Around six in the evening, Jiang Zao sat in the Community Police Station.
The police officer across from her held the paperwork but hadn’t written a single word. He confirmed with her once more: “Are you sure your mother is missing? Normally, we can’t file a report unless someone’s been out of contact for over twenty-four hours. And you mentioned you’re not even sure when her phone became unreachable, right?”
“Her phone hasn’t been turned off yet. Why don’t you try reaching out to more of her contacts? We’ll do what we can on our end to help…”
Jiang Zao listened, a flicker of dissatisfaction crossing her face, but she held her tongue.
“Officer, hello—” A familiar voice suddenly cut through the tension.
Startled, she turned to see her Little Aunt approaching. “Why are you here? I was supposed to come find you.”
“How could I just sit there after hearing you’d come to the police station?” Pan Hui sighed. She sat down and offered the officer a warm smile. “I’m her blood-related aunt, Officer. Her mother’s probably fine. We’ll keep looking for her ourselves.”
The police officer glanced at Jiang Zao again, nodded, and packed up his things. He told them they could stick around to make calls if needed, then left the small room.
Leaning on the table, Pan Hui asked with concern, “What’s gotten into you? Your mom’s vanished without a trace before, but I’ve never seen you go to these lengths to track her down.”
“You know what your mom’s like—tougher than a street rat. She’ll be just fine.”
“Look at it this way: if she’s gone, no one’s around to bother you anymore. That’s a good thing, right?”
Jiang Zao kept her head down, silent.
Pan Hui noticed how off her niece’s expression and mood were. She leaned in closer and gently stroked her hair. “Qiqi, what’s wrong?”
Jiang Zao had been holding it together until that touch. Then all her pent-up anger, helplessness, and resentment came bursting out.
She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around her Little Aunt. Fat teardrops soaked into the woman’s clothes as her voice came out small and choked with bitterness: “…I’m sorry.”
Pan Hui was utterly bewildered. She hugged her niece back, still trying to make sense of it, and patted her back soothingly. “Hey, what’s all this? Don’t cry. Tell your Little Aunt what’s going on.”
Even though the words stuck in her throat, Jiang Zao forced them out. She recounted every detail of how Pan Yu had forged debts years ago to trick her into selling the old family house.
Pan Hui’s face ran through a whirlwind of emotions—from shock to pallor, until her brows, eyes, and even shoulders slumped in defeat.
“…That’s why I can’t let her just vanish like this,” Jiang Zao said, clenching her fists. She glared at the table with fierce determination. “I want her to pay for what she did.”
Jiang Zao looked up and grabbed her aunt’s hand. “Sue her! A few years behind bars will straighten her out!”
“People like her never learn unless they suffer. She’ll just keep leeching off everyone around her and bullying us forever.”
Pan Hui gazed at her quietly for a long moment, as if deep in thought—or peering right through her at something else.
At last, she shook her head and delivered an answer Jiang Zao hadn’t expected. “Let it go, Qiqi. Just let it go.”
Jiang Zao stared in disbelief, her outrage flaring. “Why? She’s put you through hell.”
“That house your maternal grandpa left us? Your mom and I each owned half—clear as day. She did forge those debts, and that’s illegal. But I agreed to sell it myself, and I got every penny I was owed.” Pan Hui had pieced it all together in moments. She explained patiently, “Those losses can’t be undone. Even if we exposed her crime, I wouldn’t see a dime more.”
“And for you? If she ends up with a criminal record, it’ll only hurt you—no upside.”
With a mother like that, Jiang Zao had long since stopped caring about consequences. She shot back, frustrated, “I don’t care. I’m not gunning for a civil service job or taking the postgraduate entrance exam.”
“That’s just how you feel right now. What if you change your mind and want to keep studying? Don’t they check family backgrounds? Could it hold you back?” Pan Hui cupped her niece’s face, gently reeling in the stubborn, hot-headed girl. She advised her with care: “I know your mom. She doesn’t have the nerve for murder or robbery. And she’s terrified of prison ruining what’s left of her life.”
“So hold on to this leverage tight.” Pan Hui wiped away the lingering tears from the corners of Jiang Zao’s eyes. “You’ve always wanted to shake free of her, right? Next time she shows up demanding money, see if she still has the guts to push back.”
“You two are stuck with each other for life,” she added. “But if we make sure she never dares cross you again, isn’t that enough?”
Jiang Zao clutched her phone like the detonator button on a bomb—pressing down hard again and again, only to hold back each time.
The scheme to trick her into selling the house was a private matter between Pan Yu and her blood sister, Little Aunt. Jiang Zao knew that no matter how righteously indignant she felt, if Little Aunt had no intention of pursuing it, then going against her wishes to demand justice would be pointless.
“Actually…” Her heart ached with a sour pang, as if something were lodged in her throat. “You really don’t have to wrong yourself for my sake.”
“You’ve already done more than enough for me all these years.” After all, she had started out as nothing more than a burden that Pan Yu had dumped on Little Aunt.
“How is it wronging myself?” Pan Hui smiled, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes etching her kind nature. “My greatest wish has always been to see you grow up happy and carefree.”
“You’re not even twenty-six yet. In the grand scheme of a lifetime, you still have a long way to grow.”
Pan Hui caressed her smooth cheek, just as she had during all those late-night heart-to-hearts in the past—like a storyteller soothing her child’s sensitive soul. “I never had the fortune to bear a daughter in this life, so I’ve always raised you like my own daughter.”
