On the other side, in Mr. Jin's study, the floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the dim yellow light, and the aroma of tea lingered.
The assistant silently put away the phone that had just been hung up, poured Mr. Jin another glass of oolong tea, and said carefully,
“Sir, judging from Young Master Jing’s tone… he doesn’t seem to care whether Miss Chu has truly betrayed him.”
"Your words have sown discord and betrayed Miss Chu. What if Miss Chu finds out and then changes her mind and sides with Young Master Jing?"
"Won't all your efforts be in vain?"
"Wouldn't all your previous planning have been for nothing?"
Grandpa Jin picked up his teacup, gently blew on it, and remained calm.
"That's why I gave her no chance to back out."
The assistant paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes, before he could utter a word.
Old Master Jin had already lowered his head and taken a sip of tea, his brows and eyes full of certainty and calculation.
"That girl is very clever."
He slowly put down his teacup, his tone calm and composed.
"You can't believe everything she says."
He gazed at the bamboo shadows swaying in the wind outside the window, his eyes deep and thoughtful.
There's a saying...
“'Reborn from the ashes'?”
"She said she was willing to lure me into destroying Boyifang so that Jingmin would have no one to rely on."
"But now that Boyifang is in such a mess, how many people are taking advantage of the situation? Is she really willing to bet all her chips on me? Maybe not."
The assistant didn't quite understand.
"You mean...she has other plans?"
Old Master Jin gave a light snort.
She said Qilin was just a 'scapegoat' and told me not to interfere with her methods, but if I actually believed her, I would be the one who truly loses.
"She most likely reached an agreement with Qilin long ago, ostensibly cooperating with me, but actually intending to have her cake and eat it too."
"They don't want to lose Jingmin, but they also want to use me to clear the room. They'd be better off ruining this old man of mine too."
"This young white flower has thorns that are anything but soft!"
The assistant hesitated for a moment,
"But since you already suspected her insincerity, why did you still cooperate with her?"
"Willing to be used?"
Old Master Jin finally raised his eyes, his gaze sharpening, and said coldly,
"idiot!"
He slammed the teacup down heavily, causing a slight splash of tea.
"Without using her as bait, how could Jingmin witness her 'betrayal' firsthand?"
"If we don't put on this show, Jingmin will always have hope for her and will never give up."
"He's just like his mother; they won't give up until they see it with their own eyes,"
"Boyifang is about to be destroyed, and he doesn't seem to be trying to salvage it; he's probably just waiting for it to go bankrupt. He can't destroy the group he built himself; having someone else do it for him might just be exactly what he wants."
"That way he can live in seclusion on the island with that girl without any worries, so we have to make him give up. Jingmin, like his mother, is ruthless towards a lover who betrays him."
He gave a cold laugh, his tone chilling.
"That girl thought she could explain it clearly afterward, but she was wrong."
"Once Jingmin is completely disappointed... that girl will probably be dead too."
Upon hearing this, the assistant suddenly realized what was happening and gasped again.
Only then did he realize that—from the very beginning, Old Master Jin had no intention of sparing Miss Chu's life.
It's not simply about using someone else to do the dirty work; it's about making Young Master Jing personally sever his last shred of affection for her.
Only in this way can Young Master Jing be free from worries and willingly serve the Jin family.
———
On the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel, the sky outside the window was gloomy and oppressive, with a long, dark cloud cover. In the distance, a bolt of lightning ripped through the thick clouds.
The light and shadow flashed by, but the rain did not fall for a long time.
Chu Wuyang stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window with her arms crossed, looking dazed.
A voice came from behind. Yang Jinchu, wearing a bathrobe, spoke in a relaxed tone.
"Yangyang, it's a bit chilly outside. You got caught in the rain. Do you... want to go take a shower too?"
Chu Wuyang turned to look at him, her eyes darkening, then she lowered her eyelashes.
"No."
It's not raining outside, why would I get wet?
Yang Jinchu looked at her, unusually as if he didn't understand what she meant.
"Let's go take a shower."
She was about to refuse again
But then I heard him reply calmly,
“My men saw Jingmin’s car downstairs; he’s already here.”
Chu Wuyang trembled all over, her fingertips tightened, and even her lips turned pale.
Okay, I'll go wash up.
She whispered as she walked past him, her steps almost unsteady.
Yang Jinchu reached out and grasped her wrist, his voice soft yet firm.
"Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Chu Wuyang looked up at him, her face as pale as paper.
"Brother Jinchu, thank you."
Hearing this long-unheard form of address, a smile appeared in Yang Jinchu's eyes.
He even made a joke that was somewhat inappropriate for the occasion.
"If I get beaten up later, and I survive but am injured or crippled, you'll have to take care of me."
"good."
She responded softly, her voice as faint as the wind.
The night outside the car was dark and heavy.
The Peninsula Hotel soars into the clouds, resembling a colossal beast crouching in the heart of the city.
A cold light shone through the window.
Jingmin sat in the driver's seat, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.
My gaze followed the car window upwards to the top floor—so high it seemed to pierce the sky.
He stared at the glass, a hint of mockery slowly creeping into his eyes.
Wow, that's really tall! How come I never noticed before?
If you throw someone down from above, they'll probably die on the spot, right?
The whispers in my mind seemed to already be rehearsing this bloody scene before my eyes.
There was no wind outside, but the car was as cold as if it were covered in ice.
He sat ramrod straight, his fingertips touching the car door handle, but he didn't push it open.
It just stayed there.
It seemed as if it was waiting for something, or perhaps restraining something.
Then, he slowly took out his phone, without blinking, and with a light swipe of his finger, sent a text message.
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