Chapter Thirteen: Caged Bird
Zhu Qiao felt like she was back in the ancestral hall. The vast world had shrunk back to the confines of the Yan family estate. Turning left outside her room led to the study, straight ahead to Grandma’s room, and supposedly, turning right led to the vast Yan family gardens, filled with camellias, redbuds, jasmine, roses, and other exotic plants even the gardeners couldn’t name—Zhu Qiao had never been there, but she’d heard the servants talk about it. Whenever she tried to go right, a tall, thin woman would stop her, insisting she stay within the estate.
Until when? Zhu Qiao had asked.
Until you’re married, the woman had replied.
Only the tea room had internet access. Grandma distrusted modern technology, believing that human power was more reliable than electricity. There were no computers in the house, and Zhu Qiao hadn’t contacted the outside world in a while. I wonder if Mr. Producer misses me? She certainly missed him.
Sister Xi hadn’t visited in a while either. That day, she had left in a hurry. Zhu Qiao had asked if she could go back to Sister Xi’s house, but Sister Xi had simply shaken her head, her expression unreadable, and said nothing.
Having glimpsed the vibrant world outside, this small house, made of dark wood and brown panels, felt dull and lifeless. There were no cars, no wide roads, no bustling cafes filled with office workers, no street vendors with yellow hats. Only the ever-present smell of herbs and a musty, decaying odor. Zhu Qiao didn’t like it here.
She didn’t have a clear understanding of marriage, only a vague sense that it was an inevitable part of a woman’s life. So, one night, she found herself longing for marriage.
As Zhu Qiao spent her lonely days counting stars, Sister Xi finally visited again, taking the time to see her. Seeing the familiar figure at the door, Zhu Qiao felt a surge of relief, like a lost child finding her way home. “Sister Xi! Are you here to take me home?”
Zhu Xi’s expression faltered. She had betrayed Little Qiao’s trust. “No, Little Qiao. I just came to see you. I even brought you a gift.” She handed her a beautifully wrapped box. She remembered how much Little Qiao loved gifts, each one a novelty, a glimpse into the world outside. For a caged bird, every passing cloud was a new friend waiting to be named.
To her surprise, Zhu Qiao’s expression was subdued. “Ah… Thank you, Sister Xi.”
Zhu Xi’s heart ached. Little Qiao was her only true family in this world. She couldn’t bear to see her unhappy. That was why she had brought her out of the ancestral hall, never imagining she would be trapping her in a new cage.
“Little Qiao, there’s something I need to tell you…” Zhu Xi hesitated. “Do you remember Lu Li?”
Of course she remembered. That was Mr. Producer’s real name. Zhu Qiao’s days had revolved around eating, sleeping, watching movies, playing games, and chatting with Mr. Producer. She had spent many nights silently repeating his name.
“Did Mr. Producer contact me?” A spark of hope lit up Zhu Qiao’s eyes, her face brightening. She was incapable of hiding her true feelings.
“…Lu Li had an accident. He’s passed away.” Zhu Xi forced the words out, watching as the light in Little Qiao’s eyes dimmed, her smile fading. It was just an online friendship, nothing serious, she thought.
Zhu Qiao whispered, “Why… passed away? Is he dead? Does that mean he can’t open his eyes anymore, can’t talk anymore?”
“Yes.”
Zhu Qiao’s voice trembled. “But that’s not how it’s supposed to be… Did Mr. Producer not tie his shoelaces properly?” Zhu Xi looked at her. “Don’t ‘watch’ anymore, Little Qiao. There’s no need. And you’ve never actually met him. There’s no need to be too upset, is there?”
The words “no need to be too upset” stung Zhu Qiao. She remembered Sister Xi saying the same thing long ago, when she had taken her puppy away. “You’re just losing a disobedient puppy. There’s no need to be upset.” But Sister Xi didn’t know how much she had cried over that puppy, how she had vowed to find it again one day.
Tears welled up in Zhu Qiao’s eyes. For the first time, she felt like Sister Xi was a stranger, distant and uncaring, just like Grandma. She cared so much about Mr. Producer, she wanted to go back to Sister Xi’s house, but why could Sister Xi say so casually, “There’s no need to be too upset”? Why had she broken her promise and left her trapped in the Yan estate? …And why wasn’t she the one chatting and laughing with Mr. Producer?
The seeds of resentment, sown unknowingly, began to sprout, something dark and twisted taking root in the shadows.
Zhu Xi dismissed Little Qiao’s tears as childishness, something she would get over in a few days, just like always. She genuinely believed that their relationship was just a casual online friendship. A child’s world was like a flowing river, new things arriving, old things fading away, joys and sorrows washed away by the passage of time. The name “Lu Li” would gradually fade from Zhu Qiao’s life—that was the best outcome, the least painful for everyone involved. That was Zhu Xi’s thinking.
