The Divorced Wife of the Richest Man is Reborn - Chapter 22

It was just a pair of underwear. Even if it had Hu Xiaomei’s name on it, as long as she didn’t admit it, how could Chen Meilan force her to acknowledge it was hers?

Besides, even if Chen Meilan could make Hu Xiaomei admit it was her underwear, what difference would it make? Hu Xiaomei’s reputation was already in tatters.

Yan Zhao was about to say something when Zhaodi suddenly asked, “Mama, what are you talking about that’s so funny?”

These were children who, though they had homes, rarely heard laughter there.

Their parents’ mood was a catalyst for their friendship. She had only smiled briefly, but the three little ones had already joined hands.

Little Lang was a foodie and had already smelled it: “I know, it’s meat!”

The children had eaten their fill of melon, and since Chen Meilan was going to make noodles that evening, she fried some small crispy pork for them.

It was simple to make, but Zhaodi especially loved it. In her previous life, whenever she went out for hotpot, she always ordered it.

When the crispy pork was served, Chen Meilan deliberately gave the first piece to the most awkward child, Little Wang, then a piece to Little Lang, and then made a point of giving one to Yan Zhao. The last piece, which was the largest and crispiest, went to Zhaodi.

“Mama, will you smile like this every day from now on?” Zhaodi asked, picking at the noodles in her bowl.

Chen Meilan nodded seriously, “Not just Mama, but Zhaodi, Little Wang, and Little Lang should all smile every day from now on, okay?”

The image of Yan Zhao holding red underwear in one hand and a green hat in the other kept flashing in her mind, but fearing he might get angry, she had to find an excuse to smile.

The children were infected by the mood and burst into laughter.

Only Yan Zhao was left with an ashen face.

…

After dinner, it was time for bed.

Today, Little Wang had been inseparable from Little Lang, helping him bathe, change clothes, and smoothly tucking them into their kang bed.

But next door, Zhaodi had just started humming, “On the dam, on that bump… who is that…”

Little Lang immediately turned over and slipped off the kang, running: “Sister Zhaodi, I’m coming!”

Zhaodi hugged Little Lang and stroked his face: “Little chubby brother, you smell like milk.”

Zhaodi’s face smelled even nicer because she had secretly used her mother’s face cream, making her skin smooth and fine.

Chen Meilan finished her bath and picked up the plastic bag containing the red underwear from the floor.

This underwear had been lying on her kang for several months now, since Yan Xishan and Hu Xiaomei had rolled around on it. Chen Meilan had even thrown away the bedding from that time.

Only this pair of underwear remained.

She certainly didn’t want to touch this dirty thing, but if she wanted to get her money back and see Hu Xiaohua brought to justice, she had to use this underwear.

Of course, she couldn’t grab it with her bare hands – that would be unlucky. She put plastic bags on both hands before picking up scissors to fish out the underwear.

Two round little heads huddled together, and Zhaodi exclaimed, “Mama, this underwear is actually red, it’s so pretty! Is it yours?”

Little Lang, lying next to Zhaodi, peeked his head over and surprisingly said, “This is… Pierre Cardin.”

It was indeed a pair of Pierre Cardin underwear. In Xiping City, there was even a Pierre Cardin counter in the state-owned department store. However, the items were jaw-droppingly expensive – a suit cost six or seven hundred yuan, a belt two or three hundred. Don’t be fooled by how small this underwear is; one pair cost no less than 50 yuan.

In an era when the average monthly salary was 300 yuan, most people couldn’t afford it. They gave it a nickname: “Pierre Carbutt.”

“How do you know it’s called Pierre Carbutt?” Chen Meilan was cutting the label off the underwear and found Little Lang quite interesting.

Little Lang rested his head on the pillow: “My mommy has some too, someone gave them to her.”

Could it be that Yan Zhao had given Zhou Xueqin Pierre Cardin underwear, and the child remembered?

Who would have thought? The man whose ears turned red just from talking to her had once been so romantic.

But just then, there was a sudden cough from outside.

It was Yan Zhao coughing.

Chen Meilan quickly said, “We shouldn’t say such things casually. From now on, let’s not mention underwear anymore, okay?”

Two innocent little mouths asked in unison, “Why not?”

“Because underwear is a person’s most private thing, and talking about it will make others laugh at you.” Chen Meilan patted Little Lang’s soft, chubby little white bottom. “Now let’s go to sleep.”

This little one had no underwear and was going commando. She’d have to buy him a pair another day.

