Chapter 22: Emboldened

"Why keep such a cold face if you don't like it?" Ke Chengyu raised an eyebrow.

Zhou Yinhe retorted irritably, "It's just how I was born, is that a problem?"

"Fine, no problem at all," Jiang Jibai chimed in, humoring him. "Let's drink."

Wen Ling, unaware that Zhou Yinhe had been mocked by his childhood friends on her account, began planning how to subtly frame Ruan Miaomiao upon returning to the capital. The recording she had made the day she jumped into the lake would be useful; she only needed to bribe a staff member at the banquet to plug a flash drive into the sound system. She knew this was merely a petty tactic, but Ruan Miaomiao’s image as a pure, innocent girl was deeply ingrained in everyone’s minds, and dismantling it would require a slow, incremental approach.

As a villainess trapped in someone else’s novel, she feared that if she provoked the author’s favorite heroine too severely, she would be unable to change the plot and would once again meet a tragic end.

That evening, Wen Ling learned from the person she had reassigned to track Zhou Yinhe that he was currently at Nys, surrounded by the social elite of the capital. She smirked, changed into an outfit suitable for a nightclub, and headed out. Knowing Zhou Yinhe was in a private booth, she didn't approach him directly. After smiling at Manager Song, she slipped into the dance floor.

Zhou Yinhe had stepped out on a pretext. While crossing the transparent gallery on the second floor, he heard cheers erupting from below. He frowned, looked down, and spotted Wen Ling dancing in the center of the crowd. Seeing her in a tight black minidress and diamond-studded stockings, with men cheering and clearly captivated by her, his first reaction wasn't anger at being deceived, but a sharp, stinging sourness in his chest.

Gritting his teeth, he descended to the first floor, strode into the dance floor, and dragged her out by the arm. Wen Ling was stunned at first, but then, suppressing a surge of excitement, she trotted to keep up with his pace.

Once they were outside Nys and away from the chaotic noise, Zhou Yinhe stared at her, his eyes dark with mounting rage and cold fury.

"Didn't you go back to the United States? What were you doing in there?" His voice was cold, as if laced with shards of ice.

Wen Ling seemed afraid to meet his gaze. She looked down, her nose stinging, and tears began to fall like broken strings of pearls.

"I couldn't bear to leave you," Wen Ling whispered. "I couldn't bear it, so I stayed. But I was afraid you'd be angry if you saw me, so I didn't come to look for you. I just couldn't bring myself to be happy, so I came here to blow off some steam."

Zhou Yinhe froze. Caught in the heat of his anger, he only now realized—why was he so furious? He took a step back, feeling as though he were losing his mind.

When he spoke again, his stern tone held a trace of concern. "Go home, now."

Wen Ling looked up at him, bewildered, her eyes still wet and tears glistening on her cheeks under the lights.

"Go home? Where? Are you trying to force me back to the United States again?" With every word, more tears fell. Zhou Yinhe felt as if his breath were being stolen by her weeping; a suffocating tightness returned to his chest.

"I meant go to your house! Your home here in the capital!" Zhou Yinhe turned his head away, deciding to just let it all out.

Wen Ling blinked, stunned. She then realized what he meant, wiped the tears from her face, and asked cautiously, "Are you worried about me?"

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused Jiang Jibai last time you almost had an accident at Nys?" Zhou Yinhe, unwilling to admit his feelings, instinctively lashed out. "Play however you want, but can you at least stop causing trouble for others?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw a flash of hurt in Wen Ling's eyes and immediately regretted them.

Wen Ling was truly angered by him now. Her initial tears had been a ruse, but her current resentment and grievance were genuine. Biting her lip to keep from exploding, she said, "I'm leaving. I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye."

Watching her lonely silhouette disappear, Zhou Yinhe instinctively took a few steps to follow her, but stopped, cursing himself under his breath: "Why do you have to be so sharp-tongued?"

Ke Chengyu had been watching the scene for a while. He couldn't help but laugh as he looked at Zhou Yinhe. "Well? You’re not afraid to talk back to us, but you immediately regret it when it’s a woman you actually like, right?"

Zhou Yinhe was in a foul mood and unsettled by having upset Wen Ling. He ignored him and turned to leave, but Ke Chengyu called out just loudly enough to be heard, teasing, "Are you going to fix that foul mouth of yours?"

"No," Zhou Yinhe replied coldly.

Ke Chengyu didn't mind. "Fine. Keep being sharp-tongued, and next time you snap at her like that, let's see if she still bothers with you." He watched Zhou Yinhe’s darkening expression and added, "You’re just taking advantage of her affection," before turning back into Nys.

Zhou Yinhe glared at Ke Chengyu’s back for a long moment before striding away.

Wen Ling remained silent as she got into the car where her driver was waiting. She didn't say a word all the way back to Langpo Bay. Auntie Zhou had already gone to sleep next door, and only Hehe the cat was waiting in the entryway.

Wen Ling crouched down and stroked the cat's head, the grievances she had held back all night finally erupting. Tears dripped onto the polished floor as the cat circled her, worried by her silent, painful sobbing. She stayed crouched there for a long time, and when she finally stood up, her legs were numb. Exhausted, she dragged herself upstairs to her room.

The next morning, Auntie Zhou heard from the driver that Wen Ling had returned very late, so she didn't disturb her, only knocking on her door near noon. Receiving no response, she grew worried and used the spare key to enter.

The room was hit with the stench of alcohol. Auntie Zhou frowned at the chaotic scene: broken porcelain and wine bottles littered the floor, and the wall paintings had been torn to shreds. A small lump stirred on the bed. Auntie Zhou rushed over to find Wen Ling curled up, clutching her stomach, her eyelids swollen, her face pale, and her lips bitten raw. Her hair and pillow were soaked with sweat—her stomach ailment had flared up again.

She hurriedly called Qiao Hongyun, then let out a heartbroken sigh.

"Ah Ling..."