The Heiress's Game

A few days later, Xu Bingjun held a thin investigation report in his hand.

Gu Zhenxing sat on a rattan chair on the terrace, with a glass of cold Longjing tea in front of him.

Outside the window was a meticulously manicured artificial lake, the sunlight turning the water surface silvery white, but his face showed no sign of cheerfulness.

The incident involving the banner at Julie's art exhibition has already spread within the art circle. Although Julie's speech was met with great applause, Gu Zhenxing couldn't swallow his anger.

He lived for sixty-seven years, and in the business world, no one ever dared to touch him, yet he always emerged unscathed.

"explain."

Xu Bingjun opened the report, his tone as calm as usual, as if he were reading a weather forecast.

"The museum's security cameras were sabotaged beforehand. However, a private camera in the outer parking lot captured the profile of the person hanging the banner; he was a local transient."

We investigated this person further and found that he had been taking psychiatric medications for a long time and had a diagnosis of schizophrenia issued by a hospital.

He is currently receiving day care at a non-profit rehabilitation center and earns a living by doing odd jobs.

He paused for a moment.

He said that the day before the incident, a woman driving a luxury car gave him 10,000 yuan in cash and asked him to hang a banner at an art museum.

He didn't recognize the woman; he only remembered that the car was dark blue.

"Women who drive luxury cars." Gu Zhenxing tapped his fingers on the rattan armrest. His voice wasn't loud, but each word carried an anger that had been suppressed for too long and was about to burst forth.

"Dark blue."

"Yes."

The first image that popped into his mind was Wang Manyun.

Wang Manyun drove a dark blue Bentley.

The second picture that popped up was of Ning Limei—although Ning Limei doesn't drive a dark blue car.

He remained silent for a few seconds, repeatedly weighing the two names in his mind.

"Is there any other evidence?"

Xu Bingjun turned another page of the report.

"This migrant worker has a history of schizophrenia and is legally considered to have diminished criminal responsibility. Even if we put him in jail, it will be very difficult for the police to hold him accountable."

Gu Zhenxing's face darkened. It felt more suffocating to punch something that felt like cotton than to hit a wall.

"There's another clue." Xu Bingjun closed the report, looked up, and his tone softened slightly in the last sentence.

"During our investigation, we discovered that three days before the incident, Ms. Ningville had asked two of her friends—one named Li Minmin and the other named Susan—to contact the person who made the banner."

Gu Zhenxing stopped.

"But Miss Ningville called it off that afternoon. Her two friends didn't continue, and the order for the banners was cancelled. The person who hung the banners wasn't the one they had hired."

After Xu Bingjun finished speaking, he gently placed the report on the coffee table.

The terrace remained quiet for a long time. A few calls of waterbirds drifted from the artificial lake, distant and seemingly from another world.

Gu Zhenxing slowly stood up, the veins on the back of his hand slightly bulging.

His voice was low, not the kind of growl, but something broken, as if squeezed out from between his teeth.

"After investigating for so long, they've ended up investigating one of their own people."

"They've even learned to use feints and tricks against me."

The lights were dimly lit in the living room of the Clearwater Bay villa.

Ning Limei sat in the wicker chair in front of the French windows.

She didn't change her position because she heard Gu Zhenxing's car park at the door and his footsteps striding across the porch.

She was familiar with that kind of footsteps—it wasn't coming home, it sounded like an accusation.

Ningweier stood in the middle of the living room. She had just returned from outside, and before she had even taken off her coat, she was cornered in the living room by Gu Zhenxing.

Gu Zhenxing stood in front of her and slammed Xu Bingjun's report onto the coffee table. The papers slid far across the smooth mahogany surface, with several pages scattered on the floor.

"Look what you've done."

Ningweier's face turned pale instantly. "Dad, it wasn't me—"

Before he could finish speaking, Gu Zhenxing's hand had already landed.

A solid slap across the face, not the kind of light tap used to discipline a child, but a forceful slap filled with disappointment and anger.

Ningweier staggered to the side after being hit, only managing to avoid falling by bracing himself against the sofa armrest.

Her ears rang, half her face burned, and tears welled up almost simultaneously.

—It wasn't because it hurt, but because Gu Zhenxing had never hit her in all her life.

