Chapter Thirteen: No Wonder He Has the Right to Be Arrogant

“You’re saying he stopped your business, yet every time you go there, you still have to be treated as a normal customer?” Jun Ruohan asked, realizing she had underestimated him. So many attempts had failed to get rid of him, yet not only had he returned alive, he’d even snatched Rong’er’s position. Now, he’d suspended her granddaughter’s business as well.

“Yes, Grandma. That’s what the manager at the mall said.” The last manager who tried to help her, Manager Wang, had even been fired by him.

He’d even gone online to publicly apologize to that unknown woman, making her, the heiress of the Huangpu family, a laughingstock.

“What did you do? He stopped your business for no reason?” Her tone was unyielding. These days, Huangpu Qing’an’s constant complaints had given her a headache.

Useless girl, unable to seize opportunities, and now this granddaughter was proving just as disappointing.

“I… Grandma, he actually slapped your granddaughter for an outsider, and that woman was so arrogant, yet the mall still apologized to her.”

Was she nothing at all?

“Apologized? What happened?”

Could there be something she didn’t know?

Huangpu Qingyin pulled out her phone, played the video again, and embellished her story.

“Idiot! Haven’t I told you not to flaunt your heiress temper in public? The Huangpu family still has your grandfather. If he hears of this, you’ll get a scolding for sure.”

Judging by that woman’s demeanor, she wasn’t some country bumpkin, and now they’d been made into a laughingstock.

Truly stupid. No wonder—just a child of a lesser family. She’d opposed letting Bai Ting marry in the first place; she’d done nothing for Rong’er, only held her back.

“But Grandma, did you see her attitude? I just asked her a question!” Huangpu Qingyin protested, feeling wronged. She’d even been scolded online—why was everyone blaming her?

“From now on, stay away from the Bai family. Don’t end up being sold and not even know it. If you’re short on funds, find a way to make up the deficit yourself. Don’t expect others to clean up your mess. If anyone catches hold of your weaknesses, you’ll suffer for it.”

Jun Ruohan’s words dripped with resentment. None of them were ever at ease.

“But Grandma…” Huangpu Qingyin wanted to say more.

“All right, stop bothering me. I’ll have someone look into that woman properly.”

——

Today, Shangguan Renran was at home. Sometimes she’d water the flowers with Ye Xin, or show them around the garden behind the house.

Other times, she’d play the piano upstairs. She could also play the guzheng and had some skill with the cello, though after moving abroad, she’d practiced less and was a little rusty.

“Miss, someone’s investigating you,” Ye Zuo said from the living room sofa, his hands flying over the densely coded screen on his computer. Soon, a location popped up.

It wasn’t downtown, but it was still prime real estate in City A—only the wealthy could afford it.

“Is this because of what happened online? Has it made you more exposed?” Ye Xin wondered aloud.

“Don’t worry about it. They won’t find anything important.” Shangguan Renran had long since encrypted her identity, leaving only superficial information visible.

Details like her family background and private numbers were impossible to trace.

She walked over to her small sitting room, knelt gracefully, rinsed the teacups with hot water, then filled them with fresh water. She added tea leaves, poured out the first brew, and prepared three cups, filling them again.

She’d learned these skills from her grandfather, who adored tea. Over time, she’d picked up the habit herself.

“Come, try my tea,” she invited, handing out the cups. She took one herself and sipped it slowly. The tea was rich and balanced—her tea-making skills had improved again.

“Miss, your tea is delicious,” Ye Xin praised. She didn’t know much about tea, but the taste was excellent.

“The liquor is clear and bright, the aroma is uplifting, the flavor mellow and sweet, and the aftertaste fresh,” Ye Zuo commented. He’d studied tea ceremony before.

“You know tea?” Shangguan Renran was a little surprised. Few people still appreciated tea—most preferred coffee or milk tea these days.

“I know a little, though in front of Miss, it’s hardly worth mentioning.”

She smiled, saying nothing more, and continued savoring her tea.

——

“So, did you find anything?” Jun Ruohan asked, impatience in her voice.

“We uncovered some basic information, but the rest…”

“You couldn’t find the rest?” she snapped. “Show me.”

Shangguan Renran, graduate of Country Y, majored in finance, twenty-two years old, completed her doctorate.

Went abroad at six, achieved level twelve piano at ten, won gold in guzheng and cello and violin competitions the same year. By age twelve, she had mastered the pipa, konghou, harp, and other traditional instruments, earning a world music grand prize.

At thirteen, she studied painting and tea ceremony, winning the International Gold Cup for Fine Arts and other prestigious art awards. She was even named a national-level female tea master. By fifteen, she’d finished high school, won world mathematics and computer prizes—the Fields Medal, the Turing Award, and more—unprecedented for someone her age.

By eighteen, she was already pursuing graduate studies, hailed as a prodigy by Country Y’s news experts.

At nineteen and twenty, she completed the rest of her studies, learning social etiquette, dance, and psychology.

At twenty-one, she politely declined her mentor’s invitation to stay on as faculty, graduating with top honors the following year.

Damn it, how was she supposed to compete? She was just a useless girl who only knew how to rely on her family.

Thinking of Huangpu Qingyin, Jun Ruohan seethed. No wonder such a person had the right to be arrogant.

“Print this out and send it to Huangpu Qingyin. Let her see for herself the reason others have the right to be proud.”

“Yes, ma’am.”