"What?!"
The staggered exclamations of the two old men rang out, as if scalded by boiling water, leaping up from their chairs.
Their expressions grew increasingly incredulous, one more horrified and shaken than the other, as though they’d seen a ghost.
What was Gu Zhaoping saying?!
Sixteen years old—no, was she joking or serious? It didn’t seem real, but given Gu Zhaoping’s skill—would she even need to lie about this? Her calm demeanor at this moment was nothing like someone putting on an act!
They simply couldn’t believe it!
Gu Zhaoping even added politely, "I might not be as good at other things. It’s just a coincidence."
A coincidence…
No matter how humble she meant to sound, given the ruthless moves she’d just displayed on the board, effortlessly crushing Master Qi, her modesty only made the situation more maddening—utterly humiliating!
Master Qi’s face turned green. He wanted to cry.
Just moments ago, he’d boasted about being skilled at solving this very endgame, even claiming he was close to cracking it…
And then, in the next breath, the real solver was sitting right in front of him.
He wished he could dive into the fishing lake Old Master Gu frequented, just to escape the shame.
This was textbook humiliation—was there anyone more embarrassed than him right now?
Master Qi suddenly grew suspicious. Why had he never seen this solution published before? Was she really that low-key?
He studied Gu Zhaoping carefully, his gaze trembling with cautious scrutiny.
Old Master Gu wasn’t entirely sure either. He glanced back and forth between the two opponents, unable to resist nudging Master Qi and whispering, "Old Qi… what rank would you say my granddaughter is? Could she be FM-level?"
Master Qi: "…"
He stared at his old friend. If they hadn’t known each other for decades, he might’ve strangled him right then.
What kind of question was that? Were the two of them teaming up to humiliate him?
FM? Did this certified FM even stand a chance against her?
His estimation of Gu Zhaoping grew even more cautious—and more awed.
Clearing his throat, he muttered vaguely, "Ahem, I’m not sure. Titles don’t always reflect exact skill levels."
Old Master Gu could only nod regretfully.
Well, it seemed he’d have to invite more chess association members over to… inquire.
At least he’d had the foresight to record the match.
The chessboard was her battlefield—Gu Zhaoping was adept at it, fascinated by it. Every game was a rehearsal for corporate warfare.
At times, her identity as a chess player had been a striking highlight on her résumé, and she hadn’t hesitated to showcase it. But that was during her student days, when it added prestige to her profile. Later, as a CEO, it became merely a hobby.
For a widely celebrated entrepreneur, people naturally assumed she excelled in all areas. Even if she had the skill of a professional player, it wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows—just another proof that successful people had their reasons for success.
So she never brought it up herself.
Once the shock wore off, Old Master Gu didn’t share Master Qi’s lingering embarrassment.
Instead, he was electrified, his blood surging as he gripped Gu Zhaoping’s chair and shook it. "With talent like this, why didn’t you ever say anything?!"
Gu Zhaoping considered the situation and gave the answer that best served her interests: "Grandfather, because no one ever asked."
That shut them both up.
She was too honest. If they’d had her skills, they’d have shouted it from the rooftops!
Old Master Gu faltered, guilt suddenly flooding him. Compared to his grandsons, he’d paid far less attention to Gu Zhaoping, expecting nothing more than a prestigious degree and a good marriage.
He’d never cared about her talents, never considered whether she might outshine her brothers.
Gu Zhaoping had never been part of the same measuring stick.
Swallowing hard, he murmured, "I’ve wronged you, Zhaoping."
He imagined her perspective—the overlooked granddaughter, never stepping forward during the family’s lively chess discussions to declare she was the best.
"It’s all right, Grandfather. I’m not one to show off," Gu Zhaoping said smoothly. "If you’d like to play, just call for me. I’ll take my leave now."
In just this brief exchange, the two chess-obsessed old men had already forgotten her past missteps, their guilt deepening at her humility.
So modest, such a good girl.
They even began to wonder—had she been hiding hardships all along?
Their hands trembled.
Was this restraint a form of concealed brilliance?
And her parents were just as low-key—the eldest branch of the family truly knew how to endure, never boasting about her all these years.
Once the mind started wandering, it conjured wild theories—strategic patience, feigned mediocrity, even ancient tales of survival.
Old Master Gu thought of the second branch, who’d been whispering doubts about the eldest branch lately, and felt a flicker of irritation.
The two old men quickly agreed to keep silent about the mystery of when Gu Zhaoping had learned chess.
But her current glory had to be reclaimed—this was the Gu family’s pride. No, Old Master Gu’s pride!
