Ye Shaohua bent down to pick up the scattered photos on the floor—prints of the forum posts, her face clearly visible in each one.
Even on her knees, her back remained straight, unyielding.
“Mom, I don’t care if strangers misunderstand me or refuse to believe me,” Ye Shaohua said, holding the photos and looking at her mother with unwavering seriousness. “But you’re my mother. Did you ever stop to ask me whether I actually did any of these things?”
In the original storyline, the final blow to the original host had been her mother’s last phone call.
If even your closest family doesn’t believe in you, how could anyone not break down?
“I swear, every penny I’ve earned has been through honest, legitimate means.”
Seeing her like this, Ye’s mother placed her hands on Shaohua’s shoulders and knelt beside her, tears streaming down her face. “I was just afraid you’d go down the wrong path. Some mistakes, once made, can never be undone—do you understand?”
This was the first time Ji Yunchen had openly observed Ye Shaohua.
Standing outside the half-open hospital door, he watched through the gap as she knelt before her mother.
The first thing that caught his attention was her striking eyes—clear, sharp, and unwavering. She wore a slightly oversized white shirt, not new but clean and neatly pressed, paired with simple jeans.
Some people carried an innate pride that couldn’t be hidden. Ye Shaohua was one of them.
Even on her knees, she remained composed and dignified.
Considering Ye’s mother’s reaction, Ji Yunchen chose not to enter. Instead, after confirming that the older woman seemed to believe her daughter, he quietly closed the door and waited outside the hospital entrance.
“President Ji?” His assistant, startled by Ji Yunchen’s sudden return, asked hesitantly.
Leaning against the car, Ji Yunchen lit a cigarette without a word.
The assistant stayed silent. Moments later, he spotted a familiar figure exiting the hospital and perked up, about to alert his boss—only to find that Ji Yunchen had already stubbed out his cigarette and slid into the back seat, slamming the door shut.
Ye Shaohua had noticed the black car the moment she stepped out of the hospital. It had been following her discreetly—well enough to evade most people’s notice.
But not hers.
When she got off the bus at the school gate, instead of heading straight inside as expected, she paused and walked up to the parked vehicle. Before the flustered assistant could react, she frowned.
“Assistant Ji, is there something you need?”
Caught off guard—this was his first time being discovered while tailing someone—the assistant coughed awkwardly before replying with forced calm, “Nothing urgent. I just happened to see you and wanted to ask if you’d be interested in—”
“Not interested,” Ye Shaohua cut him off with a wave. “You can go now.”
Daring a glance in the rearview mirror, the assistant saw Ji Yunchen’s cigarette burning perilously close to his fingers.
After lingering near the side gate to ensure the car had left, Ye Shaohua finally returned to her dorm.
On the way, she received a call from a company’s HR department.
“Yongteng has approved your written test, Miss Ye. When would you be available for an interview?”
“Yongteng?” Ye Shaohua narrowed her eyes.
The original host had sent out her resume widely months ago—including to Yongteng. But why would they only respond now?
…
After her conversation with Ye’s mother, Zhao Yijun didn’t return to her apartment. Instead, she went back to the Zhao family home.
The Zhao family’s business was mediocre—not failing, but far from thriving, especially compared to giants like Yongteng Group.
The moment she stepped inside, her parents greeted her eagerly. “You’re back! How did things go with Yizhou today?”
Zhao Yijun didn’t answer. Her expression darkened as she handed them her phone, displaying the photos.
Her parents’ faces twisted in outrage. “Who is this girl? Why does she look so much like you?! Yizhou has gone too far!”
“That’s her daughter. Mom, they never left the capital at all,” Zhao Yijun said, her voice trembling with feigned hurt.
“This is outrageous!” Zhao’s father slammed his fist on the table.
Zhao’s mother scowled. “Like mother, like daughter. They’re clearly scheming to steal Yizhou from you. We can’t let this slide.”
After a shared glance, they made their decision.
Zhao’s father quickly dug up information on Ye’s mother. When he received Ye Shaohua’s profile, his wife raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“She actually got into S University?”
“Well, she does carry some of my brother’s genes,” Zhao’s father replied dismissively.
But they didn’t dwell on it.
Their own daughter had graduated with dual master’s degrees from Harvard—there was no comparison.
“We thought they’d left the capital years ago. Turns out they’ve been hiding here all along.”
“Should we confront them?” Zhao’s mother suggested.
Her husband shook his head. “That child is still Zhao blood, technically. We’ll go to the old mansion and let Father handle this.”
“No!” Zhao’s mother immediately objected. She hadn’t forgotten how fond the old man had been of his youngest son.
“Relax,” Zhao’s father said coolly. “We’re just informing him of recent events.”
Realizing his intent, Zhao’s mother smirked.
The Zhao family had only one heir in this generation—Zhao Yijun, the apple of the old man’s eye. A brilliant, accomplished woman praised wherever she went.
If the patriarch learned about this mess…
Well.
That would settle things.
Without delay, they drove to the family’s ancestral home that very night.
Upstairs, Zhao Yijun watched their car disappear into the darkness, her eyes shadowed.
…
It was late, and the old patriarch had already retired for the night. But when his son arrived unannounced at such an hour, he knew it had to be important.
Dressing quickly, the old man descended the stairs with the help of a servant. “What brings you here so late?”
The Zhao patriarch had spent his life building the family’s legacy. But in his twilight years, he’d accepted that his son lacked the drive to maintain it.
His sole pride now was his granddaughter—Zhao Yijun, who’d returned from abroad not to join the failing family business, but to be headhunted by prestigious firms.
She was his last hope for restoring the Zhao name.
And now, this.
“It’s about Ye Dongxiang. She’s back—with that child,” Zhao’s father began carefully, watching the old man’s face darken. “But the girl is… problematic.”
He trailed off as if too ashamed to continue.
His wife picked up smoothly. “Why spare them? Father, that woman’s daughter is just like her—using her resemblance to Yijun to seduce her boyfriend! She’s been seen with wealthy older men, and the scandal’s all over the internet.”
She pulled out her phone, showing the news articles as proof. “It’s public humiliation.”
The old man’s expression hardened.
“Our Yijun’s been crying nonstop at home,” Zhao’s mother added tearfully. “Who knows what that pair is plotting? They vanish for years, only to reappear now and cause trouble. Everyone knows Yijun and Yizhou are together. If we’d known they’d repay kindness with such malice, we should’ve left her with those traffickers back then—”
“Enough!” Zhao’s father cut in sharply, though his eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the words.
He turned to the patriarch, feigning solemnity. “Father, regardless of her actions, that girl is Zhao blood. We came to ask—should we formally acknowledge her?”
Their performance was flawless—good cop, bad cop, laying out every damning detail.
The old man’s breathing grew ragged, his face flushing with anger.
“Acknowledge her? Never! That whore’s spawn will never set foot in this house!” He clutched his chest, coughing violently. “If those two think they can worm their way into the Zhao family, they can rot in hell first!”