But she underestimated the power of death. Death was a paradox. It erased the deceased’s existence, but it also etched their memory deeper into the hearts of the living. Zhu Qiao was the latter.
The older sister, oblivious to the innocent Zhu Qiao’s inner turmoil, gave her a few more instructions, then hurried off to meet Grandma Yan. That was her main task today.
As always, she walked down the dimly lit corridor, reaching the old woman’s room at the end. The woman lying in bed, her body crippled, was her blood relative, her poor mother’s mother, the source of what little family affection she had left. Her grandmother. It was hard to tell whether the old woman’s bitterness stemmed from her own suffering or from a desire for revenge for her daughter’s humiliating death. Zhu Xi couldn’t tell; she was merely a tool, carrying the weight of two generations of hatred.
“Grandma,” she said respectfully, bowing her head.
“Oh? Xi’er, is there any progress with the Chu family?”
“Yes. We’ve made progress. We have Chu Xiaodong’s schedule.”
“Just Chu Xiaodong’s?”
Zhu Xi was taken aback. Wasn’t that enough?
“His wife, his parents, his daughter, his siblings… What about their schedules?” Grandma’s words sent a chill down her spine. Political struggles were common among the Chuanhai elite, but rarely did they involve entire families. No one wanted to risk future retaliation.
“I… I’ll investigate,” Zhu Xi said, her heart pounding as if it were being fried in oil.
After a long silence, Grandma asked, “Xi’er, why aren’t you leaving? Is there anything else?”
Zhu Xi collected her thoughts, trying to calm her racing heart. “Yan Jun asked me to report on the results of his work.”
“Yan Jun? Oh, I remember now. I asked him to… Why didn’t he report to me personally?”
“He’s busy with company matters,” Zhu Xi said evasively. “Yan Jun said the mission is complete. Lu Li is dead.”
Grandma nodded nonchalantly. “Good. I understand.” For Grandma Yan, the death of a powerless commoner was as trivial as eating or drinking.
Leaving her grandmother’s room, Zhu Xi felt like her chest would explode. Her legs were weak, and her back was drenched in cold sweat. This was the first time she’d lied to her grandmother on such a scale. It was only possible because Grandma wasn’t tech-savvy and because that old coward, Yan Jun, was so easily manipulated…
As she reached the entrance of the Yan estate, she saw Vice Minister Yan Jun kneeling outside, the security guards ignoring him. Tears streamed down his face as he saw her. “Fourteenth Princess! Fourteenth Princess! What did Great-Grandma say?”
How dare you call her Great-Grandma? Zhu Xi cursed him inwardly.
“Grandma is very displeased with your incompetence. Failing to kill a mere commoner, you’re useless.” She mimicked her grandmother’s tone, and Yan Jun didn’t suspect a thing. “But I explained the situation, blaming the Chu family’s interference, and she agreed to forgive you, this once. And since the Chu family is involved, she said you shouldn’t target Lu Li anymore. You’re to await her instructions. Any further disobedience…”
“Yes, yes! I understand! Thank you, Fourteenth Princess! Thank you!” Yan Jun kowtowed repeatedly.
Zhu Xi watched the middle-aged man, old enough to be her father, groveling at her feet, and sighed inwardly. This should be enough. No one else would get hurt… Zhu Qiao, Lu Li… This was enough…
Chapter Fourteen: Home Visit
Lu Li received a text message from an unknown number.
“Don’t contact me again.”
The message was short, with no context. He initially dismissed it as spam, but there was no promotional link. He then thought it might be a wrong number, but curiosity got the better of him. He dialed the number, only to be told it didn’t exist.
Who would say “Don’t contact me again”? A heartbroken ex-wife? Lu Li glanced at An Baili, sitting behind him, chewing on her pen, complaining about having to study math in the humanities track.
A melancholic, artsy girl who loved farewells? He looked at Wen Hupo, his deskmate. Wen Hupo was actually attending class today, but she mostly just lay on her desk, either watching the birds outside the window or staring at Lu Li’s profile. The high school curriculum was too easy for her. For a genius, observing ants was probably more interesting than solving math problems. Of course, Lu Li refused to admit he was the ant.
Or perhaps an older relative who’d seen the light? He thought of Sister Yameng, who should be on the high-speed train to her competition. He hoped she would do well.
After eliminating the possibilities, he studied the phone number. It seemed to be from the Capital City, but why was it a dead number? Was there something shady going on?
Lu Li felt a poke in his back and turned to see Silly Goose prodding him with the cap of her pen. She rarely talked to him during class. She asked, her voice sulky, “Lu Li, they’re saying you lost to Wen You. Is it true?”
