We Weren’t Fated, I Just Played My Cards Right - Chapter 35

A transparent liquid trickled from Zhuo Ran’s nose and mouth. Following the scent, it slithered out through the gaps in the hospital window.

From a distance, it looked like nothing more than a puddle of water—unnoticed by anyone.

Down below the inpatient building, a man in a black baseball cap stood motionless, holding two bags of fruit as if visiting a patient.

Anyone paying attention would have noticed he hadn’t moved from that spot for nearly half an hour.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, his eyes gleamed beneath the brim of his hat. He set the fruit down and pulled out a palm-sized incense burner from his coat pocket.

The moment he opened the lid, a puddle of liquid dropped precisely inside.

“This half-finished product was raised quite well by the Zhuo family,” the man muttered excitedly, quickly sealing the lid again.

Then, he picked up the fruit and strode away without looking back.

“Alright, you’ve seen her,” Fang Chuan said bluntly to the Zhuo couple. “Now it’s time to come to the station for questioning.”

“I won’t leave—my daughter hasn’t woken up yet. I need to stay with her,” Lin Qiu refused firmly.

Fang Chuan’s tone was rigidly professional. “That’s not possible. Regulations prohibit prolonged contact with a suspect.”

“Suspect? How dare you! What crime has my daughter committed? She’s just young and foolish!”

Fang Chuan’s gaze remained icy. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the judge fully understands your perspective in the indictment.”

The evidence in Zhuo Ran’s case was irrefutable, leaving no possibility for appeal. Given the severity of the circumstances and her clear intent—even if the crime was attempted—Fang Chuan surmised she would likely receive the maximum sentence.

Moreover, the Zhuo family’s arrogant attitude had left an extremely negative impression on the authorities, even if no concrete misconduct could be pinned on them at the moment.

Zhuo Yongqi hadn’t expected this young officer to be so unyielding. Though inwardly fuming, he knew better than to openly defy him now.

He quickly explained, “Officer, my wife didn’t mean it that way. She’s just overwhelmed with grief and misspoke.”

Fang Chuan smiled without responding.

He could easily distinguish between a slip of the tongue and genuine sentiment.

“Let’s go,” Zhuo Yongqi said, glancing at the hospital room before patting his wife’s shoulder.

“But Ranran is so frail—what if these people don’t take proper care of her?” Lin Qiu protested as her husband guided her away. Even after walking several steps, she refused to turn her head back.

Walking behind Fang Chuan at a distance, Zhuo Yongqi whispered to his wife, “Don’t worry. Let Ranran endure this for now. These people won’t keep watching that substitute forever. We’ll switch their fates back sooner or later.”

Even if their daughter was imprisoned, it wouldn’t matter. Once she was transferred to the capital, he had ways to secure her release in the shortest time possible.

He refused to believe these Qingcheng police would have any authority over his daughter’s affairs once she was in Beijing.

Just as the couple spoke, the monitoring equipment in Zhuo Ran’s room suddenly emitted a shrill alarm.

The officer stationed outside rushed to fetch a doctor. Within moments, a team of medical staff stormed into the room. Blocked from entering, Zhuo Yongqi could only catch fragments of urgent commands: “Cardiac arrest, prepare—”

As doctors and nurses scrambled to stabilize Zhuo Ran’s sudden deterioration, Lin Qiu, realizing what was happening, screamed and tried to force her way inside.

Fang Chuan restrained her with a frown, his own gaze flickering suspiciously toward the room. He pushed Lin Qiu back toward her husband and immediately called Yan Xiu for backup.

Zhuo Ran had been stable earlier—why had she deteriorated right after her parents’ visit? Though the couple had acted concerned, Fang Chuan’s first instinct was to suspect foul play.

By the time Yan Xiu arrived, the doctors were still fighting to save her, but the prognosis was grim.

Nearly half an hour later, their efforts proved futile. The doctor officially declared Zhuo Ran’s heart had stopped—she was dead.

Lin Qiu collapsed in a faint upon hearing the news, while Zhuo Yongqi stood frozen in shock. But when Fang Chuan and Yan Xiu moved to enter the room, he suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Fang Chuan by the collar.

“Was it you?” he roared. “What did you do to my daughter?”

