Volume One, Chapter 17: Investigating Someone & Cleaning Up a Mess

As soon as she stepped outside, Luo Xuan froze. "Zhang Dongyao?"

Zhang Dongyao stood rigidly by the restroom door, seemingly having been there for a long time, his ears catching bits of the earlier argument.

His white shirt was slightly wrinkled from prolonged wear. The evening breeze stirred his jet-black hair across his brow, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions.

He fixed his gaze on Luo Qi. "You... you're getting married?"

Luo Xuan glanced back at her younger sister.

Luo Qi’s eyes were red-rimmed, still burning with the anger from their recent quarrel. She snapped sharply, "None of your business."

"Luo Qi!" Luo Xuan whispered sharply, "Show some manners!"

Luo Qi turned her head away. Luo Xuan patted her on the back. "Am I still your sister or not? Can I still keep you in line?"

Though sisters might quarrel, in front of outsiders, they were still family.

Reluctantly, Luo Qi said, "Yes, Zhang Dongyao, I'm getting married."

Zhang Dongyao was speechless.

After a long silence, Luo Xuan sighed and had to break the ice. "Zhang Dongyao, you’re eating here too?"

Dusk was settling in, the horizon low and ablaze with crimson clouds that stretched endlessly over the distant rice paddies. Zhang Dongyao finally spoke. "I came down for research and happened to pass by here, so I stopped for a meal... what a coincidence."

He tried to keep his voice steady, but every word was painfully strained.

Luo Xuan glanced between Zhang Dongyao and her silent, downcast sister. Luo Qi’s long hair half-shielded her face, masking her expression.

After a while, Zhang Dongyao forced a smile and took the initiative. "Well, congratulations. I wish you happiness."

His gaze lingered on Luo Qi, a fleeting sadness clouding his eyes. Then, he waved to Luo Xuan. "My juniors are still waiting. I’ll catch up with you another time."

Luo Xuan exhaled in relief.

...

Back at the table, the others muffled their laughter.

Zhang Dongyao was unaware, lost in thought as he sat down. A junior brother nudged him with a grin. "Senior brother, whose car was that?"

Zhang Dongyao blinked, instinctively asking, "What?"

Another junior sister giggled, "We’re all wondering about the car parked outside. What’s the connection with senior brother? You saw that car and insisted we come to this restaurant."

That car…

Of course, he recognized it. It belonged to Lin Zhaodi, director of Red Star Garment Factory.

"Just a coincidence," Zhang Dongyao brushed off his white shirt and denied calmly. "I brought you here because the food’s good. The cafeteria at Zhihe University is terrible."

...

"Wow, senior brother, are you treating us?"

Zhang Dongyao nodded. "I just got a bonus."

"Thank you, senior brother!"

Everyone cheered and started complaining about how awful the campus food was.

Amid the lively chatter, steam curled up from the hot tea, but Zhang Dongyao gripped his cup tightly, seemingly oblivious to the heat.

After a moment, his face neutral, he casually said, "Junior sister Qin, I heard you have connections to find people?"

...

After leaving the restaurant, Luo Xuan drove Lin Zhaodi to meet with Brother Bao for negotiations over one million yuan.

The drive was silent.

At the train station, Lin Zhaodi sneered at her two daughters. "You two, go home."

They refused, worried about her safety, and waited together in the car.

Neither spoke a word.

Luo Xuan said coldly, "I’m going out to buy a ticket back to Shanghai." Her annual leave was nearly over.

Luo Qi replied with a soft "Mm."

Luo Xuan got out and queued in the ticket hall. Midway through, her phone rang.

The HR at Lihua Group informed her that the company required her to take the accumulated leave and extended her vacation until late September.

Luo Xuan agreed but felt her heart sink uncontrollably.

Having witnessed her eldest sister’s sudden unemployment, she couldn’t help but suspect—the sudden scrutiny of her leave, the demand to take leave now—could it be related to the American subprime mortgage crisis?

She hurriedly contacted several colleagues.

One spread rumors, "I heard the subprime crisis is worse than expected. The company’s losing money and plans global layoffs."

Another reassured her, "That’s just gossip. Don’t worry, probably just a contract renewal."

After hanging up, Luo Xuan stared blankly for a long while.

When it was her turn, the ticket agent asked, "When?"

Luo Xuan answered firmly, "Tomorrow night."

No matter how long the leave, she didn’t want to stay here a day longer.

...

Having bought the ticket, Luo Xuan returned to the car and found Lin Zhaodi and her uncle back already. Lin Zhaodi sat energized, bragging, "I told Old Bao I’m not paying! I just won’t! Old Bao didn’t even fart and left!"

Luo Xuan sat down, puzzled, "Old Bao just let it go that easily?"

Lin Zhaodi sneered, "Nonsense! The mistress owes money, but the wife has to pay! Luo Wenbin pressured her, but I never did. If I’m paying, at least she should put some pressure on me!"

Lin Zhaodi was blunt and unfiltered; Luo Xuan was used to it. "What about the child? Was the child sent away?"

Lin Zhaodi chuckled, "Do whatever you want. I’m not involved."

Lin Guodong’s expression was complex. "Old Bao said it costs nothing to raise the elderly and children, so he told the kid to leave. But the old man and woman don’t want the kid either. They returned to their hometown, leaving the child at the train station."

Luo Xuan was shocked. "The child…?"

Lin Guodong rubbed his temples worriedly. "I took the child back. Now the kid’s with Wei Yinyin, all under Old Bao’s care. Old Bao asked for food expenses. That little brat’s food costs more than mine."

The million-yuan debt was gone, but these two troublemakers—a big one and a small one—still couldn’t be sent away.

Inviting help is easy; sending it away is truly hard.

The situation was growing more chaotic. Luo Xuan felt her mind unraveling into a knot. But Lin Zhaodi was indifferent, slapping the car’s armrest. "I just don’t care. Don’t think you can bully me!"

Amid the deafening noise inside the car, Luo Xuan looked out the window, thinking: tomorrow, I’m going back to Shanghai.

I have to leave.

Luo Wenbin is dead. With such a huge mess left behind, if I keep managing it, I’ll inevitably become embroiled in endless trivial troubles.

...

Luo Wenbin was dead, and the mess was enormous, but life must go on.

The large American order that had brought Luo Wenbin such joy was indeed a lucrative contract, but with harsh conditions: delivery on time, a penalty of five times the value for delays, and no room for delay.

After several days of production setbacks, Lin Zhaodi rushed to the factory early in the morning.

But the Red Star Garment Factory soon became the scene of a farce.

As the machines just started running, a group of fierce men carrying buckets stormed in. In the blink of an eye, the factory’s outer walls were splattered with red paint, the interior flooded with buckets of sewage, and dead rats were dumped throughout the workshop.

Things escalated too quickly.

Lin Zhaodi and Lin Guodong were still stunned when the men, expertly trained, tossed their buckets aside, jumped into a van, slammed the doors, and drove off.