Chapter 77: The Middle Trap This chapter contains an additional 2,500 diamonds.

Fu Juxing called to say he wouldn’t be coming home tonight; he would stay there for the vigil.

By rights, Lin Wanbai, as the daughter-in-law, ought to keep vigil as well. But under the current circumstances, even if she wished to go, Fu Juxing would not allow it.

Lin Wanbai said, “Take care of yourself. I’ll come in the morning. Don’t stop me—she’s your mother, and she’s mine too. I have to go.”

Fu Juxing was silent for a moment and then gently answered.

They spoke for a while longer before hanging up.

Lin Wanbai didn’t mention to him that Lin Zhouye had been taken by the constables; she didn’t want him to worry. At this moment, he should give his whole heart to his mother’s funeral rites. After waiting so many years, all he had received was a corpse.

He showed no outward emotion, but Lin Wanbai was certain he must be suffering inside.

She put down her phone and said to Aunt Rong, “Tomorrow morning, let’s go to the funeral parlor together.”

This time, Aunt Rong did not object, only nodding silently.

Lin Jingyu and Chen Songyuan returned close to ten o’clock.

Lin Wanbai was reclining on the sofa, waiting. Hearing the door, she sat up immediately, her eyes fixed on them as they entered—Lin Zhouye was not with them.

Lin Jingyu walked over and tapped her forehead. “Why aren’t you asleep? Do you know how late it is?”

“I was worried. Even if I tried to sleep in my room, I wouldn’t be able to. Better to wait for you here. And you didn’t even call me.”

“I thought you’d be asleep. You usually go to bed at nine, and now it’s ten.”

Lin Wanbai glanced toward the door. “So, Lin Zhouye isn’t coming home yet?”

“This whole business is strange. Fu Miao disappeared after entering our house. The police checked the surveillance, but found nothing; the trail ends here. Besides, no matter what, Fu Miao is Zhouye’s legal wife, so they’re bound to look for him. And with Yuan Yujun and the others fanning the flames, Zhouye is shouldering the blame for Fu Miao’s disappearance.”

They sat down, and Lin Jingyu continued, “I watched all the surveillance they gave me. It’s odd—she came in but never left.”

She shivered, feeling a chill. The house was so large, it would be easy to hide someone. With that thought, she swept her gaze around, a terrible idea forming in her mind.

“Surveillance doesn’t lie. Do you think she’s still here, in the house?” She looked at Chen Songyuan.

He took a sip of water and smiled. “She’s a grown woman. If she were hiding here, we’d know. Even if we didn’t, the staff would. She’d need food and drink, after all. So many days and not a single sign—clearly unlikely.”

“Unless someone in the house is helping her. But who would do that? If you’re worried, tomorrow I’ll have the staff search every corner, leave no stone unturned.”

Lin Jingyu felt it unlikely, but the video was so bizarre—she came in and never left. Where could she have gone?

The Lin estate was surrounded by surveillance; escape would be almost impossible.

She nodded. “I think it’s necessary. And judging from the police, they’ll probably want to search once the warrant comes through. If she’s really here, better we find her first than let them do it. Otherwise, who knows what trouble that would cause.”

Lin Jingyu felt uneasy.

She suddenly realized someone was missing. “Where’s Fu Juxing? Why are you alone?”

Lin Wanbai was lost in thought and didn’t hear the question.

“Xiaobai? What are you thinking?”

She patted her hand to bring her back.

Lin Wanbai said, “He’s arranging his mother’s funeral, keeping vigil tonight.”

Lin Jingyu slapped her forehead. “Right, I forgot. I saw it in the news. Jiang Shuzhi was so cruel—how can the child bear it? But he hasn’t seemed any different lately…”

“He was very young when he was separated from his mother. After so many years, it’s natural there’s little feeling. Besides, he’s been bullied since childhood; he learned long ago to control his emotions. When have you ever seen him overly happy or sad? He keeps it all inside.” Lin Wanbai exhaled. “But now that’s over—Jiang Shuzhi is finally brought to justice. A life lost, and those financial crimes; she won’t see freedom again. Life will be easier for him now.”

