While waiting at a red light, Zhong Ziyan promptly forwarded the document to Hua Shuangshuang.
Seated in the back of the same car as Fang Nan, Hua Shuangshuang skimmed through the materials, pondered for a moment, then called out to Fang Nan in the passenger seat: "I need to make a business trip—Knightsbridge, London."
As a corporate drone constantly jet-setting around the globe, her visa was always up to date.
Fang Nan lifted her head and glanced at her over the rim of her glasses, utterly unfazed. "What are you going to buy for her this time?"
"I'm going to fetch her a whole team," Hua Shuangshuang replied, ever the prudent aspiring homeowner. She double-checked with Fang Nan, "All the travel, lodging, and meal expenses will be reimbursed, right?"
Fang Nan scoffed lightly, her gold-rimmed glasses lending her an air of deceptive sophistication. "Obviously. Or should we get Madam to sign an approval form for you?"
Hua Shuangshuang was satisfied, though deep down, she couldn’t help but reminisce about the private jet from last time.
That had been an extravagance so exhilarating it sent shivers down her spine—a flying mansion equipped with every luxury imaginable, and that was without Zhong Ziyan bothering to customize it further after its initial production.
But this was a business trip. Borrowing the boss’s private jet would be pushing her luck.
Hua Shuangshuang immediately booked her round-trip tickets, and by the time the car returned to Tingshan, the airline had already confirmed her reservation.
Zhong Ziyan was standing beside the Aston Martin, chatting with Wei Hanyun. Hua Shuangshuang hesitated for a moment before deciding not to interrupt, lingering at a distance with Fang Nan instead.
Before long, the two of them witnessed Zhong Ziyan enthusiastically wrapping Wei Hanyun in a bear hug—a genuine, full-bodied embrace that pinned his arms to his sides.
The two assistants observed the scene with practiced indifference, not even bothering to avert their eyes.
After a few seconds, Hua Shuangshuang suddenly spoke up. "Mr. Wei seems a little…" She trailed off, racking her brain for the most accurate yet inoffensive descriptor.
Fang Nan deadpanned, "Flustered."
"…Right." Hua Shuangshuang had intended to phrase it more subtly.
Fang Nan shrugged noncommittally. "Who said marriage has to strip people of all shame?" A contractual marriage, where the most intimate gesture was holding hands—and even that was for show—couldn’t possibly compare to a real one.
By the time they finished speaking, Zhong Ziyan had already released Wei Hanyun and was happily stroking the roof of the One-77 like it was a pet.
Hua Shuangshuang eyed the motion, which resembled someone grooming a beloved animal.
While others kept dogs, did Zhong Ziyan collect cars?
Her thoughts wandered wildly, but her steps remained steady as she approached. "Ms. Zhong, I’ll head to London right away."
"For the best gold-plating team?" Zhong Ziyan beamed, pointing at the Aston Martin. "I want them to plate this car for me."
Hua Shuangshuang: "…" She glanced at the sleek, aggressively stylish red-and-black One-77, then at Wei Hanyun, who stood nearby with his hands in his pockets, smiling wordlessly, and finally at Zhong Ziyan’s eyes, glittering with excitement.
Abandoning all dignity, Hua Shuangshuang nodded in approval. "That will certainly be… unique."
Fang Nan: "…" The new colleague was beyond saving. Zhong Ziyan’s latest batch of cash cows was slowly but surely succumbing to her influence. Zhong Ziyan was toxic.
Fang Nan despaired for the world.
…
After today’s lesson with "Professor Wei," Zhong Ziyan felt her enlightenment had grown just a little more.
She decided to browse the all-powerful online marketplace to see what bizarre, exorbitantly priced items were listed for sale.
But when she typed "the most expensive thing in the world" into the search bar, instead of the luxury goods she expected, a series of charity projects popped up.
A sudden epiphany struck Zhong Ziyan—she remembered donating five million to charity once, but since Fang Nan had handled the follow-up, she’d never checked on it again.
Now that she recalled it, she had to see how things had progressed.
Considering Fang Nan’s recent sarcastic streak, Zhong Ziyan deliberated before settling on another party involved—streamer Second Miss.
Second Miss was an exceptionally hardworking live-streamer, once setting a record of fifteen uninterrupted hours on air, earning her the title of "Streaming’s Iron Lady."
After browsing the platform for a while, Zhong Ziyan found Second Miss live and clicked in without hesitation.
Her initial plan was to "call after the stream ended," but within a minute, she’d been sweet-talked into purchasing a box of imported jelly.
In the distant studio, Second Miss’s assistant, monitoring the real-time sales data, nearly choked when a flagged order suddenly appeared—bearing Zhong Ziyan’s name.
The assistant hastily scribbled "Zhong Ziyan!!!" on a board and held it up off-camera for Second Miss to see.
Mid-bite into a bowl of noodles, Second Miss glanced at the sign, inhaled a mouthful of sauce, and doubled over in a coughing fit.
Ever since the legendary "Keep the change from five million" incident, Second Miss had become something of a legend in the streaming world. Memes circulated with her face captioned: "Repost this Second Miss, and you too may encounter a five-million-no-change-required sugar mommy!!"
For a while after Zhong Ziyan’s sudden appearance, platform analytics showed a noticeable spike in live-streaming frequency, as if every host was scrambling for a chance encounter with the elusive heiress.
