Meng Weixi made two overseas calls to communicate about work. He spoke fluent English in a very pleasant tone. As he chatted and laughed, his eyebrows and eyes slanted to his temples. The neon lights outside the window flowed in and cast a layer of light and shadow on his shoulders.
The call ended fifteen minutes later.
Meng Weixi's expression changed almost instantly as she walked back to her desk from the floor-to-ceiling window. The person opposite her at the spacious mahogany table had been waiting for a long time. Meng Weixi pulled out a leather chair and sat down. "Did you find anything?"
The man being questioned was around thirty years old, surnamed Guan, named Qian, and had a face that looked as steady as a mountain.
Guan Qian handed over a file folder, his voice rough, "We found it. All of Miss Zhao's medical examination reports are in here."
Chapter 39 An Arrow Piercing the Clouds (4)
Meng Weixi opened the thin sheet of paper. Before even reading it, he already knew that Zhao Xiyin's illness was probably not serious. He read it in order, starting with the medical record, then the ultrasound report, and finally the blood test results.
External injuries: both arms have sharp object cuts, more severe on the left wrist; moderate tendon damage (grade 2); minor bone fracture.
Meng Weixi looked grave, examined the document twice, and asked Guan Qian, "Was it a fall? A car accident?"
Guan Qian: "Ms. Zhao bumped into the glass cabinet. Half of the glass was already worn out, and when she fell, the whole piece of glass shattered. From what I understand, she was cut in many places by the broken glass, on her face, neck, and legs, but her wrists were the most seriously injured."
Meng Weixi subconsciously curled her fingers, and the few pages of paper instantly became twisted and messy.
He narrowed his eyes, trying his best to control his emotions, even though he had expected it, he still wanted to hear the answer with his own ears.
Why did it bump into the glass display case?
"I was pushed."
The air seemed to stand still, the blood withered, and Meng Weixi, hardened and stiff, became a sharp knife, finally piercing through the thick ice.
He said, "Zhou Qishen."
Guan Qian replied, "Yes."
"Their relationship began to change in the latter half of 2016, and they even separated for a month. The arguments escalated before the Lunar New Year, but no matter how much they argued, Zhou Qishen and Zhao Xiyin never mentioned divorce. The real point of contention was this incident. I couldn't find out the specific details, but I asked a surgeon, and according to the descriptions in these medical reports, Ms. Zhao was pushed hard. Also, before they signed the divorce agreement, Ms. Zhao went to the United States and didn't return to Beijing for about two and a half months. In the first three months after the divorce, she traveled to the south, mainly staying in some water towns to relax. In the fourth month, in winter, she returned to the United States alone and stayed there for about two months."
Meng Weixi asked in a hoarse voice, "What did she go to America for?"
Guan Qian said, "She's staying at her aunt's villa, probably just to keep her aunt company."
Meng Weixi had an excellent memory. He knew that Zhao Lingxia was a successful businesswoman, and that she was busy with work and had a strong and assertive personality. "Her aunt has a weak sense of romance and wouldn't care about so much family companionship."
Guan Qian didn't quite understand, after all, it was already quite an achievement to uncover so much about Zhou Qishen's reasons for the divorce and the details. Meng Weixi didn't think much of it either; his mind was like a wasteland right now, he pressed one hand to his forehead and pinched his brow hard.
"I also found out that Zhou Qishen has been undergoing psychological counseling and related treatment for the past two years," Guan Qian said. "You should remember his psychologist, Mr. Meng."
"It's Lin Yi, Dr. Lin."
Meng Weixi raised her head and frowned.
I have more than just a memory of him; during his first year away from Beijing, he was in extremely poor spirits and even had self-destructive tendencies, so he went to see a psychologist. Dr. Lin Yi, who worked at a renowned psychological institution in the United States, treated Meng Weixi. Afterwards, he returned to China to develop his career.