“Yes, yes, you two can finally live peacefully.” She looked at Lin Wanbai’s belly, full of anticipation. “Our Lin family will finally have a new member.”

Lin Wanbai stroked her belly. “I hope Grandpa wakes up soon.”

“He will. Grandpa loves you most—he won’t let go so easily.”

Mother and daughter leaned together, sitting quietly for a while. Then Lin Jingyu said, “Since Fu Juxing isn’t home, I’ll sleep with Xiaobai tonight. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone.”

Chen Songyuan nodded. “That’s right. Don’t worry too much; Zhouye’s situation isn’t so serious. Leave the search for Fu Miao to me. And tomorrow, we should make time to visit Fu Juxing’s mother.”

Lin Jingyu nodded. “Yes.”

At night, Lin Wanbai couldn’t sleep, her mind restless with worries. She kept turning, unable to settle.

After the Nth time she rolled over, Lin Jingyu reached out to touch her. “Something on your mind?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I can’t sleep either.” She withdrew her hand, turned over, lay on her back, and opened her eyes.

The room glowed with a small night light, so Lin Wanbai could get up easily.

She turned as well, lying flat, turned her head and asked, “Mom, what are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know why, but don’t you think the Fu family crumbled too quickly? Normally, a business with so many years behind it wouldn’t collapse overnight. So many interests, networks—how could it happen so fast?” Lin Jingyu pondered for a moment. “It may look glamorous from outside, but inside it’s been hollowed out. So with a gentle push, it collapses, utterly shattered.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“You think someone’s behind all this?”

Lin Jingyu was silent for a moment, then turned to meet her gaze and nodded. “Now that I think calmly, it feels as though unseen hands are pushing, worsening relations between our two families, causing them to break apart, and finally driving the Fu family to ruin.”

She thought about it, but didn’t voice her inner fears, instead changing the subject. “But Jiang Shuzhi’s evil deeds are many—this is her retribution, perhaps fate.”

Lin Wanbai said, “She deserves her current fate.”

After that, neither spoke, each lost in thought. They lay in silence for a long time, then almost simultaneously turned, back to back.

That night, Lin Wanbai slept only briefly before rising.

She prepared to go to the funeral parlor.

Lin Jingyu was a light sleeper; when Lin Wanbai got up, she did too. After a simple wash, she changed into solemn attire and accompanied her daughter.

No one spoke on the way.

En route, Lin Wanbai called Fu Juxing.

Upon entering the funeral parlor, she saw Fu Juxing waiting outside.

The car stopped and everyone got out.

Fu Juxing stood by the car, helping each person out. Lin Wanbai was last; their eyes met, and she placed her hand in his palm, carefully stepping down.

“You look worn out, dark circles. Didn’t sleep last night?”

“That’s right. Without you, I can’t sleep.” She wrapped her arm around his. “And you? Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

Fu Juxing led them inside; the hall was simply arranged and very quiet.

Lin Jingyu and Chen Songyuan stepped forward to bow, then Aunt Rong, then Lin Wanbai.

“Let me go in and see Mother,” Lin Wanbai said.

Fu Juxing shook his head. “No need.”

“I must.” Lin Wanbai insisted, “You need to let Mother see me; otherwise she won’t know me.”

He looked at her; Lin Jingyu chimed in.

At last, Fu Juxing agreed and led her to the back.

Fu Xian’s face had been modestly made up, so she didn’t look frightening—just a little uncanny.

She lay in a crystal coffin, dressed impeccably.

Lin Wanbai had prepared herself mentally, so she could bear it.

Fu Juxing said, “Grandfather said this was Mother’s favorite style of clothing.”

“Yes, I think Mother liked this style too.”

A sadness welled up in Lin Wanbai’s heart, her eyes grew hot. Hearing his calm tone made the feeling even deeper.

