Chapter 19: The Jealousy of the Sickly Lover Erupts!

Knock, knock, knock!

“Hello, Director! I’m Tang Xiwei from Finance Class 2. I have something important to report to you in person!”

Tang Xiwei marched straight to the department director’s office, steadied herself, and adopted a tone of respectful urgency.

Feng Ming, the head of the Finance Department, was a man of considerable authority. Every counselor and teacher in the department answered to him. As both associate professor and department chair, his academic standing was second to none at the university, and his influence was widely acknowledged.

Tang Xiwei had learned of his reputation from the very start of her studies. She had even used a senior student’s connections to visit him twice. Feng Ming had always treated her rather well—although there were subtle, unspoken advances, Tang Xiwei had chosen to overlook them. After all, forging this connection could only benefit her future at the university; enduring a little discomfort seemed a small price to pay.

She had always kept this relationship as her trump card, but today’s events had left her no choice but to seek him out. On her way over, she’d steeled herself, even preparing to offer a little favor if it would secure Feng Ming’s support.

“Come in!”

A chilly, clear female voice sounded from within, leaving Tang Xiwei momentarily puzzled. Why was it a woman’s voice? Perhaps the old lecher had summoned some female student for a private discussion again. Never mind—she’d just go in and see.

“Director, I’m coming in!” Tang Xiwei pushed open the door and, in a voice thick with grievance, cried out, “Director! Counselor Wen Wan of the Finance Department is abusing her authority, practicing favoritism and operating in the shadows. You must uphold justice for me!”

Her voice was as pitiful as could be, as if she were pouring out all the grievances she had just suffered.

“Director, let me explain—”

Before she could finish, Tang Xiwei stopped short, stunned by the sight before her.

Wen Wan, wearing sleek black-rimmed glasses, was focused on her computer. In front of her stood Mo Lan, dressed in a fitted professional outfit, shielding her protectively, her expression wary.

“Wen Wan? Why are you here? Where is Director Feng Ming?” Tang Xiwei, seeing Wen Wan seated at the director’s desk, panicked, forgetting even the counselor’s title.

But Wen Wan didn’t so much as glance at her; instead, it was Mo Lan who spoke coldly.

“How dare you! As a student of Hangzhou University, how can you address your teacher so rudely?”

“But—but—this is the department director’s office…”

Mo Lan’s piercing gaze chilled Tang Xiwei to the bone, leaving her stammering a feeble protest.

Mo Lan pointed to the nameplate on the desk, where it was clearly written: Head of the Finance Department, Professor Wen Wan.

“A director who also serves as a counselor? Is that even allowed?” Tang Xiwei felt utterly bewildered. For the head of a department to serve as a lowly counselor—wasn’t that a step down?

“If you’re looking for Feng Ming, go to the Preparations Office. We’re busy here,” Mo Lan announced impatiently, dismissing her without a shred of tolerance.

Throughout the exchange, Wen Wan never once looked up.

Mo Lan ushered Tang Xiwei out, the office door closing behind her—along with her last shred of opportunity.

Her last support was gone; her plan to use her post as class secretary as a springboard into the student union’s social circles was in shambles.

She descended the stairs, each step heavy, her spirit crushed. Just then, a figure came up the stairs toward her.

It was only after the figure had passed her and continued up the stairs that Tang Xiwei recognized him.

“Chen Luo!”

Her low, hoarse cry was loaded with resentment. She turned to glare in Chen Luo’s direction, her gaze murderous.

“If this path is blocked, I’ll forge my own way!”

“Chen Luo! Wen Wan! From this moment, you are my sworn enemies. I will destroy everything in your lives to repay today’s humiliation!”

She pulled out her phone, dialed a number, and waited only a moment for it to connect.

“Senior Liu Feng, are you free to have dinner together tonight?”

...

Panting, Chen Luo finally reached the department director’s office, guided by the address on the note he’d just received.

He knocked lightly. “Knock, knock.”

Inside, an angry voice called out, “Didn’t I tell you? Feng Ming is at the Preparations Office! We’re very busy!”

Mo Lan opened the door and, seeing Chen Luo, was momentarily taken aback. “Oh, what just happened?”

“Oh, sorry, sorry, Luo. I didn’t realize it was you. I thought it was that girl Tang Xiwei haunting us again.”

Right, he recalled—Tang Xiwei had said she was coming to report to the department director. Wait, this was the director’s office?

“Please, come in.” Mo Lan hurriedly welcomed Chen Luo inside, exchanged a look with the other two assistants, and the three of them slipped out, shutting the door and standing guard to ensure their privacy.

Wen Wan, seeing Chen Luo enter, immediately put down her pen and rose to her feet, gazing at him intently.

“Finding the difference in our positions a little hard to take?” she asked softly.

Chen Luo scratched his head, “It is a bit disorienting. Yesterday, we were just together, and now you’re suddenly my counselor and the department director. It’s thrown me for a loop.”

Wen Wan stepped closer, drew a handkerchief, and gently wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Do you know why I appointed you as class monitor and Youth League secretary?”

“Um, because we know each other well, so you wanted to give me a back door?”

He asked tentatively, feeling a little guilty. But to his surprise, Wen Wan suddenly tossed the handkerchief aside and gave him a push.

Caught off guard, Chen Luo fell onto the nearby sofa. Before he could react, Wen Wan was upon him, paying no heed to her elegant black dress, her knee pressing him down.

With a sudden, sharp motion, a utility knife stabbed into the wooden armrest of the sofa, mere inches from Chen Luo’s face. The blade quivered as it embedded deeply into the wood.

“No, it’s so I can keep you by my side as much as possible, right under my watchful eye!”

Wen Wan produced a photo from somewhere, her gaze cold and sharp.

It showed Chen Luo dining with You Liuhua, captured with such clarity that one could see the laughter they shared.

“You’re really bold, aren’t you! I was barely gone a moment, and you’re already having lunch alone with another girl. Do you think I’m dead?”

So jealous—ferociously, overwhelmingly jealous. Like a vat of vinegar had been upended, and not just any vinegar, but the possessive, obsessive kind.

“No, wait, let me explain, please calm down, I really can explain—”

Wen Wan leaned in, her body inclined over his, her ample chest mere inches from his face.

“The girl in the photo is quite cute, isn’t she? Especially with that baby-faced, well-endowed figure.”

Suddenly, Wen Wan’s voice rose, laced with fury:

“Go on—feel for yourself! See if mine are bigger than hers!”