Chapter 43: The Petty Girl of Mo Du, the Shattered Ruan Liuzheng

Qiao Yingzi immediately contacted her best friend Huang Zhitao, explained the situation, and Huang Zhitao naturally had no objections.

After the matter was so easily settled, she glanced at He Chen in the backseat through the rearview mirror and immediately looked away, resting her hand on the car window and pressing her temple with her fingers to hide her embarrassed and frustrated expression.

Fortunately, they soon arrived at the residential complex; He Chen and the other two got out, she responded to Ruan Liuzheng’s thanks and farewell, then told her father’s personal driver to enter the Shuxiang Yayuan complex and drive straight to the building where her best friend Huang Zhitao lived, politely declining Uncle Zheng’s offer to help carry the box upstairs, waving goodbye as the driver left, before joining Huang Zhitao to jointly lift the large box inside.

“Your uncle really dotes on you!”

Huang Zhitao looked at the gift worth over eight thousand yuan and couldn’t help but feel immense envy.

“Who’s who among us? My dad is your dad—this gift is half yours too!” Qiao Yingzi teased, hugging her best friend.

“Please!” Huang Zhitao sneered: “This was bought specially for you—the Star Wars LEGO set you love. If I really counted as half, I’d be even more heartbroken!”

She wasn’t the type to wallow in self-pity; seeing her friend trying to comfort her, she quickly changed the subject: “You said you ran into He Chen and Ruan Liuzheng tonight at dinner?”

“Yes, they were also celebrating at Jingge… ” Qiao Yingzi recounted what had just happened, sighing with regret: “He Chen’s mind is still sharp—no wonder he doesn’t speak until he speaks, and then shocks everyone by ranking 28th in the entire grade! Why didn’t I think of it earlier!”

“How could his mind not be sharp? Look how he shut down Teacher Li, Fang Yifan, Ji Yangyang—they’re all speechless.” Huang Zhitao wasn’t surprised her friend hadn’t thought of it—she was only surprised He Chen thought of it first.

“Alright, my treasure is in your hands now.” Qiao Yingzi nodded repeatedly, noticing her phone ringing again—sure enough, another message from her mother urging her to come home—she hurried toward the door.

“The Empress Dowager is calling again—I need to rush home and finish tonight’s two sets of practice papers, then free up time to prepare for tomorrow’s planetarium speech.”

“Then go home quickly.” Huang Zhitao understood Qiao Yingzi’s situation and didn’t try to stop her, seeing her off.

Qiao Yingzi loved astronomy and had been a docent at the planetarium since her sophomore year; tomorrow’s important event had been long anticipated by her.

But she wasn’t confident Qiao Yingzi would get the Empress Dowager’s approval.

When He Chen and the others returned home and were about to head to their rooms, Ruan Lu called out to stop them: “You have a courier from Mo Du—I signed for it. Take a look.”

“A courier from Mo Du?” Ruan Liuzheng, who was also heading to her room, paused and glanced over curiously.

He Chen was always frugal, rarely spent money, never shopped online, and besides, when his mother mentioned this courier, her tone had been unusual.

He Chen was also surprised, walked over, and seeing neither Ruan Lu nor Ruan Liuzheng showed any intention to avoid it, he opened it right in front of them.

“A book?” Ruan Liuzheng leaned in directly: “Another Daoist scripture? Have you finished reading all the Daoist texts in the library? Now you’re buying them yourself?”

“I didn’t buy it.” He Chen shook his head and began flipping through it.

“Huh!” Ruan Liuzheng suddenly exclaimed, her tone instantly souring: “So it’s some girl who bought this for you! When did you meet a girl from Mo Du? She writes such elegant handwriting and draws so beautifully!”

He Chen’s mind flashed back to that summer scene in the library.

He had been standing before a bookshelf, pulling out a Daoist scripture to read, when several books suddenly vanished from the shelf—between the gaps appeared a delicate, serene face, holding a book and pretending to read, feigning not to notice He Chen, yet constantly stealing glances at him.

He Chen was already used to this flirting tactic, but as he took the book and walked to a nearby table, he glanced once more at that familiar face.

No sooner had he sat down than the girl came over with the book and sat across from him—first she imitated He Chen by burying her head in the text, but Daoist scriptures weren’t something ordinary people could endure reading for long.

Soon she propped her chin in her hands, staring directly at He Chen without speaking, as if waiting for him to break the silence.

But He Chen ignored her completely—he read for two and a half hours, finished the scripture, returned it to the shelf, then took another book, checked out several volumes, and left the library.

Two weeks later, when he returned to the library, he met her again—still neither spoke a word.

But while flipping through the Daoist scripture, he noticed a bookmark tucked inside, bearing elegant handwriting of a poem.

He Chen took the scripture away but left the bookmark behind, then wrote a comment on it: “Not a Dao-enlightenment poem—poor rating! Placing loose leaves in library books—no care for books, no public morality!”

The Daoist scripture sent this time bore the same handwriting: “Train your body like a crane, unafraid of palace maids choking your neck. I came to ask the Dao—no words left to say. Is the girl with poor morality weak or not?”

Not only did it write “Dao-enlightenment poem,” but beside it was an illustration: Emperor Jiajing practicing Immortal Crane Qi, surrounded by sixteen palace maids—some holding ropes, others belts, tightening them around Jiajing’s neck.

In the drawing, Emperor Jiajing’s face was unmistakably He Chen’s, and each of the sixteen palace maids had distinct features—after Ruan Liuzheng examined them closely, she pointed at the illustration and cried out again.

“This is too much! Who is this person you know? Are you just letting her slander and mock me and Mom?”

One of the sixteen palace maids had eyebrows like faint smoke, half-furrowed, eyes half-lit with emotion—clearly painted in the style of Lin Daiyu, using Ruan Lu’s facial structure.

What made Ruan Liuzheng lose her composure even more was that seven or eight of the maids seemed familiar—after thinking hard, she realized they were clearly her own face.

One of them, a front-facing maid holding a rope, grinned cheerfully—this was especially offensive to her.

This girl from Mo Du who wrote and drew must know them—and her intentions were extremely malicious, sowing discord.

Half of the sixteen maids were her face, with a front-facing close-up, grinning as she performed the most vicious act toward He Chen—this was clearly aimed at her!

“This isn’t you.” He Chen glanced at Ruan Liuzheng and soothed her.

“Not me?” Ruan Liuzheng laughed bitterly, snatching the scripture and holding it beside her face, pointing at the front-facing maid: “Say that again.”

“This isn’t you!” He Chen said seriously: “It’s just somewhat similar.”

“Enough!” Ruan Lu suddenly interrupted: “He Chen says it’s not you, then it’s not you!”

“Mom!” Ruan Liuzheng felt utterly wronged.

It was clearly her!

But seeing her mother’s firm stance and He Chen’s lack of comfort or explanation, she lifted her chin, struggling to hold back tears, then turned and ran into her room.

“How do you know her?” Ruan Lu asked He Chen after hearing Ruan Liuzheng slam her door shut.

He Chen recounted the entire incident, then waited for Ruan Lu’s explanation, but she merely nodded, told him not to associate with strange people, and dropped the matter entirely.

He Chen knew her nature; seeing she didn’t want to speak, he didn’t press further, took the scripture back to his room, stared at the illustration that had shattered Ruan Liuzheng’s composure, and thought of the library girl: “Ruan Liuzheng, this isn’t you at all.”

This was clearly the library girl, smiling as she held the rope, cleverly retaliating against him.