She truly felt pain; she lowered her head and wiped away tears.

Fu Juxing began to introduce, “Mother, this is my wife, Lin Wanbai, the only daughter of the Lin family, the foremost young lady of North City. She’s beautiful and outstanding. I think you would be satisfied.”

Lin Wanbai stepped forward, her gaze falling on Fu Xian’s face. “Mother, hello. This is our first meeting, and also our last. Your son, Fu Juxing, is so exceptional. Now I know why he’s so handsome—he inherited your beauty. We love each other dearly, and he spoils me endlessly. Thank you for giving birth to such a wonderful son, who has become such a good husband to me. From now on, we will take care of each other, support one another, and always be well together.”

“Oh, I forgot to mention—we have a child, a boy. And someday, we’ll have a daughter too, a son and a daughter. Please watch over us from heaven, bless us always.”

When Lin Wanbai finished, she turned and hugged Fu Juxing.

She leaned against him, tears falling silently. This embrace seemed like Fu Juxing was comforting her, but she was really comforting him.

Fu Juxing held her in silence, his eyes lowered, gradually closing them.

They stayed inside for a long while before coming out.

By then, a few more people had arrived: Feng Yajie and Fu Rong, but Xu Yinxue wasn’t there. Feng Yajie said she was feeding the child and would come tomorrow for the burial.

Feng Yajie stood before Fu Changjun, sobbing and speaking. When she saw Fu Juxing and Xiaobai come out, she hurried over and gave Fu Juxing a big hug, looking at him with tearful eyes full of pity.

“Poor child, after searching so long, this is how it ends.” She sighed, patting Fu Juxing’s back. “Take care, life goes on. That old witch Jiang—she’s not human, doing such things without fear of heavenly retribution. Back then, Feng Yahan was driven to death by her—one life wasn’t enough, she had to destroy generations! How can she be so vicious? Always praying and eating vegetarian—she’s a shame to the Buddha!”

Fu Changjun frowned. “Enough, Fu Xian liked peace. Let’s not say any more.”

Feng Yajie wiped her tears and looked back at him, nodding sensibly. “I’ll go in and see her.”

She took Fu Rong and went inside.

Fu Juxing helped Lin Wanbai to a chair and then poured tea for Lin Jingyu and Chen Songyuan.

Lin Jingyu took the cup and said, “If you need anything, just ask. We’re family—we’ll do everything we can. I’ve ordered a wreath; it’ll be delivered soon. This place is too simple; it should be decorated a bit.”

“Grandfather said Mother liked things low-key—this is enough.”

Lin Jingyu nodded. She remembered Fu Xian; she was her senior, a legend at school, outstanding in every way. She had met her several times—remarkable, both in looks and character.

Such a pity—her youth wasted, vanished, imprisoned for years, a tragedy.

Earlier, Feng Yajie had asked Fu Changjun why Fu Xian’s husband, Liang Yukan, wasn’t with her.

They had disappeared together; Fu Xian was imprisoned by the old lady—what about Liang Yukan?

No one knew, perhaps only Jiang Shuzhi, or maybe not even her.

But thinking carefully, if Fu Xian ended up like this, could Liang Yukan have survived?

Lin Jingyu looked at Fu Juxing’s calm face and felt a pang of sadness for him. What fault did they have? Fu Xian never asked the Fu family for anything; all she achieved was through her own effort.

Feng Yahan was dead—why drag the next generation into it?

She sighed and patted Fu Juxing’s hand. “Stay strong. Everything will get better from here. We’re all here.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Mom.”

“No need—we’re family.”

Lin Wanbai and the others stayed at the funeral parlor all morning. Fu Juxing asked her to go home first; Lin Wanbai obeyed, leaving Aunt Rong to help, and went home with Lin Jingyu and Chen Songyuan.

In the afternoon, Chen Songyuan arranged a security team to search the entire Lin estate, inside and out, every nook and cranny—nothing was found.

That evening, Lin Zhouye was released from the constables’ bureau.