Whether it was a coincidence or a tragic fate, he and Zhou Qishen were like oil and water, mutually restraining and mutually reinforcing each other, destined to be enemies, yet always intertwined in countless ways.
When reporting on matters, Guan Qian always maintains a proper attitude and adheres to reason. "It is widely known in the industry that Zhou Qishen has a poor relationship with his family of origin. I have checked relevant information and it is possible that his personality is flawed in handling certain issues, making him prone to impulsiveness and extremes."
After a few seconds of silence, Meng Weixi swept his hand across the table, knocking all the documents, contracts, and the Macbook to the floor. The crashing and banging sounds were sharp and piercing, filled with immense anger and resentment.
Guan Qian quickly stood up. "President Meng, where are you going?"
On a late autumn night, Meng Weixi, without even taking a coat, grabbed his car keys, kicked open the door, and walked out. Guan Qian couldn't stop him, nor did he dare to; all he could smell was the menacing stench of blood.
——
There's some kind of commercial ribbon-cutting ceremony going on in Sanlitun tonight, so there are a lot of people and traffic jams. When Zhou Qishen came around from Jianguo Road, he was stuck in traffic for half an hour near the west side of Changhong Bridge. But he was in a good mood, and he didn't get impatient as the traffic flowed.
There were vibrant champagne roses on the passenger seat, and three or four exquisite paper bags in the back seat, gifts he had personally picked out at Shin Kong Mitsukoshi that afternoon.
The troupe had extra training in the afternoon, and the rehearsal took up a lot of time, so Zhao Xiyin hadn't dismissed the group yet. When they arrived at the Workers' Stadium, Zhou Qishen drove the car into the underground parking garage, unbuckled his seatbelt, and waited in the car.
The fragrance of the flowers was rich and soothing. The car was still running, and the brightness of the dashboard was just right, softening Zhou Qishen's already rugged profile.
He was leaning back in his seat, his head resting on the back of the chair, with his eyes closed.
Strangely, he expected to be emotionally turbulent, but when the moment truly arrived, his mind was strangely calm. It was also contradictory; two conflicting scenarios tested each other in his head: winning back the girl he loved, treating her even better from then on, and making up for past regrets. Meanwhile, another little voice in his mind pointed and gestured at him with knives, forks, swords, and spears—"That crack, have you really thought about how to repair it?"
Zhou Qishen's heart skipped a beat, but he was quickly won over by his inner desire.
He loved this girl.
Every time we held hands, every time we hugged, every time I risked my life for her.
My love for you has only grown stronger over time.
The phone rang, and Zhao Xiyin sent a WeChat message: "Training is over, wait for me for five minutes."
Zhou Qishen was focused on the screen, replying to a message, when the car door was opened before he even noticed. Meng Weixi's white supercar was blocking his way.
Meng Weixi was truly fierce, defusing the momentum of his Land Rover's wheels. He grabbed Zhou Qishen's hand, but it was too fast, and Zhou Qishen lost his balance, so he simply rolled down with the force, pushing Meng Weixi along with him, and the two of them fell to the ground together.
During the scuffle, Meng Weixi gained the upper hand, pinning Zhou Qishen down and raining down punches with ruthlessness and cruelty, truly wanting to kill him.
"Are you fucking crazy?!" Zhou Qishen cursed, bending his knee and thrusting upwards, hitting Meng Weixi's stomach, the most vulnerable part of her abdomen. Meng Weixi broke out in a cold sweat from the pain. Zhou Qishen seized the opportunity to retaliate, returning all his punches. "Are you sick in the head?!"
Meng Weixi collapsed to the ground, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, crimson like blood plum blossoms, a truly gruesome sight.
Zhou Qishen didn't fare any better; a bloody gash appeared on his brow bone, and drops of blood flowed down his cheek, staining his collar.
Meng Weixi propped herself up on her knees and then punched Zhou Qishen directly in the temple. "You bastard Zhou, you're a total scumbag! You stole Xiaoxi from me, and then you didn't cherish her. Why did you have to hurt her?!"