Fang Chuan gripped his wrist and pried his hand open: “Mr. Zhuo, we will investigate the cause of Zhuo Ran’s death thoroughly.”

Yan Xiu’s voice came from inside the ward where he had already examined the body: “We’ve already found the cause.”

His words drew everyone’s attention. Yan Xiu removed the gloves he had worn while handling the corpse and tossed them into the trash bin before stating calmly, “The gu worm inside her is gone.”

He looked up at Zhuo Yongqi and his wife standing at the doorway: “I presume the two of you can tell us what kind of gu your daughter was infected with?”

“How… how is this possible?” Zhuo Yongqi muttered in disbelief, “That gu couldn’t be removed.”

Yan Xiu repeated his question: “What kind of gu was she infected with?”

“The Longevity Gu, an incomplete version of the Longevity Gu,” Zhuo Yongqi’s lips trembled as he spoke. “Our family consulted many gu masters, but none could extract it.”

“An incomplete Longevity Gu…” Yan Xiu mused thoughtfully.

Just by its name, one could tell this was an extremely precious type of gu.

However, it had only been a theoretical concept proposed thirty years ago by a certain gu-controlling family. Whether they had actually attempted to refine it remained unknown.

Later, that family met with misfortune—many clan members were killed or injured. During those chaotic times, no one ever discovered who was responsible. Today, only one descendant of that family remains alive, an elderly man in his eighties who likely doesn’t have many days left.

In their theoretical framework, this gu could extend human lifespan. Keeping the gu within the body was supposed to repair hidden injuries and chronic illnesses.

“Where did you obtain this incomplete Longevity Gu?” Yan Xiu asked with genuine curiosity.

Zhuo Yongqi hesitated momentarily.

Noticing his reluctance to answer, Yan Xiu’s lips curled slightly: “Mr. Zhuo’s reaction makes me suspect you might have some connection to that massacre thirty years ago?”

Zhuo Yongqi shook his head vehemently: “No, no, no! I had nothing to do with it. This incomplete Longevity Gu was given to me by the Xu family.”

“The Xu family?” If he remembered correctly, that gu-controlling family was indeed surnamed Xu.

“They were a branch family. They discovered the hidden incomplete Longevity Gu. Later, when my daughter was celebrating her birthday one year, they wanted to ask me for a favor and gave it to me as a gift.”

“Why would they give you something so valuable?”

“Because this incomplete version had no special effects whatsoever.” Not only was it ineffective, but once it entered the body, it couldn’t be removed. Zhuo Yongqi couldn’t help but resent the Xu family whenever he thought about it.

He never dreamed that over a decade later, the gu worm would leave on its own—but his daughter was gone too!

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Zhuo. We’ll now perform an autopsy on Zhuo Ran to further determine the cause of death.”

Zhuo Yongqi didn’t want to cooperate, but this wasn’t his decision to make.

The autopsy results came quickly and were somewhat unexpected.

The examination of Zhuo Ran’s heart revealed she had suffered from severe heart disease before death. However, according to Zhuo Yongqi and his wife’s account, Zhuo Ran underwent physical examinations at least twice yearly, with all results showing normal.

Unless her heart condition had suddenly deteriorated within the past hour, this must be related to the incomplete Longevity Gu inside her. These incomplete gu worms might not be as useless as people believed.

This incident ultimately led to one outcome: due to the departure of the gu worm, Zhuo Ran suffered a fatal heart attack.

“So, was it the backlash from the interrupted ritual that stimulated the gu worm to leave her body on its own?” Fang Chuan asked while reviewing the autopsy report, his expression puzzled.

“There’s another possibility,” Yan Xiu said. “The gu worm was retrieved by the gu master.”

“But didn’t Zhuo Yongqi say the gu worm couldn’t be extracted?”

Yan Xiu narrowed his eyes slightly. “There’s no such thing as an unextractable gu worm. If it couldn’t be extracted before, it might simply have been because the time wasn’t right—it hadn’t matured enough to leave its host’s body.”

“The Xu family?” Fang Chuan caught on immediately.

Since the gu worm had been sent by the Xu family, it was likely under their control as well.

“I remember one of the accomplices in Zhuo Ran’s case was also surnamed Xu. Quite a coincidence.”

