After finishing breakfast, Qi Quan went upstairs to meditate and cultivate.
She didn’t care about the data of her new story, but the system kept monitoring it in real-time. It waited until she finished her meal before asking, [Do you want to know the stats of your new story?]
[No.]
[...]
The system was about to report the dismal results—zero collections, zero comments—when it detected an unmoderated comment in the review section.
It cheered excitedly, [There’s a comment! Too bad we can’t see the content yet.]
[Oh.]
[Hurry and check the author dashboard to see what it says!]
Qi Quan had posted the first chapter as bait—otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered telling the Qi family her pen name.
Last night, when leaving the banquet hall, she had indeed seen the little boy standing beside Su Linhai’s leg. No one else had noticed him except her.
Because of this, she had devised her writing plan.
It would be difficult to make a name for herself purely through literary skill, so she had to find another path—one better suited to her strengths.
The Su and Qi families weren’t particularly close, but Su Nuanuan, the Su family’s only daughter, was friends with Qi Yuan. And Qi Yuan would never pass up an opportunity to mock her. This meant there was a good chance Su Nuanuan would come across her story.
Qi Quan was only speculating—she couldn’t guarantee that Qi Yuan and Su Nuanuan would act exactly as she predicted.
She just wanted to set the bait. The rest didn’t interest her.
But the system was acting more like an anxious newbie author than she was. Wanting peace to cultivate, Qi Quan finally opened the author dashboard.
The dashboard displayed the moderated comment. The system had been full of anticipation, but when it saw the content, it felt a chill run down its spine, its entire body turning cold.
Furious, it roared, [How dare this person say such awful things!]
Qi Quan, however, remained unruffled.
She never underestimated the malice of people.
The system grumbled, [I’m going to track their IP! I’ll find out who this cowardly bastard is!]
[Doxxing is illegal.]
The system deflated, muttering resentfully, [First-person narration might be niche, but that’s no reason to call it trash! Can’t people be more open-minded? If they don’t like it, they don’t have to read it.]
Qi Quan said calmly, [Once you post something on a public platform, you accept that anyone can comment. Of course, if the insults cross the line, you can report them.]
This comment wasn’t quite at the level of personal attacks, so reporting wasn’t necessary.
The system: [...]
If the host was always this detached, could she really write a satisfying revenge story about the real heiress’s comeback?
Qi Quan closed the dashboard and resumed her meditation.
Time passed slowly.
Downstairs, Qi Yuan received a private message from Su Nuanuan. His mind raced through countless possibilities before settling on one fact: Uncle Su was coming over.
Though he acted recklessly in front of Qi Quan, he was still reliable when it came to important matters. If Su Linhai, the chairman of Shengxin, was visiting and only he—a junior—was home, it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to receive the guest alone.
He immediately called Qi Father and relayed the news. Qi Father assured him he’d return as soon as possible.
Su Linhai, in his distress, had forgotten basic etiquette. Overwhelmed by complicated emotions, he hadn’t informed the Qi family in advance before rushing over.
Meanwhile, Qi Changrong was already on his way back.
When he received his son’s call, he was deeply puzzled. The Su and Qi families rarely interacted—why would Su Linhai suddenly pay a visit?
Upon hearing it was Qi Quan’s doing, Qi Changrong frowned. When he first learned about the daughter mix-up, he had felt some guilt toward his biological daughter. But after Qi Quan returned home and kept stirring up trouble, that guilt had evaporated.
In the business world, reputation was everything. A biological daughter with no emotional ties to him, who constantly embarrassed him, was hardly someone he could welcome with open arms.
Before, Qi Quan’s antics had been minor, and Qi Changrong had tolerated them. But now she had provoked Su Linhai—this was beyond unacceptable. It was time to discipline her properly.
His phone chimed. Qi Yuan had sent him a link to Qi Quan’s story.
At breakfast, Qi Quan had mentioned writing a novel, but Qi Changrong hadn’t paid it much attention. Who would’ve thought she’d cause trouble before noon?
He needed to see what she had written to anger Su Linhai so he could clean up the mess accordingly.
He clicked on the first chapter and read with a furrowed brow.
When he reached the line about not informing her adoptive parents at their graves, he wasn’t sure how to react.
At the part praising his wife, his expression softened slightly. When he saw the compliment about his own handsomeness, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxed. But when he read about a greasy man lusting after his daughter, his lips pressed into a tight line.
What kind of scum would dare covet his daughter? Disgusting!
Further down, when he saw his eldest son, Lin, frequently calling Qi Quan "not right in the head," a flicker of concern crossed his eyes. No matter what, Qi Quan had grown up outside the family, without proper education—that wasn’t her fault. Lin really shouldn’t have mocked her like that.
As for the petty squabbles over clothes and taste between the girls, he paid them no mind.
Wait—why wasn’t Qi Yuan mentioned?
