Chapter 4

"Chapter 4"

"Literally, I'm accompanying my son on the show. As for you..." She chuckled lightly, "Do whatever floats your boat."

Wen Bingchun's face instantly darkened.

She had been stuck in the awkward position of a mid-tier actress for years, always the eternal side character. She had invested a significant amount of money to secure a spot on *Baby Ah 2* and absolutely couldn’t let Wen Zhi join the show.

It had always been like this since childhood. Even though Wen Zhi never applied herself, everyone only ever noticed her—teachers, classmates, even the people she liked.

Back in their youth, she couldn’t compete with the youthful Wen Zhi, let alone the radiantly beautiful Wen Zhi standing before her now...

Wen Bingchun glared at her. "*Baby Ah* is currently the hottest variety show in the country. It’s not something just any ordinary person can join because they feel like it."

Wen Zhi gave a dismissive "Oh," then looked her up and down. "So, you're a celebrity now?"

Wen Bingchun straightened her posture, feeling like she'd gained the upper hand again.

Wen Bingchun continued, "With your character, I’d guess you’re at best a second-tier actress or a career sidekick."

Wen Bingchun: "You!"—precisely hitting a nerve.

Wen Zhi couldn’t care less about her and turned to Director Fang. "Didn’t Director Fang mention earlier that you still needed a sponsor? I’ll invest. Can I join the show now?"

The previously hesitant Director Fang’s eyes instantly lit up. "Of course!" A sponsorship started at a minimum of a million. Hell, at that price, they'd take a pig on the show, let alone a stunning beauty like her.

"Cash or card?"

Wen Zhi glanced at him. "Are you that desperate for money?"

Director Fang shrank under her gaze, his expression turning awkward. "Well, not exactly..." His voice grew quieter, as if he could feel the commanding presence radiating from the woman before him.

Wen Zhi: "If you’re not desperate, then wait. I need to check your production team’s background before I feel comfortable letting my son participate. If everything checks out, the funds will be transferred to your account by noon tomorrow." She signaled Uncle Zhong to exchange contact details, then once again carried Mu Mu away without another word.

Left standing there, Wen Bingchun gritted her teeth and reminded him, "Director Fang, I also invested money. What am I supposed to do without a child?"

Director Fang tucked away the contact info and offered a sincere suggestion. "Haven't you mentioned having a younger brother? Better to bring someone you know—since you’re so outstanding, your brother must be too. Why not bring him on the show? It’d be perfect."

Wen Bingchun: If she could’ve brought him, she would’ve done so long ago.

Is this how they treat sponsors after taking their money?

Fuming but unable to withdraw her investment, she could only stalk off in a huff.

Little Dumpling, now seated in Wen Zhi’s car, squished his face against the window, curiously taking in the sights. After a while, he turned and asked, "Mother Consort, where is this?"

Wen Zhi fastened her seatbelt while explaining, "This is Mother Consort’s hometown. I’m taking you to your grandfather’s house now."

As the car started moving, a sharp honk caught his attention. His porcelain face pressed against the glass, his wide eyes fixed on the traffic police at the intersection.

Wen Zhi mussed his hair again and began pointing out modern sights along the way. Whenever she encountered something unfamiliar, Uncle Zhong, sitting in the front, promptly explained it to her.

Uncle Zhong’s heart ached as he spoke: "Sob... The young miss and master have suffered so much in the mountains all these years. They've missed out on so much..."

Mid-explanation, Wen Zhi noticed Little Dumpling had fallen asleep against the window.

After such a stressful day, no wonder the kid was worn out—even she was beat.

She glanced around but saw no blankets, so she simply held Little Dumpling in her arms, took off his hat, and let him doze with his head lolling.

From the car to the plane, and then driving to the old house, Little Dumpling slept soundly throughout.

It wasn’t until the car stopped at the old house and Uncle Zhong opened the door that Little Dumpling suddenly woke up, blurting out warily, "Mother!"

Wen Zhi patted his back and said gently, "Wakey-wakey. We're home."

Mu Mu held her hand as he got out of the car, his eyes tracing the sunset and landing on the roses covering the walls. After a dazed moment, he whispered, "Home?"

Wen Zhi explained, "Your grandfather and grandmother’s home. From now on, it’ll be our home too."

As the evening breeze stirred, Little Dumpling finally became more alert. He looked around, his tiny brow wrinkling instinctively: This place is in the middle of nowhere!

Wen Zhi led him into the courtyard.

Under the glow of the sunset, the old house sat silent—the rockery was low, the pond water still, the garden overgrown, and even the house itself was unusually old. It paled in comparison to the TV station earlier, nor could it compare to the towering buildings along the way.

Mu Mu’s immediate thought: Grandfather’s house is so poor.

The house wasn’t even half the size of Mother’s Lotus Palace, nor half as opulent.

The main room stood dark. Uncle Zhong hurried inside to turn on the lights before welcoming them in, explaining, "After the master and mistress passed, all the servants were dismissed. My eyesight's failing, so I rarely turn on the lights."

