Zhao Yu and Xue Zhan stayed at their godparents’ home for three full days, only departing for Donghai on Sunday afternoon.

These three days passed ordinarily: the two younger ones simply kept the elderly couple company, watching TV and chatting at home, going out to buy groceries and stroll around, and taking evening walks in the nearby park.

When they went out, they occasionally ran into a few new neighbors, some of whom would warmly say things like, “The goddaughter is back,” “Is this your godson-in-law?” or “When’s the wedding banquet?”

People living in the same residential community inevitably gather to chat about family matters; neighbors who were more familiar were aware of the Yu family’s situation.

Zhao Yu believed that the little details of these three days of daily life were enough to make Xue Zhan thoroughly convinced of what she had said.

After all, she hadn’t been pretending, so he had no grounds to doubt.

On the way back, as before, Xue Zhan drove attentively while Zhao Yu sat in the passenger seat staring blankly into space.

In front of her godparents, she had been bright and cheerful, gentle and considerate, but the moment they left the community, not a trace of a smile remained on her face.

Xue Zhan would occasionally glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say anything. In the end, she spoke first: “Do you think… I should tell them the truth?”

Xue Zhan gripped the steering wheel, staring straight at the car ahead, and remained silent.

He was silent for so long that Zhao Yu thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said in a low voice, “I don’t know.”

“True, we’re not them. Who knows whether they’d want to know or not?” Zhao Yu chuckled softly. “That day, Song Xuan told me he wouldn’t tell my godparents because he couldn’t bear to let them be tormented by hatred. Perhaps I should just keep it from them forever.”

After another long silence, Xue Zhan suddenly smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with letting the living be a little happier.”

Xue Zhan did ask Zhao Yu if she wanted to rest for a few days before going back to work, but Zhao Yu shook her head.

Idle time was the easiest way to overthink, while keeping busy made one forget one’s troubles. She didn’t say this directly to him, but she believed he would understand.

However, the next morning as soon as she arrived at the office, she ran into Xue Zi’ang, whom she hadn’t seen for a long time.

He had grown noticeably thinner, his complexion haggard, and it was obvious at a glance that he hadn’t been doing well lately.

From the guilty and helpless look in Xia Nan’s eyes, Zhao Yu knew that Xue Zi’ang was also aware of what had happened the past few days.

Staring at the similarly haggard Zhao Yu, Xue Zi’ang shifted his gaze to Xue Zhan, who had come in with her: “How have you been taking care of her?”

In fact, she and Xue Zhan had just happened to clock in at the same time and met at the elevator; they hadn’t stayed together the night before, but Xue Zi’ang clearly misunderstood.

Neither of them felt the need to explain. Xue Zhan said coolly, “That’s none of your business.”

Xue Zi’ang’s face filled with anger, ready to say more, but Xue Zhan added, “Let’s talk inside, or do you want to be watched by everyone here?”

Hearing this, a few gossipy secretaries quickly withdrew their gazes and sat up straight, pretending to work diligently.

Xue Zi’ang followed Xue Zhan into the office, and Zhao Yu followed, speaking first: “There’s no longer any possibility between us. I don’t want to keep repeating that. From now on, President Xue, please just treat me as an ordinary colleague.”

Seeing him urgently wanting to say more, Zhao Yu suddenly asked, “Do you really understand me?”

Xue Zi’ang stared at her blankly.

Zhao Yu gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Actually, it’s not your fault but mine. I have no right to hate you. Xue Zi’ang, I admit, when we were together, I really… really liked you, and I even unrealistically fantasized about a future together. But some things can’t be escaped just by avoiding them. I’ve always tried to hide the filthy side of me that you don’t know about. What you saw was only a hypocritical version of me. It’s not that you let me down; it’s that I’ve only ever shown you my good side. Now that my mask has been torn off, you and I… truly… can never be again.”

The lines were so absurdly melodramatic that Zhao Yu felt sick just saying them, but wasn’t this exactly the role she now had to play?

Moreover, these words weren’t meant for Xue Zi’ang at all, but for Xue Zhan.

Xue Zi’ang, of course, couldn’t make any sense of what she was saying, and simply couldn’t help but grip her shoulders tightly. “You admitted you like me too. When we were together, we were clearly… so happy, so blissful. Can’t you give me another chance? Let’s start over. Zhao Yu, I truly can’t live without you.”

This heartfelt confession was met only with Zhao Yu’s firm shake of her head, and Xue Zhan’s indifferent voice: “She is now my girlfriend. You should address her as Aunt. Mind your status.”

Xue Zi’ang let out a scornful laugh and jeered, “Breaking your word, stealing someone else’s woman—someone like you, and you still deserve me calling you Uncle?”

Xue Zhan stared at him coldly, then reached out and covered Xue Zi’ang’s fingers where they rested on Zhao Yu’s shoulder, prying them loose one by one. “Let go.”

The tension between uncle and nephew was at its peak when the office door was suddenly knocked.

Neither Xue Zhan nor Xue Zi’ang reacted, continuing to glare at each other, while Zhao Yu quickly went to open the door, hoping someone would come to break the deadlock.

Wang Qi took in the scene inside, then braced herself and walked over to Xue Zhan: “Chairman Xue, a news story suddenly broke online—our products failed a random inspection.”

All three inside were momentarily stunned. It did indeed break the deadlock, but such bad news was even more disheartening.

Xue Zhan said, “Explain clearly.”

“Just now, news broke everywhere online that the Nanling City Administration for Industry and Commerce conducted random inspections of jewelry products within its jurisdiction. The results show that 30% of our sampled products were substandard.”

Such figures were considered quite high across all industries.

Xue Zhan furrowed his brows and asked again, “What’s the situation with Lanxi? Which other companies failed?”

“Almost all the brands inspected failed, and Lanxi’s failure rate is even higher than ours—close to 40%.”

Hearing this, all three visibly breathed sighs of relief.

There’s a saying that “the law cannot be enforced when everyone is guilty.” If Huacan were the only one in trouble, it would undoubtedly fall into a credibility crisis. If competitors then deliberately piled on, the negative impact would be hard to measure. But now that everyone had a problem, there was no need to be overly anxious.

Next, it would be up to each company to use every trick in the book to manage this crisis PR.

After work, per their original arrangement, Zhao Yu was supposed to go to Ji Sui’s place. Considering that Lanxi had also been hit, she first asked about it on WeChat.

As expected, Ji Sui didn’t have time for a date. They both understood each other’s situations, so there was nothing to apologize for. Still, having not seen her for several days, Ji Sui couldn’t resist giving her a call, and they talked for the better part of an hour.

“I won’t be able to have dinner with you tomorrow night either,” Ji Sui said apologetically. “This work matter has some private entanglements as well. My brother is hurrying back from abroad, so I have to return to the Zhuang family home.”

Zhuang Ye is coming back? Zhao Yu was slightly taken aback.

According to his plans to study for an MBA in France, he shouldn’t graduate until the end of November. Was this return temporary or permanent?