My Gloomy Stepsister Has Her Eyes on Me - Chapter 26

When Zhen Zhu arrived home, the only sound was the gentle murmur of the fountain in the small garden. The bodyguard stood ramrod straight at the entrance.

As she stepped into the hall, she saw Aunt Wang standing rigidly beside her father, trembling slightly. Zhen Zhu immediately understood why.

As if only just noticing his daughter’s arrival, Zhen Hongbo looked up, his usual warm and affectionate tone unchanged. “You’re back?”

“Yes, I’m back.”

“Where’s Zhen Min’er?”

“At the hospital.”

Zhen Zhu’s curt replies revealed a newfound clarity. Now that she realized her father didn’t love her as deeply as she’d imagined, she felt a strange sense of understanding, as if she’d known this all along.

But why?

Zhen Zhu glanced at her father, who was gesturing warmly for her to sit. She slowly took a seat.

If she’d known she would grow so close to her father, would she have acted differently? Was it the influence of the plot? She would never have accepted this outcome.

“Daughter, what you did today wasn’t right, but I understand your reasons,” Zhen Hongbo said gently, his expression softening with what seemed like boundless affection.

Hearing this, Zhen Zhu glared up at him. “Then Father, are you blaming me? I’d like to know exactly what I did wrong.”

“……”

Zhen Hongbo was momentarily taken aback by Zhen Zhu’s counter-question. He quickly regained his composure, softening his tone. “I’m not blaming you…”

“But Father, when you criticize my actions, you are blaming me,” Zhen Zhu retorted, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I simply want to know what specifically you think I did wrong. Did I bring shame upon the Zhen Family? Was it because I jumped into the water to save someone?” She scoffed. “Do you really think I was wrong to do that? Surely not?”

Stung by her sharp words, Zhen Hongbo frowned in disapproval. “What kind of talk is this? How dare you speak to your father like that?”

How dare you speak to your father like that?

The exact same words, spoken in the same tone, echoed in Zhen Zhu’s mind and in the room simultaneously.

So, Father used to say that too? When? Zhen Zhu stared at her father, a man both familiar and alien. “Father, I’m speaking normally. I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

She picked up two pieces of fruit from the coffee table with a fork, chewed them slowly, and swallowed.

Suppressing her urge to retort, Zhen Zhu waited for her father’s reply.

“…What’s gotten into you?” Zhen Hongbo frowned and sighed, accepting the tea from Aunt Wang. He took a small sip before exhaling heavily. “Zhu’er, you weren’t like this before.”

“…What was I like before?” Since he’d brought it up, Zhen Zhu wanted to know. “What does Father think I was like?”

The hazy memories had always made her feel uneasy.

“You’ve always been a well-behaved and sensible daughter, the apple of my eye,” Zhen Hongbo said sternly. “At least, you never used to behave in ways that would embarrass your father like you did today.”

“What behavior embarrassed you, Father?”

Setting down her fruit fork, Zhen Zhu’s fox-like eyes radiated a cold, icy chill. Even her father couldn’t sway her—she refused to accept accusations she found baseless.

Zhen Zhu countered, “Was it my clothes after I fell into the water?”

With a derisive snort, she added, “Does Father also believe, like those trashy people, that I should feel ashamed for exposing my body?”

“…Of course not.”

Zhen Hongbo took another sip of tea and shook his head. “You should have changed into dry clothes with your Aunt J after getting wet, rather than abandoning your Grandfather J’s dinner.”

“Oh.”

Zhen Zhu’s eyes and brows radiated arrogance. “The Zhen Family is no less prestigious than the J Family.”

“Besides, Father, you were there.”

Zhen Zhu emphasized again, “Just as I said earlier, Father, your presence alone was the greatest honor we could bestow upon the J Family.”

“As for changing clothes, I’ll change when I feel like it, and not when I don’t.”

“No one can dictate my actions. Why should I bow to the opinions of those trashy gossips and feel ashamed enough to change?”

“Speaking of which, Father,” Zhen Zhu sneered, “I’d like to ask why you didn’t defend me?”

“If I’m truly your precious pearl, wouldn’t their insults against me also be insults against you?” The fact that her father, who had always indulged her, failed to support her in such a public setting—instead siding with others—still infuriated Zhen Zhu. “Father, do you even see me as your precious pearl?”

“If you had simply spoken up, those people wouldn’t have dared to judge me.”

Zhen Zhu looked up at her father. “Why?”

Those proud eyes are just like Mingyue’s… How nostalgic.

Such a pity.

With a soft sigh, Zhen Hongbo chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t need to explain, Zhu’er.”

“I only need to act.”

“Zhu’er, never doubt your father’s love for you,” Zhen Hongbo said, his expression softening with longing. “After your mother passed away, you became the most precious thing in my life.”

“I’ve kept track of everyone who slandered you,” Zhen Hongbo said with a smile, sealing the fates of those he spoke of. “I’ll find a way to bankrupt them all.”

“Then, Zhu’er can witness the consequences. How could anyone who dares to provoke the Zhen Family’s pearl ever hope for a good outcome?”

