Rong Yu squeezed her way through the crowd.
The mont they saw her, Hong's Father and Hong Xia’s expressions stiffened.
Although the CEO had claid that the incident with Manager Zheng had nothing to do with Rong Yu, their instincts told them she was far from simple.
“You said Yu Qingbai worked as a manager at Hongyun Supermarket, correct?” Rong Yu spoke calmly. “During employnt, companies are required to pay social insurance, housing funds, and taxes. If these records don’t exist, it ans Hongyun Supermarket is violating labor laws and evading taxes. Should we involve the authorities to investigate?”
Hong's Father froze on the spot.
He had treated his son-in-law like a workhorse, never paying him a proper salary—let alone handling insurance or taxes.
If this got out, wouldn’t the authorities assu his little supermarket was dodging taxes?
He didn’t dare utter another word, dragging Hong Xia away in a hurry.
Yu Qingbai looked at Rong Yu with mixed emotions. “Xiao Yu, if you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have known what to do…”
Rong Yu couldn’t help but say, “Even after all this, you still won’t divorce her?”
“I’ve already filed for divorce.” Yu Qingbai sighed. “The house was bought with my parents’ life savings, but sohow it was transferred to Hong Xia’s na. If we divorce, I’ll walk away with nothing—no assets, no custody of the kids. It’s hard to accept… But forget it. As long as I can get out, I’m still young. I can start over.”
“No, we can’t just let it go.” Rong Yu cut in. “Uncle and Aunt worked their whole lives to save up for that house. How can we let soone else take it? I’ll find you a lawyer. Leave this to them.”
She checked the ti. “I have class soon—gotta go!”
Rong Yu sent Ji Zhiyuan a ssage, asking him to arrange things.
Senior year was intense but fulfilling, and Rong Yu thrived in the busy rhythm.
Just as she finished solving an equation, she overheard classmates whispering about their plans for Saturday.
“Let’s et at 7 a.m. outside Ji's Entertainnt to grab the best spots.”
“I’ll be making light sticks and banners, so I might be late.”
“Oh, and bring small stools. Last ti, we ended up sitting on the ground when we got tired…”
Rong Yu paused.
She rembered the second live performance two weeks ago—her classmates had gathered outside the studio, watching the broadcast on the big screen to cheer her on since they couldn’t get in.
Their support ant more than she could say.
“No need for all that trouble,” she spoke up. “You can watch from inside the venue. There’ll be seats.”
The class monitor gaped. “Seriously?”
The live audience was usually handpicked by the show’s producers. How could her die-hard fans get in?
“But you won’t have voting rights.” Rong Yu pulled out her phone. “I’ll send you each a QR code for entry.”
There was already a reserved section for family mbers in the final episode—using it a little early wouldn’t hurt.
“Ahhh, Rong Yu, you’re amazing!” The study monitor nearly lost it. “I’ve never been to a live show before! I can’t even imagine how happy I’ll be!”
The whole class erupted in excitent, chattering nonstop.
Rong Yu cleared her throat. “If this affects your studies too much, maybe we should forget it.”
Instant silence fell over the room.
Everyone buried themselves in their test papers, scribbling furiously, terrified of being kicked out by Rong Yu.
Pei Yaru was stunned.
Since when had these students beco so driven?
After school, a group of students crowded around Rong Yu, offering advice.
“Sis Yu, your left profile is flawless—try facing the cara that way tomorrow.”
“Sis Yu, red looks stunning on you. Ask the crew for a red costu.”
“But wouldn’t white suit a ballad better than red…?”
Their chatter buzzed on.
Standing at the school gate, Rong Ruoyao watched Rong Yu at the center of the crowd, her heart souring.
When Rong Yu first transferred to No. 1 High, they’d been in the sa class—back then, Rong Yu had been ostracized, without a single friend.
Now, in the science-track class, every student adored her, all becoming her fans.
anwhile, not one person in Rong Ruoyao’s class cared to attend her performances.
Then again, it made sense.
Her class was the elite humanities stream—top students with no ti for frivolities.
Rong Yu’s Class 20 was infamous for its slackers, obsessed with fun over studies. A bunch of misfits who’d regret it when they failed their exams.
“Yao Yao.” Song Huai approached. “You made a few mistakes in today’s Olympiad training. Want to go over them?”
ntion of the Olympiad made Rong Ruoyao’s head spin.
She’d always excelled in math, assuming the Olympiad would be manageable. But days of intensive training had drained her. The more ti she spent, the worse she perford, with zero progress.
Worst of all, it ate into her singing and dancing practice.
“Thanks, Song Huai, but I’ve figured it out.” She forced a smile. “It’s getting late—I should head ho.”
Song Huai frowned.
She’d struggled with those problems all day. How had she solved them alone so suddenly?
He didn’t buy it but said nothing more.
Exhausted, Rong Ruoyao returned ho.
Shen Lin handed her a soothing tea. “Did you practice singing and dancing at school today?”
“I was stuck in Olympiad training—it’s unbearable.” Rong Ruoyao groaned. “Mom, can I quit the Olympiad?”
Shen Lin’s expression hardened. “No.”
Her tone softened slightly. “Academic credentials are your greatest asset. An Olympiad dal would skyrocket your credibility in the entertainnt industry—do you know how rare that is?”
Rong Ruoyao bit her lip.
The industry was full of low-educated stars, making “scholar” personas highly coveted.
But the Olympiad was so. damn. hard.
Shen Lin was firm. “The Olympiad takes priority. You can ease up on singing and dancing for now. Your popularity ranking is first anyway—even if you bomb this performance, you won’t be eliminated. You can recover in later rounds.”
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