Chapter Thirty-Seven: Letting Things Take Their Course

“Wang Liqing! You bastard! I’ll kill you today!”
In the warden’s office at the detention center, no one could restrain the furious Chen Feng. Across from him, the warden, Wang Liqing, was pale with terror. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that after being frightened by Lei Zhanjun’s fierce demeanor yesterday and going out for a few drinks, his subordinates would, in his absence, brutally beat Chen Feng—someone they should never have touched.

To call it a beating was no exaggeration. Chen Feng had insulted the guards and was then severely punished by five or six of them wielding electric batons. At first, he tried to fight back, but after being shocked twice, all he could do was endure their blows.

Now, Chen Feng’s face was covered in injuries, his body bruised and swollen. In Jiangcheng, he was a man of influence; even the biggest names would show him respect. Who could have imagined he’d be reduced to a battered stray dog by a mere handful of prison guards?

“That’s enough!”
As Chen Feng vented his rage, chasing after Wang Liqing, the cool and commanding voice of Qingwu cut through the chaos. “A Feng, change into your own clothes and come with me!”

“Sister Wu!” Chen Feng, still nursing his grievances, pointed at Wang Liqing. “If I don’t break one of his legs, I’ll never forgive myself!”

Qingwu’s brows tightened, her tone icy. “I won’t repeat myself.”

“Alright,” Chen Feng replied, instantly deflated, nodding helplessly. He picked up his clothes from the table, gritted his teeth, and hissed at Wang Liqing, “You’d better give me an explanation for those guards who dared lay a hand on me!”

“Don’t worry, Brother Feng,” Wang Liqing stammered, nodding repeatedly. “I’ll have every last one of them dismissed—none will be spared!”

Chen Feng said nothing more. He went to the restroom, changed his clothes, and followed Qingwu out of the office.

As soon as they stepped outside, Chen Feng lowered his voice and asked, “Sister Qingwu, there’s something I still can’t figure out. Why is Madam interested in that Zhang Wenhao? And who took him away yesterday?”

“Don’t ask so many questions,” Qingwu replied sternly. “This was a task assigned by Madam. As things stand, we’ve completely failed. Madam is furious. I’m flying back to Yanjing at noon to report to her. Before I leave, I have one task for you.”

“Please instruct me, Sister Wu,” Chen Feng said quickly.

“From today onward, you are to monitor Miss in secret, but do not interfere with any of her affairs. Your surveillance is to be limited to her interactions with Zhang Wenhao—do you understand?”

Chen Feng’s eyes lit up in sudden realization. So he was to monitor Miss, but only when she was with Zhang Wenhao. Clearly, this meant the relationship between Miss and Zhang Wenhao was out of the ordinary. No wonder Madam was interested in that young man; it all made sense now.

At that moment, Qingwu continued, “You’ve had direct contact with Zhang Wenhao as well. What kind of person do you think he is?”

Chen Feng frowned, hesitating. “I haven’t known him long, and he’s not much of a talker, so I can’t claim any deep understanding. But he’s stubborn, and his fighting skills are exceptional. He has remarkable composure and is very filial.”

“Oh?” Qingwu was surprised. “Exceptional fighting skills? Did he get into another fight in the detention center?”

“More than just a fight,” Chen Feng scoffed. “He practically kneaded someone’s face into a pizza with his fists. His composure is impressive—completely calm even in chaos. His combat skills are extraordinary: every move is calculated, every strike devastating. Honestly, he surpasses even the top fighters in the military.”

“That’s odd,” Qingwu said, puzzled. “None of the information I received mentioned that Zhang Wenhao was skilled in combat.”

“Not only is he skilled, he’s a true expert,” Chen Feng replied. “If it came down to a fight, I doubt I’d stand a chance against him.”

Qingwu found this hard to believe. After a moment, she said, “Look into this further. Try to get more detailed information on Zhang Wenhao.”

“Understood.”

That night, in a luxurious villa in Yanjing, Qingwu reported everything she knew to the elegant lady of the house, who sat with her brow deeply furrowed, clearly displeased.

“Ranran is truly angry with me this time,” she sighed. “Who would have thought that Zhang Wenhao’s father was a comrade of Lei Zhanjun’s? Lei Zhanjun didn’t even hesitate—he just pulled Zhang Wenhao out of the detention center. Isn’t that a blatant slap in my face right in front of Ranran? Now Ranran won’t even answer my calls. It’s outrageous!”

“Madam,” Qingwu ventured, “should I contact Lei Zhanjun and explain the situation to him?”

“No need,” the lady said, waving her hand in resignation. “What’s done is done. Even if Lei Zhanjun flew over to apologize, what good would it do? He wasn’t wrong to do what he did. It was my own miscalculation that led to this predicament.”

Qingwu tried to comfort her. “Madam, I don’t think you need to worry too much. Miss is still quite young—she’s just sulking. In a few days, when things cool down, she’ll be fine. Anyway, Zhang Wenhao is out now, so Miss has nothing more to worry about.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” the lady said, frowning. “I’m afraid that Ranran will come to me for the sake of a boy, or even resent me because of him. If she’s able to let go of her grievances against me just because the boy is safely out, then I have even more to worry about.”

After a pause, she continued, “Besides, I have a feeling this boy is more mysterious than he appears. Just from his skills alone—it’s hard to explain. A high school student with such powerful, practical fighting abilities? You know as well as I do: if a man is unfathomable, his attraction to women can be deadly.”

Qingwu sensed her deeper worry and, feeling that things were indeed not looking optimistic, asked, “Madam, in your view, what should we do now?”

“Let things take their course,” the lady said lightly, before adding, “as long as everything remains within my acceptable limits.”

For Zhang Wenhao, life finally returned to calm. Thanks to the super learning system, he had undergone a dramatic transformation in just over a month. Grateful as he was, Zhang Wenhao was eager for the chance to acquire more skills. However, with only 390 points available, none of the skills he could currently redeem truly interested him.

Monday’s return to school was approaching, and Zhang Wenhao was already thinking ahead to the second mock exam, which was not far off. His accumulated points had reached 890—just 110 short of his first lottery draw. Since he had already used the photographic memory skill in the last mock exam to achieve a certain result and impact, the system now awarded fewer points for mock exam scores. If he continued down the same path, it would be hard to gain the system’s recognition. However, if he could take first place in his entire grade this time, he might be able to surpass his previous influence, and the system would likely grant him a generous reward.

For Zhang Wenhao, taking first place was not difficult. Last time, his English had dragged him down, but now his command of the language was flawless—he could easily score over 145. Previously, his total score had been 678, with only 96 in English. If he could improve by 50 points in English, his total would exceed 720, more than enough to surpass Su Ruoran.

Thinking of Su Ruoran brought a faint warmth to Zhang Wenhao’s heart. She was exceptional even at first glance, and the more he interacted with her, the more virtues he discovered. He couldn’t deny that, deep down, he harbored feelings for her. He was no longer the mediocre, unnoticed underachiever he used to be. Compared to others, he now possessed greater advantages and potential, which also made him more confident in front of Su Ruoran.

Undoubtedly, even if a man’s circumstances remain unchanged, and even if the scales of victory seem forever tipped against him, when he gains self-confidence, those very scales begin to tilt in his favor.