Chapter 42 begins the investigation
Monday morning, top-floor office of the Huo Group.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright dappled patterns on the dark gray carpet. Huo Yanli sat behind his desk, a due diligence report on a cross-border merger spread out before him, but his gaze wasn't focused on the densely packed data.
My fingertips tapped unconsciously on the table, one tap after another, like some kind of uneasy rhythm.
What lingers in my mind are the scenes from the private room at the club on Friday night—Song Zhiyi's focused profile as she calmly administered acupuncture, the faint glow of the silver needles on her fingertips, and her words as she left, "Don't drink too much if you have a stomach problem," spoken in a calm yet caring tone.
And that bank account that never got touched.
It's been over two years, and the three million hasn't been touched.
This is illogical.
Huo Yanli finally put down his pen and pressed the internal phone button.
The assistant quickly knocked and entered: "Mr. Huo, you wanted to see me?"
"Investigate someone." Huo Yanli's voice was calm, but his assistant keenly sensed something unusual. "Song Zhiyi. Senior translator at the Translation Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I need all her background information—family background, education, work experience, awards, the more detailed the better."
The assistant paused, taken aback. Song Zhiyi—he certainly knew the name, Mr. Huo's wife, though this identity was a taboo subject within the Huo family. But this was the first time Mr. Huo had personally requested an investigation.
"Yes, I'll take care of it right away." The assistant quickly jotted it down. "What aspects...should we focus on?"
Huo Yanli was silent for a few seconds: "Focus on investigating her parents' situation."
The assistant nodded: "Understood. I will report to you by the day after tomorrow at the latest."
The office door closed again, restoring silence.
Huo Yanli leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the window. The CBD skyline appeared cold and distant in the sunlight, much like the world he had always lived in—rational, precise, and driven by self-interest.
Song Zhiyi does not belong to this world.
He knew it from the beginning.
But now he's starting to wonder if he really knows which world she belongs to.
---
Two days later, the assistant delivered the investigation report.
It was a thick folder with the word "Top Secret" marked on the cover. When Huo Yanli took it, his fingers inexplicably tightened.
“All the publicly available information and internal documents that can be found are here,” the assistant reported cautiously. “Ms. Song’s resume is very clean, and also… unusual.”
Huo Yanli waved his hand, indicating that his assistant could leave.
He was alone in the office. Sunlight streamed in from the side, casting a slanted shadow on the folder's cover. He remained silent for a few seconds before turning to the first page.
First, some basic information: Song Zhiyi, female, 28 years old, born into a family of diplomats. Her father, Song Huaiyuan, was a former senior diplomat stationed abroad; her mother, Shen Qingru, was a doctor at the General Hospital of the Military Region and later joined an international medical organization.
The educational background section is impressive: affiliated primary and secondary schools of a foreign language school, admitted to the Arabic Department of Beijing Foreign Studies University without taking the entrance exam, participated in a government-sponsored exchange program at Sciences Po in Paris during undergraduate studies, and graduated with a master's degree from the School of International Relations at Beijing Foreign Studies University. Fluent in Arabic, French, and English, and proficient in Spanish and Russian.
Her work experience is even more impressive: at 22, she was selected by the Translation Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, becoming the youngest member of the department that year. At 24, she was promoted to deputy director level, participating in numerous major foreign affairs activities and international negotiations. At 26, she volunteered for overseas assignments, working in Lebanon, Syria, Geneva, and other places, participating in Middle East peace process consultations, evacuation operations, humanitarian coordination, and more…
The list of awards is quite long: "Outstanding Young Diplomat", "Translation Department's Model Worker of the Year", "Outstanding Contribution Award for International Negotiations"...
Huo Yanli turned the pages one by one, and with each page he turned, a certain part of his heart tightened a little more.
Behind these resumes is a Song Zhiyi he knows nothing about—professional, excellent, brave, and even… dazzling.
His finger paused when he turned to the page about family circumstances.
At the top of the page are photos of Song Zhiyi's parents. Her father, dressed in a Ministry of Foreign Affairs uniform, is gentle and refined with wise eyes; her mother, in a white coat, has a warm smile and clear eyes. They stand side by side, with the courtyard of an embassy in the background.
Below the photo is the text description:
"Song Huaiyuan, a former senior diplomat stationed abroad, was ambushed by armed men while carrying out an evacuation mission in an African country when Song Zhiyi was 12 years old. He sacrificed his life to protect the overseas Chinese and was 38 years old."
