Chapter 73: The Big Dog’s Nightmare

Perhaps everyone harbors a deep-seated pain in their heart, something unspeakable and untouchable.

It’s a forbidden zone—one they can’t escape themselves, nor allow others to enter.

Actively inviting someone into that inner world takes tremendous courage.

Over all these years, this was the only moment Lu Zhixia mustered the courage to bare her soul to Shen Wanqing. She had once peered through the family’s cat’s eye and seen her father murdered right before her eyes. His agonized struggles against that blood-red backdrop looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. In that instant, she froze in sheer terror.

She didn’t give herself a chance to back out. She poured it all out in one breath and then fell silent.

A long while later, Shen Wanqing felt the weight of defeat on her shoulder as Lu Zhixia’s body trembled faintly.

She stroked her back gently, saying nothing more. Before such overwhelming grief, words felt utterly hollow.

After so many years, what Lu Zhixia craved wasn’t empty platitudes.

Shen Wanqing understood. So she patted her back softly, like soothing a baby, until the woman in her arms drifted off to sleep.

Life is full of misfortunes—it often feels like the mortal world is the true hell.

Being born human isn’t some grand virtue. It’s a punishment, hurling souls into the dust of the world after endless torment.

Shen Wanqing had her own tragedies, and now she’d heard Lu Zhixia’s straight from the source.

Happiness tends to look the same everywhere, but misery comes in infinite flavors.

In that moment, Shen Wanqing felt a flicker of relief.

She wasn’t the only one suffering. Even those who seemed fine might be hiding their own hells.

Lu Zhixia’s personality today was forged in that past trauma. Watching her father slaughtered, helpless as a child—it had to leave nightmares scarred into her soul.

Yet she hadn’t twisted into something monstrous. She’d grown into an exceptional translator. That was no small feat.

Lu Zhixia wasn’t perfect, but didn’t demons lurk in her heart too?

Deep down, Shen Wanqing felt admiration, even envy. At least Lu Zhixia had spoken it aloud, showing she was ready to confront her wounds.

From that moment on, she was truly accepting her past—no matter how it hurt, no matter the resistance. She’d taken that vital step.

Shen Wanqing, by contrast, knew she’d been trapped in her own past for far too long.

Even after meeting Lu Zhixia, she kept slipping back there, beyond her control.

Lu Zhixia slept fitfully, tossing and turning in Shen Wanqing’s arms. She stroked her gently, offering quiet comfort.

At last, soaked in cold sweat, Lu Zhixia shot upright, eyes flying open—as if gouts of blood had splattered across her skin.

She couldn’t steady herself. Dizzy and disoriented, she slumped into Shen Wanqing’s embrace, still half-lost in the dream, gasping out in agony, “I’m so dizzy.”

“Lu Zhixia, wake up.” Shen Wanqing called to her. Lu Zhixia frowned, clinging miserably, breaths coming in sharp gasps. “So much blood—so much, so much…” She murmured her pleas. “Help me… wipe it off, please… help…”

Shen Wanqing kept stroking her, the motion calming her. In her haze, she imagined someone cleaning the blood away.

She trembled against Shen Wanqing’s chest, arms dangling limply over her thighs, head heavy on her shoulder, breaths coming hot and ragged.

In the small hours of the night, Shen Wanqing faintly caught Lu Zhixia murmuring—she was calling for Hupo Chuan.

Her hand stretched out desperately, grasping for that figure. Shen Wanqing clasped it tight.

Perhaps Lu Zhixia thought it was Hupo Chuan’s hand. She lurched forward with all her strength, nearly toppling Shen Wanqing onto the bed.

“Hupo Chuan… Hupo Chuan, you… you’re here?” Lu Zhixia mumbled, as if launching into conversation.

Her voice was whisper-soft, words sometimes clear, sometimes lost in the murmur.

Shen Wanqing listened closely. It seemed they’d been out of touch for ages—Hupo Chuan never reached out.

