Chapter 220: Parents

**Chapter 220: The Exam**

After many years, Wen Xian was once again sitting in a high school examination hall.

Written on the blackboard were the words "Stay calm and answer carefully." Around him, the sounds of classmates flipping through test papers and pens scratching against the pages filled the air, creating an unexpectedly tense atmosphere.

The first exam was Chinese, followed by math. As Wen Xian skimmed through the questions, his pulse quickened.

Shen Zhao had predicted most of the major question types—about seventy to eighty percent hit the mark.

Wen Xian thought to himself, *“No wonder Shen Zhao became such a sought-after figure in Nan City at such a young age.”*

Improving math scores by seventy points in a month was unrealistic. But if you focused on just a few fixed problem types, partly understanding them and partly memorizing the steps for the first part, and then scoring some points on the second part—well, that wasn’t too hard.

As for multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank questions, Wen Xian could handle the first few. After that, it would come down to luck.

He took a deep breath and gripped his pen.

Time always flew during exams. As the late summer sun began to set, the bell rang. The invigilator collected the papers and announced the end of the test.

Wen Xian’s mind felt foggy.

He was drained from overuse, his temples throbbing with pain. All he wanted was to treat Shen Zhao to a good meal.

The area around the school was full of snack stalls, with no real restaurants. After some consideration, Wen Xian chose the steakhouse where he had first taken Shen Zhao.

He packed up his stationery and slung his backpack over his shoulder, heading to the statue of Einstein—their agreed meeting spot.

When he arrived, Shen Zhao was already waiting. Wen Xian casually threw an arm over his shoulder, making him stumble slightly.

Once Shen Zhao steadied himself with his usual patience, Wen Xian tugged at his backpack strap and teased, “Did you crush it, genius? Think we’ll end up in the same class?”

Shen Zhao adjusted his crooked strap. “I’m fine. What about you? Did you crack 100?”

Wen Xian awkwardly pulled his hand back and walked ahead without answering.

Around them, students gathered in small groups, chatting about the test—whether the first multiple-choice question was A, how the last fill-in-the-blank had multiple answers, which big question had a hidden trick, and how impossible the final question was.

Listening in, Wen Xian finally raised his hands to cover his ears.

As a struggling student, he really didn’t want to hear top scorers picking apart the test right after finishing it.

Then, a soft chuckle came from beside him.

Wen Xian turned and locked eyes with Shen Zhao’s amused look. He stopped walking, narrowed his eyes, and kept staring.

*He kept staring.*

Shen Zhao coughed and looked away—up at the sky, down at the ground, anywhere but at Wen Xian.

Wen Xian snorted.

*“Enjoy it now. Payback’s coming,”* he thought to himself.

Suddenly, he remembered something from his past life—how he had pinned Shen Zhao’s hands above his head and posed him into all sorts of positions.

Flustered, he reached into his backpack, pulled out his water bottle, and took a sip to distract himself. *“Why am I thinking like this?”*

There were too many unknowns in this life. The future was still uncertain, yet here he was, getting sidetracked like this.

Putting the water bottle back into his bag, Wen Xian strolled along as the sun dipped below the horizon. Students streamed out of the school gates, and the fading sunlight stretched their shadows long behind them. With one hand slung over his backpack, casually tossed over his shoulder, Wen Xian felt a rare moment of relaxation. For once, he almost felt like an ordinary high school student enjoying a short, precious break after exams.

They followed the crowd to a crossroads, about to head across the street to the restaurant, when Wen Xian’s sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar figure on the opposite side.

He paused. “Shen Jixing?”

Shen Jixing—or rather, Shen Jixing’s family.

Ji Mingzhu was an elegant woman dressed in a Chanel-inspired tweed jacket paired with a mustard-yellow skirt. Beside her stood Shen Yuechuan, equally tall and handsome. Though now in his forties and a little heavyset, his youthful charm still lingered—the type girls would’ve swooned over in his prime.

Anyone who saw them would call them a perfect match, a couple made in heaven.

The Wen and Shen families had some distant marital ties—Ji Mingzhu was Mrs. Zhang’s distant cousin, so distant it hardly mattered. But both families were well-known in Nan City, and since Wen Xian was the same age as Shen Jixing, he’d visited their home as a child and met Shen Yuechuan and Ji Mingzhu before.