As he stepped out, Yuan Yujun and Fu Yanchuan approached.

“Where did you put Miaomiao!” Yuan Yujun snapped, impolite from the start.

She was convinced Lin Zhouye was behind it, seeking revenge for Lin Wanbai.

That had to be it—motive, evidence, everything. And now he was released—surely connections had been pulled!

Lin Zhouye frowned at them, unwilling to engage.

But Yuan Yujun wouldn’t let it go. “If you don’t hand her over today, you’re not leaving!”

Fu Yanchuan pulled her back. “Mom, calm down. We agreed to talk this out. You’re being irrational.”

“Irrational? Your sister’s life is uncertain, and you want rationality! I think you’re insane! Clearly it’s Lin Zhouye hiding her, and you’re covering for them—are you brain-damaged? Fu Yanchuan, you’re being utterly foolish!”

Yuan Yujun struggled, furious. “Let me go!”

Fu Yanchuan held firm and looked at Lin Zhouye. “Please understand. If possible, can we sit somewhere and talk?”

Half an hour later, the two sat in a teahouse.

Lin Zhouye unbuttoned his collar, his brow still tense.

Tea was served, but neither drank; neither felt like it.

After a long silence, Fu Yanchuan coughed. “At first, I believed you. I was sure you wouldn’t harm Fu Miao. Maybe you’d have a falling out over the video. But now, all the evidence points…”

“It wasn’t me.” Those words—he’d repeated them countless times over the past day and night.

But against supposed evidence, they seemed meaningless.

Before Fu Yanchuan could say more, Lin Zhouye continued, “Whether you believe it or not, I had nothing to do with Fu Miao’s disappearance. I hadn’t even seen her before. Why she entered the Lin house and never left—I don’t know. I’d like to know who’s framing me.”

He’d thought much during his day at the constables’ bureau—since Lin Wanbai married Fu Juxing three years ago, every event, each step that had driven the Fu family to ruin.

And the true culprit was not the Lin family.

Someone behind the scenes knew their hearts, played them like chess pieces.

If his guess was right, the next target would be his own Lin family, starting with him.

Lin Zhouye stubbed out his cigarette and looked up. “We’ve all fallen into a trap.”

“What?”

“Soon, you’ll see Fu Miao.”

Fu Yanchuan looked at him, suddenly understanding the meaning behind his words.

…

Lin Zhouye returned home; everyone seemed to be waiting for him.

Lin Jingyu said, “I sent someone to fetch you—why are you so late?”

“I talked with Fu Yanchuan and his mother, that’s all.”

“What did they want? For you to hand over Fu Miao?”

He curled his lip, glanced around, saw no sign of Fu Juxing, and looked at Lin Wanbai, saying nothing more but announcing he would shower upstairs.

“Come down after your shower; we’re waiting for dinner.”

“Alright.”

Lin Wanbai noticed the look he gave her. Something was up. She glanced upstairs.

After dinner, Lin Zhouye returned to his room.

Around eight, Lin Wanbai knocked on his door.

This time, she was polite; she didn’t barge in, but waited for him to open.

“Still up so late?”

Lin Wanbai smiled. “Just came to see you. Is it inconvenient for me to come in?”

He looked at her, stepped aside to let her in.

Lin Wanbai sat down.

Neither spoke, but it was clear both had things on their mind.

Lin Wanbai said, “I heard from Mom—the constables’ clues all end at the house. Today, Mom and Dad brought a team for a thorough search, but not even a hair was found. We reviewed all the house’s cameras, nothing turned up. I doubt the police have enough evidence to do anything to you.”

He smiled. “If they really wanted to charge me, Fu Miao would soon be found.”

“What do you mean?”

“No need to play dumb. You’re smart enough to know what I mean.”

She laughed. “Am I smart? You always used to say I was stupid.”

Lin Zhouye didn’t linger on the topic, but instead casually asked, “Where’s Fu Juxing? I haven’t seen him all evening.”

