TBW - 42

Chapter 42: Not a Drop Left, Yet Far from Satisfied

Though Cheng Simin had clearly asked the second question, Shi Ying glanced down at Beibei, who was lying obediently on the ground, seemingly sleepy. When he looked up again, his response addressed her first question instead: “What kind of person am I? Aren’t we all just ordinary folks?”

“Come on now, how could I compare to you? You’re a young master, part of the wealthy class—attended an international school in high school and studied abroad for six or seven years. Oh, and your family owns that massive villa in Banshan Garden.”

Cheng Simin’s words came out without much thought, continuing their earlier banter on the road—a childish exchange of jabs neither took to heart.

But Shi Ying’s next statement caught her off guard.

His voice remained lazy, his demeanor calm and benevolent like a jade Guanyin statue, yet his words were chilling.

“Hmm, I understand. Capitalists are inherently bad, aren’t they? Original wealth rarely comes from honest means—it’s either stolen, robbed, or extracted through exploitation of the proletariat. And now karma has caught up with us. My father’s company went bankrupt, and he was taken away for labor reform. The villa was seized by the court this year.”

He had mastered the art of self-criticism.

Seeing Cheng Simin’s astonishment, he pressed on, spilling more details about his family affairs. “Oh, the imprisonment was because he planned to default on debts and fled with his girlfriend and stolen funds. But credit where it’s due—his girlfriend stayed loyal during the public prosecution and even gave birth to a big baby boy this year. She’s about our age.”

“No way!”

The shock on Cheng Simin’s face quickly morphed into gossip-mode. She reached out to accept the fresh tea brought by the proprietress, stirred the rock sugar evenly, and poured a full cup for Shi Ying, placing it gently before him. Her tone turned solicitous: “Drink some water to soothe your throat. Take your time.”

“What about your mom? Doesn’t she want a divorce?”

“She tried.” Shi Ying picked up the teacup and blew softly on the sesame seeds and rose petals floating atop. “The issue lies in dividing marital assets. My mother claims she wasn’t aware of my father’s use of joint property as collateral. Plus, the Banshan villa is her pre-marital asset. On my father’s side, he needs money to raise his new son, so he refuses to let go.”

“All this over that villa—it happened earlier this year.”

The judicial process for freezing the company’s assets moved slowly, but creditors arrived faster than the banks. After Shi Kaiji fled with his girlfriend, disappearing without a trace, the temple remained while the monk ran away.

Li Xiangqun bore the brunt of the fallout. Despite hiring two bodyguards, she couldn’t fend off furious creditors wielding weapons who stormed into her home.

These creditors didn’t care if she’d already filed for divorce or whether she’d been involved in the company’s decision-making. All they saw were the debt figures. If she wouldn’t pay, they vandalized her house—and when she resisted, they beat her senseless.

Even so, Li Xiangqun stood firm. She would sooner die than surrender her wealth. First, she relocated her savings from the south back to Xicheng, then escaped alone from the provincial capital to Banshan.

She believed herself blameless in all this. Even her husband’s mistresses had benefited from him over the years, yet she, as his lawful spouse who had devoted decades of her life, not only endured emotional betrayal but was also expected to forfeit all her properties, cars, jewelry, and funds to repay his debts.

She refused outright to hand over these assets, which were rightfully hers.

The worst incident occurred months ago. Shi Ying represented Li Xiangqun at a meeting in Jicheng with his father, who was out on bail, hoping to find new evidence to convince him to cooperate with the prosecution and stop the fraudulent debt evasion.

Debtors tracked them down once again to Banshan Garden. As Li Xiangqun returned from grocery shopping and inserted her key into the door, a group hiding in the bushes pounced on her.

They dragged her inside the villa, beating her for nearly an hour before forcing her onto a dining chair to sign promissory notes for Shi Kaiji’s debts.

With her brow swollen, blood seeping from her mouth, and having lost control of her bladder and bowels, Li Xiangqun screamed hysterically that she had no money.

They brought out ink pads, demanding she stamp her thumbprint to sell the villa and settle her husband’s debts. But after twenty years of marriage, that villa was all she had left. It was the milestone of her prosperous life, the turning point of her existence. Without it, who was she? Would “Mrs. Shi” still exist?

Surrounded by abusive taunts and threats laced with sexual humiliation, Li Xiangqun’s mind drifted into a surreal haze. Her physical body, however, went berserk, biting off the ear of the nearest creditor.

After the incident, Li Xiangqun fell into a state of confusion, unable to speak or assist in interrogation. She was admitted to a psychiatric hospital for treatment. Ultimately, the prosecution did not file charges for intentional injury.

When Shi Ying received the police call while out of town, his first instinct was to inform his grandparents. In that moment of sheer panic, the people he remembered most fondly were those from his childhood.

Shi Ying had just finished recounting these events when the proprietress served the steaming hot pot.

Dexian hot pot differed from northern-style pots, emphasizing “four pillars” and “four rarities.”

