Chapter 38: This Car Accident Doesn't Seem Like an Accident

Wen Zhixia hadn’t anticipated such an incident herself, but since it had already happened—and in front of so many people—there had to be a solution.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhang,” she replied with a gentle nod and a faint smile. Picking up a piece of flat peach, she turned and offered it to Gu Pingsheng’s lips. “It’s very sweet. Try it.”

Gu Pingsheng’s dark eyes studied her for several seconds before he finally opened his mouth.

Wen Zhixia’s lips curved. “Is it good?”

He gave a low “hmm,” as though the earlier awkwardness had never happened.

Ye Lanzhou signaled the kitchen for another plate of sliced flat peaches. After sampling a piece himself, he found the taste surprisingly pleasant.

Zhang Zhiyan watched Wen Zhixia’s gesture with keen interest—it was exactly this quality that rendered her so unforgettable.

As the men gathered to chat, Wen Zhixia chose a quiet spot to admire the scenery. Approaching the railing, she was surprised to discover that they kept milu deer here.

A young milu, likely only recently born, was small and clumsy, stumbling every few steps. Yet it couldn’t sit still; it wanted desperately to run with the adult deer nearby, which only made it tumble even more frequently.

Amused, she watched for quite some time without realizing it. When she finally looked back, she saw that only Ye Lanzhou remained at the table, busy with his phone.

“Where did everyone go?”

Ye Lanzhou gestured, “There’s a shooting range over there. They’re inside.”

The shooting range?

Wen Zhixia paused—what were they doing there?

Perhaps sensing her curiosity, Ye Lanzhou put away his phone and explained, “A battle among men.”

Inside the shooting range.

Bang—

A shot rang out, striking dead center at forty meters.

A pistol’s effective range is limited—usually up to about fifty meters—making it a weapon for close quarters. Achieving such accuracy requires specialized training, especially here, where each pistol is a precisely replicated 1:1 model, complete with serial number and tracking, to prevent loss or mishap.

To guard against theft, every door in the club is fitted with scanners—try to carry one of these replica guns out, and the alarm will sound instantly.

“Brother Gu, with marksmanship like yours, it’s a pity you never joined the military,” someone joked.

“Excellent shooting,” Zhang Zhiyan praised as he donned his own safety glasses, selected a comfortable pistol, and likewise struck the bullseye at forty meters.

Targets were set every ten meters, the farthest at fifty.

Gu Pingsheng nodded, “Mr. Zhang’s marksmanship isn’t bad either.”

Their mutual compliments were cordial, but lacked any real camaraderie—at least, outwardly, things appeared harmonious.

To the unknowing observer, at least.

“I can’t compare to you, Mr. Gu. I’ve had professional instruction in both shooting and fencing, but you left home young and managed to master everything on your own—that’s truly impressive. Still, if you have time, you should visit home. After all, blood ties are not so easily ignored. Even if you don’t do it for yourself, consider Zhixia—married three years, and she’s never met her parents-in-law. To outsiders, it might seem as if you never took this marriage seriously. After all… there wasn’t even a wedding ceremony.”

Gu Pingsheng loaded another bullet, eyes on the farthest target. He gave a cold laugh, fired, and hit the bullseye at fifty meters.

Applause broke out around him, everyone praising his precision.

After hitting the bullseye at fifty meters, Gu Pingsheng didn’t remove his safety glasses. Without a change in expression, he proceeded to leave bullet marks on every target at ten, twenty, and thirty meters.

What belonged to him—from the nearest at arm’s length to the farthest—would not be allowed to be coveted by anyone else.

When his magazine was empty, he took off his glasses and handed them to an attendant. “Is that so?”

Zhang Zhiyan took aim at the fifty-meter target and placed a shot neatly beside Gu Pingsheng’s. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, what can be done? Since she’s chosen me, there’s nothing you can do to change that, no matter how hard you try.” He straightened his cufflinks. “No matter how much attention you give her, no matter how you try to stir up public opinion, she is my wife.”

Zhang Zhiyan’s grip on his pistol tightened as he turned sharply.

The report about Wen Zhixia’s supposed affair with the Zhang Group’s president had spread so quickly not just because netizens loved gossip, but also thanks to Zhang Zhiyan’s efforts behind the scenes.

Tracing the matter wouldn’t be difficult.

The gathering that Gu Pingsheng had originally declined—he’d canceled his plans and brought Wen Zhixia, who hadn’t been seen in ages, mainly to make a statement of ownership.

“Mr. Gu, you’re well-informed,” said Zhang Zhiyan.

He now understood why Gu Pingsheng, who hadn’t even been on the guest list, had appeared suddenly.

Gu Pingsheng rubbed the wedding band on his ring finger, offering no reply.

“Here comes Miss Wen.”

As Wen Zhixia entered, the men greeted her warmly.

She was the only touch of softness among all the men present, a pleasing presence wherever she went.