Wen Xian had once heard Mrs. Zhang tell stories about how rebellious Ji Mingzhu had been in her youth, dismissing the marriage prospects her father approved of. Instead, she fell for Shen Yuechuan, who sold marinated deli meats. Her family disapproved, and Mrs. Zhang had even called Shen Yuechuan shifty and untrustworthy. But no one expected him to be so capable—he built his business from the ground up, and eventually, Zhang Xiaoping stopped commenting.

In his past life, this "perfect" couple and their "perfect" household had been torn apart by Shen Zhao alone. He arranged for Shen Jixing to be killed in a hit-and-run, drove Ji Mingzhu insane, and sent his adoptive father—who had once recognized his talent—to prison.

But after contacting the detective, Wen Xian was full of doubts. He didn’t want to meet Shen Yuechuan, nor did he want Shen Zhao to meet him. So he placed a hand on Shen Zhao’s shoulder and said, “Hey, ace, let’s eat somewhere else. I’m not feeling steak anymore—it’s too rich. There’s a cheap hotpot spot two blocks away. We can walk there, treat it like exercise?”

As he spoke, he tried to steer Shen Zhao in the opposite direction, but Shen Zhao didn’t budge.

Wen Xian looked up and realized Shen Zhao was staring toward Shen Yuechuan. His messy bangs shadowed his eyes, making his expression unreadable.

Wen Xian: “…You okay?”

Shen Zhao lowered his gaze, hiding his face completely, then shook his head slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. What were you saying again?”

Wen Xian took note of the strange behavior but played it cool. “I asked if you wanted hotpot. Come on, ace, exams are over—stop thinking about it. Barbecue, hotpot, or steak? Pick one.”

Shen Zhao tugged at his lips in something resembling a smile, also trying to play it cool. “Hotpot.”

Wen Xian: “Alright, let’s go.”

This time, he successfully turned Shen Zhao around and slung an arm around him, heading in the opposite direction.

Wen Xian could feel Shen Zhao’s body stiffen under his touch. The muscles beneath his palm were locked tight, and when he glanced down, he saw that Shen Zhao’s hands were clenched into fists inside his uniform sleeves.

Wen Xian thought to himself, *Does Shen Zhao know Shen Yuechuan?*

If he remembered correctly, Shen Zhao only became Shen Yuechuan’s adopted son after entering Foreign Language School. As an orphan with top grades, he won a scholarship set up by Shen Yuechuan, which led to his adoption. Later, after graduating from a top business school, Shen Zhao joined Shen Yuechuan’s company thanks to his talent.

But judging by Shen Zhao’s reaction just now, had he known Shen Yuechuan all along?

Putting together Shen Zhao’s mother’s death in a hit-and-run, the driver’s family suddenly having a large sum of money, and Shen Yuechuan’s rise from selling marinated meats, Wen Xian’s brow furrowed as a crazy idea began to form in his mind.

That night, he called the detective.

The detective was digging around in a remote mountain village in Lingchuan County when he answered the phone. “Boss?”

Wen Xian disguised his voice to sound older. “Any new leads on the driver?”

“Still working on it, boss, but we’re hitting snags,” the detective admitted. “It’s been too long. From what I found, Li Liqun—the driver—received a transfer the same year he caused the accident. But records from back then are hard to get. There might not even be any bank records—it could have been cash, then deposited in small amounts by his wife over the years into different banks. It’s tough to trace.”

He sounded apologetic. “Give me more time, boss. I’ll earn my pay.”

Wen Xian paused to think. “If there’s no lead on Li Liqun, try another angle. Check Jiang Zhiyi’s mother’s connections, and Shen Yuechuan’s too—especially if there was any link between them. Say… husband and wife.”

Hearing this, the detective froze: "You mean, you suspect..."

He trailed off.

After years as a PI in Nan City, he'd uncovered plenty of rich folks' secrets—mostly cheating spouses or catching affairs. A murder-for-hire case? That was new.

Besides, Shen Yuechuan and Ji Mingzhu were both big names in Nan City.

They were both sharp, and with Wen Xian's hint, the detective quickly connected the dots.

He gulped slightly. "Alright, but like I said... You know, investigating something like this carries serious risks."

Wen Xian thought of his frozen bank card and steeled himself. "Don't worry about the money."

He couldn't afford to show weakness—not yet. If the detective flipped and ratted him out to Shen Yuechuan, Wen Xian would be in deep trouble.

