Yu Daqiang painfully transferred the money on WeChat.
Hearing this, his masculine pride was stung by his daughter’s light tone.
“What’s the rush? With determination, age is just a number. The young can be old-headed…”
Yu Song snapped, “You mean late bloomers? Illiteracy is scary.”
Yu Daqiang grumbled as he finished the transfer.
He wanted to say more but saw Yu Song lean over and quietly ask, “Dad, did Mom ever attend any pyramid schemes? Were there rich second-generation kids there? Famous entrepreneurs or real estate tycoons would do too.”
Yu Daqiang was startled, his eyelids twitching.
“What nonsense are you talking about? When have we ever participated in that? Never even heard of it—it’s degenerate.”
Yu Song grinned mischievously.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I know filial piety is more important than gratitude. I’m just asking to see if my birth father might have money so I can find him and get some to spend together, so you won’t always call me poor.”
“No way!” Yu Daqiang’s voice rose.
“Back home, women are all poor. Song Song, where do you hear these rubbish? You’re my own daughter. As for your mom, who else would want her?”
He spoke angrily as he walked away, slamming the master bedroom door to vent.
Yu Song knew he was insecure.
She didn’t want to bring up such a disgusting topic—it was all cheap parents, not biological.
But hearing “poor” made her think of the original owner not being biological.
A thought flashed: Could the original owner’s obsessed black-eyed mentor actually be her birth father?
She remembered the book said this person treated the original owner like his most perfect creation.
Although Yu Song wasn’t the original owner and wasn’t bound by blood, she hoped this black-eyed mentor wasn’t related by blood—it would be too melodramatic.
She sighed, finished her soy milk, took the eight thousand from Yu Daqiang, packed up, and left.
Outside the master bedroom, Yu Daqiang pressed his ear to the door, listening.
After Yu Song left, he sighed in relief and immediately called Song Wenya.
“I say, are you crazy? How could you talk to Song Song about those pyramid schemes? What else did you tell her? Are you done with this life?”
Song Wenya, walking with friends, was baffled.
“What pyramid schemes? Yu Daqiang, stop showing off. When have I ever taken you to a party? You’re drunk early in the morning? Don’t worry, if there’s a drinking party, I won’t forget you.”
She finished her curse, ignoring the surprised looks around, linking arms with friends and taking the elevator.
With only eight thousand in hand, Yu Song still planned to get a new phone and a new SIM card.
Just as she got on the bus, her phone rang.
Yu Daqiang had transferred her fifty yuan.
[Song Girl, Dad made some money in stocks recently. I sold early for your studies. I’ll send you another five thousand. It’s not enough; tell your mom to economize.]
“Good girl?”
Yu Song’s skin crawled.
Better to be called poor than good girl—at least that had no sting.
She knew Yu Daqiang couldn’t have sold stocks for her, maybe he didn’t even own stocks, and definitely had secret savings.
But this cheap dad managing to pull together thirteen thousand for her was no small feat.
She hadn’t agreed to anything.
Secrets can’t be kept forever; buried bones eventually see daylight.
Yu Song arrived at the mall.
As she got off, she caught sight of a familiar figure from the corner of her eye.
She knew she’d be followed for a while but didn’t go over to shout as last time.
Unexpectedly, the man walked up to her.
Huo Anran casually passed by, lowering his voice like a secret agent, “Xiao Yu, I’m here to protect you.
Don’t be nervous and don’t always look for me. Just do your own thing.”
After saying that, he quickly left.
Yu Song twitched her mouth.
Being the growing female lead is fun.
If the female lead is here, can the male lead be far behind?
She didn’t want to be part of their play; Gu Zhiya seemed more reliable.
At this moment, Gu Zhiya was in the office working on routine reports, a simple sketch of a figure sitting on a chair in the center.
He laid out all clues and theories like a spider’s web, eagerly waiting for the whole picture to be completed so the central figure could turn around like a great voice instructor.
But after finishing, Gu Zhiya realized Ji Jiang’s theory was the most reasonable.
The two calls were made using external network forwarding; the mysterious caller’s voice was computer synthesized.
There was nothing useful on Yu Song’s phone.
All her online platform accounts were there, but posts were deleted quickly.
Recovering data showed only various emo posts and complaints.
Yu Song did say she wanted Zhou Yaohui and He Zilu dead, thinking they were hypocritical trash.
So did she stage the whole thing herself?
But how could a sophomore university student monitor a big shot like Zhou Yaohui?
How did she know Meng Dawei would kill him at Jin Hong Hotel?
He Zilu’s music and books had issues—psychologists identified the songs as foreign Psychological Guidance Songs, and the books were Banned Books.
Her search records were chaotic.
She sometimes searched for interesting things online, but words related to heights and flying appeared frequently.
Terms like Flying Man, Aerial Acrobat.
She also had accounts on various social apps but rarely posted.
Gu Zhiya found it strange.
From his experience with suicide cases, most victims would express a lot of feelings before deciding.
They vented their troubles and inner conflicts, as if trying to save themselves.
If no one responded or if someone responded but didn’t have the right approach, only then would they act.