Wen Zhixia smiled in acknowledgment and walked over to Gu Pingsheng. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?”

Gu Pingsheng reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I did, but it seems your nod was just to brush me off.”

She’d been leaning over the railing watching the deer when he’d come over and told her where he was going. She’d nodded absentmindedly—he’d thought she’d heard him, but now she was the one demanding answers.

Wen Zhixia: “…”

“Do you like milu deer?” he asked.

Her eyes brightened. “It’s my first time seeing them. They’re adorable.” Especially the little one, stumbling but stubbornly trying to keep up—a picture of clumsy innocence, much like a toddler.

Just then, Ye Lanzhou came in. Gu Pingsheng caught sight of him and asked if the club’s deer were for sale.

Ye Lanzhou gave him a knowing smile. “Surely you’re not serious. Those deer are Chu Man’s darlings—they’re just here to get acclimated. You think you can take something from her?”

Miss Chu was notoriously possessive—anything she favored, she would never part with.

Gu Pingsheng frowned faintly.

Wen Zhixia, overhearing, tugged on Gu Pingsheng’s arm with a smile. “I don’t want one. Why would you buy it? I just like that the little deer reminds me of a small child.”

Casually, she steered the conversation toward children—a topic on which they had never agreed.

Gu Pingsheng was always unrestrained in bed, but even drunk, he took every precaution.

Now, as the subject arose, he fell silent and changed the topic: “…Want to try shooting? I’ll teach you.”

He picked up the pistol, wrapped his large hand around hers, and pressed his chest against her back, shielding his expression from her view.

“The replica you’re holding is modeled precisely after a military pistol and weighs a full kilogram—not ideal for a beginner,” Zhang Zhiyan offered, handing her his own. “This is based on the police model, only 800 grams. It’ll be easier for you.”

But Gu Pingsheng didn’t let go, showing no intention of letting her choose. Zhang Zhiyan simply watched, encouraging her with his eyes.

Wen Zhixia paused, then called for safety glasses and headphones, stepping into the shooting position.

With both pistols in front of her, she chose neither, but instead selected one she liked from the wall herself.

She loaded it, locked onto the target, aimed, and fired.

Bang—

The shot struck the fifty-meter target. Though not dead center, for a woman it was a remarkable feat.

Applause broke out, a few even whistled.

Even Ye Lanzhou’s brows rose. The last time they’d met, Hua Qianjiao had sung Wen Zhixia’s praises, calling her a jack-of-all-trades. He’d thought it was childish exaggeration, but now he believed it.

When he’d seen Wen Zhixia earlier, he’d felt a twinge of disappointment—she was beautiful, elegant, but seemed too gentle, nothing like the rumored ruthless businesswoman who rivaled any man. It was as if… her edges had been worn away.

A canary in a gilded cage: exquisite and lovely, but lacking the kind of pride that drew every eye.

But pride, he realized now, was a part of her bones—no amount of time or comfort could blunt it.

She’d folded her wings away, hidden her sharpness, all for the man at her side.

“I forgot to mention, I used to be a pretty good shot, though it’s been years,” she said, taking off her safety glasses.

In the past, to make money, she’d participated in countless live-action CS matches as a sparring partner. She was underage at the time, and the organizers hadn’t wanted to hire her, but after much pleading and a promise to meet the standards in half a month, she’d been given a chance.

As luck would have it, they were short-handed. She persisted, and with her pretty face attracting players, she’d gotten the opportunity.

Two weeks of hard training left her palms calloused. She pored over theory, and barely scraped through. The payoff was worth it—a summer’s earnings, spent frugally, could cover a semester’s living expenses. While other girls her age put on weight in adolescence, her own fell sharply.

By afternoon, no one seemed keen to leave.

Gu Pingsheng and Wen Zhixia soon slipped away without a trace.

“Have they gone home?” someone asked.

Ye Lanzhou toyed with his wine glass, ignoring the question and instead focusing on Zhang Zhiyan. “Mr. Zhang, you look a little pale since returning from outside. Did you see something?”

Zhang Zhiyan drained half a glass of red wine.

See something?

It was precisely the scene Gu Pingsheng had intended him to witness.

In a narrow, triangular alcove, Wen Zhixia was pressed against the wall, locked in an intimate, lingering kiss.

Even her usual cool composure was tinged with a heady sensuality, the slightly parted collar revealing the lingering traces of a lover’s mark.

He was no naïve boy—he knew exactly what that meant.

In the shadowy corner, Gu Pingsheng’s narrow eyes slanted toward where he stood, lips curling in a taunting, dismissive smile.

His blatant disregard spoke volumes: he was utterly certain that Wen Zhixia’s heart belonged to him, and him alone.

What an infuriating thing—keeping a lover outside, while the woman at home was filled with nothing but thoughts of him.

Zhang Zhiyan clenched his fists and left, unaware that after the sound of his footsteps faded, Wen Zhixia pushed Gu Pingsheng away in frustration, twisting his waist hard and fixing her clothes with an angry pout.