"Good enough for me. I'll fly back tonight and update you in a week."

Wen Xian took a deep breath and hung up. He instinctively reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

Of course, there was nothing there.

He just rubbed his temples instead.

Standing on his balcony, he looked out at the inky black night. This was mostly old neighborhoods, with a few lit windows here and there, cars passing on the road below, the occasional rev of an engine echoing through the dark.

Inside, behind the glass partition, warm yellow lights glowed from the living room where Shen Zhao sat watching TV, picking at the snacks Wen Xian had brought home, enjoying the rare break after exams.

Shen Zhao ate slowly and carefully, not greedy—just taking a bite when Wen Xian opened a pack.

Neither was in the mood to study tonight. The cool evening breeze was calm and gentle as they quietly shared the same roof, sharing a bag of chips.

Back in the Previous Life, Wen Xian had never experienced such peace with Shen Zhao.

If it weren’t for Shen Yuechuan, today would’ve been perfect.

Of course, more snacks wouldn’t have hurt.

Wen Xian eyed the nearly empty bag in Shen Zhao’s hand and scratched his nose guiltily.

Those snacks had actually come from 66’s stash.

After the exam, Wen Xian had gone home to grab things, leaving 66 in his room. To his horror, he found that his once-full snack stash was down to just a few bags.

He snatched what was left and, under 66’s murderous stare, spent part of his dwindling savings to replace them. Then he stared at his bank balance and winced.

At this rate, he’d be broke soon.

The detective, Shen Zhao—even 66—he’d be cutting them all loose.

Luckily, by Monday, both the monthly and joint exam results came out.

Wen Xian’s multiple-choice luck was so-so, netting him an 89—not quite hitting triple digits. He was actually happy, but Shen Zhao hesitated before trying to cheer him up: “Wen Xian, there’s always next time. Don’t be upset.”

Wen Xian waved him off. “It’s fine. My old man’s gullible.”

He grabbed his phone and dialed Wen Huarong, jumping in first: “Dad, guess how many points I got on the monthly exam?”

A cold snort answered him: “Brat, what could you possibly score? Another twenty? Don’t tell me you got shown up by that Shen brat again?”

"How could that be, Dad? You really underestimate me," Wen Xian said with a grin. "Hey, I scored a solid 89—a whole 89! Just one point short of passing, and fifty points higher than that Shen kid!"

Laughter burst from the other end of the line as Wen Huarong replied heartily, "Hahaha, well done! Just one point shy of passing, and fifty points above the Shen kid—way to go! You've made me proud!"

Wen Xian pressed, "Dad, what about my credit card?"

Wen Huarong answered, "Don't worry, I'll unfreeze it tomorrow."

Wen Xian flashed an "OK" sign and mouthed silently, "Got it."

Shen Zhao: "..."

Zhang Xiaoping chimed in, "What about that Academic Ace who tutored you? Shouldn’t we invite them home for a meal to thank them properly? I’ve hired you such expensive tutors before, and none of them worked. Seems like this Academic Ace really cracked the code, huh?"

Wen Xian winced. Covering the receiver, he asked Shen Zhao, "Do you want to go?"

Shen Zhao froze up, hesitation flickering across his face.

Wen Xian understood.

Truth be told, Shen Zhao was pretty shy around new people. Aside from Wen Xian, he didn’t seem to have any real friends.

Even in the previous life, the Shen CEO—though sharp in negotiations and a name that struck fear into Nan City’s merchants—preferred staying at home. Every time a mandatory social event came up, he’d dread it quietly, dragging his feet until the last possible moment before reluctantly attending.

And that was the seasoned CEO. This younger Shen Zhao was bound to be even worse.

So Wen Xian said, "Ah, he’s busy. He can’t make it for dinner this time. I’ll ask again when he’s free."

"What could he possibly be busy with right after exams?" Mrs. Zhang nudged Wen Huarong aside and took over the phone. She was intensely curious about this Academic Ace who had succeeded where her private tutors had failed. "It won’t take long—we can book a restaurant. Your dad and I weren’t great students either, so we’ve never met an academic ace before. Saturday work for you?"

Wen Xian sighed and was about to refuse when suddenly, someone grabbed his wrist.

He turned to see Shen Zhao, his ears tinged red as if he had a fever again, speaking up with surprising determination: "It’s fine. I want to go."