Chapter 35 p1
The grand staircase in the Xu family villa was a sweeping spiral of polished wood, the steps carpeted in the same dark brown as the hall below. It had always felt oppressive to Xu Jinnan.
Xu Tao led the way, his footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs, and she followed, as if tracing his path.
They reached the second floor.
The study, like the original Xu Jinnan’s bedroom, was located at the south end of the hallway.
Even with the lights on, the hallway felt dark and ominous.
Xu Tao entered the study, and Xu Jinnan stood at the doorway, the door half-open, revealing a spacious room with dark bookshelves, a long table, and gleaming hardwood floors.
A sudden chill ran down her spine, her head throbbing as if she had been struck, a wave of nausea rising in her stomach.
“Nannan?”
She heard Lu Yun calling from downstairs.
Unable to respond, she covered her mouth and ran to the original Xu Jinnan’s bedroom, stumbling into the bathroom and retching violently.
It was a terrible feeling, like a physical manifestation of a deep-seated aversion, an instinctive recoil.
She knew it belonged to the original Xu Jinnan.
Her heart pounded, something dark and painful being dredged up from the depths of her being. Her head throbbed, and she sat down on the floor, clutching her head, unable to speak.
The anguish was overwhelming, suffocating. A memory flashed through her mind – a small girl huddled in the corner of a spacious room, her arms covering her head, her body trembling.
A tall, heavyset man approached her with a whip.
Welts rose on the little girl’s arms as she cried out, “Mommy!”
The sound of the whip cracking, and the man’s disgusted voice, “You disgrace! How could I have spawned such a disgusting creature?!”
After what felt like an eternity, the man left, and the door opened again.
A woman entered and picked up the little girl, her voice flat and lifeless. “Everyone in this family suffers. I suffer too. Why shouldn’t you?” Her voice softened slightly. “If you don’t want to suffer, you have to endure. Nannan, endure it. Endure it with me…”
“I’m the only one who loves you. You’re all I have. Promise me you’ll never leave me.”
“Nannan!”
The woman’s voice seemed to echo from the past.
Xu Jinnan turned to see Lu Yun, her face etched with concern, and felt a chill run down her spine.
“You knew…” she whispered, unable to believe a mother could say such things to a child.
Tears welled up in her eyes, unsure if the emotion was hers or the original Xu Jinnan’s. “Why should she suffer? She’s just a child! Why should she have to endure this?! And why did you tell her to endure it?” Shouldn’t a mother have protected her child?
Even if she had been selfish, prioritizing her own safety, why had she forced a child to bear such a burden for so many years?
“Nannan, what’s wrong? Why are you saying these things…?” Lu Yun asked, her face paling, grabbing Xu Jinnan’s arm.
Xu Jinnan shook her off, staggering to her feet, her voice cold. “You drove her mad. You both drove her mad.”
She stumbled out of the room, Lu Yun reaching for her, as if afraid of losing her grasp on her daughter.
Her grasp was already gone.
Xu Jinnan easily pushed her away, the difference in strength between an Alpha and an Omega significant.
She hadn’t intended to use so much force; it had been a purely instinctive reaction.
Then, she heard Xu Tao’s roar of rage from the study, the sound of the whip cracking against the floor.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in her scent gland, she took out her phone, opened the study door, and took a picture – Xu Tao, his face flushed with anger and alcohol, holding the whip, his eyes blazing with fury.
“You beast! What are you doing?!” he roared, stumbling towards her, raising his hand to strike.
The blow never landed.
Xu Jinnan didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, grabbing his wrist and twisting it sharply. Xu Tao’s face contorted in pain. “How dare you!”
Lu Yun froze, then collapsed onto the floor, overwhelmed by the Alpha pheromones.
Xu Tao was an S-class Alpha, his pheromones capable of subduing Omegas and lower-level Alphas.
But Xu Jinnan remained unaffected. She glanced at Lu Yun on the floor, then sneered at Xu Tao. “You seem to have forgotten. I’m a dysfunctional failure. I don’t react to pheromones.”
She shoved him away and ran downstairs.
As she reached the courtyard, her phone rang incessantly, but she didn’t bother checking who it was.
She wondered if Xu Tao would take out his anger on Lu Yun. Should she do something?
Then, a hand grabbed her wrist. She turned to see Lu Yun, tears streaming down her face.
“Nannan, what’s wrong with you?!” Her voice trembled, her body still shaking from the Alpha pheromones.
