We Weren’t Fated, I Just Played My Cards Right - Chapter 6

After a brief hesitation, Dong Zhenghao followed.

And just as Liu Mumu had said, it truly was his final glimpse of Qin Kai.

The emergency room doors closed and then reopened. The doctor regretfully announced that the patient had succumbed to excessive bl00d loss due to the reopening of all his wounds.

Standing outside the emergency room, Dong Zhenghao listened to Mrs. Qin’s wails, a chill running down his spine.

It wasn’t until past five in the afternoon, after the Qin family had arrived at the hospital, that Dong Zhenghao and Jiang Li—whom he had called down to console Mrs. Qin—wearily returned to their son’s ward.

As they approached the door, they heard Dong Qi’s weak but defiant voice: “Listen, don’t you dare put on an act or think you can take advantage of our family. Every penny of the Dong family’s money will be mine—you worthless girls won’t get a single cent! You’ll all be kicked out sooner or later!”

Dong Zhenghao and his wife remained unfazed, seeing nothing wrong with their son’s words.

When the old lady was still alive, she had doted on her precious grandson since childhood, telling him repeatedly that everything in the Dong family would one day be his—a belief everyone tacitly accepted.

As the sole owner of the Dong family’s wealth, Dong Zhenghao naturally intended for his son to inherit everything. As for his daughters, they would receive a dowry and be married off—there was no question of letting them lay a finger on the family’s money or business.

In the hospital room, Dong Qi was still pointing at Liu Mumu and spouting nonsense.

The “worthless burden” he mentioned didn’t just refer to Liu Mumu who suddenly had to move into their home, but also included his own biological sister, Dong Yue.

Deep down, he believed his grandmother was right—raising Dong Yue and paying for her education was already more than she deserved. Once he inherited the family business, he could kick her out. That was his right as the eldest son of the Dong family.

Even Dong Yue, who had grown up hearing such remarks, found them repulsive, but she never argued back. Because whenever she quarreled with Dong Qi, she was always the one who ended up apologizing.

But Liu Mumu wasn’t about to indulge his nonsense. She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and said, “You’d think there was a royal throne waiting for you to inherit. How much fake liquor did you drink to get this delusional?”

Dong Qi snorted coldly. “Don’t get cocky. I’ll have my dad kick you out in no time.”

“Afraid you’ll be disappointed. Your dad definitely won’t kick me out. But you—how can you be this old and still so clueless about basic laws? Did you overdose on stupid pills as a kid?

If your dad dies, according to the law, after deducting the joint marital assets, his inheritance would be divided equally among his spouse and children—meaning me, your sister, you, and your mom. Given your IQ, I doubt you understood that, so let me spell it out: your mom would get five-eighths of the Dong family’s wealth, while you’d only get one-eighth. Dreaming of hogging it all by yourself? Keep dreaming.”

Liu Mumu seemed intent on provoking him, even pulling up the Marriage Law on her phone and shoving the screen in his face. She guessed this little idiot probably didn’t know there was another way to distribute inheritance—his father’s will. Sure enough, Dong Qi exploded with rage and tried to slap her phone away, but she dodged nimbly.

Unable to out-argue Liu Mumu, he turned his fury on the silent Dong Yue, pointing at her and unleashing a torrent of abuse: “Dong Yue, you b1tch! Taking an outsider’s side against me? Just wait till I tell Mom—she’ll beat the crap out of you, you shameless—”

His tirade was cut short by a pillow smacking him square in the face.

Liu Mumu stood a short distance from his bed, her gaze icy. She had truly overestimated Wang Guixiang’s precious grandson—he was just as rotten as she was.

Crossing her arms, she continued needling him: “Of course, there’s another way the inheritance could be divided. Life’s unpredictable—today you broke your leg, who knows if you’ll break your neck tomorrow?

You look like the type born under an unlucky star. Odds are, you won’t live long enough to see your dad’s inheritance.

Then the Dong family’s money would be split three ways among us women. Honestly, that sounds like a pretty good deal to me. What do you think?”

Jiang Li, who had deliberately held Dong Zhenghao back hoping Liu Mumu would say something outrageous to provoke him, was starting to lose her composure.

You could discuss anything with Dong Zhenghao—except the Dong family’s money.

Liu Mumu had indeed stepped right on his landmine, but the problem was she had dragged Jiang Li into it too.

Not daring to let her continue, Jiang Li pushed the door open with a dark expression, her eyes locking onto Liu Mumu. “You’ve got quite the imagination,” she said sharply. “First day in the house, and you’re already scheming over your father’s inheritance.”

Then she deliberately turned to Dong Zhenghao. “Lao Dong, you sure found yourself a wonderful daughter.”

Jiang Li was disappointed. Instead of flying into a rage, Dong Zhenghao actually scolded his son: “Enough! I could hear you all the way down the hall. Dong Qi, both Mumu and Xiaoyue are your elder sisters. Mind your manners in the future—don’t be so disrespectful.”

“But Dad, they were the ones who—” Dong Qi was practically exploding with anger. He’d never been treated this unfairly in his life.