Dry radishes and Chinese cabbage formed the base layer, followed by fried pork meatballs, tofu, glass noodles, potatoes, bean sprouts, pork ribs, wood ear mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. Finally, a layer of thinly sliced fatty pork was evenly spread on top, “tucking in the blanket.” Pig bone broth was poured into the copper pot to simmer.

Amidst the fragrant smoke rising from the fire, Cheng Simin secretly wiped tears from her eyes across the table.

It was comforting to know someone felt sorrow for her sake.

Shi Ying handed her a tissue, his tone soft. “You’re crying already? Feeling sorry for me or my mom?”

“No. I feel sorry for no one.” Cheng Simin denied it, dabbing her nose with the tissue and tilting her head back to stop the tears. “It’s just the smoke from the copper pot—it’s irritating my eyes.”

Through the aroma of cooked meat, she added a ladle of broth to the boiling pot. A surge of empathy welled within her chest as she studied Shi Ying’s expression, noting he showed no signs of tears. Only then did she cautiously ask, “What about now? Is the treatment working? Is your mom doing better?”

“Mm. Sort of. She’s out of the hospital now, recuperating at my grandfather’s place. A few days ago, my grandmother said she found her a part-time job. I sent over a computer, and now she works on budgets in the living room during the day. She sleeps much more soundly at night.”

“I can’t visit too often—I have to stay hidden. I’m afraid seeing me might trigger her, and she’ll relentlessly ask about the villa’s seizure.”

The old villa, valued at 1.8 million yuan, was ultimately split equally between Shi Kaiji and Li Xiangqun by the court. The first two auctions failed, and by December, it would be listed again at 1.15 million yuan.

After three failed bids, there would be a public notice period before the property could be released. All Shi Ying could do was wait.

Cheng Simin exhaled deeply, refilled Shi Ying’s teacup, and tried to comfort him. “Your mom must’ve been under immense pressure after what happened to your dad. Those ruthless creditors behaved atrociously—what era are we living in? Resorting to violence and vandalism to collect debts. What’s the law even for? They’re no different from gangsters. Such behavior deserves severe punishment under anti-crime campaigns.”

“Don’t worry too much. Once she comes to terms with everything, she’ll get better. Even if someone buys the house during this time, your mom won’t hold it against you forever. After all, you’re her son—blood is thicker than water.”

“You’re definitely more important than material possessions.”

“Besides, even if the house is gone, she’ll still walk away with several hundred thousand yuan.”

“Isn’t that what traditional opera always sings about? ‘Heaven never leaves anyone without a way out; Earth nurtures kindness. Flowers bloom and wither, water flows endlessly!’“

As Shi Ying listened to her mention of “blood is thicker than water,” he reflected deeply, gazing at her before smiling. “I see. Jay Chou’s music must feel too juvenile for you now. Have you moved on to classical Chinese opera?”

“Hah! Just random listening. There’s an elderly man in the small square who plays Kunqu and Peking Opera on his radio every day.”

The proprietress brought more dishes: peppercorn chicken, fried ribbonfish, spicy pig ears, and a plate of “Moonlit Lotus Pond.”

Cheng Simin clicked her tongue in awe. For two people eating, ordering so many dishes seemed wasteful.

Shi Ying shook his head, chuckling softly. He mocked himself, and by extension, his mother.

“Cheng Simin, if I’d known playing the victim card would earn your sympathy so easily, why did I bother going through all that trouble?”

“When you came to my house in middle school, I made excuses not to let you in, and you got angry and cut ties with me. You misunderstood me—I was so young then, how could I have such complicated thoughts? I swear to heaven, I never looked down on you because your family sold vegetables.”

“If I despised you, why would I have played with you for so many years? What benefit did I gain?”

A turning point: using serving chopsticks, he placed a piece of rib onto Cheng Simin’s plate and continued frankly, “It was my mother who was snobbish. You don’t know—back then, she had so much money it burned her hands. She spoke and acted arrogantly, never saying anything nice. How could I bring you inside?”

“The women of Gucheng are notorious for their loud cursing—they’d have reduced you to tears.”

“So, you really shouldn’t pity her. I’m the most innocent one here. Out of nowhere, I received a breakup letter, got blindsided by a stepmother, couldn’t afford tuition, couldn’t find work, and had nothing to eat. You should pity me.”

Cheng Simin, gnawing on a rib and stuffing slices of meat into her mouth, immediately spat out a small bone onto the plate and pushed all the meat dishes toward him. With her mouth full, she mumbled, “But that day, didn’t you tear up my letter right in front of me? How did you know...”

“Huh? Did you dig through the trash afterward?” Cheng Simin stared at him incredulously.

Seeing her bowl was half-empty, Shi Ying ordered another bowl of rice for her. Just then, the proprietress brought the osmanthus wine. He uncapped it and poured her a small cup.

“How could I have known!”

“I didn’t know back then. You told me yourself the day you had a fever. You cried your heart out, saying I wronged you.”

“Just before you kissed me.”