This time, Xu Jinnan didn’t push her away.
But the memory of Lu Yun’s cold, twisted words to the original Xu Jinnan sent a chill down her spine.
In that moment of hesitation, her hand was empty.
Lu Yun had snatched her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Nannan, you can’t do this… What’s wrong with you? You promised me you would endure…”
The scene was absurd.
Xu Jinnan almost laughed.
She rubbed her throbbing temples.
What kind of mother could witness her child’s abuse and not only fail to protect her, but also teach her to endure, allowing her to become twisted and broken?
Xu Jinnan’s voice turned cold. “Give it back.”
Lu Yun threw the phone into the fishpond.
“I’m doing this for your own good! Please, Nannan, stop this! What are you trying to do?!” she pleaded.
The two most terrifying phrases in the world: “for your own good” and “I’m begging you.”
They made it impossible to argue, impossible to refuse.
Xu Jinnan looked at the dark water, her voice cold. “Abusers can never be forgiven. And those who forgive them are accomplices.”
Whatever Lu Yun’s reasons, Xu Jinnan couldn’t understand. Her sympathy for Lu Yun had vanished.
And if Lu Yun was also a victim, she couldn’t understand why she would protect Xu Tao.
Why force a child to endure such abuse, just for the sake of the Xu family’s fortune?
Was it worth it?
The original Xu Jinnan had been only four years old.
It was madness.
Xu Jinnan left the Xu residence, her head spinning. Zhou Pei’s car was waiting for her, as arranged.
“Miss, Miss Shen called. She asked you to call her back,” Zhou Pei said, then added, “It sounded urgent.”
Xu Jinnan slowly regained her composure, reaching for her phone, then remembering Lu Yun had thrown it into the pond.
She borrowed Zhou Pei’s phone and called Shen Shu, taking a deep breath as she waited for the call to connect.
“Hello?”
“Zhou Pei said you were looking for me?”
Xu Jinnan tried to steady her breathing, Shen Shu’s calm voice easing her anxiety.
“Are you still at the Xu residence?”
“I just left.”
Shen Shu paused. “Can you come over?”
“Did something happen?” Xu Jinnan asked, sensing a change in Shen Shu’s tone.
“No, just come over.”
“Okay.”
Shen Shu sat on the bed, holding her phone, her worry slightly lessened. The words on the back of the photos, especially the first one, “Today is Mom’s birthday. Dad hit me. Mom was there too…” had disturbed her deeply.
She couldn’t understand how Lu Yun, who doted on Xu Jinnan, could tolerate such abuse.
She didn’t even dare touch the photos, afraid of somehow disturbing the wounds they represented. The images of bruises and scars were like needles pricking her heart.
Was this the true reason for Xu Jinnan’s multiple personalities?
Looking at the photos, the earliest ones seemed to be from kindergarten. The original Xu Jinnan hadn’t been able to hold the Polaroid camera steady, and some of the photos, showing only her arm, were blurry.
As she grew older, she started looking directly at the camera, her eyes changing from cold indifference to a forced smile, then to a chilling madness.
The photos were like a visual record of her life, documenting her descent into darkness.
Shen Shu wondered if showing these photos to Xu Jinnan now would hurt her. Would reading the words on the back be too painful?
She hesitated, unsure whether to tell Xu Jinnan.
There was also a letter in the box, which she hadn’t opened. The photos alone were disturbing enough.
She carefully placed the photos back in the box, each one carrying a handwritten message on the back, some in childish characters.
Her hands trembled.
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang.
“What’s wrong?” Xu Jinnan asked as soon as Shen Shu opened the door.
Shen Shu, looking at her concerned expression, froze, unable to utter the words she had prepared. “Nothing,” she lied. “Cai Ying was going to come over, but she canceled.”
Xu Jinnan visibly relaxed, nodding and standing silently at the doorway for a few seconds.
“Come in,” Shen Shu said.
Xu Jinnan changed into the bunny slippers and sat down on the sofa.
As Shen Shu handed her a glass of water, their hands brushed against each other, and she noticed Xu Jinnan’s hand was ice-cold, despite the warm August weather.
“How was your day?” she asked.
Xu Jinnan, looking tired, paused for a moment. “It was fine… I’m a little tired. Can I sleep in the guest room tonight?”
Shen Shu looked at her pale face. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Xu Jinnan looked up, forcing a smile. “I have a terrible headache.”