“Xiao Qi is still young and doesn’t know better,” Jiang Li interjected.

“Of course,” Liu Mumu said lazily, meeting Jiang Li’s murderous glare head-on. “A sixteen-year-old boy who doesn’t know any better—yet somehow knows the family fortune will be his someday, knows he’ll kick his sisters out of the house eventually. But he’s just a child, so it’s not his fault. Dad, you really shouldn’t take your son’s words to heart. After all, when he dares to kick you out too, it’ll be years from now. No need to worry too much.”

Liu Mumu had mastered the art of sarcasm to perfection. Jiang Li was seething with hatred but didn’t dare do anything in front of Dong Zhenghao.

At first, Dong Zhenghao didn’t think much of it—boys will be boys, after all. But Liu Mumu’s words struck a nerve, making him uncomfortable. Upon reflection, his youngest son’s behavior had indeed crossed a line.

“Apologize to your sister right now, Dong Qi,” he barked.

Dong Qi opened his mouth to retort, but a sharp look from his mother stopped him cold. His face twitched as he forced out three reluctant words: “I’m sorry.”

Liu Mumu curled her lip and said nothing.

Seeing this, Jiang Li gave Dong Yue a sharp smack on the back. “Your brother apologized! Have you lost your tongue?”

At Jiang Li’s veiled jab, Liu Mumu lifted her eyelids lazily. “They say if a mother’s tongue is too sharp, her daughter’s will be dull. Tsk tsk, what a tragedy to be Aunt Jiang’s daughter.”

This might have been the first time Dong Zhenghao witnessed women bickering in such a manner, as he watched with fascination, forgetting even to take his wife’s side.

Just as Jiang Li was about to lose all pretense of civility, a knock sounded at the door. Shooting Liu Mumu one last glare, she went to open the hospital room door.

The moment the door opened, Jiang Li’s dark expression transformed as if by magic into a radiant smile. “Xiao Jia! Weren’t you traveling abroad? What brings you here?”

“I heard Xiao Qi was hospitalized. As his aunt, I had to come see for myself, don’t you think, brother-in-law?”

The speaker swept into the room as she spoke.

She was a beautiful woman—voluminous wavy hair, a sleek black dress, and a dazzling set of ruby jewelry that drew every eye. Her features resembled Jiang Li’s, but she was younger and, undoubtedly, more striking.

Jiang Jia walked in and raised her meticulously groomed eyebrows at the unexpected sight of Liu Mumu. “I just returned from abroad and heard my brother-in-law found his long-lost daughter. This must be her. What a pretty face—though she doesn’t resemble you at all, brother-in-law.”

Jiang Li normally didn’t get along well with her younger sister, but since Jiang Jia was clearly here to back her up, she was happy to watch the drama unfold.

Dong Zhenghao remained polite to his sister-in-law, merely responding, “She takes after her mother.”

“Is that so?” Jiang Jia scrutinized Liu Mumu for an extended period, her gaze shifting from casual to subtly contemptuous—a nuance only the target would detect.

“Right after finding her, Xiao Qi breaks his leg and lands in the hospital. Brother-in-law, you should have someone check if there’s some bad luck at play. Some people are born under an unlucky star, prone to dragging their whole family down.” Jiang Jia withdrew her gaze, her tone deliberately offhand.

Her words made Dong Zhenghao’s eyes involuntarily flicker toward Liu Mumu.

He wasn’t sure about bad omens, but this daughter of his did seem… uncanny.

If his son’s broken leg could be dismissed as an accident, how had she known about Old Qin’s death? Had it really just been a random guess?

In their social circle, many associated with fortune-tellers, though he’d always dismissed them as charlatans. Yet since finding his eldest daughter, a tiny crack had formed in his skepticism.

“You know your brother-in-law doesn’t believe in such things,” Jiang Li interjected, worried Jiang Jia had gone too far for Dong Zhenghao’s comfort.

“Better safe than sorry. I’ll have my husband introduce you to a master fortune-teller—his readings are exceptionally accurate.”

“We’ll see,” Dong Zhenghao replied vaguely.

Jiang Jia didn’t stay long. She first tossed a thick red envelope to the bedridden Dong Qi, who grinned from ear to ear, then handed an invitation to Jiang Li.

“My husband’s forty-fifth birthday is in a few days. You and brother-in-law must come—bring the children.” She glanced at Liu Mumu. “Bring this one too. Let her broaden her horizons.”

Throughout, she never properly looked at Liu Mumu.

As Jiang Jia prepared to leave, Dong Zhenghao and Jiang Li saw her out. Dong Yue sidled up to Liu Mumu and whispered, “Auntie’s always like that. Don’t take it to heart.”

Unlike Liu Mumu, who’d at least received some attention, Dong Yue hadn’t even warranted a glance.

Liu Mumu pinched her recently rounded chin. “I’m not angry.”

Her tolerance tended to increase dramatically for people shrouded in misfortune, destined for imminent disaster. Faces so clearly marked were rare even by her physiognomy standards—each glance was to be treasured.