As she turned off the light, she heard heavy footsteps outside. Yan Zhao had left.

Meanwhile, in the next room, as soon as Yan Zhao entered, he immediately poured himself half a basin of water, took out some soap, and started washing his hands. Feeling it wasn’t enough after one wash, he washed again, and again, several times, before finally shaking his hands and getting into bed.

“Dad, I think Auntie Chen is not bad. She doesn’t seem to hit people,” Little Wang said sincerely.

“Call her Mom,” Yan Zhao said in a low voice.

“I don’t want to. At most, I’ll call her stepmother…” Little Wang’s voice suddenly trailed off because from next door came Zhaodi’s soft singing: “In this world, only mothers are good. Children with mothers are like treasures…”

“Sing more, sing more, I want to hear more,” came Little Lang’s sweet voice.

“Dad, why don’t you sing a song for me too?” Little Wang turned back, feeling dejected with tears in his eyes.

Yan Zhao raised his hand. Little Wang thought he was going to keep the beat for singing and looked at him expectantly.

With a click, he turned off the light.

In the darkness, father and son silently listened to the merriment next door, staring at each other.

Little Wang had just moved, wanting to turn over, when Yan Zhao immediately asked solicitously, “Do you want to get up and do some push-ups? I’ll do them with you.”

“Snore, snore, I’m already fast asleep,” Little Wang said, though his eyes were brimming with hot tears and he felt like crying.

But he was sleeping very soundly, already snoring.

…

Early the next morning, Zhaodi half-opened her eyes in her sleep and touched her face: “Mama, your skin is so white and soft.”

In her previous life, Zhaodi had left home after finishing primary school, insisting on living in a boarding school. Every time she came back, she would say most often: “Mom, why have you aged again?”

Having personally raised a female pop star and a business tycoon, of course she had aged.

Just for Zhaodi’s comment about her white skin, Chen Meilan took out that brand new white dress and put it on herself.

Yu Xi cosmetics were indeed good. When she was in the countryside, her face had been burned by the sun, but after applying them for just a few days, her skin tone had already become much fairer.

As she bent over to wash her face and brush her teeth at the faucet, Yan Zhao also got up.

It seemed that soldiers never got fat, and their physiques were always particularly graceful, with long lines and full of strength.

Chen Meilan, having lived two lifetimes, was an old auntie now and should have been without desires.

But she couldn’t help but keep glancing at Yan Zhao’s physique, her heart racing.

After finishing his ablutions, Yan Zhao put on his green-flashing peaked cap and spoke in a tone as if instructing his subordinates: “I have to go on a business trip today and probably won’t be back until tomorrow night. Hu Xiaohua has a 48-hour detention period. I’ll interrogate him when I get back. Don’t act impulsively, understand?”

Chen Meilan smiled, “Be careful on the road.”

She wanted to say, when you come back, you’ll probably see Hu Xiaomei and Yan Xishan crying and kneeling at our door, begging me to spare them.

Hopefully, it won’t shock your eyeballs off.

Of course, Yan Zhao’s method was the normal procedure. After all, the police weren’t thugs. Hu Xiaohua could secretly hit people with bricks from behind, hitting whoever he wanted, but the police couldn’t forcibly press people’s heads down. They had to act according to the law and evidence.

What she wanted was to make Hu Xiaohua suffer the consequences of his actions and be brought to justice, to rot in jail.

For this, she didn’t mind using any unconventional means.

Holding the elastic band cut from the underwear, which still had the Pierre Cardin label on it, Chen Meilan put it in an envelope and headed out, going straight to the post office.

…

Another day passed in the blink of an eye.

Today, the Dongfang Group’s grand hall was showing “Red Sorghum.”

People never tired of seeing Shen Baopeng’s bare upper body and Gong Li’s little belly band.

They also never tired of hearing the song “Sister, Be Brave and March On.”

The tickets had all been bought, but Qi Dongmei and Hu Xiaomei didn’t go to watch. They were cornering Yan Xishan, currently discussing how to resolve the Hu Xiaohua incident.

Hu Xiaomei’s reputation was already in tatters. The leaders at the city education bureau wouldn’t even accept Yan Xishan’s gifts and wanted to directly expel Hu Xiaomei from the education system.

Hu Xiaohua had also been locked up for stealing money, so of course they had to agree on a story to get him out.

It was truly a case of when it rains, it pours. Qi Dongmei had cried until she had no more tears.

Fortunately, Yan Xishan agreed to coordinate their testimonies to get Hu Xiaohua out, so at least he wouldn’t go to prison.

