Chapter 31: I Heard Your Wife Ran Off With Someone?

"Ding dong!"

In the early morning, a crisp chime echoed from the doorbell, followed by the sound of footsteps inside the house, drawing nearer with each step.

When the door opened, Yang Hao was greeted by the sight of a youthful and beautiful woman. Naturally, this was the little foodie, Ling Xue’er.

Ling Xue’er beamed as she saw Yang Hao standing at the doorway, carrying a food box. Yet her gaze remained fixed on the box in his hands, her delicate nose twitching slightly as if trying to discern what delicious treat hid within.

“There are crystal shrimp dumplings inside—just what you wanted,” Yang Hao said, having caught her curiosity and choosing not to keep her in suspense.

At his words, Ling Xue’er’s smile grew even brighter. Her adorable eyes sparkled with a unique gleam, reminiscent of a cat catching the scent of fish.

She hadn’t expected Yang Hao to fulfill his promise so promptly; just yesterday, he’d agreed to make her crystal shrimp dumplings, one of several dishes he owed her.

“Thank you, Hao!” she exclaimed, her impression of him transformed by a single plate of dumplings—even her way of addressing him changed.

“Would you like to come in?” Ling Xue’er invited, gesturing with the food box in her hand.

Yang Hao hesitated, peering into the house, but saw no sign of Lin Zijin. Although Ling Xue’er extended the invitation, she stood firmly in the doorway, not making room for him to enter. After a moment’s consideration, Yang Hao decided against it.

“Maybe next time,” he replied, shaking his head, a little disappointed. “Remember to eat them while they’re hot—they won’t taste as good once they cool.”

He gave this careful reminder, casting another longing glance toward the living room, still not seeing Lin Zijin. Reluctantly, he turned and left.

Ling Xue’er watched him go, then chuckled to herself, carrying the food box inside and closing the door behind her.

With breakfast delivered, Yang Hao found himself idle. Lin Zijin only streamed in the evenings, and during the day she trained with Ling Xue’er, Lu Ziqi, and Shen Muxi, leaving no time for Yang Hao—he was, for the moment, little more than a bystander.

Of course, Yang Hao’s peace did not last long. When the phone rang, he knew his quiet morning was about to be interrupted.

Soon, the sound of a car drifted up from below—a stylish Land Rover parked downstairs.

“Come up,” Yang Hao called, having already unlocked the door for his visitor. Out of the car stepped a handsome young man, dressed in a light-colored casual suit.

“Tsk tsk, you’re living pretty well, aren’t you?” the newcomer remarked, surveying the surroundings with interest.

“What are you doing here?” Yang Hao asked, pouring tea for his guest, his tone betraying a hint of annoyance.

“Not very loyal, are you? You come to Tianhai and don’t even look us up. What, now that you’ve made it big, you don’t have time for us?” The young man, unfazed by Yang Hao’s attitude, took a sip of tea and continued, “This tea is excellent—pack me half a pound before I leave.”

“Half a pound? I barely have a few ounces left. Don’t even think about it!” Yang Hao retorted, refusing the shameless request.

“Look at you, so stingy!” his guest replied, not the least bit embarrassed, evidently used to Yang Hao’s blunt refusals.

Yang Hao was no stranger to this man. Zhang Tian, his roommate and close friend throughout four years of university, someone for whom he would go to any lengths.

“Hao, you’re not loyal at all. As the company’s biggest shareholder, you don’t even show your face—leaving all the hard work to me, the employee. Truly the most evil of capitalists,” Zhang Tian quipped, sipping his tea as he launched into his complaints. “Poor me, working tirelessly to build your empire, and you come to Tianhai without even telling your buddy…”

“Alright, enough of that. Your so-called company—if you gave it to me for free, I’d still refuse! Don’t try to use that as an excuse not to pay me back. We agreed from the start: my money was a temporary loan, not an investment. If you lose it all, I’ll be ruined. The money you sent these past two months counts as part of your repayment,” Yang Hao said, rolling his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Zhang Tian’s theatrics.

After graduating, Yang Hao returned to Beijing, while Zhang Tian, a local, started his own company in the bustling city of Tianhai.

Back then, Zhang Tian lacked the necessary funds, so Yang Hao lent him some money, promising it was a no-strings-attached loan.

To his credit, Zhang Tian showed real business acumen. Soon after its founding, the company found its footing, and through his relentless efforts, business began to thrive.

Once Zhang Tian’s company became profitable—and quite handsomely so—he started to renege on their original agreement. Not, of course, in the clichéd manner of refusing to return the money, but by insisting that Yang Hao’s loan was actually an investment, entitling him to shares in the company.

Yang Hao understood this was Zhang Tian’s way of treating him like a brother, but he wasn’t about to take advantage of his friend. Still, Zhang Tian was adamant: regardless of Yang Hao’s protests, he told everyone that he was just a minor shareholder, with a big boss backing him—Yang Hao himself.

Knowing Yang Hao disliked attracting attention, Zhang Tian kept details vague, but everyone in the company was aware that a mysterious major shareholder stood behind Zhang Tian.

Since profits began rolling in, Zhang Tian had been depositing Yang Hao’s share of the dividends into his account for the past two months, much to Yang Hao’s resignation.

This was the context for their earlier conversation.

Moving past the topic, Zhang Tian, never one for formality, peeled a banana and began chatting as he ate.

Since Yang Hao returned to Beijing and Zhang Tian got busy with his fledgling company, their communication had dwindled. Now, reunited, they had plenty to catch up on.

As they chatted, Zhang Tian suddenly eyed Yang Hao, a mischievous, gossipy grin spreading across his face. “I heard your wife ran off with someone?”

Hearing Zhang Tian’s infuriating tone and seeing his punchable expression, Yang Hao felt a sudden urge deep within—a powerful impulse to dash into the kitchen, grab a cleaver, and give Zhang Tian a good chopping.

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PS: A grand introduction for the protagonist’s closest friend, Zhang Tian! A character of some weight has made his entrance! One last question: does this style seem too pretentious? Is anyone going to chase the author with a knife? Terrified~~~