Gu Pingsheng wiped his lips and laughed softly.

“Have you had enough of this madness?” Wen Zhixia snapped.

He pressed his chin to her shoulder with a smile. “You’re angry, but still went along with me?”

He knew she’d seen Zhang Zhiyan standing not far off, but he’d used her indulgence as an excuse to boldly claim her with a public kiss.

Wen Zhixia ignored him and turned to leave.

He caught her from behind, and as she struggled, he lifted her up, pressing her to the wall, his words murmured against her ear, “If you weren’t so irresistible, would I have to resort to this?”

Angry, she feigned surrender as he leaned in for another kiss, but the next instant bit his lip until it bled.

“Don’t do it again!” she warned.

Gu Pingsheng’s tongue traced the blood on his lips. “Such a ruthless woman.”

When they returned to the gathering, it was clear the evening was drawing to a close.

Yet everyone’s eyes flickered toward Gu Pingsheng’s lips, someone teasing, “Mr. Gu, did you sneak off to eat chili peppers?”

Gu Pingsheng’s thin lips quirked. “Single men are always a little ignorant of the world.”

Everyone: “…” Having a wife isn’t everything, you know.

The banter continued, but only Zhang Zhiyan said nothing.

On the way home, Wen Zhixia felt sleepy, yawning twice.

“Tired? Rest on me for a bit. When we get home, I’ll carry you upstairs,” Gu Pingsheng said softly, gently settling her head on his shoulder.

She nodded and drifted off.

When the car was about a third of the way, just as Wen Zhixia was about to fall asleep, Gu Pingsheng’s phone vibrated.

He glanced at the caller ID, his gaze pausing before looking at Wen Zhixia, then hung up.

The phone rang again. Gu Pingsheng’s brows drew together.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, eyes still closed.

“Nothing. Go ahead and sleep.” Just as he was about to switch off the phone, a message appeared: Senior, I was in a car accident. I’m alone in the hospital and so scared.

A car accident?

Gu Pingsheng stared at the phone for several seconds. “Pull over.”

The driver complied immediately.

Wen Zhixia opened her eyes, “We’re home?”

“Not yet. The driver will take you home—I need to stop by the office.”

She glanced at the time—it was already ten. “So late? What happened?”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll handle it. You go home and rest.”

“Let the driver take you. I can get a cab,” she offered, not wanting to delay him.

He stepped out of the car. “It’s too late for you to go alone. I’ll catch a cab here.”

She didn’t argue, only reminding him to be careful.

As the car continued, Wen Zhixia glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Gu Pingsheng hailing a cab before closing her eyes again.

She hadn’t been out much lately, had grown lazy at home. After a whole day at the Chang’an Club, despite doing little strenuous, she felt more exhausted than after all-nighters in her old project days.

Seeing her drowsy, the driver eased the speed. The roads were quiet, and both inside and outside the car was peaceful.

Bang—

As they turned a corner, a car suddenly barreled toward them, colliding head-on.

Fortunately, the driver’s skill kept the car steady, averting a rollover.

Still, both of them were thrown against the sides.

Wen Zhixia, half-asleep, had no time to react. Her head slammed into the window, her shoulder taking the brunt as she gasped in pain.

“Madam, are you alright?”

Hearing her groan, the driver quickly turned to check on her.

Wen Zhixia opened her eyes, clutching her head. “I’m fine. What happened?”

“That car came out of nowhere, like a maniac. You stay here, I’ll go check,” the driver said, unbuckling and getting out.

“Be careful,” she nodded.

As he stepped out, two or three men exited the other car. Through the window, Wen Zhixia noted their tattoos and attire, an uneasy feeling rising. She quickly called the traffic police.

As she spoke on the phone, she saw the men begin to shove the driver. Her eyelids twitched.

She lowered the window and called the driver back.

Noticing only a woman in the car, the three men, emboldened by their numbers, grabbed steel pipes from their vehicle.

Sensing the danger—and that the men were clearly drunk—the driver scrambled back in, locked the doors and windows. “Madam, they’re drunk driving, and it looks like they want to blame us and get money. For your safety, I suggest we leave and file a report later.”

That was the safest option. Wen Zhixia agreed, “Let’s go.”

But when they tried to leave, the men blocked the car, pipes raised, demanding money.

“How much do they want?” she asked.

The driver, clearly frustrated, replied, “They see a fancy car and demand a hundred thousand—this is blatant extortion.”

A hundred thousand?

Wen Zhixia could easily afford it, but from her observation, this was no accident—it was a setup, a scam for money.

Such incidents had been reported more and more in recent years.

“Then let’s wait for the police. I already called; they should be here soon.”

The men, realizing they were stalling, began smashing the car with their pipes.

“Ah!”

The windows, unable to withstand the blows, began to shatter.

Even Wen Zhixia, as composed as she was, felt her calm crack in the face of such violent, thuggish behavior.