After Scumming The Eldest Lady Of A Wealthy Family - Chapter 6
Chapter 6
The cold morning air was harsh, and breathing it in felt like a risk—not just from the chill, but from the foul mix of garbage and germs that seemed to cling to it.
After inhaling a few more breaths, Wen Yan felt wary, as if the air itself might poison her. She had no desire to talk and instead quickly pulled Zhang Zixuan aside to grab the key and unlock the door.
But Zhang Zixuan seemed oblivious to her silence and kept babbling on: “I called you yesterday—why did you ignore me? You must’ve heard it! I even chased after you, how could you not hear me?”
Wen Yan, already exhausted and with a headache from the noise, furrowed her brows and spoke flatly through her mask: “Go away.”
“What do you mean by that?” Zhang Zixuan suddenly raised his voice, full of anger. “How can you be so rude? How can you curse at me?”
Wen Yan wanted nothing more than to yell back and poke holes in him with her umbrella.
She wiped the moisture off the car seat, stuck her umbrella in the basket at an angle, and rode off without another word.
Once she left the stinky neighborhood behind, she finally dared to breathe freely. Zhang Zixuan chased after her on his electric bike, calling out: “Don’t go! If you apologize properly, I won’t make things difficult for you!”
Wen Yan glanced at his little electric scooter and scoffed: “No need for you to make things hard. Keep riding. I thought you had a real car, but turns out you don’t even have three wheels. Go back and apologize.”
“What are you trying to say? Looking down on me? Do you think an electric bike is worth less than your crappy bike? Your family can’t even afford a decent bike, let alone an electric one! You should be ashamed…”
Wen Yan snapped back: “I’m smarter than most people, and I have nothing to be proud of. So stop following me.”
“What’s your problem? This road to school isn’t just yours, why can’t I cross it?” Zhang Zixuan pressed, pride flashing in his eyes.
“Wen Yan! Don’t forget, when your sister and mother were almost dying, it was my mom who called an ambulance and took them to the hospital! And don’t forget, you’re renting my house now! Got that?”
At the traffic light, Wen Yan stopped and sneered sideways at him: “Your mom helped, not you. And yes, I’m renting your place—but why do you spread rumors at school that I live with you?”
“I work part-time everywhere, even though I’m busy, I make time to tutor you and your sister. Every penny of that tutoring money is taken from your family. If it weren’t for me, could you have gotten into City One High with your grades?”
“I’ve already paid my debt to your family. If you don’t want me renting, just say so. We’ll move out when the lease is up. So you won’t feel used.”
The neighborhood was old and rundown—more of a dangerous place than a community, with poor security, sanitation, and infrastructure. Anyone who could afford to move out had already done so. Wen Yan had no choice but to accept the neighbor’s offer to rent her eighth-floor apartment, which was overpriced at 600 yuan a month.
She thought this favor would end there, but when the neighbor’s kids needed tutoring for their high school exams, she agreed to help them every day without asking for payment.
The neighbor once helped when she needed an ambulance and stayed with her at the hospital. Wen Yan felt she had repaid that kindness and this time wanted to break the lease, using Zhang Zixuan as a pretext.
Zhang Zixuan knew Wen Yan was right—no one wanted to rent that old eighth-floor apartment for long, even at 500 yuan a month. The 600 yuan rent made good money for the landlord, and if his mother knew about the money lost to his bad habits, he’d be in serious trouble.
Still, with pride he said stiffly, “Your family owes a lot of money. Where else would you find such a cheap place to rent if not here?”
Wen Yan ignored him, and when the light turned green, she rode straight across without another word.
Zhang Zixuan followed, anxiety growing. He worried Wen Yan would really move out and he’d be beaten at home.
When Wen Yan parked her bike on the school’s west side, he stopped beside her: “Alright, alright. I won’t refuse to rent to you. You can stay as long as you want!”
Wen Yan said firmly: “No need anymore. Tell your mom I won’t renew the lease. We’ll move out when it’s up. You should start looking for a new tenant.”
Zhang Zixuan sat on his electric bike, muttering, hoping to avoid trouble.
“If you don’t tell your mom, you’ll be the one losing money when I leave,” Wen Yan warned, holding up her phone: “I recorded our conversation earlier. If your mom denies knowing about the lease ending, I’ll show her this.”
“No, why do you have to record everything?” Zhang Zixuan tried to grab her phone, but Wen Yan kicked the bike’s battery, nearly toppling it.
“To prevent misunderstandings and stop rumors,” Wen Yan replied coolly.
She muted the phone and packed it away. Glancing at him, she warned: “If you keep spreading rumors, don’t blame me for ignoring your family. I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are.”
“What do you mean who I am?” Zhang Zixuan retorted bitterly. “You! Wen Yan, I know what you really do. You work at a bar, right? What kind of work? Sleep with customers?”
“City No. 1 students working in bars? Maybe some are even ladies of the night. Think about how it would look if this got out—do you think the school would expel you?”
Wen Yan’s eyes turned cold, but her lips curved in a slight smile. She whispered, “You can try.”
Her life was finally stable, but people kept trying to drag her back down.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
Zhang Zixuan was scared by her cold gaze. He remembered Wen Yan’s family—the fights, the hardships, the injuries. Their family wasn’t normal, and Wen Yan seemed tougher than most.