She went to the guest room without even taking a shower and lay down on the bed.
Her temples throbbed, and even lying down didn’t ease the pain. After a long time, she gave up and went back out.
She needed a distraction.
She grabbed a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, a pack of cigarettes from under Shen Shu’s coffee table, and went out onto the balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind her.
A wooden bench sat on the balcony. The apartment was on the eighth floor, and she could see the city lights in the distance. After a while, she heard the soft click of the door opening and a faint light spilling onto the balcony.
She didn’t turn around, simply extinguishing her cigarette.
Shen Shu opened the sliding door and, in the dim light, saw two cigarette butts in the ashtray and the half-empty bottle of wine.
She sat down beside Xu Jinnan, the faint scent of smoke and alcohol lingering in the air, and looked out at the city lights. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
Xu Jinnan was silent for a moment. “I remembered some things today. Unpleasant things. It’s been bothering me.”
Shen Shu paused. “About that person?”
“Yes.”
Shen Shu immediately thought of the photos.
Her fingers tightened.
Xu Jinnan wasn’t inclined to elaborate, partly because she didn’t know how to explain it. She knew these emotions belonged mostly to the original Xu Jinnan, but they were affecting her too.
She was in a bad mood and didn’t want to burden Shen Shu.
“Go to sleep,” she said.
Shen Shu hesitated, then stood up, her hand resting on the cool glass of the sliding door. She paused, looking down at Xu Jinnan.
“Xu Jinnan, do you… need a hug?”
Xu Jinnan’s fingers froze. She looked up. The balcony and living room were dark, only a faint light coming from Shen Shu’s bedroom, so she couldn’t see her expression clearly.
As Shen Shu opened the door, Xu Jinnan reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a gentle embrace.
It was a hug devoid of any sexual desire.
Just a hug.
In this unfamiliar world, she simply needed a moment of comfort.
Xu Jinnan woke up on the sofa, covered with Shen Shu’s blue-gray blanket.
She heard the clinking of dishes from the kitchen and, rubbing her head, which was still heavy from the alcohol, sat up to see Shen Shu pouring milk into a glass. Hearing her movements, Shen Shu glanced over.
“You’re awake. Go wash up and have some breakfast.”
Xu Jinnan looked at her for a moment, the warmth of the hug still lingering.
When she emerged from the bathroom, breakfast was laid out on the table – eggs, milk, toast, and blueberry jam. She sat down, took a sip of milk, then reached for a piece of toast, a jar of salted caramel appearing beside her hand.
She looked over to see Shen Shu spreading blueberry jam on her own toast.
Xu Jinnan spread some salted caramel on her toast and smiled. “Delicious.”
“You’ll have to reimburse me,” Shen Shu said dryly.
Xu Jinnan paused. Shen Shu rarely joked, and she nodded, her gloomy mood from yesterday lifting slightly.
“Of course,” she replied, smiling. “I’ll reimburse you.”
As she was leaving for work, she hesitated at the door, sensing Shen Shu had something to say.
But Shen Shu remained silent.
Xu Jinnan went to get a new phone and SIM card, then contacted Chen Bo on WeChat. While he was a scumbag, he was well-connected and knew all sorts of people.
She asked him to recommend a few private investigators, and she chose one who seemed like a bit of a rogue.
She needed to find Wang Zheng.
Chen Bo’s recommendations weren’t necessarily trustworthy, so she couldn’t have them investigate Qucheng directly. She would have this person find Wang Zheng.
She was almost certain now that the original Xu Jinnan had been investigating Qucheng because she knew it held secrets about Xu Tao, and perhaps the entire Xu family.
It was their weak spot.
It was a little past 6 p.m.
As Xu Jinnan got into the car, Zhou Pei asked where she was going.
Compared to the luxurious suite on the top floor of the hotel, she preferred Shen Shu’s apartment. It wasn’t about anything else; it just felt less lonely.
But Shen Shu would likely misinterpret her intentions.
“Back to the hotel,” she said.
Shen Shu leaned back on the sofa, scrolling through the lively conversation in the film crew’s group chat. Just as she was about to close the app, a message popped up, tagging her.
[@Shen Shu You’ve been photographed.]
[Photo]
Shen Shu recognized the jewelry store from the thumbnail. She had been looking at a display case, her back to the camera.
It was before Xu Li and Chen Baimo had arrived.
Ren Xiaoqi: [Wow, Shu-jie, was that a gift from your boyfriend or girlfriend?]