“As long as my child isn’t wronged, what troubles could a mother possibly have?”
“It’s been so many years since the house was sold. What’s the point in clashing with a scoundrel like your elder sister now? Life has to go on.”
“You don’t need to worry about family matters on my account.” Pan Hui took her hand and placed it on her own lap, patting it gently again and again. “Your little aunt’s husband has plenty of flaws, and dealing with relatives is a mess of petty nonsense, but I’m content enough.”
“No marriage is perfect. Both partners have their faults, but as long as they can tolerate each other, they can keep going as a team.”
She continued, “Of course, maybe I rushed into things when I chose your aunt’s husband back then, and my options were limited by the times.”
Jiang Zao gazed at her. “Do you regret it? If you hadn’t married him…”
Pan Hui shook her head without a moment’s hesitation, offering her a different perspective instead. “I’ve thought about it. Even in today’s world without the stigma of late marriage, I probably would’ve ended up with your aunt’s husband anyway—fate just works that way.”
“If he were truly the unreasonable type, I wouldn’t have put up with it forever. I’d have divorced him when the time was right. So Qiqi, trust in Little Aunt’s choice. Don’t worry.”
“He’s a bit of an old nag and obsessed with money, but he doesn’t have any of the other vices men fall into. He hasn’t gone to pot in middle age, he works steadily, and he’s devoted heart and soul to his child and wife. That’s good enough for me.”
“Little Aunt here hates imagining the roads not taken. No matter how you glorify them, they never come true. How boring is that?”
Jiang Zao took her advice to heart, her restless mood finally settling.
After a long moment, she nodded. “…I understand.”
“We’ll hold onto this evidence together.” Jiang Zao met her gaze, holding firm on that final line. “If she dares show her face again and disrupt our lives, I’ll make her pay.”
Pan Hui nodded in satisfaction, then shifted the conversation to something she’d been dying to know. “Now, can Little Aunt hear who helped you dig up this evidence?”
Jiang Zao hesitated for a beat before mumbling vaguely, “Just… a friend I met recently.”
Pan Hui narrowed her eyes with a smile. “What kind of friend is so resourceful?”
She studied her niece’s expression, as if piecing it together. “Bring him around to meet Little Aunt sometime. We’ll thank him together.”
Jiang Zao flushed with embarrassment, her face settling back into its usual shy reserve. She neither confirmed nor denied it. “Uh, maybe later… we’ll talk about it later.”
~~~
When Jiang Zao got home after parting with Little Aunt, she found that Zhang Kexin—another colleague who had transferred from Feida to Yunsheng like her—had been invited over by Li Li for dinner.
She didn’t have many hobbies outside of work and didn’t share as many chatting points with Li Li and Kexin, but they were all kind souls who liked including her in their fun.
They often grabbed lunch together at the company too.
Kexin had been assigned to the neighboring team for product planning on the next major product launch, and she was buried in work, griping nonstop.
Jiang Zao hung her bag in the entrance hall and asked Kexin, who was sprawled bonelessly on the sofa, “But I heard the manager’s really favoring your team’s theme?”
Kexin had her legs kicked up, feet swinging lazily in the air. “Yeah, ‘Rise to the Future’—what a clichéd, boring theme!”
Li Li, rummaging through the fridge midway, teased, “I already recorded that for you. I’ll send it to your team lead in a bit.”
Kexin let out a scream like a viral meme groundhog.
Jiang Zao let out a few chuckles as she shuffled over in her slippers. “But I get your group leader’s choice. A futuristic, high-tech theme is the safest option—least likely to screw up.”
She lowered her gaze and added, “That said, it completely contradicts Yunsheng’s original reason for poaching our Feida Planning Department.”
“Yunsheng wants flashy promo stunts that grab attention. Sticking to safe plays forever means no progress.”
Kexin looked shocked and gave her a thumbs-up. “That’s some top-executive-level talk. I agree, but what can we do? Our manager, Grand Eunuch Zhou, doesn’t know the first thing about this stuff.”
Li Li walked over hugging a bucket of cola she’d finally dug out from somewhere and plopped down cross-legged. “Our group’s idea was all Jiang Zao’s. I really think it’s solid.”
“Yeah, I noticed how Jingling’s mini wide-angle camera from six months ago blew up—they got tons of pet influencers to promote it, and the buzz was insane. It made me think Yunsheng’s usual ultra-premium promo angle could use some broadening,” Jiang Zao explained.
Kexin blinked in confusion. “We hire pet influencers too? Go full cute-pet vibe? Imitating them won’t do us any favors, though—our product’s not made for filming pets.”
“It’s about the message, not the gimmick. Pet influencer vids go viral not because of the animals themselves,” Jiang Zao said, analyzing it earnestly. “It’s because they capture everyday pet life through the product in a way that’s raw, warm, and full of heart.”
“That’s why netizens eat those promo videos up.”
Kexin and Li Li both went, “Ohhh,” the light dawning on them.
“All of Yunsheng’s past campaigns revolved around high-end gadget influencers, which subtly trains people to think our products are just for tech obsessives and rich folks. That’s not helping us grow the audience,” Jiang Zao continued, her earlier gloomy mood lifting as she spoke with real authority. “I think Yunsheng needs to experiment with more down-to-earth, relatable promo paths.”