“An even bigger coincidence—I have three similar cases in my hands.” Yan Ling walked in at that moment and tossed a case file to Fang Chuan.

After opening it, Fang Chuan couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “All three victims had severe organ damage before death?”

Yan Ling nodded. “We suspect these semi-finished gu worms might have serious side effects. For example, they damage internal organs but can also replace the organs’ functions, allowing the host to live normally. Once they leave the body, the person can’t survive.”

“Any suspects?” Fang Chuan asked.

Yan Ling shrugged. “There weren’t any before, but now there are.”

The previous cases involved ordinary wealthy individuals who had obtained so-called life-extending methods through shady channels. When the time came, the gu worms were retrieved, and the people died.

However, the sellers might not have been lying—those who bought the life-extending methods did live slightly longer, though their quality of life was reportedly very poor.

Only in Zhuo Ran’s case did the Xu family emerge as a lead.

“I’ll have someone investigate the Xu family,” Yan Ling said with a smile at Fang Chuan.

Fang Chuan closed the case file. “Fine.”

Although Yan Ling seemed to be poaching the case, Fang Chuan didn’t mind much. The Xu family had been laying groundwork for over a decade—investigating them would be too difficult. Better to let headquarters handle it.

Zhuo Ran’s death wasn’t publicly announced, and even Liu Mumu didn’t know. Some at the school spread rumors that Zhuo Ran had been arrested for breaking the law, but few believed it. Even among those present at the birthday banquet, only a handful knew the truth.

Most believed she had withdrawn from school due to health reasons.

Xu Anze wasn’t as well-known as Zhuo Ran, so his departure only sparked a few days of discussion among students in the same department.

Time passed quickly. Before long, Liu Mumu had been at the university for several months. She had arrived in Qingcheng during summer, and now it was already winter.

The temperature this winter felt more like late autumn compared to her hometown up north.

Yet she still instinctively bundled herself up like a bear—this was the last stubborn defiance of a northerner. No one could make her give up her thermal leggings or down jacket.

Not even the mildest winter could change that.

Of course, these weren’t the things that troubled her. The only thing that could truly plague a student was exams.

At the end of the semester, they officially entered exam week.

All four roommates were frantically flipping through their textbooks at their desks, especially Xue Lan, who sat studying from morning till night.

As she put it, you had to hold onto at least one thing—love or academics. Since she’d already lost love, only a scholarship could mend her broken heart.

In short, the grind was on.

Liu Mumu also studied diligently, but there was one subject she simply couldn’t conquer—advanced mathematics.

She never understood why college students had to learn advanced math. Wasn’t that just inhumane?

This semester, she had studied it… or at least, she thought she had. In reality, it was as if she hadn’t learned a thing.

In the end, she could only pin her hopes on metaphysics…

Would the invigilator really kick her out of the exam hall if she flipped a coin for answers?

After the advanced math exam, Liu Mumu decided that once her last test was over, she’d pay her respects to her grandfather—to thank him for forcing her to practice coin divination, which had saved her from failing.

Once exams ended, everyone started packing for winter break.

Since Liu Mumu’s home was in Qingcheng, she didn’t have much to pack.

On the day of their break, Old Dong came to pick her up as usual.

After nearly half a year of adjustment, Jiang Li was now perfectly calm around Liu Mumu. When Dong Zhenghao walked in with the luggage and Liu Mumu in tow, she even greeted them: “You’re back.”

From the couch, Dong Qi let out a loud, derisive snort, making his disdain for a certain someone abundantly clear.

Even though his own mother had already “surrendered,” he remained steadfast on the frontlines of resistance against Liu Mumu—absolutely unyielding!

“Xiao Qi’s on winter break now, right? How were your final exams?” Liu Mumu asked casually.

Dong Qi shot her a wary glance, but Jiang Li answered for him: “Not bad. He passed everything.”

The Dong family didn’t set high academic expectations for their children—or rather, their only son. As long as he passed, it was fine. After all, he stood to inherit Dong Zhenghao’s vast fortune someday, so grades weren’t that important.

“Is that so?” Liu Mumu’s lips curled slightly. “What was his math score?”

“Your little brother scored over 110 in math. The kid’s sharp—takes after me,” Dong Zhenghao declared proudly.

Dong Qi fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch.

“That’s really impressive,” she praised.