“He’s arranging his mother’s funeral; tomorrow’s the burial, so we’ll go in the morning.”

“Right, I forgot.”

“What’s up? You ask about him as soon as you’re back—is there something?”

“I want to ask about the Fu company. The business has changed hands—what are his plans? He still owns shares.”

She raised her brows. “Is that all?”

“Why else?”

They looked at each other for a while. Then Lin Zhouye slapped his thigh and stood. “Alright, it’s late. You’re pregnant—go rest. Tomorrow’s the funeral; you need sleep. Look at the time.”

Lin Wanbai was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll rest. You should too—look at your dark circles. Being questioned at the bureau isn’t pleasant.”

“Go on.”

She rose slowly, her smile fading. She looked at him. “I know you’ve done a lot for me, to protect me. But I don’t want to see you get hurt either. So, if anything messy happens, you must tell me. We’ll figure things out together. Grandpa always says—many hands make light work. Don’t try to shoulder everything alone.”

“No matter how capable, everyone makes mistakes. What’s family for? Family is your support when things go wrong.”

He laughed, reached to pat her head. “When did you start sounding like Grandpa, full of wisdom?”

“It’s inherited—you didn’t know?”

He smiled, studying her for a while, then patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Focus on your pregnancy. With Jiang Shuzhi gone, you and your little one will finally have peace.”

“We can all live peacefully now.”

Lin Wanbai returned to her room, but her heart was far from light.

Even though Lin Zhouye said nothing, his expression said everything.

The next day, Fu Xian was buried.

The same few people attended; the funeral was simple, low-key.

Fu Changjun arranged a double grave—one side reserved for Liang Yukan.

Their principle was: if alive, find the person; if dead, find the body. Otherwise, they would never give up.

The whole process was quiet and solemn.

The ceremony ended quickly. Fu Changjun wanted to stay behind; Fu Juxing asked a caretaker to accompany him, then left with Lin Wanbai.

He still needed to go to the company; Qin Guang had called a shareholders’ meeting that afternoon. He wanted to go home first, shower, change, then head over.

He hadn’t slept for two days; once in the car, he closed his eyes to rest. Lin Wanbai didn’t disturb him, only held his hand, letting him lean on her.

Lin Wanbai always carried a cool, fresh scent—irresistible, intoxicating.

Back home, Fu Juxing went to shower. Lin Wanbai prepared the bed, closed the curtains, and lit a soothing scent.

When he finished, Aunt Rong brought food.

Lin Wanbai said, “Eat a bit, then sleep well. The meeting’s at two; if you rest now, you have three or four hours.”

“But I need to prepare materials.”

“Let your assistant handle it. Your task is to eat and sleep. Look at yourself—two days without rest, you look terrible. Just keep me company.”

He didn’t hesitate, agreeing quickly. “Alright.”

After eating, he lay down to rest, with Lin Wanbai by his side.

Within moments, he was fast asleep.

Lin Wanbai wasn’t sleepy. She turned, propped her head, and watched his peaceful face—a perfect child.

Fu Juxing slept deeply; after a while, Lin Wanbai sat up, catching sight of his phone on the bedside table.

She hesitated, then picked it up. He’d told her the password—it was her birthday. She entered it; sure enough, it worked.

She stared at the screen for a long time, not opening any app.

She didn’t really want to do this. She took a deep breath, then checked his phone thoroughly—every message, every app. Nothing unusual.

All work correspondence—so dull.

After checking, she put it back, looked at the sleeping man, and told herself, I should trust him.

Lin Wanbai prepared his clothes for later, then returned to bed and napped with him.

Not long after she fell asleep, Fu Juxing opened his eyes.

…

Late June.

Fu Yonghui had sold off half his assets; the rest couldn’t be moved due to paperwork issues.

He packed a simple suitcase, preparing to leave North City.

But before he could board a plane, the constables arrested him.

He was charged with misappropriating others’ property, brought to the bureau, and all his accounts were frozen. He couldn’t touch a single cent.

