Meanwhile back in the feng family, things were rather tense. Another teacup shattered against the marble floor.
Mrs. Feng froze mid-stride, eyes narrowing at the fragments scattered everywhere. " You are losing your temper at me, Feng Zhiyuan?" she snapped. "All because of that ungrateful—"
"Enough, Jiahui!"
Father Feng's voice cut through the morning air, sharper than she'd heard in years. He was standing by the window, still in his home slippers, the morning paper untouched in his hand. His face, usually composed, was taut with strain.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he demanded. "You sent her away. You drove her out of this house!"
Mrs. Feng let out a derisive laugh, arms crossing over her chest. "Oh, please. You saw how insolent she was. Saying she'd 'leave the Feng family'—as if we'd beg her to stay. It's high time that girl learned her place."
"She does have a place," he said tightly, "and it's here. Under our roof."
Mrs. Feng arched a brow. "Why? She's of no use to you. She's never been. You've said it yourself."
Father Feng turned, the paper crumpling in his fist. "It is not about usefulness! Did you forget our instructions when she came here? She CANNOT be out there! If word reaches those people at the capital, then.."
Mrs. Feng's lips pressed into a thin line. "Word about her reaching the capital? oh please! She has always been firmly under our thumb."
"No." He stepped closer, his composure fraying. "You know as well as I do, the girl is clever—"
Mrs. Feng's eyes flashed. "She used to be, but we saw to it, didn't we? She is now just a frumpy teenager with no personality, no character, and no means. Even if she were to be found out…"
"Careful," he interrupted sharply, his eyes darkening. "Don't finish that sentence."
Her breath hitched.
He rubbed his temples, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. "Listen to me, Jiahui. You'll find her. Bring her back. Apologize if you have to."
Mrs. Feng stared at him, incredulous. "Apologize? To her? You expect me to stoop so low for that—"
"Yes!" he barked. The sudden rise of his voice startled even himself. "If she's out there talking, if anyone puts together the clues from all those years back, the vultures will circle—and do you think we will still have this life that we have? That the Gu family will stay loyal?"
He slammed his palm against the table, the sound echoing through the hall. "Find her before tonight. Do whatever it takes. I don't care if you have to grovel—just get her back."
Mrs. Feng stood stiff, pride and fury warring in her chest. "You're serious."
"As death."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. For the first time in years, she saw something close to fear in her husband's eyes—fear of consequences if they were to be exposed.
Slowly, she straightened her silk robe, masking her resentment with brittle elegance. "Very well," she said finally. "If it's so important to you, I'll fetch her back."
"Not fetch." His voice turned colder still. "Apologize. Sincerely. Convince her she's wanted here."
Mrs. Feng's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course, dear. I'll do just that."
As she turned away, the broken teacup crunched under her heel.
Apologize to that girl? she thought bitterly. Fine. I'll bring her back… and then I'll make sure she never dares to leave again.
It was afternoon when Xueling finally left Xiaoman's place.They'd had breakfast together and then spent the entire morning buried in past-year college entrance papers. Xiaoman's progress was steady — not spectacular, but steady. She could now scrape together a total of six hundred points. Good, but not enough for Tsinghua.
So Xueling had redrawn her prep plan, her neat handwriting marching across the page in logical precision. "We'll tighten your Physics and Math practice," she said. "Two hours of problem-solving every evening, and alternate-day mock tests."
Xiaoman wilted dramatically over the table. "You're a demon in human form."
"You'll thank me later," Xueling replied, voice calm, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
"Hmmph! Then what about you?" Xiaoman shot back, sitting up and jabbing her pen toward Xueling. "When are yougoing to show your talent? You need to blow them all away. It'll be so satisfying to see the Feng family's faces when you top the college entrance exam."
For a heartbeat, Xueling's pen paused mid-stroke.
The sunlight slanted through the window, dust motes dancing in the golden light. A faint smile curved her lips — beautiful, fleeting, and unreadable. "I will," she said softly. "They just won't see it coming."
Xiaoman laughed, stretching until her chair squeaked. "Good. You'll scare them half to death, and I'll be there to witness it."
