Chapter 53 Part 2

“I just think,” Wen Zenian had said, “it’ll hit harder coming from you. You can even tell her I hand-washed the underwear.”

Talk about a gut punch.

Meng Ning nearly jumped out of her skin.

Qi Xiao eyed her reaction. “Damn, Gwyneth is something else. No way you can outplay her.”

That morning, when Wen Zenian had come to pick up Meng Ning from the hospital, she’d brought along a shirt and a pair of jeans—nothing fancy, just like the casual stuff Meng Ning used to wear. Meng Ning had actually wanted to turn them down, but what choice did she have? Run around naked?

Fortunately, after that dreamlike ordeal on C Sea Island wrapped up, Wen Zenian had laid all her cards on the table with Meng Ning, and they’d settled back into the rapport of old acquaintances. When Meng Ning changed clothes, Wen Zenian had stepped out naturally to make a call and even closed the hospital room door behind her.

Now, Wen Zenian led her into the elevator and up to the top floor. It was one of those exclusive penthouse units, one per elevator bank. After scanning her fingerprint to unlock the door, Wen Zenian said flatly, “Go on in.”

Meng Ning stepped inside and immediately understood why each elevator only served one unit. It was an ultra-luxurious sprawling flat.

She hadn’t realized Wen Zenian owned property back home. Testing the waters, she asked, “Is this… your place?”

Wen Zenian replied, “Mm. Just bought it.”

Meng Ning: …

That car earlier had been brand new too. Probably just bought that as well.

Meng Ning let out a couple of awkward laughs. “Got it. You’re showing off your wealth to me.”

Back when she felt lost and out of place, she’d made a habit of laughing it off or cracking jokes to lighten the mood.

Ever since being rescued this time, her brain seemed to have flipped into a twenty-four-seven jokester mode on autopilot.

Without putting on that carefree front, she truly wouldn’t know how to face all this.

That was why she didn’t seem weighed down at all—in fact, she came across as even livelier than before the incident.

Wen Zenian shot her a glance. “If I wanted to flaunt my money, why buy a flat? Can’t I afford a villa?”

Meng Ning: …

Offended.

On the drive over, Meng Ning had figured Wen Zenian wasn’t dropping her back at the rental because she didn’t trust her to be alone. Protesting too much would have come off as ungrateful.

Wen Zenian hadn’t visited the hospital much that week. According to Qi Xiao, now that she was back in the country, she’d taken personal charge of wrapping up the optimizations at C Hotel.

But Meng Ning suspected that if it weren’t for her own mess, Wen Zenian would already have turned her attention to the Paris C Hotel project. And this place? What a splurge.

What she hated most was burdening others—especially Wen Zenian.

Without outright defying her, Meng Ning ventured, “If you flip this place, it should appreciate nicely, haha. I’m still pretty weak from just getting out of the hospital. I’ll crash here for a week, pay you rent later, haha. Then I’ll head back to my old rental—Qi Xiao and the others saved the room for me, haha.”

She had no idea why she tacked a “haha” onto the end of every sentence.

She was trying to seem upbeat and optimistic. At the same time, she was sending a clear signal: she’d figure out how to make money soon enough and wouldn’t entertain any more foolish thoughts.

Wen Zenian didn’t play along one bit, her face devoid of any smile. “Feeling like I’ve given you too much to handle? Good. That’s exactly the point.”

Meng Ning: …

Wen Zenian continued, “I’m not letting you go back to that rental. Song Xiao and Qi Xiao both work—nobody to keep an eye on you.”

Meng Ning got why she was worried. Wen Zenian’s feelings toward her were probably complicated, but regardless, as old acquaintances, Wen Zenian couldn’t just leave her unsupervised.

Meng Ning tried again. “But… you’ve got work too.”

“Mm.” Wen Zenian nodded with that same haughty tilt of her chin, light and dismissive. “I do have work.”

With that, she pointed a slender finger toward the interior of the flat.

Meng Ning glanced around—wow, cameras everywhere, installed right out in the open.

“Your rental’s wiring makes it tough to set up surveillance,” Wen Zenian said. “This is more convenient. So.” She pointed to her own eyes, then to Meng Ning. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She didn’t shy away from the fact that Meng Ning had once teetered on the edge of danger—straight talk, no sugarcoating. It actually made Meng Ning feel a little better.

Wen Zenian went on. “I’ll only come by when I have business in the city. Otherwise, you’ll be on your own here. I didn’t hire any housekeeping, so tidy up daily.”

Meng Ning replied, “…Okay.”

“Then I’m off,” Wen Zenian said.

Meng Ning blinked in surprise.

She hadn’t expected Wen Zenian to head straight back to the island.

Wen Zenian caught her expression. “What? Want me to stay?”

“No, no, no.” Meng Ning waved her hands frantically. “Go take care of your stuff.”

Wen Zenian grabbed her bag and left.

Meng Ning stood there for a good while, until she was certain Wen Zenian wasn’t coming back. Then she opened the shoe cabinet—slippers inside. She swapped her shoes and padded further in.

It was huge. And empty.

The decor screamed model-home perfection. Black, white, and gray tones—impossible to mess up. But it lacked any human touch.