Shen Qingru, a doctor from an international medical organization, was killed in a suicide bombing attack on the same day while providing medical assistance in the same region. She sacrificed her life to protect local children and was 36 years old.
After their sacrifice, both were posthumously awarded the title of martyr. Song Zhiyi was raised by her maternal grandfather, Shen Jianguo (a retired military officer). Shen Jianguo passed away two years ago.
The text is concise and without any embellishment.
But Huo Yanli stared at those few lines of text, not turning the page for a long time.
12 years old.
Both parents are deceased.
Died in the war.
To protect others.
He remembered Song Zhiyi's perpetually calm face. He remembered the detached tone in her voice, as if she didn't care about anything. He remembered her walking out of the airport alone, dragging her suitcase. He remembered her sitting at the lowest seat at the Huo family banquet, calmly answering questions that were either curious or dismissive.
It turns out that beneath that calm lay such a heavy past.
Huo Yanli continued scrolling down. The following sections provided additional details: the specific circumstances of Song Zhiyi's parents' sacrifice, news reports from that time, photos from their memorial service…
There's also a photo of Song Zhiyi as a teenager. She's probably fourteen or fifteen, wearing a school uniform, standing next to her grandfather. She's looking at the camera, without a smile, but her eyes hold a calmness and... resilience beyond her years.
Flipping further, you find work records. The assistant was very responsible, even collecting some internal reports and colleague evaluations:
"Song has exceptional translation skills and has performed outstandingly in numerous important negotiations."
"During the evacuation of Chinese citizens in Syria, I worked continuously for 72 hours and assisted in the evacuation of 47 Chinese citizens and their families."
"When participating in humanitarian coordination in Lebanon, we proactively entered the conflict zone to negotiate, facilitated a temporary ceasefire window, and enabled medical supplies to enter."
"At the Geneva Peace Forum, a cultural conflict that could have caused a misunderstanding was accurately translated and resolved."
Each line of text was like a stone thrown into the seemingly calm lake in Huo Yanli's heart.
He recalled what he had once told her: "All you'll get is the title of Mrs. Huo," "The Huo family's resources have nothing to do with you," and "Let's part ways amicably after five years"...
How arrogant. How ridiculous.
This woman saved lives amidst war, mediated at the negotiating table, and walked the line between life and death. She lost loved ones and carried a heavy past, yet she still chose to go to the most dangerous places and do the most difficult things.
He sat in this office overlooking the entire city, measuring everything by money and resources, assuming that everyone around him was like those people, with only interests and calculations in their eyes.
Huo Yanli closed the folder, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
Sunlight streamed through his eyelids, casting a warm red glow. But his heart remained icy cold.
He suddenly understood why Song Zhiyi didn't care about the money at all.
Because she had experienced true loss—losing her parents and her only remaining relative, her grandfather. She knew that some things in this world cannot be bought back with money.
He also understood why she was so calm about the marriage.
Compared to her ideals, her responsibilities, and the life and death she had witnessed, a marriage of convenience was hardly an important thing.
She agreed to marry him simply to fulfill her grandfather's last wish.
That's all.
Huo Yanli opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the photo frame on the corner of the table—a picture of him and his grandfather, taken many years ago. His grandfather had his arm around his shoulder, smiling broadly.
Grandpa once said, "Zhiyi is a child with important things on her mind."
Grandpa also said, "You'll regret this."
He didn't think much of it at the time.
Now, for the first time, a strange feeling welled up in his heart—not regret, but some deeper emotion that he himself could not explain.
It sounded like guilt.
It's also like... a kind of clarity after being shocked.
My phone vibrated; it was a WeChat message from Ji Yun: "Want to drink tonight?"
Huo Yanli stared at the message for a long time before replying with two words:
"I won't drink it."
Then place the phone face down on the table.
He needs some peace and quiet.
I need to think about this carefully.
About Song Zhiyi.
Regarding this marriage.
About himself.
The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, and the light in the office dimmed. Huo Yanli sat motionless in the gradually dimming light.
The thick folder was spread out in front of him, like a door that had suddenly opened, allowing him to see a completely different world.
At the center of that world is a woman named Song Zhiyi.
A woman he thought he knew well, but in reality, he knew nothing about.
A woman who is quietly overturning all his understanding.
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