Chapter 13: He Is Not a Suitable Match

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Sheng Yang’s accusation was almost a direct question, as if he wanted to know whether Wen Jin had been using his name to show off to Wen Chaosheng.

More people gathered backstage, and noticing the tense standoff between them, nearly everyone paused to take a look.

Zhao Yimo’s casual voice broke the atmosphere: “Why are you all so slow? I’ve been waiting for you. Wasn’t this supposed to be a celebration for Wen Youqing?”

Sheng Yang’s gaze, which had originally been focused scrutinizing Wen Jin, slowly withdrew, though a warning flickered faintly in his eyes.

He was doubting her.

Wen Jin pressed her lips together, feeling both ridiculous and sorrowful inside.

Ridiculous because she and Sheng Yang had been together for so many years—if he truly wanted to expose their relationship, he wouldn’t have waited until now.

And it was impossible that he would tell Wen Chaosheng, who was in prison, rather than anyone in their social circle.

What was sad was that even after all these years with Sheng Yang, even though she had always obeyed him unquestioningly,

he had never truly believed her.

Yet she felt no pain—only numbness.

She seemed to have grown accustomed to Sheng Yang’s ways.

Taking a deep breath, Wen Jin lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, forcing her thoughts to calm down, then turned and walked away.

She didn’t say another word to them, nor did she want to attend Wen Youqing’s so-called celebration banquet.

But the calm in her eyes darkened instantly as she turned her back.

Sheng Yang’s words echoed repeatedly in her mind.

Dad had beaten the prison guard because he found out about Sheng Yang’s marriage to Wen Youqing.

Did that mean Dad also knew about her relationship with Sheng Yang—

Wen Jin dared not think further, her heart in turmoil.

Only when Qiao Qiao’s call came through did her thoughts clear.

“Baby, where are you? I couldn’t find you at the entrance.”

Wen Jin gave her location, and Qiao Qiao came to find her.

She exaggerated: “No way, my dear, you walked two kilometers on foot? That’s impressive!”

Wen Jin had no mood to respond, and quietly said, “Qiao Qiao, can you do me a favor?”

Only after Wen Jin’s figure completely disappeared from the entrance did Zhao Yimo whistle: “She looks like someone who’s been through hell, like someone owes her eight million. No wonder you pretend to have amnesia just to avoid her.”

Sheng Yang glanced at him without expression. “I just find her boring.”

Wen Jin was the typical obedient girl—believe whatever she was told.

At first, that was appealing, but over time, she became like plain white rice: the more you eat, the more tasteless it is.

Zhao Yimo smiled and asked Sheng Yang quietly, where Wen Youqing couldn’t hear: “I’m curious—how did you two even get together in the first place?”

“We all guessed it was Wen Jin pestering him endlessly, otherwise what would you want from her?”

Honestly, after hearing that Sheng Yang and Wen Jin were together,

everyone’s first reaction was to assume Wen Jin had used some underhanded trick.

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Otherwise, why would Sheng Yang agree to be with her?

After all, anyone with eyes could see that Sheng Yang was a favored son of heaven.

While Wen Jin was as ordinary as dust, with nothing remarkable about her.

Sheng Yang neither denied nor answered.

His lowered eyelashes shielded all his thoughts, making it impossible to glean even a hint.

—

Although Qiao Qiao’s family couldn’t compare to the Sheng family, they had their own network of connections.

Early the next morning, arrangements were made for her to meet Wen Chaosheng.

Since Wen’s mother passed away, Wen Jin had visited Wen Chaosheng every month during visitation hours.

But never had the atmosphere been as heavy as today.

Wen Chaosheng had always taught her that although she was relying on the Sheng family, she must be self-aware and never lose sight of her identity.

Despite the torrent of emotions inside, when Wen Jin saw Wen Chaosheng, she could not hold back the tears.

Dressed in an oversized prison uniform, Wen Chaosheng staggered over.

His hair was already graying, his aged face marked with several bruises.

Once always smiling at Wen Jin, this time his face was full of worry, his body even stooped.