Lu Zhixia grumbled that she was heartless, cold as stone. She sounded so wronged, baffled by the sudden cutoff.

Shen Wanqing suspected Hupo Chuan had once meant the world to her.

Even in the throes of this nightmare, she hadn’t called for Shen Wanqing. Hupo Chuan was the only name on her lips.

Shen Wanqing rocked her gently, patting her back. Lu Zhixia alternated between soft whimpers and deep sleep.

When she finally settled, Shen Wanqing eased her down flat. The stitches across her brow throbbed faintly; Lu Zhixia reached up instinctively to scratch.

Shen Wanqing pinned her hand and scratched lightly for her instead. Lu Zhixia whined in discomfort—it wasn’t quite enough.

By the time she slept soundly, dawn was breaking at four in the morning.

Shen Wanqing was still wide awake. She pulled up her email instead and reviewed the initial revision draft Lu Zhixia had sent.

It aligned closely with what she’d envisioned. She added her notes, polished it, and fired it back with the feedback: “Refines the solid foundation into actionable steps.”

As for Sales Director Yang Ge, the evidence Lu Zhixia had gathered would be enough to utterly destroy him.

Shen Wanqing gazed at the person sleeping soundly beside her. Though only twenty, Lu Zhixia could be fiercely temperamental and intimidating in her presence, often revealing a childish side. But when it came to work, her abilities were beyond reproach.

The only issue was her youth—too impulsive, always resorting to force to solve problems.

Shen Wanqing gently wiped the tear from the corner of Lu Zhixia’s eye, unsure what dream had made her cry again.

With a soft sigh, she thought, everyone’s life has its hardships.

As dawn broke, Lu Zhixia’s body suddenly trembled. She jolted awake.

She froze for a second, realizing where she was, and instinctively reached out to touch.

Shen Wanqing grasped her hand and whispered, “I’m here.”

In that moment, Lu Zhixia’s panicked heart found its anchor. She turned and hugged Shen Wanqing tightly, her voice hoarse as she murmured, “You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Shh.” Shen Wanqing stroked her face, covering her eyes with her warm palm, which eased her nerves. “Go back to sleep.”

As if by magic, drowsiness washed over Lu Zhixia once more.

That morning, while she slept, Shen Wanqing took the initiative to call Shen Mengxi.

His tone was unsurprised, as if he’d been waiting for it.

Shen Wanqing cut straight to the chase. “Tell me, what’s your angle?”

Shen Mengxi suggested they meet in person. Shen Wanqing glanced at the woman in her arms. He asked, “Inconvenient?”

“Not right now.”

“Then when would be convenient for you?”

“Hard to say.”

There was a brief silence on his end before Shen Mengxi lowered his voice. “President Shen, you don’t need to probe me.”

Shen Wanqing replied calmly, “You’re overthinking it.”

Perplexed, he pressed on. She’d called him for a reason, yet dodged a meeting. He added, “You don’t need to fear seeing me. I’m someone who can help you.”

Such a confident man, with his arrogant tone. Shen Wanqing responded leisurely, “If you’re so sure of yourself, why go about it this way?”

He knew exactly what she meant. Through that dinner, Shen Mengxi had aimed to get as close to Shen Wanqing as possible.

Unfazed, he said, “As long as I achieve my goal, the method doesn’t matter. I’m willing to try anything quick and effective.”

He chuckled, a hint of smugness in his voice. “See? President Shen reached out to me. Mission accomplished.”

As for the details of that night, Shen Mengxi insisted on discussing them face-to-face. Shen Wanqing could afford to give him a chance—after all, they shared the same surname. Supporting family might be better than outsiders.

Once she agreed to meet, Shen Mengxi pushed his luck. “I know you have a dinner on Monday, President Shen. Mind bringing me along?”

Her brows furrowed, her tone cooling. “Who told you that?”

“That’s not for you to worry about,” Shen Mengxi laughed. “I have my ways.”