Qi Changrong kept reading, completely unaware that he was already engrossed, eagerly anticipating more.
For him, this was a novel way to understand his biological daughter’s thoughts. He was a traditional, stern father, not one to express emotions openly. Communication with his children had always been minimal. This was the first time he could so clearly glimpse into a child’s mind—it was a strange but intriguing feeling.
Then the final paragraph came into view.
"She’s got some nerve!" Qi Changrong smacked his seat.
Even if Su Linhai really did have an illegitimate child, what business was it of hers? Why did she have to write about it?
Maybe Lin wasn’t wrong—she really wasn’t right in the head.
The driver up front flinched and stepped on the gas.
The car pulled through the gates.
Before Qi Changrong even stepped out, he spotted the Su family’s vehicle.
Straightening his suit, he entered the living room, already rehearsing his words—only to find Qi Yuan alone on the sofa.
"Where’s Chairman Su?" he asked, puzzled.
Qi Yuan was just as confused. He pointed upstairs.
He didn’t get it either. Shouldn’t this kind of thing be handled by the parents? But Su Linhai had arrived and immediately asked to see Qi Quan—he hadn’t even waited for Qi Father.
Was the situation really that serious?
Father and son exchanged a glance, their expressions equally grave.
---
In the second-floor reception room, Qi Quan sat on the sofa in loose, beige loungewear, sipping tea leisurely.
Su Nuanuan studied her with curiosity.
She had seen Qi Quan once before, shortly after her return to the Qi family. Back then, Qi Quan had been dark-skinned and thin, her eyes brimming with poorly concealed unease.
She was different now.
Three months later, Qi Quan had grown fairer. The beige clothes didn’t clash with her at all—instead, they complemented her serene, gentle aura.
The sharp edges and hostility from before had faded, replaced by a calmer, more composed demeanor. Yet this very composure made her seem more distant.
A closer look revealed flawless features—delicate, intelligent eyes, and a beauty that even surpassed Qi Yingxue’s.
"Did you need something?" Qi Quan set down her teacup, her movements graceful and unhurried.
Su Linhai only now realized how impulsive he’d been. He hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject with a junior.
Understanding her father’s dilemma, Su Nuanuan took the lead. "Sister Qi Quan, I wanted to ask—did you write The Diary of a Wealthy Family under the pen name Bai Shui Zhenren?"
"Yes."
"Then, the last paragraph of Chapter One—were you writing about my dad?" Su Nuanuan got straight to the point.
Qi Quan remained calm. "Yes."
"That little boy—did you really see him?" Su Linhai couldn’t hold back any longer and spoke up. "Miss Qi, can you tell me what pants and shoes he was wearing? What did he look like?"
After expanding his business, Su Linhai had seen much of the world. Many in his circle were superstitious—some for peace of mind, others out of genuine belief.
Back then, Su Linhai had believed too. He’d sought out many masters, but in the end, nothing came of it.
For years, this matter had weighed on his heart like a heavy shackle, suffocating him to the point where even breathing felt difficult.
Qi Quan’s novel had been like a shot of adrenaline, filling him with unparalleled hope. Yet, he feared disappointment so much that he felt adrift, unsure of where to turn.
He stared intently at Qi Quan, his eyes filled with an obsession and pain even Su Nuanuan couldn’t comprehend.
Qi Quan met his gaze calmly. "Black cotton pants, with Donald Duck printed on the left knee. His shoes were white, with a rainbow stripe along the soles."
"Anything else?" Su Linhai leaned forward, fists clenched, his entire body trembling.
"A mole on his right earlobe."
"It’s him! It really is him!" Su Linhai looked almost crazed. "You really saw him call me ‘Dad’? He called me ‘Dad’?"
The man suddenly hunched over, covering his face as he broke into loud sobs.
Su Nuanuan: "..."
She glanced at Qi Quan. The tall, slender woman remained seated composedly on the sofa, her expression unreadable, as if she’d long grown accustomed to such reactions.
"Dad, stop crying." Su Nuanuan patted Su Linhai’s shoulder, awkwardly trying to comfort him. "Is there anything else you want to ask Qi Quan?"
Su Linhai, after all, had weathered the storms of the business world for years. He quickly regained his composure, wiping his tears. "Forgive me, Miss Qi. That was unbecoming."
Qi Quan nodded. "It’s only natural."
"Since you can see him, Miss Qi, could you grant me this wish?" Su Linhai’s gaze was earnest. "Don’t worry—payment won’t be an issue."
Su Nuanuan: What payment? Was this what she thought it was? Who was she? Where was she? Had she stumbled into the wrong genre?
Even the system couldn’t help asking, [What does he mean by that?]
Qi Quan smiled faintly, lifting her teacup. Her tone was serene as she replied, "I’m sorry, Mr. Su. I’m just an ordinary writer."