He called He Sili, his secretary and mistress; they had two sons together, one in high school, one just three or four.

After the Fu family’s disaster, He Sili emigrated ahead of time.

They had agreed: Fu Yonghui would transfer assets, move his and Yuan Yujun’s joint property to He Sili’s overseas account. Once Fu Corp was sold, he’d liquidate his assets, then join her abroad—the four of them would live carefree.

A dead camel is bigger than a horse; no matter what, they wouldn’t be destitute—they had backup plans.

But Fu Yonghui was greedy, wanting more—even to take Fu Yongyi’s share.

He was on the verge of success, when disaster struck. At this moment, he scoured his phone for anyone who could help, but found none.

Finally, he called Fu Yanchuan.

Unluckily, Yuan Yujun overheard, snatched the phone. “You’ve got the nerve to call for help? If I hadn’t filed for divorce, I wouldn’t know you sold all our joint assets! And transferred all the money! Incredible!”

“Getting arrested is your own fault! Think of Yanchuan now? Go find your He Sili!”

With that, she hung up, warning Fu Yanchuan, “Don’t help him. Let him rot in the bureau.”

Fu Yanchuan didn’t argue, only nodded, with no intention to intervene.

He wasn’t about to play the saint.

Fu Miao was missing, and as a father, instead of helping, he was obsessed with amassing wealth and fleeing North City with another woman.

Given that, he should call her for help.

Fu Yonghui made several more calls, but none were answered.

He gave up; under these circumstances, he couldn’t even hire a lawyer.

On the third day of detention, Fu Yongyi appeared.

He had been badly beaten, his leg broken, and sat in a wheelchair, pushed in.

That night, he was drunk and unconscious. When he awoke, he was trapped in a sack, eyes and mouth blocked. He never saw the kidnappers, but heard them say they had been hired by Fu Yonghui, who wanted to seize everything while he was missing.

They beat him daily, fed him only once—a bowl of rice.

Fu Yongyi was brave—he was skilled at fighting, trained in martial arts as a youth.

In such conditions, his mind sharpened; he learned to bide his time, found his chance, escaped, and was rescued by passersby.

He immediately called the police.

The next day, the constables caught Fu Yonghui at the airport.

That confirmed his crimes—embezzlement and attempted flight.

Moreover, Fu Yongyi now charged him with assault. The kidnappers were all arrested, and confessed that Fu Yonghui had hired them, promising ten million on success.

He had paid a million up front.

The money was sent from a foreign account, which after investigation, belonged to He Sili.

He Sili was summoned back to the country; once she returned, everything would be clear.

Fu Yongyi said, “The constables say you still won’t confess?”

Fu Yonghui smiled. “I underestimated you, Fu Yongyi. You staged this to send me to prison, so you could claim all Fu family’s assets?”

Fu Yongyi spat. “Don’t try to wriggle out! We’re brothers, but I never thought you’d try to kill me! You spent a million trying to have me killed! If I hadn’t been strong, would I still be alive to talk to you?”

“Thank heaven I survived to see your downfall! I’ll never forgive you—wait for prison!”

“I didn’t do it! Don’t frame me!”

Fu Yongyi was about to leave.

Fu Yonghui hesitated, then, as he was about to exit, lunged forward. “Ah Yi, we’re brothers! Blood is thicker than water—especially now, we should stick together. I worried about you, sent people searching for you. I had money ready for ransom, thought I’d pay whatever they wanted, just to get you back safely!”

“You’ve misunderstood—it wasn’t me! I swear, if I did it, I’ll die without a son!”

Fu Yongyi’s wounded face showed no expression, but his eyes were cold, devoid of feeling. He laughed icily. “Fu Yonghui, heaven sees all. Swearing on your own son—is that how you curse him? If you’d gamble your own child, what wouldn’t you do to me?”

He grew impatient, spat at him. “Get out of my way!”

Then told the attendant to call the constables, who handcuffed Fu Yonghui.

The Fu brothers’ feud was soon the talk of the elite circles—a laughingstock.