But in nearly three months of checking He Zilu’s online information, she rarely expressed such thoughts.
He Feng and Zhao Xue both said they argued all the time.
He Zilu was no longer influenced and behaved well at home as long as her spending wasn’t controlled.
She did bully classmates at school.
This kind of personality would bully others, not commit suicide.
In short, Gu Zhiya thought He Zilu didn’t kill herself out of pain or confusion.
She seemed to be enchanted by something—a goal, not an escape.
During the summer break, Yu Song never contacted her, so she wouldn’t have led her astray.
Could these two girls have another undiscovered accomplice?
The more Gu Zhiya researched, the more confused he became and went to make coffee.
On the mall’s first floor, Yu Song browsed several phone brands, then entered the best-selling, most popular brand store.
She spent 5,888 yuan on a decent phone.
The rest of the money would be enough to find a place to live, but she needed to start earning quickly.
Yu Song never skimped on herself.
After buying the phone and getting the SIM card, she used the store’s Wi-Fi to download various apps, then decided to go upstairs for barbecue.
Entering the elevator, she ran into Song Wenya holding onto a man’s arm.
She carried three large shopping bags, smiling brightly, obviously pleased with today’s purchases.
Though Yu Song felt Song Wenya was a cheap mom, she was a little embarrassed.
She simply pretended not to know her, but Song Wenya excitedly grabbed her hand, “Hongya, what are you doing here?”
Before Yu Song could respond, she turned to the man and said, “Old Yang, this is my daughter—the one you mentioned before.”
Yu Song instantly froze.
Mentioned before?
What did that mean?
Did Song Wenya, like Guangtou Qiang, try to drag her down?
She was her biological daughter, so could she really be so heartless?
The man looked about fifty or sixty, his face very rich but without a beer belly.
He smiled like a Buddha and appraised Yu Song, “Not bad, not bad, Xiaoxiang, your daughter is as pretty as you.”
Yu Song was about to curse, but Song Wenya pulled her away from the elevator warmly.
“Quick, call him Uncle Yang. His company had an exhibition at the mall a few years ago. Song Song, don’t you start school soon? Come be a model. If you like, Uncle Yang can get you packaged and launched.”
Yu Song raised an eyebrow.
“Being launched isn’t for me. I prefer to take charge myself!”
Song Wenya ignored this but knew it wasn’t a compliment.
She said irritably, “What do you mean, ‘take charge’? You’re so disrespectful! Uncle Yang is a big boss. With your lousy school degree, you won’t find a good job. I’m just planning ahead for you. What’s wrong with that?”
Yu Song glanced over the man’s body, lightly snorted.
“Big boss? You two are just big-time con artists fooling each other. Showing off with an exhibition a few years ago? It’s only been a few months! Why don’t you say it was two years ago?”
The man frowned and glanced at Yu Song with displeasure, saying to Song Wenya, “Forget it. Kids today are rude and don’t want their parents controlling them. They have their own plans.”
Yu Song rudely pointed at his watch.
“Big brand, basic model, changed the strap. Don’t tell me your first love gave it to you and you’ve worn it for over ten years.”
Then she pointed at his collar.
“New coat, but the shirt doesn’t fit. A big boss can’t afford tailored clothes? Or is this your best outfit?”
She continued teasing him.
The man, pierced by passersby’s eyes, angrily took Song Wenya’s hand.
“I don’t care about appearances. Clothes and watches are just thrown on, unlike you poor people who only find confidence in dressing.”
Song Wenya didn’t give up on her catch.
She glanced at Yu Song and coaxed the man, “Brother Yang, don’t argue with the kid.”
Yu Song pointed at the three bags in Song Wenya’s hands.
“How much did he spend on you? Big bosses must be generous.”
Song Wenya looked at the bags and started doubting—they were all discounted off-season goods, and the small bag was a free gift.
The man, unable to deceive any longer, said angrily, “I think you mother and daughter are just born poor. A big boss like me doesn’t even know how to appreciate. Forget it, forget it, I won’t argue with you.”
The bystanders watching laughed.
“What big boss calls himself a big boss?”
Yu Song laughed too.
She was originally too lazy to care about Song Wenya, but Song Wenya insisted on bothering her and even tried to set her up as a model…
It was all complicated.
After the man left shamefacedly, Song Wenya regretted it a bit.
A man who spends money on her is a good man, no matter if he’s a big boss or not.
She was about to chase after him when he suddenly returned and snatched the three bags from her.
“Go take charge, daughter. Give me back my stuff!”
Yu Song laughed even more.
Song Wenya cursed at his back, “Are you even a man? You want to take back the money you spent? Coward!”
Yu Song ignored her and headed upstairs to eat, but Song Wenya followed and explained, “Song Song, I didn’t mess around. I just want to get him to partner in business and maybe help you launch. You don’t know, the other day when you showed up on my livestream, so many people asked who you were and said you looked like a movie star.”
“Do what you want, it’s none of my business.”
The elevator doors opened, and as Yu Song entered, her phone rang.
It was the newly bought one.