Chapter 61: Always Raising a Man

There was no entry for Wang Haiqiong’s number in Wen Zhixia’s phone, so the screen displayed an unknown caller.

“Hello, who is this?”

“It’s me.” Wang Haiqiong’s leg tapped against the rooftop as she spoke.

Wen Zhixia was surprised to hear her voice. In her memory, this was the first time Wang Haiqiong had ever called her. “Is something the matter?”

Wang Haiqiong said, “I’m ruined now. Are you satisfied?”

Wen Zhixia heard the wind rushing past on the other end, but at first, she paid it no mind. “Whether you’re ruined or successful, it has nothing to do with me.”

Wang Haiqiong let out a laugh at that. “Wen Zhixia, you know what I hate most about you? The projects I toil endlessly to win, you claim with barely any effort. I’ve fallen into the mud, yet you insist on blooming pure and untouched on the high cliff.”

How could she not resent it, not grow hateful?

They were both human—why was Wen Zhixia allowed to remain noble and spotless, while she herself had to be stained and sullied?

Wen Zhixia frowned but offered no explanation.

To outsiders, her effortless success was just that—a myth. Even when she had polyps in her gallbladder and needed surgery, she dared not relax for a moment. Her employees depended on her for their livelihoods. She feared pain, but not the surgery itself—it was the fear of others, especially her rivals, discovering her weakness.

Post-surgery required a week of recovery, yet so many awaited her decisions. On the second day after her operation, she appeared at the company as usual. In everyone’s eyes, she was still the decisive, shrewd young Director Wen, but no one knew she took painkillers every few hours in secret.

After “effortlessly” securing a project, she played golf with the client’s CEO, maintaining her usual calm and courteous demeanor. Yet once she returned to her car, she fainted and was rushed to the hospital.

The “effortless” and “smooth sailing” seen by others was nothing but a carefully constructed illusion. Anyone who climbs from nothing pays dearly for every step.

“But none of that matters now. For years, I made you my goal, did so much, and in the end, gained nothing. I won’t compete with you anymore—it’s pointless…”

Listening to her lifeless tone and the wind through the phone, Wen Zhixia felt a foreboding chill.

“Wang Haiqiong, where are you right now?”

Wang Haiqiong stood up, swaying in the wind. The sound on the phone grew louder. “The hospital rooftop. I never imagined that, on the eve of my death, I’d make my last call to the person I hate most.”

Wen Zhixia’s eyes widened suddenly, her voice urgent. “You don’t care about Song Mingze’s life anymore?”

Wang Haiqiong, with one foot already over the edge, froze at the mention of “Song Mingze.” Her hand clenched around the phone, and a flicker of confusion and sorrow crossed her lifeless gaze. “What did you say?”

“I said, if you die, Song Mingze likely won’t last three months.” Wen Zhixia paused. “You know better than anyone the cost of his rehabilitation. After years of saving him, you’re finally seeing hope. Are you willing to leave with regrets?”

“He’s fought hard to survive. If you die, who will keep filling his endless void? Do you want him to die with you?” Wen Zhixia’s eyes were cold. “If you die, I’ll show him photos of your death scene.”

“Wen Zhixia, are you insane!” Wang Haiqiong drew her foot back, her voice furious.

“Or, you can try and see—if I’ll get there before the police clean up your body, and make him witness the scene.” Wen Zhixia continued.

Wang Haiqiong’s breath faltered. “No.”

“I’ve already had someone contact Song Mingze. He’ll be at the hospital soon.” Strike where it hurts—those with weaknesses rarely welcome death.

Wang Haiqiong closed her eyes. “No, don’t let him come.”

Wen Zhixia hurried into her car, slammed the door, gave the driver an address, and spoke in a low voice: “Go back to your ward, Wang Haiqiong. Don’t behave like an immature child, using death as leverage—unless you truly wish Song Mingze to die with you.”

In the end, Wang Haiqiong calmed herself on the rooftop. With someone to care for, even death is hard to face.

When Wen Zhixia arrived, Wang Haiqiong was already lying in her hospital bed. Wen Zhixia let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Wang Haiqiong turned at the sound of footsteps, and for the first time saw the elegant Director Wen in a rush, her hair disheveled. Her eyes flickered.

“You’ve investigated me.”

Wen Zhixia made no attempt to hide it; there was no need to lie. “Yes.”

Wang Haiqiong looked at her for three or four seconds, then asked, “Why… did you save me?”

She had always thought they were enemies.

Wen Zhixia called a doctor to treat her facial wounds, then sat down and calmly began slicing fruit, arranging it neatly beside Wang Haiqiong’s hand. “I was simply curious. You don’t spend money recklessly, so why… why would you sell yourself for money, craving it so desperately?”

This question had first arisen when Wen Zhixia, after orchestrating Wang Haiqiong’s exposure by Qian Hongdan, picked up a business card she’d dropped. The card was for a clothing rental shop, obviously out of proportion with Wang Haiqiong’s income.

After a brief investigation, she learned that Wang Haiqiong had been supporting a man—Song Mingze.

“He… was the boy next door.” Wang Haiqiong leaned against the bed, her eyes distant as she began to recount a story buried in her heart for many years.

Song Mingze had been the quintessential golden youth, a well-known club president at school. Upon graduation, he received a coveted offer from his dream company. He even bought Wang Haiqiong a dress she’d always loved but never dared purchase.

That day, both families were supposed to sit down together and discuss the children’s marriage, but disaster struck en route.

Song Mingze drove to pick up the elders for dinner, while Wang Haiqiong was shopping with friends and took a separate car.

Just before the accident, Song Mingze, wearing a Bluetooth headset, was still chatting with her, saying he was waiting at the traffic light. Then, a deafening crash, a burst of static—after that, Wang Haiqiong heard nothing more.

Their car was crushed beneath a dump truck. Of the five passengers, none survived.

A bright, clear sky seemed to cloud over in an instant.

In a single day, Wang Haiqiong lost both her own and Song Mingze’s parents, while Song Mingze’s fate hung by a thread, uncertain when he would awaken.

She emptied both families’ savings to save him, but every day in the ICU burned through money.

With repeated urgent payment notices from the hospital weighing on her, she could only do whatever it took to earn more.

She needed him to live.

She struggled for many years—truly, many years—before she finally brought him back, even though he awoke paralyzed on one side.

The doctor entered to treat Wang Haiqiong’s wounds. Wen Zhixia gazed at her face, ravaged by corrosive acid, her eyes pausing for a moment.