The topic should have ended there, but during dinner, Liu Mumu asked about Dong Yue’s grades.

Dong Yue didn’t hide anything, listing all her scores.

Her results were… decidedly average. Her humanities subjects were decent, but her math score had barely scraped a pass. For a high school sophomore, barely passing math likely meant she was at the bottom of her grade.

Jiang Li’s expression darkened, and she couldn’t help scolding, “You keep saying you’re studying, but how are you even doing it? You didn’t even pass math! There’s a parent-teacher meeting after the break, but I’m not going—I refuse to be humiliated like that.”

“Exactly,” Dong Zhenghao agreed with his wife, tapping his chopsticks toward his younger daughter. “You should learn more from your brother. He barely studies, yet his grades are still better than yours.”

Now that’s the true heir of the Dong family! Dong Zhenghao thought proudly to himself.

Dong Qi snorted smugly and said to his father, “Dad, I want a sports car.”

Dong Zhenghao hesitated. “You’re still too young. You don’t even have a driver’s license yet—what would you do with a sports car?”

“I don’t care, I want one. I can’t drive it now, but I will in a year. Buy it for me!” he whined persistently.

Jiang Li chimed in to support him. “The child did well on his exams for once. It’s just a sports car—buy it for him.”

She had her own ulterior motives. After all, the money would be spent on their son anyway. The more they spent now, the less would be left for Liu Mumu later.

Not long ago, Dong Zhenghao had even considered buying Liu Mumu a villa. Though he ultimately didn’t go through with it, Jiang Li had taken note of the idea.

“Fine, fine, I’ll buy it,” Dong Zhenghao finally relented under the combined pressure of his son and wife.

The family was all smiles—except for Dong Yue, who remained excluded as usual.

After dinner, Liu Mumu suddenly took out a coin and pushed it toward Dong Zhenghao.

He was surprised. His daughter was actually offering to read his fortune? That was rare.

“Shake a hexagram, Dad. I’ll divine for you.”

“Divine what?”

“Whether Dong Qi is really your biological son.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jiang Li nearly jumped up before Dong Zhenghao could respond.

“Mumu, watch your words,” Dong Zhenghao said sternly, though he didn’t dare to be too harsh. “Don’t say things like that again.”

Liu Mumu remained smiling, idly flicking the coin on the table. “Let’s analyze this. Both your daughters barely pass math, yet your son scores nearly perfect. Who do you think actually inherited your math skills?”

Dong Zhenghao stiffened.

“Dad, one should be honest with oneself,” Liu Mumu continued.

Alright, Dong Zhenghao had to admit—he had no math skills to speak of.

His level was elementary school at best.

Liu Mumu turned to Dong Qi, who was still gloating over his soon-to-be sports car. “I’m not questioning his parentage—just his grades.”

“What do you mean? Qiqi’s report card is right here!”

Furious that her son’s hard-earned high scores were being doubted, Jiang Li stormed upstairs to retrieve the report card he had given her.

She slammed the report card onto the table: “How can this be fake? I know you don’t like Qiqi, but he’s still your brother after all…”

Liu Mumu slid the report card over to Dong Yue and asked, “Did your middle school report cards look like this?”

Dong Yue hesitated for a moment, glancing at Dong Qi.

Dong Qi was glaring at her fiercely.

Dong Yue lowered her eyes. “The paper is different.”

“What did you say? Fake?” Dong Zhenghao abruptly stood up and snatched the report card.

“To confirm its authenticity, it’s best to ask his homeroom teacher,” Liu Mumu interjected at the right moment.

Because they were usually busy with work and Dong Qi had always performed poorly and caused trouble, the couple rarely contacted his homeroom teacher. The teacher, aware of their attitude, usually reached out to Dong Zhenghao’s secretary instead.

Dong Zhenghao asked his secretary for the homeroom teacher’s number and made the call.

Ten minutes later, he hung up—Dong Qi had already disappeared to who-knows-where.

The truth came out: his math score was only 11 points, not over 110.

Indeed, he was Dong Zhenghao’s biological son—no mistake about it.

In the end, Dong Zhenghao dragged Dong Qi out from the bathroom in his room.

After using a rolling pin last time, he seemed to have taken a liking to it—this time, he went straight to the kitchen to fetch one before hunting his son down.

