The milk tea shop across from the hospital was not a chain store, but a characteristic Mongolian milk tea shop in Hohhot. Ten yuan bought a pot of warm milk tea, and twenty-something yuan could set up a table full of pastries. The pastries were soft and fragrant with milk.
Gao Qiang sat opposite me, and I respectfully poured him a bowl of milk tea. Money was money, but respecting one's teacher was paramount.
Just as I was about to speak, my phone rang. Brother Chang was always efficient; he had arranged with the hospital to contact a surgeon for a craniotomy. He now asked for my bank account number. I quickly grabbed the card Gao Qiang had placed on the table and repeated the number to Brother Chang.
"I asked, and about thirty thousand yuan should be enough for the surgery. I'll transfer fifty thousand yuan to you."
"Thank you, Brother Chang. The younger brother who needs the surgery is a child of my teacher's family. He's unfamiliar with Beijing, so please look after him."
"Don't worry, your brother is my brother. Tang Nan, I also wanted to say something about your sister..."
"I'll discuss the specifics with my teacher. We'll talk later."
"Alright, let's meet up in Beijing when we have the chance."
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Chang Dachun wanted to set me up with Lin Han, but I couldn't do that. I had an inseparable connection with 'Logical Paradox,' and I couldn't let the efforts of Lin Han and her family go to waste.
...
I returned the card to Gao Qiang's teacher. I didn't quite understand his pathetic yet grateful gaze; the whole process felt as if I were forcing someone into prostitution. Fortunately, I didn't dwell on it and got straight to the point: "I've resolved the matter with your brother. I've received the money, so please take leave and go to Beijing. You've already delayed for several years; don't waste another day."
Gao Qiang sighed and nodded, then said with a heavy heart, "That child has a kind heart. Stay away from Zhang Ying; she's a woman you shouldn't get involved with, she's toxic."
"Tell me about it. What do teachers know about the perversions of the rich?"
Gao Qiang and Zhang Ying were classmates in high school. Zhang Ying was beautiful and the school's darling, while Gao Qiang was short, with a winter melon-like face and horse-teeth. The fact that these two could date was considered more improbable than winning the lottery by their classmates.
This situation of a rose stuck in dung had its reasons. Gao Qiang's family background was decent, slightly better than ordinary people. He was able to become Zhang Ying's boyfriend because he knew her family situation. Before college, Zhang Ying's father was critically ill, and her mother had left them long ago. A Zhang Ying in such a situation had no chance of going to college. During her senior year of high school, her father fell gravely ill and died. Because Gao Qiang helped her pay for her tuition and miscellaneous fees, Zhang Ying went to college with Gao Qiang.
A few years ago, Zhang Ying and Gao Qiang lived together, she cooked for him, they studied together, and they watched a second-hand television bought for a few hundred yuan. During that time, Gao Qiang was at his happiest.
By their senior year, when they were working on their graduation projects, Zhang Ying suddenly changed. Not only did she stop living with Gao Qiang, but she moved back into the dormitory. After breaking contact with Gao Qiang for several months, she high-profilely announced her relationship with a white-haired professor.
Moreover, Zhang Ying and the professor, defying worldly views, registered their marriage in the name of love.
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...
Gao Qiang found Zhang Ying and angrily accused her of betraying her promise. Zhang Ying's expression was cold: "Back then, you promised to help me pay for my tuition and miscellaneous fees, and I agreed to be your girlfriend. You paid my tuition for four years, and I was your girlfriend from my senior year of high school until my junior year of college. We owe each other nothing."
This seemed like a fair transaction, but Gao Qiang didn't see it that way. He had already considered marriage. He never believed it was just a transaction. But the facts told him it was indeed a transaction; Zhang Ying had never loved him, and those sweet memories worth cherishing were all Zhang Ying's acting.
There was nothing more to say, and the end of the song brought separation. However, Gao Qiang harbored a deep hatred. He used this hatred to force himself to stay at the school, harboring a curse-like desire to see Zhang Ying regret what she had done to him.
Such age-gap romances often drew gossip at school. But Zhang Ying presented it as a love that transcended worldly views, leaving people speechless.
However, Gao Qiang held a different view. The more Zhang Ying showcased her love, the more he perceived the truth: this wasn't her love, but the second stage of her life.
Indeed, after Zhang Ying latched onto those real estate tycoons, she divorced the professor. The professor likely couldn't believe love would end this way and couldn't accept it, leading to a stroke and paralysis.
Regardless of the circumstances, Zhang Ying had completed the second stage of her life.