Five thousand yuan! That would mean at least three months in a labor camp. With all the people Hu Xiaohua had offended, he’d likely be beaten to death in there.

Just then, Hu Xiaomei’s stepfather Fan Xiang returned home, looking displeased as he entered.

Yan Xishan’s coal mine was entirely obtained through Fan Xiang’s connections. These past few days, the rumors about Hu Xiaomei had been spreading like wildfire. Qi Dongmei didn’t dare to even breathe loudly in front of her husband.

Hu Xiaomei also stood up nervously, “Uncle Fan, shall I pour you some tea?”

With a loud thud, Fan Xiang threw something into Qi Dongmei’s lap. “This is utterly embarrassing. How did the elastic from Xiaomei’s underwear end up being mailed to me by Yan Xishan’s ex-wife? And sent to my office, no less.”

It was mortifying. Fan Xiang had opened the letter in his office, with others present. Inside was a strip of elastic from women’s underwear, bearing a Pierre Cardin label – clearly from a woman’s branded undergarment.

What would those who saw it say?

The elastic from Hu Xiaomei’s underwear?

Sent directly to her stepfather’s office by Chen Meilan?

Yan Xishan nearly jumped up, but Hu Xiaomei grabbed the elastic and immediately said, “Dad, Chen Meilan is slandering me. How can a simple strip of elastic prove it’s from my underwear?”

Yan Xishan sat back down.

He remembered now. Once when Chen Meilan had gone back to her parents’ home, Hu Xiaomei had insisted on trying out what it felt like to do it on his kang bed. They ended up being caught by Chen Jianjun, and Hu Xiaomei had fled bare-bottomed.

But he couldn’t reveal that. How could a strip of elastic prove the underwear was Hu Xiaomei’s?

Of course, he had to side with Hu Xiaomei: “Dad, things have gotten a bit heated between me and Xiaomei lately. You’re a man, you must understand. My ex-wife is a jealous type. She didn’t know about this when we divorced, so she’s bitter. She’s deliberately trying to embarrass us. I’ll buy you two bottles of good liquor tomorrow to drink with you and calm you down. Don’t take her seriously.”

Fan Xiang had to give face to Yan Xishan. After all, they were partners. Coal was black gold, bringing in endless money. The annual “gifts” Yan Xishan gave him were substantial.

Since Yan Xishan was adamantly saying Chen Meilan was causing trouble on purpose, Fan Xiang believed him.

This matter didn’t really concern him much anyway.

He tossed the letter to Yan Xishan, saying, “Here’s the letter. Read it yourself and handle the situation.”

As Yan Xishan took the letter, he was thinking it was just about a pair of underwear. How ridiculous. What could she do with that? Chen Meilan must be upset and trying to make a scene.

But after just glancing at the letter for two seconds, his hands began to shake.

He pulled Hu Xiaomei up and headed out the door, straight to his own home.

But as soon as they entered his house, Yan Xishan suddenly turned and slapped Hu Xiaomei hard across the face.

The stinging pain made Hu Xiaomei immediately cover her cheek. “Brother Shan, what are you doing?”

What was he doing?

In the letter, Chen Meilan had written: The label was cut off, but she still had the underwear. A red, slutty pair of panties with Yan Xishan’s semen stains and Hu Xiaomei’s vaginal discharge on it. If Yan Xishan didn’t come get it himself, she’d throw it into the coal mine in the western suburbs.

Holding the letter with trembling hands like he had Parkinson’s, Yan Xishan was dumbfounded. How did Chen Meilan come up with this?

The coal mine was off-limits to women. And red underwear was considered an evil omen.

It was already considered unlucky if a woman went near the mine entrance. They had to make offerings to the earth god and mountain god every time they opened a new shaft. Men especially couldn’t bring anything related to women down into the mine. If Chen Meilan really threw those slutty red panties in there, his mine could cave in, flood, or worse – people could die.

This wasn’t just superstition. It was every coal boss’s worst nightmare.

Just a slap?

Yan Xishan felt like killing Hu Xiaomei.

She had really been asking for trouble back then. They had plenty of houses, but she just had to tease him in Yanguan Village, saying she wanted to try what it felt like to do it on his kang bed. They got caught in the act by Chen Jianjun, and she ran off without even her underwear. It had been so long ago that she’d forgotten all about it herself.

Yan Xishan violently threw the elastic at Hu Xiaomei’s head and pointed at her nose: “You go get those slutty panties yourself. If you can’t get them back, I’ll beat you to death! I don’t care if Hu Xiaohua goes to jail or not anymore.”

