Chapter 93: Lu Zhixia Fires Back

Lu Zhixia’s first instinct was to take a screenshot. By the time she tapped on the post, it was already gone with a message saying the content didn’t exist.

Yan Menghui had deleted it, but the screenshot had already laid bare the raw truth of her heart.

Ugly and wicked—she hated her to the bone. She hated the world for denying her what she wanted. She’d poured out a long rant, every word dripping with resentment toward everything around her.

Without a second thought, Lu Zhixia opened her chat with Shen Wanqing. The screenshot popped up in the input box on the right. She hesitated for a few seconds but in the end, didn’t hit send.

That night, even as the world slept peacefully, a few more souls tossed and turned in sleepless torment.

Shen Wanqing’s wounds throbbed with pain amid her unfamiliar surroundings, keeping her awake the whole night.

Lu Zhixia fretted over Shen Wanqing, haunted by the image of her fainting that afternoon. Her nightmares were drenched in blood.

Defying the doctor’s orders, Yan Menghui ripped off the bandages covering her eyes. A jagged scar slashed diagonally across one eye. She stared into the mirror all night long, her heart seething with fury.

Scars seemed to be her lifelong curse. From childhood onward, her body was marked with countless ones.

The deepest, of course, was the knife she’d taken for Shen Wanqing. She didn’t regret it. She didn’t blame Shen Wanqing. She only blamed Lu Zhixia.

Her face had always been heaven’s favorite, untouched by harm. But now this scar curled outward from the corner of her eye. The doctor had said it had nearly sliced through her eyelid and damaged the eye itself.

In the mirror, she looked like the ugliest hag from some twisted fairy tale. Disgusted, she smashed her fist into the glass, shattering it.

A lover of beauty who’d never worn anything that bared her skin again after those old scars—now how was she supposed to hide this one on her face?

What tormented her most was Shen Wanqing’s self-destructive act, all to settle some supposed debt.

Ha. Yan Menghui’s eyes, red from crying, fixed on the shards scattered across the floor. Her reflection stared back, fractured into pieces.

Shen Wanqing had finally shoved her away for good, and it was all because of Lu Zhixia.

In a frenzy, she smashed every mirror in the house. Then, head bowed like a walking corpse, she shuffled into the bathroom.

She wept and wailed until her throat was raw. She flung herself into the tub, the bloody water soaking her wounds—agony and numbness blending together.

Her fingertip hooked a strand of hair, winding it round and round. She remembered the times she’d bathed with Shen Wanqing, how she used to love doing this.

She’d grown out her hair for her. But now, Shen Wanqing had no need of her anymore.

She cried and laughed by turns. The sunny warmth in her heart withered away, darkness creeping in to claim it.

She’d never craved anything in life. Her obsession from childhood had been Shen Wanqing alone.

And yet she couldn’t have her! Unwilling to accept it, she slapped at the water’s surface with all her might, sending sprays flying far across the room.

Exhausted at last, she slumped against the tub, her vacant eyes staring into nothing.

A hollow expression settled on her face, twisting slowly into a eerie smile. Yan Menghui rose, returned to the bedroom, and picked up a pair of scissors.

She grabbed a fistful of her sodden hair. Snip. The long locks fell away—severing the ties, extinguishing her last shred of hope.

Dawn crept in, but for some, the sunlight had vanished from their world forever.

Lu Zhixia rose with the sun and headed straight to the hospital to see Shen Wanqing, arriving just as she was being discharged.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Shen Wanqing asked in surprise.

“I missed you.” Lu Zhixia shut the door behind her and pulled her into a hug. In a soft voice, she added, “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”

“Mm.” Shen Wanqing tilted her head up, resting her chin against Lu Zhixia’s chest. “It’s fine. I have trouble sleeping anyway.”

Lu Zhixia pressed her ear close, tempted to kiss her. Shen Wanqing patted her lower back and huffed playfully, “It’s too early for that. No funny business.”

But Lu Zhixia wouldn’t be deterred. She stole a couple of quick nibbles before finally letting go.

Shen Wanqing refused her offer to drive her home, so Lu Zhixia could only linger in the doorway, watching as the bodyguards escorted her away.

