Grandpa Shao let out a hearty laugh when Wen Yin said that.
"You, you!" he teased. "How can you say such a thing?"
"You know I love nothing more than your cooking," he added, indulgence thick in his voice. "A few fancy delicacies won't make me prefer someone else's food over yours."
Wen Yin hadn't expected his joking remark to be answered so earnestly. A faint blush crept into her smile. "Oh Grandpa, I was only joking."
He noticed the bashful look and chuckled before growing sincere again. "I'm not joking, child. Every word I say is true."
They chatted a while longer before Grandpa Shao finally made his decision. He patted her hand with a tone that carried more gravity than the conversation had warranted.
"I think this old man's health is about as good as it's going to get. You don't have to come in so early in the morning anymore."
"For all these days you haven't had a proper night's sleep—I can see it, Wen Yin," he said gently, indicating the dark circles beneath her eyes. "They've gotten worse. You should sleep well. Come by at noon instead. It's fine."
Wen Yin's hand went instinctively to the hollow under her eyes. Even she had noticed how poor her sleep had been lately. Without hesitating she agreed. "Okay. I'll come at noon, then."
She left the hotel after settling the time with Grandpa. She hadn't taken two steps when someone walked straight into her.
Wen Yin frowned and turned, but the stranger hurried past, head down, hat pulled low and face masked. The figure's silhouette seemed vaguely familiar, but the hat and mask left her no way to be sure. Wen Yin shrugged it off as a trivial interruption and went to her car.
On the other side of the street, Wen Zhi slowed to a crawl after colliding with the same person. She cursed under her breath. Damn private detectives—always when it's inconvenient. She'd been on a date and had been yanked away by a summons from Qi Siran. This tailing job was not something she'd signed up for. She wasn't anyone's lapdog.
She followed the woman—Mrs. Qi—at a careful distance, blending into the crowd so she wouldn't be noticed. Wen Zhi kept her cap down low, only her eyes visible as she tracked Mrs. Qi's movements. After a short walk, Mrs. Qi stopped in front of an ostentatious café that could only be described as completely overdone. She checked her phone, then stepped inside.
Something about that pause set off Wen Zhi's instincts. She snapped a few photos of Mrs. Qi entering, then followed. Mrs. Qi chose a corner table; Wen Zhi took a seat across from her, far enough to look casual but close enough to overhear. She kept her cap on, ordered a coffee, and waited.
She had a strong feeling Mrs. Qi was waiting for someone. Wen Zhi texted Qi Siran.
[Wen Zhi: I followed Mrs. Qi to a café. She's sitting in the corner—looks like she's waiting for someone.]
Qi Siran's pupils narrowed the moment she saw the message. After days of waiting, it had finally paid off. Her excitement suppressed, she typed two words.
[Qi Siran: Keep following.]
Wen Zhi tucked her phone away and focused. The distance between the tables meant she could only catch muffled words, so she moved to sit at a diagonal from Mrs. Qi. From there she couldn't hear everything, but she could read mouths and watch gestures.
A timid young woman came in—plainly dressed and nervous. She circled the café, then hesitated before the corner where Mrs. Qi sat. She was slight and looked undernourished; her clothes were simple to the point of being shabby. Wen Zhi's heartbeat sped up with delight. This had to be it—the real Qi family heiress.
All the hard work of the investigation was finally bearing fruit. She had seen Wen Yin when she was first brought back into their lives—pitiful, yes—but this girl looked even more downtrodden. If she truly was the Qi family's daughter, it would be a lottery ticket to a lifetime of splendor.
Wen Zhi prepared to do what she did best. She turned off her phone's flash, settled into a shadowed corner, and began taking pictures, then switched to video as if casually recording herself. She filmed every move.
Mrs. Qi spoke to the girl for only a short while. The girl glanced at Wen Zhi once, eyes rimmed red. Mrs. Qi slid a folder across the table. The girl's face crumpled—tears threatening—her hands shaking as she picked up the folder. She drank the coffee Mrs. Qi had paid for; she grimaced at its bitterness, frowned, and left clutching the folder.
Even without eavesdropping, Wen Zhi felt the picture snap into focus. She sent the video to Qi Siran with her notes.
[Wen Zhi: I think the girl your mother met might be your real daughter. She looks about our age.]
[Wen Zhi: Watch their expressions in the video. I think it's almost certain.]
[Wen Zhi: Want me to dig into her background and confirm who she is?]
It took a long time for Qi Siran to reply. Wen Zhi imagined Qi Siran watching the clip, then coolly sent back a single, clipped word.
[Qi Siran: Do it.]
Wen Zhi couldn't help snorting at Qi Siran's arrogance. "So full of herself," she muttered. "Just wait until the true heiress comes back to claim her place—then who'll be anybody?"
She smiled inwardly as she thought it: a fallen phoenix is no better than a common hen.