He’d spent half his life playing chess, and now he had a granddaughter this skilled? Of course he’d flaunt it. He was a gentleman, not a fool.
Clutching her hand, he resolved to summon the chess association to analyze this game. After a long pause, he could only say, "...Very well."
"Your grandfather won’t overlook you again."
Gu Zhaoping smiled faintly, asking for nothing more—which only made her seem more tragically noble.
But the moment she turned away, her expression cooled to its usual calm.
Gu Zhaoping felt no real grievance. This was merely strategy, weaponizing their remorse.
Promising to play chess with her grandfather wasn’t about familial warmth—it was about artfully excluding her brothers from the equation.
By day two of her plan, she’d secured a private dialogue with Old Master Gu, a crucial step in seizing control of the family’s influence.
As Gu Zhaoping left the garden, she spotted Gu Kaichang and Gu Yingjie still loitering. Though she didn’t know them well, their resemblance marked them as second and third branch sons—utterly unremarkable.
Gu Kaichang had been cursing under his breath while Gu Yingjie tried to calm him.
Only when Gu Zhaoping walked past did they freeze.
Straightening, they remembered—now was their chance to see their grandfather. Surely he had time now.
Gu Kaichang shot her a venomous glare before turning to knock.
"Grandfather, Yingjie and I are still here. May we come in?"
His tone was eager.
But after several knocks, a caretaker answered, "Young masters, please return home. The old master is occupied and won’t be receiving guests."
Gu Kaichang’s eyes bulged in disbelief.
How come Gu Zhaoping was just here a moment ago but suddenly has no time to see them now? Did something urgent pop up in such a short span of time?
Gu Kaichang glanced back at Gu Yingjie and suddenly realized something. He immediately flew into a rage, pointing at Gu Zhaoping’s retreating figure:
"Gu Zhaoping, are you deliberately making things difficult for us?!"
"What did you say to Grandfather?!"
Gu Zhaoping paid no attention to their sudden outburst of curses. She adjusted the sunglasses she had previously taken off, pushing them up the bridge of her nose, then extended a finger to push open the iron gate and boarded the sightseeing cart.
By the time she got on, Gu Kaichang finally realized—damn it, she took the cart again! After all their wasted effort, they still ended up letting her go first!
Gu Zhaoping leaned back in her seat, straightening the lapels of her coat. Through the slightly tilted rearview mirror, she caught sight of two disheveled figures frantically running after the cart.
The driver, noticing the young mistress adjusting the rearview mirror for him, quickly thanked her, "Thank you, Young Mistress! I accidentally knocked it askew earlier."
Gu Zhaoping shook her head dismissively, straightened the mirror—erasing the two figures from view—and settled back into her seat. "No need."
Now, they no longer had the upper hand in this game.
Setting aside how Old Master Gu and Master Qi were exchanging astonished accounts of today’s events, already preparing to secure honors for her, Gu Zhaoping only noticed the flood of missed call notifications once she was in the car.
She never kept her phone ringer on when meeting important elders—it was basic etiquette. Skimming through the list, she dialed the most familiar one.
"Fang Yining, what is it?"
Fang Yining, groggy from a hangover, sat up in bed and rubbed her hair before suddenly remembering whose card she had swiped last night.
Her heart pounded with dread. Clinging to a sliver of hope that maybe it wasn’t true, she called the nightclub to confirm. The staff, polite and even cheerful, confirmed it was indeed Miss Gu’s gold card.
Gold card. She was doomed.
Fang Yining spent the morning in despair. That card belonged to Gu Zhaoping’s beloved fiancé, Shen Yifeng—a token of their "perfect couple" act in front of the elders. Any unusually large transactions would trigger an alert to Shen Yifeng.
With a heart heavy as stone, Fang Yining called Gu Zhaoping to confess, dialing repeatedly all morning before finally getting through.
"Hey, Zhaoping…" she stammered, recounting the whole mess.
She expected Gu Zhaoping to lose it, to rage.
But there was only a brief pause before the other woman replied calmly, "Oh? Wrong card."
Fang Yining froze. Why wasn’t she furious?
Then she remembered the cool detachment in Gu Zhaoping’s eyes when she left last night—dark, like the surface of a frozen lake, but not piercingly cold. Just observing… studying.
"I see. Rest well." Gu Zhaoping moved to hang up, but Fang Yining hastily interjected, "Wait, wait! Zhaoping, aren’t you mad? If you’re worried Shen Yifeng will misunderstand, I can explain! The nightclub has surveillance—it’ll show I was the one paying, not you hiring male escorts—"
Only then did the other end pause. A faint crease appeared between Gu Zhaoping’s brows, as if puzzled.