Last time, Dong Qi hadn’t run because he was still recovering from a bone fracture. Now that he was fully healed, there was no way he’d stay put and take the beating.

Father chased son around the house while Liu Mumu took out a tub of ice cream from the fridge and handed Dong Yue a spoon.

Dong Yue whispered, “Mom bought this for Dong Qi.”

It was his favorite flavor.

“Someone who scored 11 in math doesn’t deserve ice cream,” Liu Mumu scooped a large spoonful, thoroughly satisfied. The house should always be this lively.

In the end, Dong Qi was slightly slower—his pace faltered on the stairs, allowing his father to pin him down on the landing and give him a solid thrashing.

Amidst wails and curses directed at Liu Mumu and Dong Yue, Dong Zhenghao roared, “You dare curse your sisters? At least your sister passed math! What about you? Eleven points—how did you even manage that?” His face flushed red with anger, feeling utterly humiliated by his son.

Their homeroom teacher had even tactfully informed him that Dong Qi ranked last in the entire school.

With grades like that, he’d had the audacity to ask for a sports car!

The thought alone reinvigorated Dong Zhenghao’s rolling pin-wielding arm.

“How did you know his math score was fake?” Dong Yue quietly asked Liu Mumu.

Liu Mumu took another bite of ice cream. “He doesn’t have the face of someone smart.”

Aside from physiognomy, there was another crucial reason Liu Mumu absolutely refused to accept: even fortune-telling couldn’t save her math scores. How could Dong Qi possibly be so much better than her?

Was she dumber than Dong Qi? Absolutely not.

Genetics never lied, after all.

Dong Zhenghao’s disciplinary session lasted a full hour. The villa echoed with howls of misery. The sports car was gone, his vacation was canceled, and he was now grounded, waiting for a tutor to arrive and teach him math.

Dong Qi was utterly broken. That night, once everyone had gone to bed, he quickly packed his gaming console and computer—determined to run away from home.

The next morning, Jiang Li woke up to find her son’s room empty, the bed cold to the touch. Panicked, she hurried to wake Dong Zhenghao.

The couple’s commotion soon roused the entire household.

Jiang Li rushed to check the surveillance footage. As she stepped outside, she noticed the neighboring Zhang family was also in chaos. Upon asking, she learned their eldest grandson, Zhang Yang, had also gone missing.

After reviewing the footage, it turned out Dong Qi and Zhang Yang had left the neighborhood together. Dong Qi, in particular, was dragging a suitcase behind him, clearly staging a runaway.

“It’s all your fault! Why did you have to hit him? So what if he scored eleven points on his exam? Was it such a big deal that you drove him to run away?” Jiang Li couldn’t help but blame Dong Zhenghao.

Before Dong Zhenghao could respond, Liu Mumu chimed in, “No need to blame Dad. If a sapling grows crooked, it’s probably because it hasn’t been beaten down by society. Look at me and Yueyue—we turned out just fine.”

Jiang Li thought to herself, How can you compare yourselves to my son? But Dong Zhenghao nodded in agreement. “Mumu’s right. It’s all because you spoiled him too much.”

“This isn’t the time for that—where on earth have the kids gone?” Zhang Yang’s grandmother anxiously cut in.

“Mom, maybe we should call the police first,” suggested Zhang Yang’s stepmother, the daughter-in-law of the Zhang family.

Before anyone else could react, the old lady slapped her across the face. “If you hadn’t upset Yangyang, would he have run away? If anything happens to my grandson, you’ll pay for it!”

The Zhang family matriarch’s unreasonable behavior was a perfect mirror of Dong Zhenghao’s mother back in the day.

Feeling a pang of sympathy, Jiang Li pulled the Zhang daughter-in-law aside and stepped forward to mediate. “Auntie, those boys are grown now, and they have money. Nothing too serious will happen.”

She had been too frantic earlier, but upon reflection, her son wasn’t a little kid who could be easily abducted.

Still fuming, the old lady shot her daughter-in-law a glare but softened slightly toward Jiang Li. “So you think we shouldn’t call the police?”

“No need. I’ll call some relatives first. Besides, once my troublemaker starts swiping his credit card, we’ll know exactly where he is.” Jiang Li was certain her son wouldn’t have gone far.