Chapter 6: The Exquisite Cufflinks

I called up a friend of mine who's also in media, a jack-of-all-trades type; you could go to her for anything.

"Help me find out who owns a house," I cut straight to the chase, skipping all the preliminaries.

She's used to it and was probably eating noodles, slurping them as she responded to me, "Okay, give me the address."

I gave her the address, and she hummed, "Got it, I'll let you know by tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Mhm."

I hung up the phone; she didn't ask what I needed it for, and I didn't say.

True to her word, her response was astonishingly quick; before I could even fall asleep, tossing and turning in bed, she got back to me.

"The owner of the house is named Dong Ting, born in 1990. Not bad at all, now even the post-90s generation can own their own villas."

Dong Ting must be Secretary Dong. Is this house his?

I couldn't be bothered to chat with her and hung up without even saying thanks.

The other party really was careful, even the house was in Secretary Dong's name.

So there went my leads.

I was already suffering from insomnia, and now it was impossible to fall asleep.

I didn't manage to drift off until the late night and woke up bright and early.

The environment here is actually great and extremely quiet; not even a bird would chirp on the windowsill.

But with matters weighing on my mind, I woke up early and sat on the bed in a daze.

Suddenly, I remembered something.

I did have some leads after all. The morning I woke up in the Presidential Suite, even though there was no one else around, I followed my journalist's instinct and habitually searched every nook and cranny of the room. Eventually, I found a cufflink under the coat rack, on the carpet of the outer room.

Typically, only people of significant status would have cufflinks custom-made.

That cufflink was clearly handcrafted, both exquisite and expensive, obviously not something an average person would use.

At the time, I pocketed the cufflink.

On one hand, I felt the cufflink might come in handy, and on the other hand, wasn't it because it was made of pure gold, very valuable?

I rummaged through my suitcase and took out the cufflink, toying with it in the palm of my hand.

The more I looked at it, the more familiar it seemed.

I always felt like I had seen a similar cufflink these past few days, not exactly the same, but almost.

Clutching my head, I tried hard to recall.

Probably because I was pregnant, my mind had gotten slow; I used to have an eidetic memory, not even needing to write down reminders for my schedule.

These past few days I had been chasing stories, not encountering many high-officials or wealthy individuals, so it's unlikely I would have seen this cufflink.

The only time was the day before yesterday when I went to interview Sang Qi.

Right, Sang Qi!

I slapped my thigh, finally remembering.

That day during the interview with Sang Qi, I sat opposite him. He has a habit of clenching his fist and covering his mouth and nose, so I had noticed his cufflinks.

His cufflinks were also specially customized, extremely elegant.

I felt a bit excited, immediately got up to wash and change my clothes, and then went downstairs for breakfast.

I didn't know why I thought it was Sang Qi.

First, I analyzed that cufflinks are both expensive and low-profile, not something a person without taste would use.

The typical newly rich bumpkin would only use thick gold chains and name-brand watches to show off; cufflinks wouldn't get much attention.

Furthermore, I always felt the faint tobacco scent on Sang Qi was very familiar, like I had smelled it somewhere before.

After eating, I hurried out, and Little Jin chased after me asking if I would come back for lunch. I answered her vaguely, "You guys just make it, if I don't come back for lunch, save it for me for dinner."

That driver surnamed He was still waiting for me at the door; I got in the car and said to him, "Dayu Group."

He turned around to look at me again, "Weren't you fired? What are you going to Dayu for?"

The driver even knew I'd been fired, and I suddenly felt like I was living in a transparent glass container, with no secrets from anyone.

"Looking for a job," I blurted out, then turned on my phone.

As I scrolled through the news on my phone, my mind was wondering what excuse I could use to visit Sang Qi.

It was hard to approach someone of his status, and I guessed that his secretary Miss wouldn't easily let me in.

Plus, I'd just been complained about by him a few days ago, leading to my firing, so I should be a prime suspect to be blacklisted, to prevent me from seeking revenge.

After struggling with my thoughts for a while, I looked at the back of the driver Xiao He's head, "Forget it, let's not go."

He stopped by the side of the road with a squeak, his execution remarkably strong.

He turned his head to look at me, "So where to now?"

How would I know where to go?

Turning my head, I saw a big shopping mall nearby, so I pointed there, "Let's go shopping!"

Xiao He immediately nodded, "Then I'll park the car in the underground parking lot, and you take your time shopping."

My pockets were nearly empty as I went to stroll around the big shopping mall.

A reporter's salary isn't high; it all depends on commissions.

And since I did the least pleasing work, I rarely got any bonus on top of my commissions.

He Cong's family was of average means; they and he had put together their savings to buy the small two-story house he lived in now, leaving little money for furnishings, and I'd spent all my savings on furnishing it for him.

Thinking back, it was pretty foolish of me; my two hundred thousand was drained away, and the house was still considered pre-marriage property, nothing to do with me at all.

So now I was really poor; the editor-in-chief promised me three months' salary two days ago when I got fired, but it's not payday yet, so I'm broke and assetless.

But window shopping doesn't cost money.

As I wandered, I found myself in a designer store, and immediately regretted it upon entering.

This brand was like a fighter jet among luxury labels, where even their plastic bags were out of my reach.

I turned to leave, but the dress on the mannequin at the center of the window display, I simply loved it too much.

Poor people have a habit: when they see a piece of clothing they like, the first thing they do is check the price tag.

After drooling over it at the window for a while, I found the dress inside the shop and planned to flip the tag just to torture myself a bit.

Seeing no one around, I flipped it: 19998.

Usually, I'm good at math, but whenever it comes to price tags, I get a bit overwhelmed.

It took me a while to comprehend that a dress was nearly twenty thousand.

Such a small piece of fabric, how could it be worth so much?

I grudgingly put the tag back, but the fabric was so silky, just touching it a bit longer almost seemed worth it.

Suddenly, someone rudely snatched the dress from my hands, "Miss, if you're not going to buy it, don't touch it."

I turned around; it was a sales clerk.

Typical of designer stores: condescending sales clerks who only looked at me with the whites of their eyes.

Even though I didn't have money, I couldn't lose my poise, "How do you know I don't want it, of course I have to carefully inspect it before deciding."

The sales clerk glanced at me from the corner of her eye, "That lady wants to try it on, if you're not buying, she's going to try it on."

I followed her gaze and saw a young woman standing not far away.

She had a good figure and was quite attractive.

I initially glanced at her and then looked away, but the man sitting on the sofa behind her made me freeze.

Pale blue jeans, a white silk shirt, and a light-colored trench coat; he was looking down at his phone.

Tall, with a commanding presence.

I couldn't take my eyes off him, even though I'd just seen his profile.

I wasn't looking at him because he was handsome, but because he was someone I knew.

Sang Qi.