Mu Mu’s eyes widened: Grandfather’s house is really poor—they can’t even afford a single servant?

"I’ve already contacted people to come over."

Wen Zhi led Mu Mu to the sofa, turned on the TV for him, and handed him the remote. "Watch some TV. Mother and Grandpa Zhong have some things to discuss."

Little Dumpling sat up straight, accepting the remote while covertly scanning: The furniture was old, and the TV and lights weren’t as good as the ones at the TV station.

How shabby!

Wen Zhi stood up and motioned to Uncle Zhong. The two headed to the study on the first floor.

This had been Father Wen's study. The bookshelves were filled with books and documents, and the old-fashioned desk and chairs were neatly arranged. In Wen Zhi’s memory, Father Wen would always be here, tea in hand, working.

She wiped the corner of the desk—her fingers came away clean.

Uncle Zhong’s eyes grew moist as he explained, "I clean the master’s study every day."

Wen Zhi suddenly asked, "I got carried away at the TV station earlier. Does the family still have money to invest in the show *Baby!*?" Along the way, she could see the house’s rundown state.

If the Wen family had fallen on hard times, her phoenix crown and ceremonial robes were still quite valuable.

Uncle Zhong wiped the tears from his eyes, walked to the safe under the rosewood desk, and pulled out a stack of documents, pushing them toward her. Then he placed a large set of keys on the table.

The metallic jangle made her jump.

"The master was too busy searching for you to manage the business. Whenever they missed you, they’d buy a building in your name. On your birthdays and New Year’s, they’d buy islands or resorts. Over the years, you’ve accumulated thirty buildings, ten islands, five resorts… too many for this old head to keep track of. The master also established a foundation in your name. Tomorrow, we just need to call a lawyer to verify your identity and sign the papers. As for the company, the shares belonging to the master and mistress were all left to you. The company is currently managed by Director Yun, whom the master promoted."

The shares in Wen Corporation alone were worth billions.

Wen Zhi gripped the keys, her heart weighed down.

Uncle Zhong rummaged through the bookshelf again, found a camera, and pressed it into her hands, stammering as he spoke.

"Before your father passed away, he left a video for you and insisted I show it to you."

Wen Zhi's eyes widened slightly as she took it and began to examine it.

She pressed play, and the gentle, gaunt face of her father appeared on the screen.

"Warmth, from the moment you came into this world, your mother and I dreamed of watching you grow up, of seeing you go to college, of wishing you peace and happiness..." The figure in the video choked up for a second before forcing a smile. "Dad knew you would come back. When you return and don’t see us, don’t be sad. Mom and Dad will always be with you from heaven. In this life, Dad only had you as his daughter. Before leaving, I made all the arrangements for you... My treasure, live happily, and live for both of us... Dad loves you."

In the video, her father was smiling—just like in her memories, whenever she caused trouble, got bad grades, or refused piano lessons, and her mother scolded her, he would always smile like this to defend her.

Wen Zhi hugged the camera to her chest, sobbing.

The slightly ajar study door creaked open, and Little Dumpling, who had been sitting in the living room, peered in and whispered, "Mommy..." Then he walked quietly to her and reached out his small hand to wipe her tears.

"Mommy, are you crying because we have no money?" He seemed to have overheard her asking Uncle Zhong about their finances earlier.

Wen Zhi's chest ached as she hugged him and nodded vaguely. "Yeah."

Little Dumpling said very seriously, "Don’t cry. I’ll make tons of money for you."

Wen Zhi wiped her tears. "I won’t cry. I won’t cry anymore from now on. We’ll live happily." As soon as she finished speaking, Little Dumpling’s stomach growled twice.

Wen Zhi couldn't help laughing. "Hungry?"

Little Dumpling nodded, embarrassed. "Yeah."

Butler Zhong slapped his forehead and chuckled. "Ah, my old memory! Miss and young master, please wait in the living room. I’ll have a chef come cook. What would you like to eat, Miss?"

Wen Zhi tilted her head in thought. "How about instant noodles?"

Butler Zhong almost tripped in shock: The Wen family’s heiress wanted instant noodles on her first day back?

Oh no, how much suffering had she endured?

A Michelin-starred chef arrived eagerly with his staff to prepare dinner for the Wen family’s successor—only to be told they wanted a bowl of instant noodles.

The chef almost walked out in protest, but then reconsidered: Could the Wen family’s heir really have such poor taste? She must be testing him.

Getting close to the Wen family would guarantee a bright future.

He had to make this bowl of instant noodles look like something ordinary people couldn’t afford.

When the chef presented a bowl of artfully prepared noodles infused with all sorts of premium ingredients, Mu Mu was devastated: Were things really this bad that they could only afford noodles now?

If he didn’t start earning money soon, would his mom go hungry?

The worried Little Dumpling took a bite of the noodles, then another, until he'd licked the bowl clean...

Author’s Note:

Wen Zhi: What does eating instant noodles have to do with being poor? Your mom's been dying for this for years!