“Wasn’t it you who insisted on doing it that way back then? Did I ever force you? Why do I get blamed for everything?” Hu Xiaomei cried.

Yan Xishan was so angry he lost all composure: “Because you’re a slut, because your pants come off too easily, because you’re just a whore.”

Hu Xiaomei wailed loudly: “Yan Xishan, if you dare hit me again, don’t expect my uncle Fan to help you anymore.”

Yan Xishan let out a cold laugh: “I’ve grown my own wings long ago. Fan Xiang is nothing. As long as I’m willing to spend money, even his son will be my dog!”

Why did he suck up to Fan Xiang? Besides Dongfang Group’s business, Fan Xiang’s son was also a big shot in the public security bureau. But setting aside family ties, money could still keep their relationship rock solid.

“Yan Xishan, you shameless bastard! You ungrateful swine!” Hu Xiaomei shrieked.

Still want to forge fake evidence for Hu Xiaohua?

This pair of adulterers was about to turn on each other.

…

Meanwhile, Yan Zhao had just gotten off the train.

A Volkswagen Santana was waiting outside the station. Little Liu, the driver from the bureau, was there to pick up Yan Zhao.

Yan Zhao had just returned from the capital, where he attended a special meeting on the crackdown and rectification campaign.

In his left hand was a large paper box with red and white stripes. He was also carrying a large bottle of some dark liquid.

Little Liu hurried over to take the bottle, and reached for the box too: “Here, Captain Yan, let me carry that.”

Yan Zhao handed the bottle to Little Liu but put the box in the car himself. “I’m going to make a call from the payphone, then we’ll head straight to my place.” This meant he wouldn’t be going to the bureau.

Little Liu looked at the bottle, which said “Coca-Cola” on it. He’d seen Coke ads before, always showing small glass bottles. He’d never seen this kind of large plastic bottle before. It had a red plastic cap that seemed like it could be twisted off by hand, unlike the metal caps on other bottles.

He thought, I’ll just twist it open to take a look and smell it, without drinking any. No one should notice, right?

But with a pop, as soon as he opened it, the cola inside instantly turned to foam and came gushing out.

The stuff just kept bubbling up more and more, spilling all over the ground. What a waste – this was Coca-Cola! Even a small bottle cost 40 cents.

Little Liu’s mind went blank, and he put his mouth to the bottle. Glug glug glug, the bubbles rushed into his mouth and sprayed out his nose.

Fortunately, the cola stopped foaming. Little Liu finally breathed a sigh of relief. But something felt off behind him. He turned around to see Yan Zhao standing not far away, hands behind his back, eyes dark as water, watching him.

“Let’s go,” said Yan Zhao.

He was in a hurry to get home, of course because of Hu Xiaohua’s situation.

By rights, he should be the one interrogating Hu Xiaohua at the police station. But he had a feeling Chen Meilan was going to cause some trouble with those panties today.

He wasn’t afraid of her causing trouble. He was afraid she might suffer for it.

After all, Yan Xishan was surprisingly clever, and Hu Xiaomei was no pushover either.

The whole way, he kept urging Little Liu to drive faster.

Little Liu spent the entire trip thinking about how to explain the cola incident, but the boss’s expression was so grim he didn’t dare open his mouth.

By the time they reached the village entrance, he had finally worked up the courage. Just as he was about to speak, Yan Zhao said, “Stop the car.”

The boss stared out the window, his expression even darker.

Couldn’t he just pay for that bottle of cola?

…

Another car was parked by the roadside – a flashy red Xiali. In this era, it was the most eye-catching splash of red in all of Xiping City. The latest pop music was blaring from inside: “Little sister, boldly walk forward, walk forward, don’t look back…”

Yan Xishan, with his big permed hair, was still wearing that water-red shirt. True to his nickname “Little Fei Xiang”, he was leaning against the car, his face clouded with worry, puffing away on a cigarette.

Hu Xiaomei, in a loud floral blouse and high-waisted skirt, her permed hair coated in a layer of gel, tottered out of the village on high heels, her bottom swaying side to side.

“Did you get your underwear back?” Yan Xishan asked Hu Xiaomei.

Hu Xiaomei held 5000 yuan in one hand and Chen Meilan’s stocks and some gold jewelry in the other. She dejectedly handed them over to Yan Xishan: “She said she’d only give them to you.”

“You really fucked things up.” Yan Xishan threw his cigarette butt on the ground.