Rong Ruoyao curled her lips into a faint smile.
Ji Zhouye was so furious that he would probably break up with Rong Yu.
Without Ji Zhouye, she refused to believe Rong Yu could keep wearing designer clothes every day...
"Su Tian, let’s end our conversation here for today," Rong Yu said. "I have something else to attend to, so I won’t see you out."
Su Tian glanced at Ji Zhouye but didn’t ask further before stepping out.
"You’re back," Rong Yu stood up. "Skip evening self-study tonight. Come with me somewhere."
Ji Zhouye’s anger felt like punching cotton—frustrating and suffocating. He gritted his teeth. "Why did you lie to me? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I really thought something had happened to you..."
Rong Yu handed him her bag.
Instinctively, he took it to carry for her.
She walked outside and stood by the car. Immediately, he hurried over to open the door and fastened her seatbelt.
As the car drove off, Rong Ruoyao stood frozen in place.
She had clearly seen Ji Zhouye’s rage. Shouldn’t they have had a huge fight and broken up?
Why was he still doting on Rong Yu like this? What did he even see in her?
What made Rong Yu worthy of such devotion from Ji Zhouye...
Night gradually fell over Haicheng, the city illuminated by streetlights and bustling with traffic. But as they drove further, the surroundings grew increasingly desolate.
Ji Zhouye parked the car in a dark, open area on the outskirts.
"Great-grandma, why are we here?"
Rong Yu stepped out and walked down a narrow path. "Just follow me."
The path was pitch-black, devoid of any light. A gust of wind sent an eerie chill down Ji Zhouye’s spine. When they emerged from the woods, he saw—under the moonlight—rows of overgrown, unmarked graves scattered across the field.
His limbs turned icy with fear. "Great-grandma, w-why are we here...?"
"Do you know who’s buried under these graves?" Rong Yu’s voice was soft. "The Wu family. You might not know them, but back in the 1930s and 40s, the Wu family was renowned in Shanghai. Their ancestors were scholars, and the old master once served as an official. During the war, they donated most of their wealth to support the resistance... Yet such a respected family ended up buried here, their entire lineage wiped out."
Ji Zhouye was drawn into the story. "Why?"
"Because the youngest grandson of the Wu family was lured into gambling. At first, he bet small amounts, with little consequence. But gradually, he became addicted to the thrill of winning and started pouring vast sums into it. Gambling is a losing game—he lost the Wu family’s shops, mortgaged their business, even secretly sold their ancestral hall... Mr. Wu died of rage. His wife went to the gambling den to find their grandson but fell into a river and drowned."
"Later, when he had nothing left to mortgage, the loan sharks held him captive and cut off his hand. His father took his place and bled to death. His mother slapped him hard before hanging herself..."
"His sister went to the gambling den to confront him, only to be violated. She took her own life..."
"Unable to face the ruin he caused, he went mad. When they found him, he was already dead in a ditch..."
Rong Yu placed a bouquet of flowers on Mr. Wu’s grave.
She had met him once—a spirited, patriotic man who met such a tragic end because of his grandson.
Ji Zhouye felt as if lightning had struck him.
Now he understood why his great-grandma had deceived him.
She knew he had gone to the gambling den.
If he hadn’t seen that text message, he would have taken out online loans, borrowed over a million, and when that ran out, he’d have turned to the loan sharks. The interest would have snowballed beyond imagination...
Thud—
He dropped heavily to his knees.
"Great-grandma, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone there..."
Rong Yu looked at him. "How many times have you been?"
Ji Zhouye’s voice was hoarse. "This was my first time."
She exhaled in relief.
If it was truly his first time, he might not be addicted yet.
"Who took you there?"
"It was..."
He hesitated.
He had promised Lan Zigang to keep it a secret.
But under Rong Yu’s stern gaze, he couldn’t hold back. Just as he was about to speak—
His phone rang.
It was Lan Zigang.
Rong Yu’s eyes frosted over. "Answer it. Let’s hear what he has to say."
"Zhouye, you have to help me!" Lan Zigang sobbed hysterically. "I lost everything! I owe the gambling den over a million! Bring the ransom, please! Zhouye, my sister is going to marry your elder brother—we’re practically family! You have to save me!"
Ji Zhouye glanced at Rong Yu.
She snatched the phone and shut it off.
Her voice was icy. "If I catch you meeting Lan Zigang again, I’ll break your legs."
Ji Zhouye might seem indifferent, but he was soft-hearted. "But Lan Zigang is still trapped there. What if—"
"What are you to him? Since when is it your job to clean up his mess?" Rong Yu strode back to the car. "Drive. We’re going home."
Ji Zhouye took one last look at the graves before silently getting into the driver’s seat and stepping on the gas.
By the time they returned to Hibiscus Manor, it was past eight in the evening.
The moment they entered, the pungent smell of herbal medicine filled the air.
Steward Yu reported, "The old master took a fall today. His back hurts, so he drank some medicine. Right now, he’s getting a massage."
Ji Zhouye pushed open Old Master Ji’s door.
He saw the elderly man lying face-down on the bed, helped up by the masseur, his steps unsteady.
A lump formed in Ji Zhouye’s throat.
His grandfather was growing frailer with age, and instead of easing his burdens, he had gone to a gambling den. If this ever reached the old man, he couldn’t imagine how furious he’d be.
"It’s nothing," Old Master Ji chuckled. "I had my fortune told—said I’d live to eighty. I’ve got two more years. After I’m gone—"
Before he could finish, Rong Yu stuffed an apple into his mouth.
"Enough of that talk," she snapped, her expression tight. "Living a life of luxury and dying so soon—what a waste."
Old Master Ji chewed the apple quietly. Eighty was considered a long life, but after reuniting with his mother at seventy-eight, dying at eighty did feel unfair.
"Zhouye, what’s wrong? Your eyes are red," Old Master Ji changed the subject. "Did someone bully you at school?"
"He’s the one who bullies others," Ji Zhiyuan remarked as he walked in. "Though I heard someone saw you at the Shang family’s teahouse?"
Ji Zhouye tensed.
He quickly pulled Ji Zhiyuan aside. "Elder brother, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never go again. Please don’t tell Grandfather. I’m not afraid of being punished—I just don’t want him to get upset."
Before Ji Zhiyuan could respond—
Steward Yu announced, "Young Master, Miss Lan is here."
Ji Zhouye’s heart sank.
He could guess why Lan Rouxue had come at this hour.
He rushed to Old Master Ji’s side. "It’s late. You should rest early—early to bed, early to rise, keeps you healthy longer. You need to live many more years to take care of Great-grandma..."
Old Master Ji nodded approvingly and retreated into his room.
The moment he disappeared, Lan Rouxue stepped into the hall.
"Zhiyuan..." She wept, her face streaked with tears like rain-soaked pear blossoms. "Zigang has been held by the gambling den... They're demanding over seven million in ransom. Zhiyuan, you have to help me..."
Ji Zhouye drew a sharp breath.
In just over an hour, the debt had ballooned from one million to over seven million. The sheer brutality of it was staggering.
