The Heiress's Game

Ningweier hasn't slept well for several days.

She lay in bed scrolling through her phone, the screen's light illuminating her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and making her look even worse than the cold, white light from the phone.

She no longer dares to use her main account—last time she posted a sarcastic post, the comments section was flooded with negative comments, and although her group of girlfriends are still helping her control the comments, she can't stop the gossip from the general public.

Someone posted a screenshot of her statement on a gossip bot with the title "The Little Princess of Clearwater Bay Breaks Down Online," and it was forwarded over three thousand times.

She was so frightened that she deleted the post overnight and made her main account private.

But the alternate accounts were still there. She created three alternate accounts and took turns patrolling Julie's social media accounts.

Every time Julie posts an update, she leaves an anonymous comment below—"The drawing isn't that great either," "What are you pretending to be so idyllic about? You're still just clinging to men," "I hate these artsy bitches the most."

She deleted the comment a few minutes after she finished swearing, not because she regretted it, but because she was afraid her mother would see it.

Her mother's complexion has been quite bad these past few days, although she hasn't said anything.

Ningweier threw his phone onto the blanket and rolled over. That bitch Julie posted another update today—a photo of her studio with a river view outside the window, captioned, "Look out the window when you're tired of painting."

Her dad gave it a thumbs up. Her dad—Gu Zhenxing—never gives her thumbs up.

He never praised her Cullinan, her Jaeger-LeCoultre watch, or any of the meticulously retouched photos she took in Paris.

But if Julie sends him a color palette, he'll just click on it.

Why should she? Her mother has been with him for twenty-three years, she has called him "Dad" for twenty-three years, and Julie has only been around for a few months?

Ningweier sat up in bed, picked up his phone, and dialed Li Minmin's number.

Li Minmin was one of her closest friends, always there for her whenever she needed her, always on her side, and with a sweet tongue.

The other one was named Susan, who was completely subservient to Ningville. The three of them had a small group chat called "Clearwater Bay Fairy Club." Ningville would complain about Julie in the group chat, and Li Minmin and Susan would take turns criticizing her, even more harshly than Ningville.

I answered the phone after it rang twice.

"Sister Will! I was just about to call you." Li Minmin's voice came through the receiver, full of that ever-energetic spirit.

"Did you see what Julie posted today? I'm speechless. She's tired of painting, so she looks out the window—isn't that a river view? Did your dad arrange that apartment for her? She still has the nerve to pretend everything is peaceful and idyllic. Pshaw."

"I saw it," Ningweier said through gritted teeth. "She's become increasingly brazen lately. Last time I used an alternate account to insult her, she completely ignored me. How can someone be so shameless?"

"She knows exactly what makes your dad like her."

Susan joined too; she always manages to be there in the group chat when Ningville needs her most.

"Sister Will, let me tell you, these artsy bitches are the best at it. They pretend to be high-minded, pretend to be independent, and pretend they don't want anything."

The more you scold her, the more magnanimous she acts in front of your dad. Your dad sees this and thinks, "Oh dear, Will bullied her again, and she didn't even talk back." It makes you look petty.

This statement precisely hit Ningweier where it hurt the most.

She was silent for a few seconds, then lowered her voice, carrying a sense of pent-up grievance and resentment.

"That bitch is a vixen in disguise, pretending to be a talented woman to swindle my dad's money. She's younger than me, what right does she have!"

"Sister Will, please don't be angry if I tell you the truth."

Susan lowered her voice, turning it into a signal of conspiracy.

"You can use a secondary account to curse her a hundred times, but it won't do any good. A woman of this caliber will only become more and more arrogant if you don't teach her a real lesson."

"Isn't your dad just thinking she's 'independent'? That she's different from those money-grubbing women? Then make her look bad once, let your dad see what kind of person she really is."

Ningwei'er's fingers scratched the phone case a few times, and Li Minmin echoed on the screen:

"Shanshan is right. These artsy types are most afraid of losing face in public. If you mess with her once, make her unable to keep up the act in front of your dad, your dad will naturally lose interest."

Ningville's eyes lit up in the darkness, then a hint of hesitation crept in.

"But what should I do? Go and make a scene with her? Last time I said something on my main account, and the comments section was flooded with negative comments."

My dad hates it when family members try to interfere with his relationships. And my mom… you know how it is, I have to be careful what I do lately. If my dad finds out I hired someone to do this—”

"Then just let him not know it was you who did it, right?" Li Minmin replied smoothly, her tone as light as if she were discussing which afternoon tea place to go for tomorrow.

"Sister Will, you're too honest. Think about it, what does this kind of artsy bitch care about most? Her reputation. If you ruin her reputation, she won't have the face to stay by your dad's side anymore."

"If you ask me, isn't she a painter? Didn't she have an exhibition recently? Why not get a few people to organize something, hang up a banner or something, and embarrass her in the media?"

Susan added a subtle jab: "Men are most afraid of being humiliated by women. Especially your dad. You won't even need to say a word; he'll distance himself from you."

Ningville did not answer immediately.

The sea outside the window was pitch black, and the lighthouse beam swept back and forth, illuminating her face and then dimming it again.

She remembered Julie's gentle smile when she first appeared at the art exhibition, her father's cheerful laughter on the phone, and every heart-shaped like under that post.

She gripped her phone tightly. Li Minmin and Susan waited a moment but didn't receive a reply. They then sent several more messages, each one harsher than the last.

"We've already thought of everything for you. We'll put up a banner in front of the art museum with a few words on it, to embarrass her. Once it's done, the money won't go through your account; we'll handle it ourselves."

"It's easy to get people involved, and we might even get her trending on social media—'Emerging painter cheated on', 'Angelina Jolie's works are all hyped up by sleeping around.' Once the whole internet is buzzing about it, let's see where she'll put her face then."

Ningville glanced at it twice, and finally sent a short message:

"Be careful, don't let anyone find out."

After Li Minmin and Susan hung up the phone, the WeChat group was silent for less than two minutes.

Then Li Minmin opened another chat window. The profile picture was an inconspicuous landscape photo. The other party was offline, but she knew that every time she sent a message, a reply would appear very quickly.

She typed a line: "The fish has taken the bait. Ningweier is going to build an art museum; banners, trending topics, everything that can get on the scene."

Then she put down her phone, picked up the half-finished oatmeal latte from the bedside table, leaned back on the sofa, and smiled slightly.

At the same time, a message from Susan popped up on the bedside table next to her:

"Minmin, I received that anonymous transfer. They're really generous. Who do you think this benefactor is?"

Li Minmin replied: "Who cares who she is. She's paying us, we're doing the job, don't pry."

Ningweir offered it up himself; if we don't give him a push, someone else will.

As the car started, Li Minmin touched up her lipstick in front of the makeup mirror, wiped away the dark berry color that had spilled from her lips, and before closing the mirror, she gave herself a look of disdain.

Ningweier really thought of herself as her best friend. Every day, she followed her around like two lapdogs, fawning over her and listening to her brag about what her dad was going to buy for her again.

If it weren't for those leftovers, who would do it?

Her mother at least knew how to maintain a detached and indifferent persona, but this spoiled brat, besides lying on the beach in Clearwater Bay, had lost all basic judgment.

Oh well, this fire won't affect me anyway. I might as well make money off these two snakes.