Bo Jingzhou hung up the video call, opened the door to take the clothes the manager had brought, and tossed them to Shen Wanci.
She picked up the bag and headed for the bathroom, while Bo Jingzhou's voice came through the door again: "Mom's getting a full examination at the hospital in a bit. You're coming with me."
"I have to work," she said. She was worried about Jiang Yazhu's condition too, but she'd only just started at the studio and had already taken personal leave several days running—it didn't look good. "Let me know once the results are out."
Bo Jingzhou watched the woman's retreating back and said coldly, "For the sake of that cleaning job of yours, you won't even spare a thought for Mom's health?"
Shen Wanci didn't break her stride, nor did she bother to explain about the cleaning job. "In a couple more days, I'll be calling her 'Aunt' instead."
What she said was the truth, but in Bo Jingzhou's ears it became—
We're getting divorced anyway, so whatever happens with his mother has nothing to do with her.
Lately, every time Shen Wanci saw him, the two words she brought up most were 'divorce.' Now Bo Jingzhou frowned impatiently and sneered, "For three years she kept a dog, and now even the dog knows to wag its tail and stay glued to her side."
At that, Shen Wanci turned her head, wondering where he found the nerve to accuse her of ingratitude with such an air of entitlement.
Jiang Yazhu was in poor health. These three years, the one who signed the forms every time she went to the hospital was her; the one who ran around taking care of her was her too. By comparison, wasn't Bo Jingzhou, her own flesh-and-blood son, the dog that was never home?
She gave Bo Jingzhou a cold, indifferent sidelong glance. "Yes, you're right—even a dog you keep knows to wag its tail. I planned out three years of meals for you, and that's still worth less than keeping a dog."
Bo Jingzhou: "……"
This woman certainly had a gift for turning his words back on him!
Shen Wanci pulled open the door and walked straight out of the suite. Once she'd left the club, she hailed a cab to Jingyuan.
On the way, she called Qin Yuezhi to ask how she was doing: "Are your injuries all right?"
Last night Feng Jianhui hadn't held back with those kicks—each one had landed solidly on her, and it had looked horrifying.
On the other end, Qin Yuezhi drew in a sharp breath and said through gritted teeth, "That son of a bitch—the doctor said there's a hairline fracture, it'll take a while to heal. I'm definitely going to sue him, but Ye Lan won't hand over the surveillance footage for sure, so it's a bit tricky."
Shen Wanci said, "You get the doctor to write up a medical report on your injuries first. I'll figure out the rest."
Qin Yuezhi didn't want Shen Wanci putting herself in a difficult position on her account.
"Forget it, forget it. Even if I really did sue him, he'd get ten days, maybe half a month in detention at most. I'll find another way to deal with him. That bastard Feng Jianhui definitely isn't forcing himself on a woman for the first time—I'll go dig up some other evidence."
Shen Wanci leaned listlessly against the car window. "Yuezhi, I'm sorry. I dragged you into this."
"What's all this about dragging me into it—I should be thanking you for giving me the chance to rid the world of a menace."
The two chatted a while longer, and it wasn't until the car pulled up at the entrance of Jingyuan that Shen Wanci hung up.
She had barely reached her workstation when Mr. Xu summoned her into his office: "Wanwan, come here a moment."
Shen Wanci walked in, none the wiser.
"Come, let me introduce you. This is Miss Jian. She'd like to ask you to restore an antique painting for her—name your price."
Shen Wanci looked in the direction Mr. Xu indicated… and saw Jian Weining sitting coolly and haughtily on the sofa, wearing sunglasses, a bucket hat, and a black face mask to shade her.
Hearing the name 'Wanwan,' she lifted her head, but when she saw that the person who'd come in was Shen Wanci, her brow furrowed and the disappointment in her eyes was plain to see. "Sorry, Mr. Xu, you may have misunderstood me. The person I'm looking for isn't her—it's 'Wanwan,' the one famed in the circle for her exquisite, almost miraculous restoration techniques."
Mr. Xu was taken aback, and Shen Wanci needed a few seconds to react as well—Jian Weining had come looking for 'Wanwan'?
"My painting is severely damaged. It's not something an ordinary apprentice could properly restore. I once had the good fortune to see a piece of calligraphy restored by Wanwan—it was simply breathtaking! But she's very mysterious; I've never been able to trace her whereabouts or her identity. I thought you might know, which is why I came to trouble you to put me in touch with her."
Only then did Mr. Xu realize Jian Weining had misunderstood. But since she'd come through a close, dear friend of his, he explained with a kindly smile, "She's Wan—"
"Mr. Xu," Shen Wanci cut in at just the right moment, "restoring antiques is a matter of fate. Since Miss Jian and I aren't fated to work together, I won't force it."
Mr. Xu sensed that the atmosphere between the two of them was a little strange. After a startled pause, he nodded. "That's true."
Before Jian Weining had even figured out what Shen Wanci's words just now had actually meant, she saw Shen Wanci turn to leave.
She hurriedly rose to her feet and crossed the few steps to stand in front of Shen Wanci. "Wanci, Yucheng is holding a welcome banquet at Xishan Court tonight. Did you know about it?"
"No."
"Yucheng really is something." Jian Weining's bag dropped to the floor, and a black, gilt-embossed invitation slipped out of it. She bent down to pick it up.
The motion was natural, as if she really had dropped it by accident.
"If you don't mind, come with me tonight. Yucheng just got back to the country and he's pretty busy—he probably just forgot…"
Shen Wanci's expression was cool and detached. She looked Jian Weining straight in the eye, neither flinching nor evading, and smiled. "Miss Jian, do you know what the three words 'and family' after the name on an invitation mean? Bo Jingzhou and I are husband and wife. Sending two invitations to one family—is it that you don't understand the etiquette, or is that simply how invitations are sent in your household?"