Chapter 17: Not for Sheng Yang

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To be precise, it was when she encountered Sheng Yang shopping for gifts with Wen You. The moment Wen Jin saw them, she turned around, intending to leave immediately. Yet Wen You had already noticed them. She hooked her arm through Sheng Yang’s, lifted her brow slightly, and greeted coolly, “What a coincidence, to run into you here.” Her gaze landed on a bracelet Wen Jin had selected. “Since we met, let Sheng Yang pay for it together.” “No need,” Wen Jin instinctively picked up her bracelet. “I’ll pay for it myself.” It was a gift she intended for her aunt, unrelated to Sheng Yang. But her refusal was too obvious, and Sheng Yang’s gaze landed on her with a subtle weight. Wen Jin’s lips tightened; she turned her face away, avoiding his eyes. “Seems Wen Jin has some issues with you,” Wen You said with a light laugh, then slowly added, “You’re family after all.” She paused, as if recalling something, then scrutinized Wen Jin without any courtesy. Then she continued, “Besides, I’m living at Meiyuan now. Wen Jin has to take care of me, so even a nanny should get some salary.” Only now did Wen Jin realize what Wen You truly meant. It was nothing more than a reminder of the gap in their statuses—Wen You’s tactic—repeatedly belittling Wen Jin, overtly and covertly reminding her she was unworthy. Wen Jin lowered her eyelids, showing none of the awkwardness or panic Wen You expected. In the past, such words might have made her feel inferior. She had always worried Sheng Yang would despise her, subconsciously feeling unworthy of him. But now, she simply gathered her things calmly and said, “Miss Wen, you’re mistaken. Sheng Yang and I have never been family; it’s just that Grandpa Sheng kindly took me in.” “So I don’t need you to pay for my things.” She left the rest unsaid. Sheng Yang’s cold gaze remained fixed on her. Thinking of his demeanor last night, Wen Jin took her items and turned to pay quietly. She couldn’t afford to provoke them and had to keep her distance. Wen You watched her retreating back, a heavy sarcasm flashing in her eyes. She looked up at Sheng Yang. “Is her bad temper something you’ve spoiled?” Sheng Yang’s gaze followed Wen Jin as she left, a touch of darkness clouding his pale eyes. His thin lips parted slightly, uttering two words—like a label for Wen Jin: “Pretentious.”

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Wen Jin bought a tie for her cousin before going to find Qiao Qiao.

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Qiao Qiao’s shopping list was not in the same area, so they split up. Without mentioning anything, Qiao Qiao naturally didn’t know Wen Jin had encountered Sheng Yang and Wen You. Holding her phone, Qiao Qiao said, “Honey, let’s eat later. Come with me first to deliver a gift, okay?” Wen Jin was indifferent. “What gift?” Qiao Qiao sighed, lifting the bag in her hand. “It’s a gift for my boss. She’s eating around here, and my dad wants me to deliver it now, so I don’t miss the chance later.” “Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” Wen Jin hesitated. “Of course it is, but I have no choice.” Qiao Qiao refused to take no for an answer and pulled her hand toward the destination. Outside the private room, Wen Jin shook her head. “You go in. I’ll wait outside.” Qiao Qiao didn’t insist and took a deep breath before pushing open the door with the gift bag. Wen Jin stood awkwardly, with no place to rest in the corridor. After waiting ten minutes and Qiao Qiao still not coming out, Wen Jin decided to go downstairs to wait for her. But as the elevator doors opened, she immediately saw a group of familiar faces. Zhao Yimo led the group—Sheng Yang’s friends. Seeing Zhao Yimo, Wen Jin’s brow instinctively tightened. She wanted to step aside, but Zhao Yimo spoke first. “Can’t get rid of you, huh?” Wen Jin’s expression remained unchanged. “It’s a public place; anyone can come.” “I think you’re deliberately following Sheng Yang.” Zhao Yimo had a strong dislike for Wen Jin and naturally showed no mercy. “If you still have any dignity as a woman, don’t keep clinging to unrealistic fantasies. Tell me, what part of you could possibly compare to Wen You?” Wen Jin found even talking to him exhausting. In the past, she had always considered Sheng Yang’s perspective. No matter how harsh his friends spoke, she endured it. But now, she found it pointless and saw Zhao Yimo as nothing but noisy. She turned to leave, but Zhao Yimo suddenly grabbed her. Instinctively, she raised her hand to block, but the bag fell to the ground. The contents spilled out—a conventional men’s tie. Zhao Yimo sneered in disdain. “If you want to please Sheng Yang, at least have better taste.” Wen Jin’s face turned cold as she looked at the soiled tie. She glanced at Zhao Yimo, her voice low. “Zhao Yimo, did anyone ever tell you that you’re very ill-mannered?” Zhao Yimo’s expression instantly shifted; everyone knew he hated his family matters mentioned. His eyes darkened as he prepared to teach Wen Jin a lesson, but then he noticed the figure approaching behind her. Wen Jin sneered, “Just a friendly reminder: Sheng Yang doesn’t care about your rubbish.” Wen Jin’s eyes were calm, showing no emotion. She had long seen through the rot beneath the glamorous surface of these people.

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She merely said, “Who said this is a gift for Sheng Yang?” Just then, a low, cold voice sounded behind her: “If it’s not for me, then who is it for?” Wen Jin stiffened instantly and turned mechanically to meet Sheng Yang’s half-smiling, half-scornful eyes. He looked down at her, his gaze settling on the tie in her hand. He snorted, emotionless. “Answer me.” Wen Jin took a deep breath. “It’s for my cousin.” “I didn’t know you had a cousin,” Sheng Yang said neutrally. He glanced at Zhao Yimo, who understood immediately and left with the others. The corridor was left with only the two of them again. Sheng Yang took the tie from Wen Jin’s hand, toyed with it disinterestedly for a moment, then loosened his grip and tossed it to the ground. Coldness gathered between his brows and eyes. “Such inferior goods belong in the trash.” After speaking, he raised his eyelids and stared unblinking at Wen Jin. “Just like your suddenly appearing cousin.” Sheng Yang’s arrogance was innate, but that didn’t mean Wen Jin would tolerate his insults and slanders against her family. She closed her eyes briefly. “He’s my aunt’s son. Sheng Yang, could you show a little respect for them?” Sheng Yang sneered coldly. “He’s your aunt’s son, not mine. They don’t deserve my respect.” Hearing this, Wen Jin naturally fell silent. Though she had lived in Jing City for years, she hadn’t never stopped visiting Yang City. Sheng Yang knew she had relatives, but he simply didn’t care. Even when she once tried to introduce them to him, he had no interest. He was lofty and aloof; in his eyes, Wen Jin’s relatives were beneath notice—hardly worth his attention. With nothing more to say, Wen Jin said softly, “I’m still waiting for Qiao Qiao. I won’t disturb you.” “Who said you could leave?” Sheng Yang’s light words stopped her in her tracks. “Room 2506.” He tossed a key card, which landed on Wen Jin’s elbow and then dropped to her feet. Sheng Yang paid no further attention to her. He turned away carelessly, his expensive leather shoe landing on the discarded tie. Only then did he pause and glance back slightly. “If you want to keep pretending, go ahead.” “Just don’t know if Wen Chaoshen will pay the price for your act.”