Lu Zhixia drove to the office. The twenty-second floor was empty today—except for her.

The LT Software project had everyone else occupied.

She opened her chat with Sirius and left it sitting there, saying nothing.

Yan Menghui was working too. Lu Zhixia spotted her chiming in on the group chat about work matters.

Everything seemed to be sliding back to normal. But clearly, some things had changed.

Shen Wanqing had slashed herself to atone for an old debt. Yan Menghui had aired her venomous grudge on Moments, and Lu Zhixia had seen it. Now she had to stay on her guard.

Yang Ge from sales was due to report to Headquarters today. He needed to answer for the litany of charges Lu Zhixia had leveled against him.

Headquarters kicked off a voice conference call. Wen Wan, Shen Wanqing, Yan Menghui, Lu Zhixia, and the others joined one by one. Yang Ge was the last to log in.

He flatly denied any underreporting or omissions, claiming he’d simply been too swamped with work to manage himself properly. He promised to be more careful going forward.

As for the budget overruns, he insisted it wasn’t deliberate. Sometimes deals required a little extra to seal the partnership.

To prove his sincerity, he pledged that any future overruns would come out of his own pocket.

As for fabricating expense categories, Yang Ge’s explanation was that he’d been singularly focused on business development and hadn’t fully grasped the nuances of the company’s reimbursement process, leading to errors. The claim that he couldn’t operate the reimbursement system was false; he was simply unfamiliar with it, and when busy, he’d have the deputy general manager submit claims on his behalf.

Going forward, he would consult with finance before submitting reimbursements and tighten management of his department staff, starting with handling his own claims personally.

…

In summary, Yang Ge admitted to a mistake, but insisted it was minor. His attitude was good; he vowed to correct it. With Wen Wan speaking on his behalf—citing his many contributions and hard work—the proposed punishment was a deduction of his full annual bonus, with a warning to be more careful in the future.

When headquarters asked if anyone was dissatisfied with the handling, a brief silence fell. Just as Yang Ge began to relax, Lu Zhixia spoke up. “What about those multimillion-yuan fake contracts, President Yang? Care to explain the full story behind them?”

Yang Ge had glossed over the issue, merely stating he was willing to accept the company’s investigation. If it was officially determined that he’d caused losses, he would compensate them.

“Moreover, to be frank, I believe the punishment for President Yang is far too lenient.” Lu Zhixia had the data to back it up. She’d calculated the losses he’d inflicted on the company during his tenure—deducting his bonus wouldn’t even make a dent.

“More importantly, as a globally influential enterprise that values the Chinese market, how can the Rhine Group handle an internal executive’s violations so lightly? Frankly, I can’t comprehend it.” After Lu Zhixia spoke, low murmurs rippled through the conference room.

Yang Ge stayed silent, but fury boiled inside him.

Headquarters then solicited opinions from Shen Wanqing and Yan Menghui. Shen Wanqing finally spoke coolly. “Yang Ge, what do you think?”

Unabashed, Yang Ge replied in a deep voice, “Even sages aren’t without fault—who among us is? We should weigh it comprehensively. The performance I’ve generated for Haijing Senhua over the years far outweighs any losses.”

“Have your achievements gone unrewarded by the company?” Shen Wanqing countered.

“Well, yes, they have been rewarded, but—” Yang Ge explained, “I’m not refusing punishment, but it shouldn’t be a death sentence, right?”

Shen Wanqing called out, “Mi Xiu.” Then she asked, “For Yang Ge’s multiple violations, what would the standard handling be under company policy?”

“Firing, along with full compensation for the damages to the company.” Lu Zhixia’s words made Yang Ge grit his teeth in hatred, but she pressed on. “Are the company’s rules just for show? If not, why aren’t they enforced? Does Yang Ge have some backer in the company?”

Indeed, there was a high-level vice president at Rhine Group headquarters who was Yang Ge’s relative.

Under the dual influence of that vice president and Wen Wan, Yang Ge had expected leniency. Now Lu Zhixia had thrust him into the eye of the storm.