“…” Zhen Zhu stared at Zhen Hongbo, who seemed to dote on her endlessly. Yet, instead of warmth, a chill crept into her heart. “If that’s how you feel, Father, why did you scold me earlier?”

“How could I ever scold my precious pearl?” Zhen Hongbo chuckled. “I simply wanted to see if my daughter was prepared to face the consequences.”

“…What consequences?”

“My dear daughter,” Zhen Hongbo said with a smile, “while your father can resolve most problems for you…”

“There’s one thing I can’t fix—something you must face alone.”

“The power of public opinion.”

Without waiting for Zhen Zhu’s reply, Zhen Hongbo handed the teacup to Aunt Wang and stood up. “Since Zhu’er is in such good spirits, this old father can rest easy.”

“Oh, right,” Zhen Hongbo said, as if suddenly remembering something. He turned back to Zhen Zhu. “When did you and Min’er start getting along?”

Zhen Zhu fell silent. The mere mention of Zhen Min’er’s name conjured a vivid memory of Zhen Min’er massaging her waist. A faint tingling sensation spread across her side. Thinking of Jining Lan, she snorted coldly and replied to her father, “Zhen Min’er and I don’t get along.”

“Then why did you go into the water specifically to…”

“I just happened to see her and pulled her out,” Zhen Zhu interrupted. “Otherwise, people would have said I was being malicious!”

“Oh, I see,” Zhen Hongbo nodded thoughtfully. “Good night, daughter.”

Zhen Zhu watched her father leave.

His earlier words echoed in her mind:

“The power of public opinion.”

Suddenly, her mother’s childhood lesson flashed through her mind:

Daughter, remember this: you live for yourself, not for the opinions of others.

Her usually perplexed fox-like eyes regained their composure. Yes, if I lived for others’ opinions, I might as well not live at all.

Let them wag their tongues as they please. They’ll just have to face the consequences of their words.

Hmph, Zhen Zhu rose. Those fools aren’t worth my time.

Lying back in bed, Zhen Zhu checked her phone and saw a reply:

The gloves you ordered will be delivered tomorrow.

After washing up and getting into bed, Zhen Zhu squeezed her panda plushie and called the doctor.

“Are you asking about the man who went upstairs earlier, Ms. Zhen? He just left.”

“Okay.”

Hanging up, Zhen Zhu closed her eyes.

Then opened them again.

For some reason, the pitiful, deer-like eyes she’d glimpsed as she left the hospital kept flashing through her mind, making it impossible to fall asleep.

Zhen Zhu opened the novel written by her friend, which she hadn’t read in a while. In just under a month, there were already 180,000 words of new updates.

After reading two chapters, she found it as thrilling as ever, but…

She just couldn’t focus.

Opening WeChat, Zhen Zhu decided to ask Lin Zhi about her strange behavior earlier that evening—

She’d only typed one character when she suddenly realized something.

She and Zhen Min’er seemed to have each other on WeChat.

The memory slowly became clearer.

After returning to China, Zhen Zhu had added Zhen Min’er on WeChat for convenience. But it seemed that after Jining Lan spoke up for Zhen Min’er again…

She had blocked Zhen Min’er?

Zhen Zhu felt like her past self must have lost her mind.

Otherwise, why would she block Zhen Min’er because of Jining Lan? What a nerve Jining Lan had!

Zhen Zhu immediately unblocked Zhen Min’er.

Then, she tapped herself, Time to sleep. Tomorrow I have to entertain guests.

And… find a way to increase Zhen Min’er’s Happiness Value.

Zhen Min’er was truly persistent, and with that lingering, hazy memory, Zhen Zhu reminded herself to quickly max out the Happiness Value to 100 and then stay far away from the male and female leads.

Only then… could she completely escape the plot. Otherwise, there was a high chance she might revert to her old self one day, consumed by jealousy?

Pursuing Jining Lan?

At that thought, Zhen Zhu shivered. Chasing after that blockhead would be worse than death.

Ding-dong—

A notification suddenly chimed on her phone.

Zhen Zhu had a habit of muting WeChat notifications from friends before bed.

To avoid disturbing her sleep, Zhen Zhu had set her WeChat to “Do Not Disturb” for all but about thirty friends.

She only needed to check her messages when she woke up and had the time.

This habit served two main purposes. First, it kept Lin Zhi, that chatterbox, at bay. Whether abroad or at home, Lin Zhi would bombard her with a flurry of messages whenever something popped into her head, completely oblivious to whether Zhen Zhu was asleep.

Second, it prevented Ba Xueyue from flooding her with long paragraphs about plot discussions. As an author, Ba Xueyue often sent lengthy explanations to help Zhen Zhu follow the story, and Zhen Zhu would occasionally chime in with a few comments when she woke up and felt like it.

The problem was that neither of them had any sense of time. One was a night owl who loved gossip, while the other was a writer who burned the midnight oil.

To protect her sleep, Zhen Zhu had adopted this habit long ago.

Do Not Disturb…

Could someone have forgotten to turn it on?

Zhen Zhu grabbed her phone.

It was a message from Zhen Min’er:

“I’m…”

Zhen Zhu tapped to open it.

Message: Zhen Min’er retracted a message.