Shen Wanqing said coolly, “You seem awfully sure of victory.”

“Not quite. I’ll still need you to give me a little face.” He lowered his voice with a chuckle. “I guarantee you won’t regret meeting me. If our future cooperation goes well, I’ll keep feeding you useful intel.”

“You want an introduction to the director of Haijing City TV Station.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve just returned from abroad. Do you even understand the domestic media landscape?” Shen Wanqing reminded him. “A company that’s barely been around isn’t ready for flashy promotions. You should focus on solidifying your foundations first.”

Shen Mengxi burst out laughing. “Thanks for the advice, President Shen. I’ve done my homework. I have my own plans—you can rest assured, I know what I’m doing.”

“Then you must also know what I can offer you.”

“Exactly.” He didn’t hide it. “Clearly, you’ve looked into me, and I’ve looked into you. No ill intentions.”

Shen Wanqing watched the woman in her arms stir. She said softly, “If I help you, you’ll rise quickly here.”

Shen Mengxi just laughed, his meaning ambiguous. Shen Wanqing’s brows knitted as she laid it bare. “Unfortunately, your company can’t solve the problem weighing on my mind.”

“President Shen.” The amusement faded from his voice. “How do you know without trying?”

“And one more thing,” Shen Wanqing continued. “You plan to use the inside story from last night’s dinner as bait to build rapport, secure a partnership with Haijing Senhua to resolve their issues, then leverage the Haijing City TV Station director for hype and publicity to crack the domestic market. You’re thinking too small.”

Though he’d anticipated some of it, Shen Mengxi was still stunned. She’d nailed every step of his scheme.

He shifted to a more deferential tone. “President Shen, I genuinely want to help you. Can you give me a chance to prove it?”

“Prove it?” Shen Wanqing gave a faint laugh. “You think this is child’s play?”

Shen Mengxi’s careful plans were thrown into disarray, leaving him speechless for a moment. Shen Wanqing spoke bluntly. “Shen Mengxi, since we share the same surname, I’ll give you a heads-up: take it steady and don’t rush into things.”

“Thank you for the reminder, President Shen,” he apologized humbly. “I was too forward just now. Please forgive me.”

“I haven’t looked into last night’s matter yet, so your intel still holds some value,” she said offhandedly. “If I really wanted to dig into it, do you think it’d be up to you to tell me?”

Shen Mengxi fell silent. Shen Wanqing went on, “I get it—you’re just starting out, hungry for a win. But picking the right side matters. Overseas, it’s all about individual heroics and personal glory, but back home, one wrong alliance and your business might not make it through this brutal winter.”

The person nestled in her arms stirred. Shen Wanqing moved to end the call. “Anything else, President Shen? If not, I’m hanging up.”

Just before she could, Shen Mengxi cut in. “Can you give me some time to think it over?”

“Whatever.” Shen Wanqing hung up. Lu Zhixia stretched with a lazy yawn, humming contentedly—it looked like she’d slept soundly.

Though awake, she kept her eyes shut, playfully lost in some fairy tale game of her own.

Shen Wanqing leaned in to kiss her forehead, finally rousing her fully, then topped it off with a playful flick right between the eyes.

Lu Zhixia huffed indignantly as she sat up, rubbing the spot. “You flicked my forehead!”

“And I’ll flick you right here next,” Shen Wanqing teased, reaching for that final gland. Lu Zhixia scrambled back, cheeks burning. “W-what are you doing?”

Shen Wanqing chuckled and rose, beckoning her to the table. “Come on, time to eat.”

Over the meal, Lu Zhixia kept stealing glances at Shen Wanqing. Caught red-handed, she’d duck her head every time.

Shen Wanqing said nothing, polishing off her modest portion and settling in to wait while fiddling with her phone. A new message pinged in.

It was from Sister’s Little Dog. Shen Wanqing glanced up; Lu Zhixia was plowing through her food, head down.

She tapped it open, lips curving into a smile. “Sure,” she said lightly. “Good.”