Chapter 38: The Operation Begins

Good times eventually end, and a week passed.

Amid the villagers’ hopes, the family of three set off on their return journey.

Gu Jia was eager to get back to Shanghai—she had gathered plenty of materials and ideas during this time, and was already rolling up her sleeves, desperate to make a big splash.

But Wang Yan wasn’t in a hurry, and Xu Ziyang was even less so; knowing they still had a week left to play, he was overjoyed. The family vote was two to one, leaving Gu Jia no room to object.

In the end, they once again took a slow, stop-and-go trip to Ningbo and Zhoushan, went out to sea, and visited Dongji Island, Putuo Mountain, and other spots.

After circling a wide loop, they finally returned to Shanghai.

Back home, the three of them rested for a day. Everyone was exhausted from traveling; once home, they just wanted to lie around and do nothing.

Even Xu Ziyang, who had been bouncing around all day, lost her energy.

It was normal—over twenty days, more than half had been spent on the road. They’d rushed through too many places, and returning home left them slightly disoriented.

Through this trip, Wang Yan had gained experience.

Traveling like this was just about seeing something new. By the end, honestly, everyone was tired.

You needed to live locally, experience it firsthand, and dig deeper to gain real, meaningful insights—not just surface-level impressions.

They slept soundly on their big home bed.

Xu Ziyang happily skipped off to kindergarten to show off.

Gu Jia went to a dessert shop to meet up with the other wives. This time, she’d learned her lesson—she no longer foolishly thought she was someone important.

She didn’t seek out Mrs. Li, yet still greeted them warmly.

Gu Jia’s connection to Wang Yan had spread through the wives’ circle by now. It was natural—some of them had husbands who collaborated with Wang Yan and could learn things from his subordinates. In this circle, there were no secrets; if you asked around, you’d quickly learn Wang Yan’s true standing.

In the original plot, Gu Jia was so far below them in status that she still managed to rise to the core. Now that she was with Wang Yan, need I say more?

Even Mrs. Li came over to apologize, blaming it all on her subordinates and claiming she didn’t know anything.

This wasn’t Mrs. Li backing down—truthfully, her Li family could crush Wang Yan. It was merely an acknowledgment of Gu Jia’s rise and a way to preserve appearances.

Gu Jia clearly sensed the shift in their attitude toward her, yet had no idea why—until she asked her friend Mrs. Yu and learned the truth.

Once she understood, she muttered to herself: “So I’m Mrs. Wang now.”

The feeling was strange. Before, without powerful backing, she’d looked down on them, thinking these women were nothing special.

But now that she was “Mrs. Wang,” she had truly become one of them—and only now, after blending in, did she realize how good it felt. She no longer resented them or looked down on them. People are like this—why stand when you can lie down?

Besides, as a beneficiary of this new status, who knew when she might lose her original self and start treating the next Gu Jia the way they’d treated her?

After the gathering, she made plans with her close friends.

They’d kept in touch during this time, just sharing photos of food and scenery to show off—no deep conversations, everyone was too busy to waste time gossiping.

Back at the same coffee shop, the three friends reunited.

Seeing Gu Jia, Zhong Xiaoqin rushed over and hugged her, pouting: “Gu Jia, I missed you so much! Why did you come back so late?”

She smiled and explained the reason, then expressed how much she’d missed them both.

They ordered drinks, sat down, and began chatting idly.

“I saw your photos—the tea factory place was beautiful,” said Wang Manni, sipping her coffee.

Zhong Xiaoqin nodded in agreement; she thought the place was truly wonderful.

“It’s alright. When I get the chance, I’ll take you two there,” Gu Jia replied, then described the place in detail, happily soaking in their envy.

They chatted for hours about their travels.

Mostly, the other two asked questions, while Gu Jia answered casually.

It was natural—they’d mostly traveled abroad or visited only the most famous domestic destinations.

The places Wang Yan’s family had been to included many lesser-known spots with equally stunning scenery. Sometimes, an obscure road or mountain turned out to be a rare gem.

You never knew when, where, what, or who would suddenly take your breath away—that’s the greatest charm of travel.

After covering their travels, Gu Jia asked the two: “Alright, enough about me. How have you two been lately?”

She turned to Zhong Xiaoqin: “How’s it going with Zhong Xiaoyang?”

At the mention of him, Zhong Xiaoqin sighed: “Ugh, same as always. I don’t know what to do. When I’m with Zhong Xiaoyang, I think of Chen Yu. When I’m with Chen Yu, I can’t help thinking of Zhong Xiaoyang. What should I do?”

She looked helplessly between Gu Jia and Wang Manni.

Gu Jia comforted her: “If that’s the case, why not enjoy being single for a while? Maybe in time, you’ll figure it out.”

Wang Manni added: “Exactly, Xiao Qin. Use your free time to take care of yourself. You’re naturally beautiful—take care of yourself, and you might even attract other handsome men who confess to you.”

They both burst into laughter, making Zhong Xiaoqin blush.

“Oh, you’re teasing me again!” She playfully pushed Wang Manni beside her, displaying all the charm of a young woman.

