Chapter 80: The Disgraced Young Master

For the same event, if ten thousand people witness it, there will be ten thousand different outcomes. Xiao Lin and Wang Yuqing were together now—some offered blessings, some felt envy, some were jealous, and some were heartbroken. Gao Zheng was among the vast number of the heartbroken.

Though at the end of the New Year’s Eve party, Gao Zheng had feigned nonchalance, jokingly telling Xiao Lin, “I’ll let you borrow Yuqing for a while; sooner or later, I’ll win her back.” Gao Zheng knew that his words were merely a mask for his inner sorrow. Watching the intimacy between Wang Yuqing and Xiao Lin, his heart bled. He could not comprehend where he had lost. Xiao Lin had outshone him at the New Year’s event, but Gao Zheng was certain that this was not the root of his defeat. What was it, then? He pondered endlessly, unable to find an answer.

As the saying goes, when your heart is troubled, food tastes bland and drink loses its flavor. For a week, Gao Zheng was in a slump, having lost his usual grace and elegance. He did everything listlessly, even skipped band practice, stayed in the classroom all day, and went straight home after school. Friends invited him to play golf, but even the allure of exclusive clubs could not draw him out.

“Young master, it’s time to go home,” Uncle Xiang said, draping a coat over Gao Zheng’s shoulders. Looking at the despondent young master, Uncle Xiang felt a pang of sadness. He had watched Gao Zheng grow up; to him, Gao Zheng was like his own child.

“I really can't understand Miss Yuqing’s thinking. The young master is such an outstanding man, and she doesn’t appreciate him,” Uncle Xiang thought, shaking his head.

“Let’s go, Uncle Xiang.” Gao Zheng withdrew his gaze. She must have gone home by now. He tightened his coat, yet still felt a bone-deep chill, one unrelated to the weather—it came from his heart. Uncle Xiang silently followed behind.

Just as they reached the doorway, Gao Zheng suddenly saw a hurried figure rushing past. Instinctively, he called out, “Tan Linlin.” His call made the figure pause and finally stop.

“Gao Zheng? Why did you call me? And what’s with your look today?” Tan Linlin turned and saw Gao Zheng. She quickly noticed how different he was from before; previously, he was sharp and carried an aura of nobility. Now, his eyes were dull, his posture lazy, and his chin was unkempt with stubble. She couldn’t understand how Gao Zheng had ended up like this. If his admirers saw him now, they would surely be disheartened.

Gao Zheng shrank back slightly, feeling awkward. “No, um... weren’t you with Yuqing?”

“No, today Xiao Lin took her home. I left with Xu Tong. I forgot something and had to come back, so…” At that moment, Tan Linlin suddenly realized, “Ah, it’s because of Yuqing, isn’t it? Tsk tsk, you really are lovesick.” She smacked her lips as she spoke.

Gao Zheng forced a bitter smile, saying nothing.

“Oh, young master Gao, there are plenty of flowers in the world; why pine for a single one?” Tan Linlin patted his shoulder. She used to dislike Gao Zheng, always feeling he was arrogant and aloof. But seeing him now, she found him rather pitiable. Her sympathy overflowed.

“Tan Linlin, could you tell me, where did I lose? Was it my looks? My talent? Or something else?” Gao Zheng grasped Tan Linlin’s hand, asking urgently. He desperately wanted to know why. All his life, whatever he desired, he always obtained—this was his first taste of defeat. Gao Zheng was stubborn by nature.

“Let go, will you. Honestly, you lost in timing. Xiao Lin and Yuqing have known each other for a long time,” Tan Linlin pulled her hand free and muttered.

“Timing, timing…” Gao Zheng repeated softly. “But as far as I know, they weren’t in the same class in middle school, and didn’t seem to know each other then.” He suddenly recalled the information Uncle Xiang had given him.

“How do you know that? Anyway, I won’t say more. Xu Tong is still waiting for me at the bus stop. I’m telling you, you don’t stand a chance.” With that, Tan Linlin waved and ran toward the bus stop.

“Uncle Xiang,” Gao Zheng called once Tan Linlin had gone.

“I’m right here, young master,” Uncle Xiang replied respectfully.

“Uncle Xiang, please go to Donghai yourself. I want a detailed report on both of them—the more thorough, the better.” The lethargy vanished from Gao Zheng’s demeanor, replaced by a sharp glint in his eyes.

“Understood. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning. By the way, young master, your mother returned today,” Uncle Xiang added.

Gao Zheng was startled. “My mother is back? I thought she was in England handling business?”

“I’m sorry, young master. I called her. You haven’t been eating or drinking properly these days; I was worried and thought she should know. Please forgive me,” Uncle Xiang bowed in apology.

“Ah, Uncle Xiang, never mind, let’s go. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my mother anyway.” Gao Zheng sighed, got into the car with Uncle Xiang, and headed home.

Before long, the white BMW entered the villa district. Gao Zheng had just stepped out when he saw a woman draped in a mink-fur coat, with a luxurious “Shahtoosh” shawl across her shoulders. Her hands, ears, and head were adorned with precious jewelry—anyone could tell at a glance she was a lady of high society.

“Mother, look at you—coming all the way from England without telling me first. Your son could have picked you up.”

Gao Zheng’s mother, Lin Yuemei, was the chairwoman of Shenghua Group, a woman of distinguished status, with only this one son. Upon hearing from Uncle Xiang that something had happened to Gao Zheng, she had bought a ticket and rushed home overnight.

“Zhengzheng, look at what you’ve become,” Lin Yuemei exclaimed when she saw her son’s stubbled face. She hurried over and wrapped him in a hug.

“Heh, it’s nothing, Mom. I’ll go freshen up,” Gao Zheng said, scratching his head in embarrassment.

“Hurry up and go. I really don’t know how your father is taking care of you at home. I’ll deal with him later,” Lin Yuemei said, biting her silver-capped teeth and looking at Gao Zheng with tender concern.

“Mom, Dad isn’t in Beijing. He’s working as an official elsewhere,” Gao Zheng replied.

Once Gao Zheng entered the house, Lin Yuemei’s doting expression faded, replaced by stern authority as she turned to Uncle Xiang. “Tell me, what exactly happened?”

“Well, madam…” Uncle Xiang recounted in detail the whole story between Gao Zheng and Wang Yuqing.

“Hmph. Uncle Xiang, investigate that girl thoroughly for me. I want to know what kind of girl could captivate my son so completely. And also dig up information on that boy—how dare he steal my son’s woman. I, Lin Yuemei, will not let him off so easily,” Lin Yuemei said darkly after hearing the story. Mothers protect their children, and the higher their status, the fiercer their protection. Lin Yuemei could not tolerate her son’s defeat; in her eyes, no one could compare to her child. She wanted her son to be happy. Anyone who made him suffer would not be forgiven.

(Shahtoosh is a shawl made from Tibetan antelope wool, extremely expensive.)