Most teens would have crumbled under such pressure. But Wen Yan didn’t shed tears; she took a break from school, borrowed money, and worked tirelessly like a machine.
Suddenly, Zhang Zixuan pictured her as a cold, ruthless criminal from a movie, her eyes sharp and calculating.
He shuddered. How could anyone break someone like Wen Yan?
“I was just joking around,” he muttered awkwardly. “We grew up together, we’re neighbors. We shouldn’t make things so complicated.”
Wen Yan ignored him, grabbed her umbrella, and headed to the school gate.
Zhang Zixuan stayed silent, unwilling to speak now that he was scared. Probably never again.
Could she confront Zhang Zixuan directly? Maybe. But the real problem was the bar job and the rumors it generated—things that couldn’t be solved overnight.
She couldn’t quit the bar job. With her mother ill and sister studying for entrance exams, Wen Yan had to work to support them. The bar was the most convenient and profitable option.
Was there a faster way to get money?
Her mind flickered to Xie Buchi—cool and composed—and her tangled thoughts spiraled.
She couldn’t put all her hopes in one place or leave herself no options. For a moment she hesitated, but then made a firm decision.
She wouldn’t give up her part-time job, but if rumors started affecting her school life, maybe it was time for the school to organize a fundraiser.
There was no shame in being vulnerable in public—she’d endured much worse these past two years.
Face and pride were luxuries Wen Yan couldn’t afford.
When she had to beg for money for medical bills, she regretted not being pitiful enough, not convincing enough to get more help.
If given a second chance, she would spare no effort to get all the resources she could.
To get back at Chen Zixuan, she would wait and find the right moment. But the source of the gossip was too strong for quick fixes.
Despite the distractions, Wen Yan left early and arrived in class seven minutes before morning study.
It seemed she had formed a habit. When she first saw Xie Buchi at the door, she glanced in the direction of “Thank you for not giving up.”
Before self-study started, the classroom was half empty.
Xie Buchi was there early as always, lying face down on the desk, but without headphones today.
Usually, he wore headphones to secretly listen to English or to sleep. Not wearing them could mean he wasn’t feeling well.
After a brief hesitation between going to check on him or not, Wen Yan decided to pretend she hadn’t noticed and returned to her seat to review her homework.
Let him suffer a little longer.
Wen Yan finished her homework but couldn’t help glancing back. Xie Buchi hadn’t looked up the whole time.
Sometimes, harassing someone is an art—if the other party doesn’t want to talk, forcing it only annoys them more.
Xie Buchi needed space. Too clingy and it would annoy him; too distant and he’d sulk.
— From “One Hundred Ways to Lick Thank You” by Wen Yan
Wen Yan felt their ice was broken. When she wanted to talk but had nothing to say, she could tease him under the guise of concern.
“Thank you, did you eat breakfast? How’s today? Still hurting? Want a cup? Need me to get hot water? You didn’t wear your headphones—did you forget them?”
“By the way, I saw rain forecast but no exact time—did you bring an umbrella?”
“Thank you, if you keep sleeping during the day, what do you do at night?”
Xie ignored her until he snapped: “Shut up!”
“Oh, finally talking,” Wen Yan smiled and pointed at his stomach: “Still hurting?”
Xie lay back down, head in arms, fingers twitching—clearly still in pain.
Wen Yan stuck out her tongue, stood up, and left.
As she walked away, Xie pursed his lips, waiting, but no sound came.
He glanced up secretly and noticed Fang Sihui’s seat was empty. Just as anger rose, Wen Yan suddenly sat beside him with a smile: “Hey.”
“Looking for me?” Xie said sideways.
Wen Yan sat close, resting her chin on her hand, and tossed a warm water bottle into his lap.
The bottle thudded down, warm and heavy.
Xie instinctively held it, warmth flowing through his fingers.
Wen gently moved his hand, then unzipped his jacket. Shocked, Xie grabbed her hand away with an annoyed “What are you doing?”
“No big deal, just warming your belly,” Wen said, pulling out her hand and placing the bottle inside his jacket to keep it warm but not too hot.
“Zip it yourself, or want me to do it?”
The heat spread across his lower stomach. Xie lowered his head to zip up but hesitated, then muttered coldly, “I’m not a fool. I can do it myself.”
“Well, you’re not dumb,” Wen replied casually. “That means it hurts so much your hands sweat and you can’t say a word. Or you forgot your heat pack after yesterday.”
“If it hurts so bad, why not take the day off? You won’t be able to sleep or focus here anyway. You’d be better off resting at home.”
Xie’s expression darkened: “None of your business.”
“Okay, okay, if you don’t want to talk, I won’t ask,” Wen made an ‘OK’ sign and stood: “Stop running around and screwing around at noon today. I’ll ask the teacher for you. You can stay in class. If you need anything, find me. If not, also find me.”
She stepped away, and from the noisy classroom came two soft words, barely audible: “Thanks.”
Wen paused, looked back.
Xie avoided her gaze, cheeks faintly pink—whether from the warmth or something else, she wasn’t sure.
Wen smiled, leaning closer, voice gentle but teasing: “Hey, thanks.”
“Next exam, how about being my deskmate?”