After the laughter died down, Gu Jia said: “Hey, Xiao Qin, speaking of Chen Yu—what’s he up to? Haven’t heard anything about Teacher Chen in a while.”

Wang Manni stayed silent—she didn’t know him well.

At the mention of Chen Yu, Zhong Xiaoqin’s expression turned complicated.

Seeing this, Gu Jia perked up: “What’s going on, Xiao Qin? What’s that look for?” Wang Manni’s face was equally curious.

Under the gaze of two pairs of wide, gossip-filled eyes, Zhong Xiaoqin sighed: “He’s had a stroke of luck. A while back, he quit his job at the TV station because…”

Zhong Xiaoqin rattled off everything that had happened.

After hearing it, Gu Jia and Wang Manni were stunned.

Gu Jia knew Chen Yu well—she knew he’d simply gotten incredibly lucky, which was why she was so shocked.

Wang Manni was amazed by Chen Yu’s salary—even though fifty thousand after tax meant nothing to her, she knew few people earned that much.

Wang Manni asked curiously: “He’s doing well now, so why did you look so weird just now?”

“You don’t get it,” Zhong Xiaoqin explained. “Since he changed jobs, he’s gotten busier and busier—lately, he hasn’t come home for days at a time.”

Ever since he started his new job the next day, Chen Yu had been swamped. The company acquisition required thorough legal and financial investigations—otherwise, he’d end up like Gu Jia.

Besides, he was meant to become the boss of this company. Everything would fall on his shoulders. To live up to Manager Wang’s trust, Chen Yu was working tirelessly.

At first, the acquisition was manageable, but once it was complete and real work began, the pressure hit Chen Yu like a mountain.

This pressure came from his own lack of ability and skill—it bore down on him constantly. With no choice, he worked day and night, learning as he went.

Company restructuring, personnel transfers, news topics—everything was overwhelming. He had no time for love or romance; even getting enough sleep was a luxury.

Chen Yu’s success was something Zhong Xiaoqin genuinely wished for him. What troubled her was that as he grew busier, during their limited time together, she clearly felt his feelings for her fading.

After their divorce, she knew Chen Yu still wanted to reconcile. Then Zhong Xiaoyang started pursuing her, and the attention from two men made her feel special—she’d grown complacent.

Now that Chen Yu was too busy to pay attention to her, she began to fear losing him.

Gu Jia thought: You’re already divorced—what’s it to you if he comes or goes? But she didn’t say that, instead asking: “Are you regretting it?”

Hearing Gu Jia’s question, Zhong Xiaoqin hesitated again: “It’s not regret… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

Seeing her like this, Gu Jia and Wang Manni understood—she just couldn’t let go of Zhong Xiaoyang.

Wang Manni offered a token suggestion: “Like Gu Jia said, why not enjoy being single and think things through?”

Gu Jia didn’t press further—it was pointless. She turned to Wang Manni: “What about you? A few days ago, you said you wanted to transfer to Hong Kong. How’s that going?”

At that, Wang Manni got angry: “Don’t even bring it up. When I mentioned going to Hong Kong, Liang Zhengxian changed the subject.”

“I wanted to go back with him the other day, but he refused. He left that same afternoon without even telling me—what’s going on?”

She then recounted her situation with Liang Zhengxian and asked: “Do you think he’s got someone else in Hong Kong? Is he just playing with me? Why won’t he take me home to meet his family?”

This was because of Wang Yan—Zhao Jingyu was busy shifting assets and had no time to bother her.

Gu Jia had known from the start and didn’t want to interfere. Zhong Xiaoqin, however, was still analyzing it for them.

Wang Yan headed to work early that morning.

A lot of matters had piled up during his absence.

Wang Yan had been keeping tabs on Chen Yu—he was busy, but still enjoyed the daily progress. Let him play for now; Wang Yan had no time to manage him recently.

The operation against the Liang family had begun several days ago—that was why Liang Zhengxian rushed back.

The Liang family owned a listed company; Wang Yan sent multiple damaging reports to Hong Kong authorities, leading to the investigation of several senior executives.

The market value of any listed company far exceeds its actual worth—any rumor sends shockwaves through the market.

The stock price plummeted, and Wang Yan’s men took advantage, repeatedly manipulating prices to drain their capital.

Crucially, the family was also involved in real estate, with numerous projects in mainland China. Real estate is asset-heavy and cash-guzzling—caught off guard, they were thrown into chaos.

Their loans piled up. When a drum is cracked, everyone beats it; when a wall falls, everyone pushes. Banks and financial institutions called one after another, feigning concern and subtly reminding them to repay their debts.

But years of cooperation still granted them a sliver of face. More importantly, the Liang family had weathered the first wave—though battered and suffering heavy losses, they’d held on. So no one forced repayment; otherwise, not even three-tenths of their face would remain—seizures and asset freezes would have come immediately.

Rumors about the Liang family’s scandals spread across the market—true or false, they were wild and widespread.

No matter the time, people never tire of Haomen gossip—it’s impossible to control.