“Who said that?”
“All the first-year students are saying it. Wen You said so too. He even claims to have proof.” So she’s been worried about this. Lu Li wasn’t even concerned, but Silly Goose was ready to defend his honor.
Lu Li had never considered Wen You a threat. Rich kids his age relied on three things: money, their parents’ connections, and the social circles they bought with the first two. They hadn’t yet learned how to manipulate systems and leverage power.
“It’s not true. Ask Baili; she was there too.”
Chu Jingyi turned to look at An Baili, who nodded vigorously. “Lu Li is right. Wen You was the one who embarrassed himself, but he’s too clueless to realize it.”
“So the first-year students are spreading rumors?” Silly Goose’s face brightened. She couldn’t bear the thought of her beloved being wronged. Chu Xiaodong had often complained that his daughter was too biased towards Lu Li.
Lu Li puffed out his chest. “Of course! Who do they think I am?”
“A pervert,” Wen Hupo muttered, drawing giggles from the two girls behind them.
“Ahem, no talking during class.” The math teacher, who had been droning on at the blackboard, finally reacted, rapping his ruler against the board.
Wen You was a persistent nuisance. Despite Lu Li and An Baili’s continued coldness, he still approached them shamelessly, greeting them with a cheerful, “Hello, Senior An! Uh, hello, senior!” Lu Li decided he needed a permanent solution to get rid of this annoying pest. After class, Silly Goose offered a suggestion.
“Doesn’t the school do home visits? Teachers usually do them, but sometimes the student council members are assigned the task.” Chu Jingyi produced a document. “Lu Li, you can apply to visit Wen You’s father and report on his son’s behavior at school. From my experience, once a report is made to their families, they usually behave themselves.”
Lu Li gave her a thumbs-up. As expected of his Yi, she had years of experience dealing with these rich kids, having risen through the ranks of the student council by keeping them in line. While Lu Li had been contemplating underhanded tactics, Silly Goose had offered a legitimate solution. She was right; these spoiled, incompetent rich kids were terrified of their parents. With Silly Goose’s backing, Wen You would have no choice but to swallow his pride.
“Should we go to his house?” Lu Li asked.
“Of course not. Go to his father’s workplace.” Chu Jingyi said seriously. “My dad told me that it’s best not to discuss serious matters at home; it puts one party at a psychological disadvantage. If you negotiate at their workplace, they’ll be more restrained, even if the demands are unreasonable.”
Lu Li mentally applauded his future father-in-law. He had a way of making even something as mundane as reporting a student to their parents sound profound.
Chu Jingyi blushed at his expression. “Actually, I’ve never personally done a home visit. I usually just call their parents.”
Lu Li slapped his thigh. “Jingyi is right. We’ll go see Wen You’s father, representing the Chuanhai No. 1 High School Student Council.”
An Baili, abandoning her half-finished math problem, asked, “Can I go too?”
“You’re not a student council member. Why would you go?”
“Neither are you…” An Baili muttered. Lu Li chuckled, pinching her cheek. “Why bring a whole entourage to complain about someone’s kid? Do you want them to think even less of me? Be good. I’ll take you for hot pot after we deal with Wen You.”
An Baili’s face brightened. “Okay~” she chirped, drawing out the word.
Wen Hupo nodded slightly. “Be careful.” She was reminding him of the shooting. Lu Li gave her an almost imperceptible nod; they understood each other without words.
Silly Goose immediately went to the office to retrieve Wen You’s student file. Lu Li took out his phone, showing them the anonymous message. “Who do you think would say ‘Don’t contact me again’?”
An Baili’s ears perked up, like a little fox sensing a hunter. “Did you meet another girl?” Lu Li laughed. “Of course not! You’re always with me! This doesn’t seem like a spam message; it seems like a serious warning, but I can’t imagine who would send it.”
He turned to Wen Hupo. He trusted her judgment. If anyone could offer an insightful answer, it would be her or Jingyi.
“Did you call the number back?” the golden-haired girl asked.
“It’s a dead number.”
“…It’s like a warning to stop investigating,” Wen Hupo said pointedly. Lu Li suddenly understood; she was connecting the message to the shooting.
If the message was meant to discourage him from investigating the shooting, then it could only have come from one person.
The Fourteenth Princess.
An Baili noticed the sudden coldness in Lu Li’s eyes, as if the warm summer air had instantly turned to winter.
Just then, Chu Jingyi returned with a student file. “Lu Li, I found it. Wen You’s father, Wen Shengmin, works at Shenzhou Heavy Industries.”
Shenzhou Heavy Industries… Lu Li’s expression turned unreadable.