After a moment of silence, she asked her best friend—and future sister-in-law—a question:
"Has Gu Zhaoye ever explained himself to you?"
A thunderbolt strike.
Fang Yining: "…"
She nearly choked on air.
Gu Zhaoye had been entangled with Ruan Nian for years—did anyone think he’d ever account for his actions? Forget Ruan Nian, he even had other ambiguous relationships, dabbling in some twisted "replacement lover" trope… and never once explained himself to her.
Quietly, she admitted, "…No."
"Mm." Gu Zhaoping, seemingly distracted by something at hand, adjusted it before replying indifferently, "Gu Zhaoye goes out carousing without a care. As for mine…"
"He’s just a fiancé. What is there to explain?"
Fang Yining fell silent.
Slowly, her mouth dropped open into an "O."
Only after hanging up did it hit her—right! Why should she care? If Gu Zhaoye could fool around, why couldn’t they? What was she even afraid of?
The driver, meanwhile, was struggling to keep his shock from affecting his driving.
He didn’t dare glance at the young mistress in the rearview mirror, sensing an intimidating aura radiating from her.
Gu Zhaoping tapped the built-in ashtray embedded in the seat and asked, "Is this my car?"
The driver jolted. "Y-Yes, Young Mistress! It was your twenty-fifth birthday gift."
Gu Zhaoping nodded. "Then why does my car have an ashtray? Remove it today."
The driver blinked. Huh…?
What kind of request was this? Hesitantly, he ventured, "Perhaps… Young Master Shen, or the Old Master, or Second Young Master might need it if they ride in the future…"
"My car. Why should I preset features for them?" Gu Zhaoping arched a brow, genuinely perplexed. "Why should my car accommodate their smoking?"
The driver was stunned. Flustered, he could only stammer, "Oh… R-Right. My apologies, Young Mistress. It’ll be done."
Gu Zhaoping, ever meticulous, only moved on to finding Shen Yifeng’s contact after resolving this.
Noticing his name among the missed calls, she dialed—killing two birds with one stone.
"Shen Yifeng."
"Gu Zhaoping."
Their voices overlapped upon connection, though the cool, composed tone of the latter carried more weight.
Shen Yifeng, who had been massaging his temples in irritation, froze.
Was this Gu Zhaoping’s voice?
After a beat, he sneered. So she was calling him first? To explain yesterday’s escapade of swiping his card to hire male escorts? Or was this her way of retaliating after their argument, trying to provoke him?
Did she think he’d care about those escorts? Or that he’d get jealous?
Shen Yifeng wasn’t bothered by his fiancée’s flirtations—what annoyed him was her using it as a ploy to manipulate his emotions.
He’d had enough of these childish games. If harsh words could make Gu Zhaoping stop treating him like some plaything in her emotional power plays, he was more than willing to drop decorum.
He opened his mouth to speak—
"Send me the payment details via email. I reviewed the bill: 1.38 million total. Breakdown: 300k for the venue, 270k for the escorts’ fees, air-freighted Turkish mica stone for a Roman-style bathhouse…" Gu Zhaoping frowned, skimming the unclear service description, though it hardly mattered.
Shen Yifeng’s face darkened.
What was this? Listing out the services she’d indulged in? A Roman bathhouse? Had fun playing empress?
"Plus 228k for champagne, 560k for Louis XIII Black Pearl Limited Edition. Verified. I’ll transfer the full amount along with the bill."
Her words ended cleanly, leaving Shen Yifeng’s retort stuck in his throat like a gust of trapped wind.
...Wait, what? Gu Zhaoping wasn’t explaining herself to him? Wasn’t yesterday’s extravagant spending meant to be a declaration of her feelings?
Shen Yifeng froze. This unexpected turn left him momentarily at a loss, the phone pressed to his ear while his other hand hovered over a document, the pen unmoving.
Had she gone through all this trouble just to settle accounts and transfer the money back to him?
Since when did he care about that amount?
His phone chimed once, then several times in quick succession. He glanced down—Gu Zhaoping’s WeChat messages, as usual, flooded in without pause.
For some reason, he inexplicably felt a flicker of relief, followed by a cold, mocking smirk he didn’t even realize he was wearing.
So now she was bombarding him after all.
Unlocking the screen, he scanned the messages—no words, not a single one.
None of her usual playful pouting emojis or absurd memes either.
Instead, glaring back at him were several Excel files, meticulously detailing every transaction she’d made with his card.
Shen Yifeng’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. For the first time, he couldn’t decipher Gu Zhaoping’s intentions—the woman who’d always been so easy to read.
What was she playing at?