"You sent Li Minmin and Susan to hang the banners, and you think you can get away with it just because you canceled them?"

"The whole city is laughing at me. Julie did nothing wrong, she just chatted with me a few times, and this is how you treat her? Will, you've disappointed me greatly."

Ningweier covered his left cheek, tears streaming down his face, the sound like shattered glass being stepped on.

"I told you I canceled! I didn't hang up! Dad, you need to investigate—someone did it—"

"Someone what? Someone hung up for you? Someone found that mentally ill person for you? You're really trying to deny it all."

Gu Zhenxing turned around, as if he didn't want to look at her anymore. His gaze swept over Ning Limei, and what he saw in that glance was colder to Ning Limei than a slap in the face—not anger, but disappointment.

It is a complete denial of the results of her 23 years of discipline.

"You raised a good daughter."

Ning Limei stood up, walked up to Gu Zhenxing, and adopted a very humble posture.

"Old Gu, it was Weir's fault. She made a mistake. I apologize to Miss Zhu on her behalf."

Gu Zhenxing glanced at her. If Ning Limei argued, if she said anything about "it wasn't Will's fault," he would be even angrier.

But she didn't. She lowered her head.

Gu Zhenxing looked at her lowered eyelashes and slightly trembling fingers, and the surging anger in his heart was briefly covered by a thin layer of guilt that was hard to describe—but only for a moment.

"Go talk to Julie yourself. Take Will with you. Apologize to her face."

He picked up his suit jacket from the sofa, didn't look at Ningville again, stopped at the door without turning his head, and his voice came from the porch like a cold wind.

"You need to control your daughter. If it happens again, it won't just be one slap."

The door closed. The living room remained quiet for a long time. Ningweier was still standing beside the sofa, covering his left cheek, the burning handprint on his face already swollen.

Her tears were still falling, but her crying stopped, turning into a muffled sob in her throat.

When she ran upstairs, Ning Limei didn't look at her face. She just listened to her daughter's intermittent sobs coming from her chest, like when she was a child and was pushed down by other children at the alley entrance and ran home.

But she's not a child anymore.

Ningweier sat on the floor by the bed, hugging his knees, his left cheek still bearing Gu Zhenxing's fingerprints, his eyes red as if soaked in blood.

"Mom, I didn't do it. I admit I wanted to, but I really didn't... Someone—someone wanted to hurt me."

She looked up at Ning Limei, her eyes trembling with grievance.

Ning Limei sat down next to her daughter's bed and put her phone on the bed.

The screen was still showing Gu Zhenxing's chat box—he had sent a message with only four words: You should do something about this.

Ning Limei pulled the blanket over her daughter's legs, looked at Ning Weier's red eyes, and said calmly:

"I know it wasn't you. The patient had proof of mental illness, the surveillance footage was sabotaged beforehand, and the person hanging the banner remembered the color of the luxury car but not the license plate—someone had set up a stage for you to sing on."

But if you explain now, will your dad listen?

Ningweier's lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"Whether you're innocent or not, your dad has made up his mind about you."

The more you protest your innocence in this situation, the more he'll think you're just making excuses. Admit your mistake and take the blame.

Never try to prove him wrong. You can only let him discover he wronged you—if he ever does.

Ningweier opened his mouth. "So... I'm just being framed like this?"

"Swallow it," Ning Limei said.

"I have to swallow it even if I can't. Do you think I haven't been made a scapegoat in these past twenty-three years?"

Ningweier was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching the blanket, while Ning Limei had already sat back down in the rattan chair in the living room.

He sent a message to Gu Zhenxing, the wording of which was gentle and polite: "Old Gu, it's my fault for not disciplining her properly, and Miss Zhu has been wronged."

When is a convenient time for you? I'll bring Will to apologize in person.

After sending the message, she put her phone on the coffee table, picked up the cup of Pu'er tea that had long since cooled, and the amber-colored tea soup swayed slightly in the cup.

Gu Zhenxing didn't even ask her a question before convicting Will, because in Gu Zhenxing's eyes, Julie's grievances were the most important thing, so important that he couldn't even care about their 23-year relationship.

This woman named Julie is ruthless, younger, and more meticulous than she was back then.