Zhang Ying's third step to the peak of her life had nothing to do with Gao Qiang anymore. After Zhang Ying married the white-haired professor, Gao Qiang also started his own family, got married, and had children. httpδ:/m.kuAisugg.nět
Especially the child's illness, which weighed heavily on Gao Qiang like a mountain. Once, when his son was hospitalized, Zhang Ying visited Gao Qiang, appearing very sincere, and left him five thousand yuan for the child's medical expenses.
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By then, Gao Qiang could already face the gap between himself and Zhang Ying and re-evaluate her. For a time, Zhang Ying's reputation at school was excellent, and her VIP-exclusive investment company earned her colleagues' approval.
For this reason, Gao Qiang calculated that ten thousand yuan would not be enough for his son's craniotomy. It would be better to invest with Zhang Ying first, accumulating twenty or thirty thousand yuan before going to Beijing for treatment.
The ideal was grand, but reality was cruel.
The news that tens of thousands of yuan had gone down the drain and Zhang Ying had been scammed almost drove Gao Qiang to despair. His son couldn't have surgery, his wife complained daily, and his elders blamed him.
Gao Qiang hated Zhang Ying to the bone, but what could he do? Everyone knew Zhang Ying was infatuated with a young real estate developer named Zhu, who had swindled her and fled with tens of millions.
Zhang Ying was repaying her debts with her salary. With such slow repayment, even if she could get the money back in this lifetime, her son would be paralyzed in bed.
...
Originally, Gao Qiang no longer harbored hatred towards Zhang Ying, but it began to resurface in his heart. This hatred was no longer just about financial loss but also a jealousy of her attitude towards life.
Zhang Ying continued to live a comfortable life. She sold her house and rented a large apartment, paying only a minimal rent because she knew friends. She sold her handbags, and others still gifted her. She had no car and couldn't even hail a taxi, but there were always men driving luxury cars to pick her up and drop her off. What Gao Qiang found most unbearable was that Zhang Ying's bad habits persisted. She had set her sights on young men again. For a period, there was a creative painting on her desk every day. She started a teacher-student romance again, but this time, Zhang Ying was the teacher.
This was truly incomprehensible information. Teacher-student romance. I thought of that photo: Zhang Ying, in tight jeans and open-toed sandals, curvaceous and charming, standing beside a naive, shy student with a drawing board. The student had my face, but it wasn't me.
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"Jiang He."
"I heard it was..."
I understood. A specific image began to form in my mind. This Zhang Ying was definitely problematic.
...
I truly didn't know what the specific problem was, so I needed to interact more with Zhang Ying.
The next day, I took advantage of my free time to find Zhang Ying at the School of Management. The weather was gradually warming up, and Teacher Zhang Ying was wearing lighter clothes. As our understanding deepened, I felt a sense of admiration. Zhang Ying was truly a beauty who became more attractive the more you looked at her. She had the looks of Hua Rong and the melodious voice of a yellow oriole. She should be in her thirties, approaching forty, but her graceful posture still retained a girlish charm. This youthful beauty was further enhanced by her skin, as flawless as ice and snow. It was inevitable for a man to be captivated under the gaze of her autumn-water-like eyes.
We went to a coffee shop. Her slender fingers held the stirring rod, thoughtfully stirring her coffee: "That child Jiang He does have a crush on me, but after going through so much, how can I have the heart to pursue love?"
"I heard he gave you a few paintings."
Zhang Ying had been gazing at her coffee, and upon hearing my words, she looked up at me, her autumn-water eyes carrying a hint of a smile: "You and Jiang He look exactly alike, yet you are completely different. Beneath his dull exterior lies a brilliant core. As for you, you seem clever and quick-witted, but you're as down-to-earth as the aunties sitting in street corners."
"You haven't said a single swear word, but I feel like you're scolding me."
"Let's go, I'll show you."
"Show me what?"
"The paintings Jiang He gave me."
"At your place?"
"Mmm!"
My hand holding the coffee cup trembled, nearly spilling it.
...
Zhang Ying had high standards for her life. Her furniture was minimal, emphasizing light luxury and comfort. On the marble table in her living room, there was a wine rack, a candlestick, and wine glasses. After entering the house, she took off her high heels and walked barefoot to the table, pouring me a glass of red wine.
Holding the wine glass, I felt the mood and atmosphere of the room. I should have been immersed in this ambiance, but instead, I felt as if I had pricked my ear and hung myself, waking up instantly. My gaze fell on the background wall behind the dark green, high-quality leather sofa. Irregular bamboo strips divided the background wall into sections, each with an abstract painting that I couldn't comprehend. I couldn't understand this kind of abstract, phenomenal artwork, but I could read. There was a name on it, and the title of the painting was "Woman 3."