Wen Jin spoke with difficulty: “Dad.”

Wen Chaosheng’s murky eyes looked at her, and after a long pause, he said: “Xiao Jin, be honest with me. What exactly is your relationship with Sheng Yang?”

Wen Jin froze.

Wen Chaosheng kept looking at her: “I don’t believe what others say. I’m listening to you. Please tell me the truth, okay?”

Perhaps he didn’t realize how much his voice was trembling.

Wen Jin’s heart ached unbearably, tears wetting her lashes, her voice hoarse: “Dad, I’m sorry.”

After leaving the prison, Wen Jin’s face was pale.

Her father was not as angry about her relationship with Sheng Yang as she had imagined.

He was just very sad.

“Xiao Jin, we are no match for the Sheng family. We can’t play their game.”

“Be good. Cut ties with Sheng Yang. He’s not a good match.”

Wen Jin looked up at the clear sky, a day that should have been bright and beautiful.

But she only felt a chill.

— Dad said they couldn’t compete with the Sheng family.

And indeed, that was the truth.

Wen Jin forced a bitter smile, unsure how long she stood there.

In the afternoon, back at the company, Sister Shuang called Wen Jin into her office.

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Sister Shuang played a voice message from Wen Youqing: “Manager Ming, my only request is to see Xin Yue’s attitude. After all, we paid seven figures for this campaign. If Xin Yue can’t meet the requirements, I think we can cancel the cooperation, right?”

After the message ended, Sister Shuang looked at Wen Jin helplessly: “You heard that, right?”

Wen Jin lowered her lashes, fully aware that Wen Youqing was not really targeting Xin Yue, but targeting her.

She whispered, “I will handle this matter.”

After a pause, she added, “I’ll contact Miss Wen today and explain everything face to face.”

Sister Shuang’s eyes were complicated, but she nodded in the end: “Handle it as soon as possible.”

After leaving the office, Wen Jin took out her phone and opened the group chat she had muted.

The message history stopped at last night. Zhao Yimo had sent many photos of the celebration banquet into the group.

Wen Youqing’s stage play was to last three days, and today was the second performance.

Wen Jin didn’t have a ticket for the second show, so she waited outside the cultural center.

During that time, she messaged Sheng Yang, asking when the performance would end, hoping to talk to Wen Youqing about the wedding.

Sheng Yang didn’t reply but posted a photo of Wen Youqing backstage waiting in the group.

Wen Jin hesitated briefly, then decided to call Sheng Yang directly.

Just as she thought he wouldn’t answer, his lazy voice came through: “What is it?”

The background was quiet—he didn’t seem to be watching the show.

Wen Jin was taken aback before saying, “I sent you a message, but it looks like you didn’t see it. I want to talk to Wen Youqing—”

Before she finished, Sheng Yang interrupted: “I saw the message. I just didn’t want to reply.”

Wen Jin’s hand holding the phone tightened slowly. She just murmured in agreement, not dwelling on it.

Instead, she asked, “When will Wen Youqing’s performance end? She submitted feedback about Xin Yue earlier; I want to discuss it with her.”

The weather had been fine during the day, but now close to eight in the evening, the sky was overcast, as if rain was about to fall.

The rising wind scattered her voice somewhat.

After a moment of silence, Sheng Yang asked, “Are you outside the venue?”

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Sheng Yang appeared.

More precisely, he drove out his Rolls-Royce Cullinan and stopped in front of Wen Jin.

The car window rolled down, revealing Sheng Yang’s striking yet cold face: “Get in.”

Wen Jin stood still. “I’m here to see Wen Youqing.”

Sheng Yang’s brows furrowed tighter, his voice darkened. “You know that Wen Youqing’s mentor is here tonight too, and there are many media present. Are you deliberately trying to cause trouble?”

His tea-colored eyes gradually blended with the night, one hand resting on the steering wheel as his index finger tapped rhythmically.

He asked Wen Jin, “Just because Wen Youqing complained about you, you came today to stir up a scene in front of the media?”