Chapter Forty-Two: Was She Trying to Call Huangpu Shenqing?

The butler set up the easel and placed the paint bucket before leaving the living room—he had no desire to see yesterday’s scene replayed.

“Please, have a seat,” Huangpu Shenqing said affectionately as he arranged the bowls and chopsticks.

On the table were crispy meat pies, small potato pancakes, coconut red bean buns, soup dumplings, ham and egg rolls, milky toast, chicken and mushroom porridge, corn and sweet potato porridge, black rice multigrain porridge, pumpkin porridge, purple sweet potato porridge, and red bean porridge.

He didn’t know which porridge she might like, so he made several kinds.

“Mr. Huangpu, isn’t this a bit much? Did you make all of this yourself?”

There were five or six kinds of porridge alone—just how large an appetite did one need to finish it all?

“Yes. I’m currently learning how to make porridge,” he replied.

If the butler had been present, he’d certainly have said, “Not just now, young master. You clearly learned this before. Stop finding excuses for yourself.”

“So all this is just for the two of us?” Shangguan Renran exclaimed in awe.

“Don’t worry, the butler has quite an appetite. He’ll finish the rest. Drink whichever porridge you like, don’t overthink it.”

The butler…

Shangguan Renran said, “Is that so? I’ll have the red bean porridge then. Thank you, Mr. Huangpu.”

Huangpu Shenqing served her the red bean porridge. “Renran, I like it when you trouble me.”

At least this way, she wouldn’t go to anyone else for help.

Shangguan Renran lowered her head to drink the porridge, saying nothing more.

“Renran, stay for lunch. I’ve just learned to cook Western food.”

“There’s no need to trouble yourself. I have to return to the company.” She had already taken leave, but now that her painting was finished, she wanted to go back. There were only five days left before the end of the month, and she needed the remaining time to finish two more pieces.

After breakfast, Huangpu Shenqing, as was his habit, escorted her to where her car was parked.

“Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Huangpu,” Shangguan Renran said, expressing her gratitude before turning to leave. After a few steps, she looked back. “The food you make is delicious, Mr. Huangpu.”

She then picked up her easel and drove away.

Little did she know the immense encouragement she had left behind for Huangpu Shenqing, whose heart seemed to blossom and bear fruit.

He slipped one hand into his pocket, the other clenched in a fist as he stifled a smile.

In that instant, it was as if fireworks exploded—radiant and dazzling. It seemed he had gained the world’s most beautiful sunset.

Sunlight fell upon him, shrouding him in a glow, lifting him from darkness into light.

It also made him, in his joy, oblivious to the lurking danger.

Watching all of this, Huangpu Qingyin nearly crushed the handbag in her hand. As expected of the person she despised—they had come together after all.

Huangpu Shenqing, you belong in darkness. Why did you have to return to rob her of everything that should have been hers?

Huangpu Group should be mine, and none of you can take it away.

That wretched Shangguan Renran, she’s as loathsome as Xia Wanqing. Just wait—I won’t let either of them go.

She started her car and followed after.

Shangguan Renran intended to go straight to the company, so she called Ye Xin ahead of time.

“Miss?”

“I’ll be at the office soon. Have them bring all the reports to me—I want to go through them.”

She made the call as she drove.

“Yes, Miss. I’ll notify everyone right away.”

“Alright, I’ll hang up now.”

She set her phone aside.

Suddenly, the car behind her accelerated and rammed straight into her.

Bang—

Screech—

Shangguan Renran was jerked back by the powerful impact, her forehead crashing into the steering wheel. Glancing to the left rear, she saw another car slam into her.

Quickly, she pressed the accelerator and yanked the wheel.

Another crash thundered from the right.

A car blocked the front as well.

Her vehicle was instantly surrounded, struck three more times before finally coming to a halt.

The car’s body was badly dented, the front scratched and battered, the windows shattered, and one tire clearly bent out of shape.

Shangguan Renran sat in the car, blood streaming from a gash on her forehead, her face pale as frost, the crimson drops falling upon her snow-white cheeks.

Huangpu Qingyin stepped out, flanked by her men. “Drag that woman out of there for me.”

She had chosen this spot because it was quiet and unmonitored.

Today, she would repay the humiliation she’d suffered—tenfold.

Five bodyguards in black moved in, some pounding on the doors, others kicking at the car, trying to yank out the woman inside.

Shangguan Renran pressed her hand to her bleeding forehead, the pain clearing her mind. She swiftly grabbed her bag, pulled out her phone, and found a contact in her directory. But before she could dial, the door was kicked open.

A bodyguard lunged at her, but she swung her bag at him and hurriedly unclipped her seatbelt, leaping out of the vehicle. She could not collapse—not now.

“Oh, so you know how to fight? Too bad—I brought ten men today. I’ll show you what happens when you cross me, Huangpu Qingyin. I’ll make you wish you were dead,” Huangpu Qingyin spat, her voice venomous, her expression twisted. Her allowance had been cut off, and her grandmother demanded she earn her own living. How could a lady of her stature stoop to menial work? All because of the woman before her. And that wretch Xia Wanqing wouldn’t escape, either.

“Ha, then you’d better hope I don’t make it out of here alive today. Otherwise, you’ll learn that the blood of Shangguan Renran is not something anyone can claim at will.”

“Still boasting at death’s door? Go, destroy that face of hers—I can’t stand the sight of it.”

Ten men in black closed in, step by step, surrounding Shangguan Renran. They were strong—likely skilled fighters.

Pressing hard on her wound, she forced herself to stay conscious.

She threw herself into the fray, knowing she could never take on ten men alone. But she was trained by her grandfather—she would never surrender.

Her kicks landed but did little against their solid muscles. Instead, she received several blows to her abdomen, her flaxen hair falling loose and matted with blood.

She managed to land hits on three of them before her strength gave out. She was slammed to the ground, unable to rise.

They kicked her mercilessly in the stomach, yanked her hair—she was utterly spent.

Her face was streaked with blood and cold sweat, lips bitten white, both hands clutching her abdomen as if her insides were being torn apart. Her body was covered in bruises, exposed skin mottled with purple, and she lay on the ground in utter misery.

“Miss,” a bodyguard said, handing a phone to Huangpu Qingyin.

She glanced at the phone, which displayed the contacts page but hadn’t yet dialed.

Squatting beside Shangguan Renran, she grabbed her chin. “Were you trying to call Huangpu Shenqing?”