So-called noble families, when fallen, were no different from commoners—perhaps even less dignified.

Fu Dianyi had stayed in Haicheng since the Fu family’s troubles, never returning.

Fu Yongyi called her; she answered, but always claimed to be busy, cutting the call short.

She alone had preserved herself. He found it funny, but could not blame her.

When he was kidnapped, facing death, he suddenly realized a few truths.

Money is external; people matter most.

He visited Jiang Shuzhi in detention.

The old lady had lost weight, but still looked spirited.

Seeing her brought in with handcuffs, Fu Yongyi felt uneasy. He sniffed and called, “Mom.”

The once indomitable matriarch was now reduced to this—who wouldn’t sigh?

The once glorious Fu family, now fallen—who wouldn’t lament?

Jiang Shuzhi stared at him, saying nothing for a long time.

But Fu Yongyi, once he started talking, didn’t stop—rambling about everything: his feud with Fu Yonghui, the family’s situation, every detail.

Jiang Shuzhi didn’t want to hear it; she interrupted. “I want to see Fu Juxing.”

Her voice was hoarse, like a broken gramophone, grating.

“Mom, why won’t you let him go? If you hadn’t always targeted him, angering the Lin family, would the Fu family be in this mess? Now, after everything, what will seeing him do? Why not let go?”

“Let go?” She laughed coldly. “Only if Fu Juxing dies will I let go. If he lives, I won’t rest, even as a ghost!”

Seeing her so stubborn, Fu Yongyi felt resentful, unwilling to say more.

Whatever he said, Jiang Shuzhi wouldn’t listen.

He returned to Si Bei, sitting alone in the cold, desolate living room, surrounded by ruin.

No one could have imagined the Fu family would fall so far.

…

Because of Fu Miao’s disappearance, Lin Zhouye’s reputation plummeted.

Inside the Lin company, rumors began that the old man’s sudden illness was connected to Lin Zhouye.

Lin Zhaowei commanded respect; the news drew the attention of the senior staff. But regardless, Lin Zhouye was trained by the old man himself. Yet rumors do not arise without cause.

Soon, people started investigating the source—first, what caused the old man’s illness.

That was known only to the Lin family.

Lin’s old retainer, Old Zheng, approached Lin Jingyu to ask about the old man’s illness.

Lin Jingyu didn’t hide anything—she explained his condition. “We failed to look after him. He couldn’t withstand any shock; now we hope for a miracle.”

If that were all, it would be nothing, but: “Have you heard the rumors in the company lately?”

Lin Jingyu had heard. “Nonsense. How could that be? Zhouye has no motive—the old man handed over the position to him. Why would he do such a thing? It’d be shooting himself in the foot.”

“We targeted Fu Corp because of this—it was Fu family who deliberately exposed Xiaobai’s matter to the old man, to provoke him. Who started these rumors, and why blame Zhouye? He’s the last person who’d do such a thing. Old Zheng, trust me. He’s my father’s protégé; we know his character.”

Old Zheng nodded. “But as the saying goes—one can know a face, not a heart. He’s not Lin family blood. It’s best to be cautious.”

“Don’t worry, Old Zheng. Trust me—he’d never do it. Also, find out who started the rumor. I suspect ill intent.”

“Alright, since you say so, I won’t argue.”

Old Zheng left.

Lin Jingyu’s smile faded. Whoever spread such rumors wasn’t some nobody.

What was the purpose? To remove Lin Zhouye from the chairman’s seat—who coveted that position?

She tossed her pen aside, rubbed her forehead, then called her assistant.

“Investigate who spread the rumor, quietly. No one must know.”

“Yes.”

…

Lin Zhouye hired investigators to scrutinize Fu Juxing and everyone around him.

He studied every dossier carefully—no flaws. But he didn’t trust them; he kept digging.

At last, in a private detective’s report, he spotted something—a photo showing Lin Yao.

But before he could pursue it, news came from the constables: Fu Miao had been found.

As expected.