Xueling rose, gathering her notes. "If you want to see that, you'd better keep your promise and get through the mock exams first."
"Fine, fine," Xiaoman muttered, already reaching for another bun from the breakfast plate. "But when you're famous, don't forget me, okay? I'll tell everyone I was the first to discover the genius behind the glasses."
"Hardly," Xueling said, slipping her bag over her shoulder. "You're just the only one stubborn enough to talk to me."
"Hey!" Xiaoman threw a crumpled tissue at her, laughing.
Xueling caught it effortlessly, her smile widening — a rare, genuine curve that softened the steel in her gaze.
By the time she stepped outside, the afternoon air was warm and humming with cicadas.
Her phone buzzed again.
Xueling frowned. It wasn't a message this time — it was a call. The screen flashed Mrs. Feng. And below it, a record of twenty-seven missed calls.
The phone buzzed again in her hand. This time, she swiped to answer.
"Hello?"
"Xueling!" Mrs. Feng's voice burst through, shrill, pitched high with a kind of forced warmth. "Finally! I've been calling you all morning. Where are you, child?"
Xueling's expression didn't change. "At a friend's house. Why?"
"Oh, thank goodness," Mrs. Feng sighed dramatically, the sound of rustling fabric filling the line. "You had us worried sick. Your father was furious when you left like that. I—I may have been a little harsh earlier, but you know I only said those things out of concern. You're still young, you don't understand how people talk, how society judges."
Xueling listened in silence, her gaze drifting to a small cat crouched in the shadow of a parked car. It blinked up at her, curious, then darted away.
Mrs. Feng continued, voice carefully measured. "Come home, Xueling. It's not safe to be out there on your own. You don't even have your own money, do you? You've always been a quiet, obedient girl. I'll talk to your father, we can forget what happened this morning."
Xueling almost smiled — almost. "Forget?" she echoed softly. "That's convenient."
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a brittle laugh. "Don't twist my words, child. I just meant—let's not hold grudges. You've always been part of this family."
Xueling stopped walking. The cicadas' hum filled the silence between them. "Have I?" she asked, her tone flat. "Because I don't recall this family treating me like one."
Mrs. Feng's voice sharpened. "Xueling! Don't talk back to me like that! Your father—"
"—wants me back," Xueling finished for her, her voice still calm. "He made you call, didn't he?"
That silence was answer enough.
Mrs. Feng's composure cracked for a heartbeat. "Your father worries, that's all. You know how temperamental he can be. He doesn't mean what he says when he's angry."
Xueling resumed walking, her steps unhurried. "Neither do you. You just say what's useful."
"Xueling!"
"I'll come back when I'm ready," she said simply. "Not before. Tell Mr. Feng not to waste his energy worrying. It's not like someone not even eighteen can go anywhere else but home, isn't it?"
Mrs. Feng's breath hitched. "Don't you dare hang up on me, you ungrateful—"
Click.
The call ended.
Xueling stood still for a moment, staring at the dark screen. They really didn't want her to leave.
Unlike in her past life, she had no illusions about love or belonging in the Feng family. They wanted her close, yes—but not out of affection. There had to be another reason.
Her brows knit together. I haven't even shown them what I'm capable of yet… So why are they so desperate to keep me?
The thought lingered as she slid the phone into her pocket.
Then, just as her hand brushed the fabric, the device buzzed again.
Encrypted Channel: Black Wing Forum — Follow-Up
Her expression cooled instantly.She tapped the message open and read:
"User XL, confirmation required.Match slot finalized.Coordinates attached.Arrival window 21:00–22:00.Failure to appear will be considered forfeiture.— Dragon Gate Network."
So they hadn't given up.Another set of people unwilling to let her go.
Only a fool would miss the pattern—it was a trap.First they'd circulated her alley fight footage, then made it viral, and now, even after she'd hacked them and sent a clear warning, they'd traced her to her hacker ID and dared to summon her?
Who are these people? What do they want?
Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.There was only one way to find out.
She typed a single word: Confirm.
Then, as if she hadn't just volunteered to paint a bright red target on her back, she slipped the phone into her pocket, lifted her chin toward the fading sunlight, and continued walking toward the bus stop.