The Liang family had reached their current status through generations of elites—no one among them was foolish.

It was obvious someone was targeting them, but no matter how hard they investigated, they couldn’t find out who was behind it.

Zhao Jingyu watched all of this closely.

She wasn’t stupid. Bringing down such a large enterprise couldn’t be done overnight. If Liang Zhengxian returned and discovered she’d transferred so much wealth, he’d tear her apart.

Since they were all in chaos and Liang Zhengxian was still gallivanting on the mainland, no one was paying attention to her. She followed the old saying: “When in trouble, flee.” The day before Liang Zhengxian returned, Zhao Jingyu bought a plane ticket and ran. She decided to wait a year or two before coming back—she wouldn’t feel safe otherwise.

Liang Zhengxian rushed back in a panic. His phone call hadn’t been clear, but after listening carefully, he understood what had happened.

His siblings, seeing him return, exchanged glances and immediately found their scapegoat.

The eldest brother struck first: “How dare you show your face here? Did you cause this?”

Liang Zhengxian opened his mouth to defend himself.

The second brother pressed: “Who else could it be? You’re the one chasing women all over the world—who knows who you pissed off?”

The sisters and younger brothers piled on, scolding him relentlessly.

Even Old Master Liang began to suspect him—his gaze toward Liang Zhengxian was dangerous.

Liang Zhengxian felt wronged: “Do you think I’m as stupid as you? Don’t I investigate before I hit on a girl?”

He lost confidence after being told: “Could it really be that I pissed someone off?”

He began to think through everyone he’d offended, going forward and backward through his past.

He ran through every woman he’d bedded, every man he’d stepped on.

The only one who came to mind was Wang Yan—there’d been a minor dispute. But in his eyes, it was nothing; surely not worth destroying him over.

If you suspect something, you investigate. You won’t rest until you know the truth.

After endless talk with no solution, the only option left was to fight hard. He ordered them to prepare funds to brace for the coming blow, then waved them off.

Liang Zhengxian left his family’s old mansion in disgrace and returned to his home with Zhao Jingyu.

On the way, he’d planned to vent his frustration—but when he got home, Zhao Jingyu was nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t think much of it, assuming she’d gone out to run some errands.

He immediately picked up his phone and called Zhao Jingyu.

Hearing the voice: “Sorry, the number you dialed is powered off,” Liang Zhengxian felt a creeping dread.

He urgently called his subordinates to find out what Zhao Jingyu had been doing lately and where her funds had gone.

“Boss, it’s like this—Miss Zhao…” the subordinate blurted out.

Liang Zhengxian froze for a moment, then his phone clattered onto the floor with a clang.

The subordinate called twice: “Boss? Boss? You there?” before hanging up without saying more.

He didn’t know what had happened to Liang Zhengxian, but everyone on Hong Kong Island knew about the Liang family’s downfall—he knew every detail. The rumors about Liang Zhengxian? Most of them were true.

From years of experience, he knew the chance of a comeback was negligible. The boss was done—completely. And he’d shown his true colors as a heartless capitalist, treating his people like trash. He was busy finding a new job, with no time to care about his old boss. Let him rot—it had nothing to do with him.

Liang Zhengxian sat numbly on the floor, “Answer! Pick up!” He kept calling Zhao Jingyu through every possible contact, his shattered-screen phone buzzing uselessly. The result was inevitable—every attempt vanished into silence.

After endless failed attempts, Liang Zhengxian screamed “Ahh!” and hurled his phone against the opposite wall, smashing it to pieces.

He’d lost most of his fortune—barely anything left. With the Liang family’s collapse, he was finished.

That’s why Zhao Jingyu hadn’t gone too far—she wasn’t sure about Wang Yan’s backing. Otherwise, he’d be sleeping on the streets.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch! Zhao Jingyu, don’t let me catch you! Aah…” Liang Zhengxian howled in impotent rage.

Wang Yan knew all this—he was the shadowy mastermind, savoring the satisfaction of pulling strings from behind the scenes.

Just like in criminal psychology: after killing someone, the criminal sneaks back to gloat over the aftermath.

The battle had only just begun. As Zhao Jingyu expected, such a massive enterprise couldn’t be toppled overnight.

He’d only kept an eye on things these past two days. The rest? He left it to his subordinates—they’d handle it perfectly.

A dying camel is still bigger than a horse—that’s true. The Liang family’s business was mostly in Hong Kong and the mainland, and like all rich men, they’d diversified assets abroad. It was normal for them to shift some wealth overseas—but Wang Yan’s findings showed it wasn’t much.

He didn’t care if they fled abroad to live in comfort.

Owning property overseas relied on domestic foundations and influence. They’d cultivated ties with foreign elites, trading favors and face.

But without their roots at home, they’d be floating weeds. Could they truly live in peace abroad? Impossible.

Did they really think running overseas meant everything was solved?

Former partners wouldn’t even glance at them—no face left, only shoe inserts. Who would they cling to for connections?

No influence, no network, plus ethnic tensions—they’d be crushed by local hostility, tormented by every petty obstacle.