A long hallway stretched back from the living room, the first door on the right ajar.

Meng Ning pushed it open and stepped in.

A single bed with crisp, clean blue-and-white checkered bedding—right up her alley. Minimal furniture: just the bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a wardrobe.

She went to the wardrobe and slid it open. Neatly hung shirts and tees above, jeans and sweatpants below. No designer labels, all simple colors—like things she’d pick for herself.

Meng Ning leaned in and sniffed.

Freshly laundered, with that faint detergent scent.

She pulled open the drawers—three sections, stocked tidily with underwear, panties, and socks.

Also freshly washed.

Meng Ning silently closed the wardrobe and left the room.

Next door was the bathroom and powder room. Further in, another closed door—probably Wen Zenian’s. She didn’t venture farther.

Back in the living room, she headed to the kitchen. Dual setup for Chinese and Western cooking. The double-door fridge held neatly arranged yogurt and eggs; meat and veggies in the other compartments, all fresh—especially the greens, vibrant and dewy.

She eyed the dining table. It held a phone—unlocked, it had her SIM card slotted back in. Recent calls showed a new number labeled “G.” Also, the complex keycard, electronic lock fingerprint guide, and a neighborhood merchant directory from the development.

High-end places really went all out—even the brochures were thoughtful. One handmade bakery featured full hand-drawn illustrations, complete with a cute Shiba Inu under the storefront sign.

Meng Ning’s lips curved into a smile. Wonder how much a loaf from a place like that would set her back.

With Wen Zenian putting her up here, how many jobs would she need to pay all this off?

She glanced up at the dining area camera. Was Wen Zenian watching her right now? Felt kinda weird.

Yeah, Wen Zenian was watching.

Wen Zenian sat in the car heading to the pier, tapping open the app on her phone. There was the young, pale, pretty girl tilting her face up to the camera—a face no bigger than a palm. Alone at last, her smile faded, revealing the underlying confusion.

Meng Ning, realizing Wen Zenian might be monitoring her at all hours, resolved to behave impeccably, earn her trust soon, and get back to normal life.

At noon, she checked the fridge and whipped up stir-fried pork with green peppers, oyster sauce lettuce, and egg fried rice.

Wow, quite the feast.

While eating, she deliberately arranged the dishes and rice facing the camera, hoping Wen Zenian would see her efforts.

Sadly, Wen Zenian was tied up at the time and missed it entirely.

After lunch, she gave the place a thorough cleaning.

She’d realized midway it was pointless—spotless everywhere. Clearly, Wen Zenian had sent cleaners through before she moved in.

But with nothing else to do, she kept at it.

Even a big place eventually gets cleaned. Meng Ning mused that if Wen Zenian wanted to flex her wealth, why not buy a villa? She’d have more cleaning to kill time.

The thought made her chuckle. She glanced at the camera.

Wen Zenian was too busy to watch her constantly. Problem was, Meng Ning never knew when she was or wasn’t. Super weird vibe.

Cleaning done, bored, she wandered to the living room bookshelves.

They were packed—how’d Wen Zenian fill them in a brand-new place?

Meng Ning laughed again. Some assistant must’ve gotten the “stock the shelves” assignment. Shakespeare, the Four Great Classical Novels, wuxia novels, Harry Potter—all bilingual Chinese-English editions.

She could’ve told them to grab French versions too—Wen Zenian spoke French.

Meng Ning pulled out a wuxia novel and curled up on the sofa, one leg tucked under.

It was actually pretty engaging. She’d been too broke as a kid to sit and read much. She read about the Six Major Sects besieging Bright Summit, then pulled up a map on her phone to check their locations.

So far apart? No planes or high-speed rail back then—how long did it take those sects to march there?

She figured the Six Major Sects probably set out just to hash things out with the cult, have a rational debate. But the farther they went, the madder they got—damn, this is too far! We’re here now; might as well fight, or what’s the point?

The idea cracked her up.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, startling her into a flinch.

Caller ID: a simple “G.”

She glanced at the camera first, then answered. “Hello?”

“Drink some water,” Wen Zenian said.

Meng Ning nearly died.

She twisted around—sky already darkening outside. How did Wen Zenian know she’d gotten lost in the wuxia novel and forgotten to hydrate?

Hesitant, Meng Ning asked, “Aren’t you busy with work? Have you really been watching me the whole time?”

It felt like being stark naked.

Wen Zenian replied coolly, “I was bluffing.”

“Huh?”

“I figured you might not have drunk any water. If I guessed right, it’d scare you half to death.”

Meng Ning: …

“But go ahead and guess,” Wen Zenian added. “Which times was I really watching, and which were bluffs?”

She hung up.

Qi Xiao’s words echoed in Meng Ning’s ears—”No way you can outplay her”—and she chucked the phone onto the soft sofa.

Not a real toss, of course. She wasn’t dumb enough to break it; Wen Zenian would just buy a new one, adding to her debt.

People had to own up to their actions.

Like, why the hell did she donate every last cent without keeping any for herself?

She sighed deeply, resignedly rose to pour water, then raised the glass toward the kitchen camera.

On the other end of the line, Wen Zenian watched and curved her lips in a faint smile.