was very familiar with the Shangs. She spoke freely about matters others wouldn’t dare mention.

Her words were sharper than Su Mian remembered, but her gentle, mature voice softened their edge.

People who have braved the world are simply different.

Su Mian smiled and poured her a drink, signaling a toast.

The incident with Shang Biehan was the deepest taboo in the Shang family.

Though Shang Jiuxu never spoke of it, Su Mian knew it was the most secret and profound pain in his heart.

Everyone in the Shang family, including Grandpa Shang, treated it as a forbidden subject.

Mentioning this secret brought to Su Mian an unhappy memory.

When she was little, Shang Ji had told the clueless Shang Biehan about the matter, frightening him into a fever that wouldn’t break.

At that time, Shang Biehan was six, Su Mian four, and Shang Ji also six.

Grandpa Shang was livid, his face dark as he summoned all the servants to question who had leaked the secret.

Six-year-old Shang Ji told Grandpa it was Su Mian who had told Shang Biehan.

Although Grandpa believed Su Mian, he couldn’t understand why six-year-old Shang Ji would lie.

He was confused and thought it must be a misunderstanding. He could only wait until Shang Biehan woke up to learn the truth.

Shang Biehan had fainted for three days and nights before being saved, but he remembered nothing of what had happened before he lost consciousness—not even the secret incident.

Little Su Mian pinched her palm tightly to hold back her tears.

Though young, she was not foolish; she vaguely realized that Shang Ji had slandered her, but the stain could not be washed away.

At that time, Shang Jiuxu was ten, in fourth grade, just back from summer camp. Noticing the tense atmosphere at home, he learned the details from Aunt Zhou and then confronted Grandpa.

The young boy was sturdy and upright, holding his sister’s hand as he looked down at the crouching grandpa. His voice was low but resolute: “I never told anyone about this. Aunt Zhou doesn’t know, and Qingqing definitely doesn’t know.

But Shang Ji is the culprit. Since he might have heard something from his mother’s side, if Shang Biehan heard about it from others, it could only have been leaked by Shang Ji.”

“Grandpa,” his eyes serious, “you’ve misunderstood Qingqing. You should apologize to her.”

Grandpa Shang didn’t believe Su Mian was at fault; he instinctively felt something was amiss.

However, Shang Ji was his biological grandson, and Su Mian was his cherished little darling—both equally dear to him—so he tried to smooth things over.

He immediately apologized sincerely to Su Mian and compensated her with many gifts.

Only then did the soft, tender little girl dare to sob uncontrollably, wrapping her arms around Shang Jiuxu’s fair neck, tears streaming like broken pearls into the collar of his shirt, flowing down his spine and disappearing beneath the sky-blue T-shirt around his back and waist.

As the saying goes, when a child sees their mother, they shed three bouts of tears for no reason.

Though she lost her mother early, Shang Jiuxu embodied that unconditional sense of safety for her, allowing her to cry freely.

The young Shang Jiuxu gently patted Su Mian’s back, softly coaxing her: “How about I make you a wooden motorboat? You can put it in the pond behind West Mountain and control it with a remote.”

His new trick learned at summer camp worked perfectly to stop the little girl’s tears.

Shang Jiuxu had made her a small boat from foam and wood that could hold her, but it had to be rowed manually.

Su Mian’s delicate little arms and chubby hands couldn’t manage to row it, so the boat would drift into the depths of the lotus flowers, where she would calmly wait for Shang Jiuxu to swim over and rescue her.

She had long been longing for a motorboat.

Shang Ji didn’t escape either.

When he heard that Shang Jiuxu had returned, he hid in Grandpa’s room out of fear, but Shang Jiuxu dragged him out by the collar in front of Grandpa and beat him severely in the family ancestral hall.

He was bedridden for over a week and forced to write a long apology letter to Su Mian in phonetic script, admitting his wrongdoing.

Grandpa was so angry after reading the letter that he ignored Shang Ji for more than half a month.

Su Mian sat on her small bed, swinging her feet. When she heard the secret from Aunt Zhou, the latter said it was the eldest young master who had told her when he was a child.

So why did Shang Jiuxu deny telling Aunt Zhou to clear Su Mian’s name?

But she planned never to tell Grandpa about this because she was a little upset with him—just a little.

This was a little secret between Shang Jiuxu and her, far smaller than the family secret but much sweeter—sweeter than sitting on a motorboat eating chilled watermelon.

The expensive clink of glasses brought Su Mian back from her memories.

“Are you filming a movie recently?” Xu Wanjun changed the subject seeing Su Mian reluctant to speak further.

Just then, the waiter knocked softly on the door. The two greeted him as the dishes were served.

Burrata ham salad, lava pulled roasted pork bun, Italian fried veal chop with black truffle, lobster and lime fettuccine, signature tiramisu.

Since Xu Wanjun decided to become an actress and began working out, she had craved protein and carbohydrates. Su Mian ordered the most energizing dishes for her.

The waiter introduced each dish in turn: “...Italian crispy bread stuffed with slow-roasted juicy pork, paired with creamy molten cheese, crispy on the outside, flavorful inside, rich but not greasy. Enjoy your meal, ladies.”

Su Mian didn’t interrupt him. After he finished and stepped back, she handed Xu Wanjun a pork bun with the communal utensils and then replied, “I just wrapped up my last project, a TV series. I’m planning to explore new films next.”

“A TV series?”

A TV series can boost national recognition, but Su Mian had already become a household name with her Best Actress film. Why would she do TV?

Xu Wanjun hesitated, “You...”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it: the young lady of the Shang family surely wasn’t short on money.

Su Mian cut into the steak, the fragrant juices pooling on the plate. She looked down and said, “I sold all my savings in the Shang family, including the luxury SUV Shang Jiuxu gave me and the sea-view house Grandpa bought for me.

All my assets, over two years ago, I went all in on one film, where I was both producer and lead actress.

The earnings from the last two years, I reinvested them into post-production.”

Xu Wanjun was a little shocked: “All? All in?”

As a scion of a prominent family herself, she understood exactly what that meant.

This was a high-stakes gamble, risking Su Mian’s fortune and life.

“But why go all out like this? Wouldn’t steady progress also lead to success?”

Su Mian had earned Best Actress on her own merit, but that film hadn’t even been released yet.

She had already proven she was no hidden gem. So why make such a big gamble? Did she not believe she could carve out her own path?

What was Su Mian truly after?

“Do you know that if the film fails, not only will you lose everything you’ve invested, but your reputation and the prestige of the Best Actress award will also be dragged down to rock bottom?”

“Yes.”

Su Mian knew this well; she had prepared herself before making the decision.

She smiled and looked up, locking eyes with the woman across the long table, radiating an aura of resolute dignity that made it clear she was no longer the naive little girl she once was.

“This is why I must place such a large bet—because if I win, I will stand shoulder to shoulder with someone.”

To enter the world of capital, to cross social boundaries.

Needing no one’s help, she herself would be the driving force.