The group chat fell silent, as if everyone was waiting for her answer.
The implication was clear – she couldn’t afford such expensive jewelry without a wealthy benefactor.
Shen Shu: [My wife.]
A flurry of question marks followed.
Someone said: [Xiaoqi, you’ve pushed her too far! Now she’s even claiming to be married!]
Ren Xiaoqi: [Hahaha, just kidding!]
Shen Shu closed the app, ignoring the messages, and went to the bedroom, turning off the living room lights. The apartment suddenly felt empty.
She retrieved her pajamas from the wardrobe, then noticed a new dress hanging on a hanger.
The dark green dress Xu Jinnan had bought her.
The color was similar to the one she had worn at the banquet. We actually have similar taste, she thought.
The pajamas she had given Xu Jinnan were also the same color as the dress Xu Jinnan had worn that night.
She felt a pang of sadness. Was Xu Jinnan reminded of those photos when she went home last night?
If so, what was she doing now, alone?
In the penthouse suite, a TV commercial played in the living room. Xu Jinnan, in her bathrobe, lay on the sofa, her phone lighting up intermittently on the table.
She was holding the copy of Tipping the Velvet she had borrowed from Shen Shu.
Her eyes tired, she put down the book and glanced at her phone.
She ignored the calls from Lu Yun and Xu Tao. She didn’t want to contact them anytime soon. Then, she saw the messages from Song Ronghui.
She hadn’t touched the Song family’s investments yesterday, and compared to the previous night, Song Ronghui’s tone had returned to normal.
Song Ronghui: [Sorry, Nan. I was a little frantic the other day. I misunderstood you.]
Song Ronghui: [Are you in a bad mood lately? Let’s have dinner sometime.]
While her words sounded casual, there was an underlying sense of probing.
Xu Jinnan didn’t reply.
It wasn’t time yet. It was only 8:20 p.m.
The Song family wouldn’t have let their guard down completely, and their financial manager wouldn’t reveal too much information. They were likely still trying to determine if she was behind the attacks.
Xu Jinnan’s guess was correct.
8:30 p.m., Song family villa.
“That manager didn’t confirm or deny anything, but I ran into Xu Li today, and from what she said, I’m almost certain it’s Xu Jinnan,” Song Weiwei said, pouring a cup of tea.
Mr. Song frowned, taking the teacup from her. “Isn’t Xu Jinnan a spoiled brat? How could she be capable of such a thing?”
Song Weiwei shook her head. “I don’t know.” She glanced at Song Ronghui, who was staring at her phone silently. “Ronghui, did you do something you shouldn’t have?”
Song Ronghui looked up, startled, then smiled. “No, of course not. How could I? And Xu Jinnan isn’t capable of this. Are you sure it’s not the Xu family behind this?”
“Impossible. Xu Tao wouldn’t bother with such small-scale attacks. If he wanted to target us, he would go after our capital chain,” Mr. Song said firmly.
Besides, Xu Tao had no reason to do so.
Song Ronghui was still unsure.
She felt a growing sense of unease. Based on what she knew of Xu Jinnan, she wasn’t capable of this. But now, Xu Jinnan had Shen Shu…
And Xu Jinnan hadn’t replied to her messages.
“Just to be safe, should we liquidate our major holdings? What if…?” Song Weiwei suggested.
This discussion only fueled Song Ronghui’s defiance. That useless Xu Jinnan had been beneath her before, and now they were actually afraid of her.
“How could Xu Jinnan possibly know about our major holdings?” she asked. It was highly confidential information, known only to the family and their financial manager.
But even as she spoke, she lacked conviction.
Just like her mood these past few days, fluctuating between anxiety and fear.
“She shouldn’t have known about the smaller investments either, but she still targeted them,” Song Weiwei said. “Ronghui, we have to be vigilant in business.”
Mr. Song nodded. “Vigilance is essential.”
He paused, checking the time. 8:35 p.m.
“But liquidating our assets now would be too drastic. There hasn’t been any activity since yesterday…”
Suddenly, Song Weiwei’s phone rang.
The tension in the room thickened.
Mr. Song put down his teacup, waiting.
Song Weiwei listened, then abruptly stood up. “What?!”
“What is it?” Song Ronghui asked, her heart sinking.
Song Weiwei’s face was ashen. “Someone’s shorting our stock, pushing us to the brink of bankruptcy. Who have we offended recently? How did they know which stocks to target… Who is it?!”