Headquarters hadn’t anticipated such forthrightness from an intern special assistant. Shen Wanqing followed up. “The lightest punishment for Yang Ge should be demotion and salary cut—not just a fine.”

As for demotion, Shen Wanqing meant reassigning him to a grassroots position, which Yang Ge could never accept. But with the executives silent, he swallowed his rage.

Wen Wan turned to Yan Menghui for her opinion. Yan Menghui replied coolly, “I don’t agree with President Shen or the special assistant.”

Yang Ge’s spirits, which had sunk to rock bottom, lifted. He knew Yan Menghui had come with Shen Wanqing and assumed they were allies. He hadn’t expected her to side with him.

Yan Menghui argued that even ancient emperors showed leniency to meritorious ministers. Modern law likewise offered reduced sentences for those who confessed voluntarily and showed good attitude.

For Yang Ge, as a key pillar of the company—especially now that Haijing Senhua was in tough times—they should retain talent. She stated plainly, “He must be punished, but he should also get a chance to reform. My suggestion: keep him in his position and judge by performance, but cut his salary to entry-level pay and deduct his bonus.”

With a cold laugh, she added about the violations—even potential illegal acts—”Don’t some people think the company isn’t chaotic or declining enough? Do they want to drag us into lawsuits?”

Shen Wanqing said nothing. Lu Zhixia couldn’t stomach it and shot back, “Hasn’t President Yan heard the old Chinese saying that when princes break the law, they face the same punishment as commoners? What makes Yang Ge so noble? Can’t the company survive without him? Or is it that you can’t?”

“Lu Zhixia!” Yan Menghui snapped sharply. “Watch your attitude.”

“Pulling rank on me now?” Lu Zhixia mocked. “What was that earlier about ‘some people’? Who were you shading? Have you shown President Shen the respect a vice president should?”

Rhine Group meetings often unfolded amid heated debates like this—but those were back when they were overseas.

In all of China, Lu Zhixia was the only one bold enough to throw down like this. Yan Menghui shot her a warning glance. “Don’t think that just because President Shen has your back, you can run wild.”

“If you’re determined to condemn someone, you can always trump up a charge,” Lu Zhixia shot back without missing a beat. She wasn’t buying it for a second. “Stop making shit up in your head. If I screwed up, that’s on me—don’t drag President Shen into it. Let me spell it out for you: I own my mistakes, and I’ll take the heat for them. You don’t need to fire me; I’ll walk out that door myself.”

Having thrown down with everyone in the room, Lu Zhixia turned to Wen Wan, who chimed in coolly from the sidelines. “President Shen sure picked a fine special assistant. So loyal, guarding her boss like a fierce guard dog.”

“President Wen, cut the sarcasm,” Lu Zhixia fired back, her voice ringing with conviction. She showed no fear of any of the executives. “I already said it: if you’ve got a problem, come at me. Leave President Shen out of it. President Shen, President Wen, everyone—let me lay it out right here. This is who I am. It’s my nature, and it has nothing to do with anyone else.”

She paused for a beat. “You can fire me anytime you like. But as long as I’m at Haijing Senhua, I’ll do my job to the best of my ability. Rules are rules. The law follows precedents and guidelines—it’s flexible, sure, but not bendy like this. Everyone’s eyes are on Yang Ge. The whole outside world is watching the company’s stance. If the company wants to survive here in China, wants to gain a foothold and shake things up for good, then we need to go all in. You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. My take? Fire Yang Ge. Enforce the company rules to the letter. Treat everyone equally—reward those who deserve it, punish those who don’t.” Her tone turned ice-cold. “When it’s time to punish, you dredge up a pile of excuses. But when rewards come around, nobody’s shoving them away, are they?”

Shen Wanqing watched from the screen, her lips curving into an unstoppable grin.

This girl was just too entertaining—whoever she took on, she never backed down. Truly her Lu Duidui.

Yan Menghui cleared her throat then, cutting her off with a hint of menace in her voice. “In that case, Special Assistant, take a look at the pictures I’m about to send. Why don’t you answer my questions?”

The photos rolled in one after another. The conference room plunged back into an eerie silence as the smoke of battle thickened in the air.