Alas, Zhong Ziyan had vanished as quickly as she’d appeared, leaving no trace for two whole months.
Second Miss followed Zhong Ziyan’s Weibo and knew her interests were as vast as her bank account, making it no surprise that her attention had drifted away from live-streaming.
Even Luo Yin, whom Zhong Ziyan used to mention frequently, seemed to have faded from her updates.
As a devout worshipper at the altar of Zhong Ziyan’s Weibo (literally—she checked daily for financial blessings), Second Miss remembered the latest post asking which phone model would look best gold-plated.
The comments section had erupted in unified shock: "Gold-plated?!" "For a PHONE?!"
Between coughs, Second Miss’s mind raced, and by the time she chugged the water her assistant handed her, she’d already scripted her next pitch.
"Everyone better start buying like crazy today," she gasped, wiping her mouth with a mix of pride and dishevelment. "Because the Goddess of Wealth has graced our stream."
The live chat exploded instantly, with viewers guessing Zhong Ziyan’s presence and spamming the screen with gifts, turning the display into a chaotic light show.
Zhong Ziyan, watching from her screen: "…" She stared at the comments flooding in faster than the human eye could follow, fans screaming everything from "Sugar mommy, notice me!" to "Sob sob, let me rub your bald head for luck."
It reminded her of her own past self, staring at the black card Wei Hanyun had given her, tempted to light incense and pray to the god of wealth.
Now, riding on Wei Hanyun’s coattails, she had become the deity people worshipped.
Zhong Ziyan quietly switched apps and sent a text to Second Miss’s number: "Are you free for a call? I have something to ask."
Second Miss’s assistant hurriedly handed her the phone. At a glance, Second Miss immediately stood up and declared, "Dear audience, I have to take this call—otherwise, I might regret it for the rest of my life."
[Second Miss, take me with you! I love rich ladies too!]
[You traitor!!!]
[Remember us when you’re rich and famous!!]
With a mischievous grin, Second Miss slipped out of the camera’s view and dialed the number—one she’d saved in her contacts but never dared to call a second time. "Hello, Miss Zhong," she greeted.
"The egg yolk cream puffs I bought last time weren’t very good," Zhong Ziyan began with honest feedback.
Second Miss’s smile froze. "My deepest apologies."
"It’s fine," Zhong Ziyan cut to the chase. "I wanted to ask about the five million. Where can I see how it’s being used?"
Hearing no anger in her tone, Second Miss relaxed. "Actually, I’ve been keeping tabs on your donation to ensure it’s handled properly. I can compile the relevant materials and links for you—would that work?"
"Good." Zhong Ziyan paused, then asked, "Has the money been put to use?"
Second Miss smiled. "Yes, it’s helped many people. As the proxy donor, I’ve received handwritten thank-you letters and handmade gifts. I’ve been meaning to collect them and deliver them to Tingshan for you, but I thought it might be too forward…"
"That’s enough," Zhong Ziyan interrupted. "No need to give me the letters."
"Why?" Second Miss asked cautiously, puzzled. "They’re heartfelt—you can feel their gratitude."
"Casual donations and accepting others’ gratitude are two different things," Zhong Ziyan said lightly. "The latter carries much more weight, doesn’t it?"
Second Miss pondered this, realizing she hadn’t yet reached such a philosophical level.
She’d seen wealthy patrons sponsor underprivileged students before—always with grand ceremonies where the students, dressed in faded uniforms, would accept the donations on stage while the media snapped photos. The whole affair would culminate in news articles praising the donor’s generosity.
People who donated without wanting thanks or praise were rare.
"Because once you’re thanked, help becomes an obligation," Zhong Ziyan said. "And that kind of responsibility…"
She trailed off.
For some reason, Second Miss found herself holding her breath, sensing a hint of… "this is someone with a story" in the voice on the other end.
Zhong Ziyan didn’t elaborate. "I won’t interrupt your livestream. You can send the materials after you’re done."
"Miss Zhong!" Second Miss blurted, raising her voice to stop her. "Wait, don’t hang up!"
"What is it?" Zhong Ziyan asked.
Her voice remained crisp and clear, just like the first time Second Miss had heard her speak.
For once, Second Miss—usually quick-witted and eloquent during streams—stumbled over her words like a rookie broadcaster. After biting her tongue, she snapped back to reality and asked, with a cheeky grin, a completely unrelated question: "I followed you on Weibo—are you the one behind the account [Still Trying to Spend Money Today]?"
Zhong Ziyan gave a quiet "Mm."
Second Miss rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Could we… follow each other? Of course, it’s totally fine if not! I just thought I’d shoot my shot, hahaha!"
Zhong Ziyan replied with one word: "Sure."
"Wow, you’re as kind as you are beautiful!" Second Miss beamed. "I’m cured! I’ll send you the materials right away!"
She waited until Zhong Ziyan ended the call before setting her phone down, immediately delegating the task of compiling the documents to her assistant before returning to the stream.
The viewer count had skyrocketed, clearly flooded by curious onlookers rushing in to pay homage to the "Goddess of Wealth."
Dazed, Second Miss sat back in front of the camera, skimmed the comments, and then sighed dreamily, cupping her cheeks like a wistful maiden. "She’s genuinely so nice… no wonder she’s that rich."
