Chapter Seven: The Fly Has Flown Away

Page (1/3)

Wang Meifeng was in the middle of a rant when Zhao Chen’s sudden show of “concern” caught her off guard. Instinctively, she followed his lead to complain: “Exactly! It’s so frustrating! My husband recently got conned by some scoundrel into investing in a so-called ‘high-return, guaranteed profit’ financial scheme! What’s it called… ‘Golden Fortune Wealth’? We put in nearly a hundred thousand yuan! It’s almost matured, but we haven’t seen a single cent of profit! When I called them, they kept making excuses—something about system maintenance and delayed payouts! It’s driving me crazy! That was money we saved up for a long time!”

Zhao Chen furrowed his brows slightly, wearing an expression of serious attentiveness and empathy. He pulled out his phone, idly swiping across the screen as if searching for something, muttering under his breath: “Golden Fortune Wealth… that name sounds familiar…”

After a few swipes, his finger suddenly stopped. His brows knitted tighter, and a grave, worried look spread across his face. His voice lowered with an urgency that suggested he had just uncovered something dire: “Ah! Aunt! You… you need to see this right now!” He thrust his phone screen sharply in front of Wang Meifeng.

On the screen was a local, highly trusted financial news app’s breaking news page. A bold, red headline screamed:
“Urgent Exposure! ‘Golden Fortune Wealth’ Suspected of Illegal Fundraising Fraud! Police Have Launched an Investigation! Investors in Multiple Locations Suffer Total Losses!”

Beneath the headline were several photos showing police sealing the company’s offices and arresting suspects.

“What?!” Wang Meifeng shrieked like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. She snatched the phone from Zhao Chen’s hand, her eyes wide as copper bells, staring fixedly at every word on the screen. The color drained instantly from her face, her thickly powdered complexion turning as pale as cheap paper. Her lips trembled, and her fingers clenched so tightly the knuckles turned white.

“No… no way! This… this has to be fake! Fake!” she muttered in a daze, her eyes darting wildly over the description of the scam tactics—high-interest bait, bogus projects, fund pool operations—all exactly what her husband had told her. The accounts of victims’ heartbreak echoed in her mind. A chill seemed to surge from her feet up through her skull, and the world spun around her.

“Aunt, calm down!” Zhao Chen supported her unsteady frame just in time, his tone filled with “sincere” concern, brows knitted tight in worry. “This news was just published this afternoon! The police have already filed a case! You need to call Uncle right away to confirm if this is really the ‘Golden Fortune Wealth’! If it is… we have to act fast! If you’re too late, you might not get a single cent back!”

“Yes, yes, call him! Call now!” Wang Meifeng snapped back to reality, fumbling nervously to pull out her old phone, which already had a cracked screen. Her fingers trembled as she dialed, pressing the wrong keys several times. She no longer cared about scolding Yu Ling or whether Zhao Chen was rich or poor; her mind was consumed by that lost hundred thousand yuan—it was her lifeline!

Finally, the call connected. Wang Meifeng launched into a hysterical barrage of sobbing and accusations: “Old Li! Did the Golden Fortune Wealth investment you made go wrong?! It’s all over the news! It’s a scam! The police are arresting people! Where’s the money?! My money?!”

From the other end came a man’s panicked, remorseful protests. Wang Meifeng’s voice shot up, saturated with despair and fury: “What?! You don’t know either?! You son of a—! I told you not to invest! But you wouldn’t listen! Now look! It’s all gone! All gone! I’m not done with you!” Her screams were sharp and piercing, tears mixing with smudged eyeliner and mascara, carving two ridiculous and pitiful black streaks down her face.

Page (2/3)

She no longer paid attention to Yu Ling or Zhao Chen, nor cared about keeping any composure. Like a dog stripped of its backbone, she staggered blindly toward the door, muttering nervously, “It’s over… my money… I have to go back… I have to confront them…”

“Aunt, slow down! Watch your step!” Zhao Chen called after her with “sympathetic” concern.

Wang Meifeng ignored him, even failing to properly change out of Yu Ling’s slippers that she had borrowed earlier. She yanked open the door and dashed out as if chased by ghosts, her high heels clattering wildly through the hallway, their frantic rhythm fading into the distance.

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

Inside the entranceway, silence returned instantly. Only the lingering scent of cheap perfume and the echo of her cries remained as proof that the turmoil had not been a hallucination.

Yu Ling stared in disbelief at the lightning-fast turn of events, then glanced at Zhao Chen beside her, whose face bore an expression of seeming innocence and concern. She recalled how perfectly timed Zhao Chen’s “surprise,” “concern,” and the presentation of the phone had been, along with his precisely worded warning that ignited panic… The entire act was seamless and natural, leaving no trace of performance, yet it struck directly at Wang Meifeng’s weak spot.

Was this really just a coincidence?

Yu Ling suddenly fixed her gaze on Zhao Chen’s phone screen. The shocking news alert still displayed there, with a timestamp showing—it had been posted just five minutes ago! Exactly when Wang Meifeng had burst in with her rant!

A wave of cold mixed with absurdity surged up Yu Ling’s spine. Had Zhao Chen just been playing on his phone? Or… was he patiently waiting for the perfect moment?

Zhao Chen seemed oblivious to Yu Ling’s probing look. He glanced down at the screen, casually closed the news app, and once more wore a gentle, harmless smile, as if the man who had just stirred up such a storm without a sound was not him at all.

He raised his hand and, with a natural motion, brushed off nonexistent dust from Yu Ling’s shoulder. His fingertips were warm, carrying a soothing intent.

Page (3/3)

“There, the annoying fly has flown away,” he said lightly, as though merely shooing away a trivial insect. His gaze softened warmly toward Yu Ling. “The steak looks a bit cold, doesn’t it? I’ll warm it up. We shouldn’t let irrelevant people ruin your good mood, Lingling, or… our delicious dinner.” His final words trailed upward teasingly, tinged with fond indulgence, his eyes sweeping over the flickering candlelight on the table.

Yu Ling looked into his clear, sincere amber eyes and then at the phone in his hand, which seemed to conceal countless secrets. The great mystery within him stirred like a stone dropped into a deep pond, sending out ripples that would not settle.

How much did this man truly hide beneath his gentle, harmless exterior?

Before she could ponder further, Zhao Chen had already turned toward the microwave (though he was firmly convinced that microwaving steak was sacrilege, but speed was of the essence now). His movements remained calm and elegant. He picked up Yu Ling’s mostly untouched steak plate and, tilting his head, gave her a clean smile with a hint of pride:

“So, does that count as… a successful rescue mission?” He winked like a cat caught stealing fish, waiting for his owner’s praise.

Yu Ling gazed at the back of the small whale apron he wore, then at the glass of red wine shimmering seductively in the candlelight. She recalled the desperate pale face Wang Meifeng had worn as she fled.

The shock and suspicion in her heart were strangely replaced by a flood of joy tinged with schadenfreude and a subtle, indescribable warmth.

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing, the tension of moments ago dissolving. Her eyes curved like crescent moons, sparkling as if filled with stars.

“Mm!” she nodded vigorously, her voice crisp and light like one reborn from calamity, with a touch of playful cunning. “A job well done! Reward yourself by finishing my steak too!”