Chapter 139: Beauty’s Shy Dream
Chapter 139: Beauty’s Shy Dream
Looking at the beautiful woman’s long eyelashes resting over her closed eyes, her lips curved faintly in a sweet smile, Zhang Yang instantly cast away all distracting thoughts from his mind.
He couldn’t bear to wake her. Moving gently, he pulled the blanket over her and carefully removed her slippers.
Taking one last look at the sleeping beauty, he couldn’t help but smile softly.
He wrote a note, stuck it behind the door, and quietly closed it as he left.
Yang Fei woke naturally around six in the morning. As soon as she opened her eyes and saw the bright light through the thick curtains, she froze. Looking at the clock, she realized it was six a.m.
She felt an unprecedented sense of comfort throughout her body. The usual pain in her waist after waking up seemed to have vanished. Only then did she recall that Zhang Yang had massaged her last night… and she had actually fallen asleep.
She looked down at herself. Her clothes were still on, the bed was neat, and everything below felt normal… except for a faintly damp sensation.
Feeling puzzled, she lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties, then looked down—and immediately blushed furiously. Was it because it felt so good that she… dreamed that kind of dream?
After a moment of embarrassment, Yang Fei tilted her head and quickly put on a robe to take a shower. That guy—though rumored to be a flirt—turned out to be quite a gentleman. He had actually left quietly after seeing her asleep like that.
After her shower, she happened to notice a note stuck behind the door. She took it down and glanced at it, frowning slightly.
The note was from Zhang Yang, with just a few simple words.
“Teacher, you fell asleep, so I left without waking you. By the way, I’ll need three days off—I’ll be going to the capital with Sister Yang Jing to recruit some people.”
So he was going with Yang Jing. Yang Fei didn’t know why, but a faint sense of loss filled her heart. For the past few days, she’d gotten used to Zhang Yang spending two hours with her every evening. Every night she’d unconsciously look forward to it. Now that he was suddenly leaving—and with Yang Jing, no less—her heart felt oddly empty, as if something had gone missing.
“That brat, can’t even focus on being a student. Why’s he so obsessed with running a company?”
In her heart, Yang Fei didn’t think Zhang Yang’s rehabilitation center was anything to be proud of or socially meaningful. She simply thought he was looking for trouble. There were plenty of good people in the world to do charity work—why did he have to meddle? He hadn’t even passed her English class yet; if he failed, he’d deserve it.
“What should I do tonight…” Yang Fei looked up at the English textbooks on the shelf, feeling a headache coming on.
*****
Bai Liangfeng was dead—he had leapt from the seventeenth floor of Dengyuan Tower and died instantly!
The police launched an investigation into his death and eventually ruled out homicide. However, while reviewing his call history, they discovered he had received a long-distance call from another province just before jumping—a call that lasted a full thirty minutes. After hanging up, he jumped to his death.
When Bai Wensheng heard the news in detention, he didn’t say a word. When Bai Gang and their father visited him, he appeared calm.
“The police said they’ll let you attend his funeral,” his elder brother said, lighting a cigarette and puffing on it.
“Uncle, Ah Feng died unjustly,” Bai Gang added.
Bai Wensheng looked at him, then nodded after a while. “I know.”
“That Zhang Yang—we’ll never forgive him…”
“This has nothing to do with him,” Bai Wensheng said flatly. “I want you to do something for me. Find Zhang Yang and tell him to come see me.”
“Ah…”
“Just do it,” Bai Wensheng muttered, lowering his head. “The sooner, the better.”
“What about Ah Feng’s funeral…”
“You take care of it. His mother died early, and I spoiled him growing up. This is the result—his own doing.” Bai Wensheng sighed, his eyes suddenly flashing with faint killing intent. “Still, he was my son. I may not have cared enough before, but this debt—I’ll make sure it’s repaid.”
*****
Zhang Yang was surprised when he received Bai Gang’s call.
He had already known about Bai Liangfeng’s suicide earlier that morning. He hadn’t even needed to use the indecent video he still had of him—guess that guy got off easy.
The police report said Bai Liangfeng had opened the office window and jumped during work hours. No one else was inside, so it was clearly suicide.
But instinct told Zhang Yang the death was far too suspicious. Bai Liangfeng, though arrogant, was inwardly fragile and terrified of death. There was no way he’d jump off a building.
He was supposed to leave that afternoon, but based on Bai Gang’s tone, Bai Wensheng’s first request wasn’t to attend his son’s funeral—it was to see him. And the meeting place was the detention center. That was strange.
After hesitating for a while, curiosity got the better of him. He discussed it with Yang Jing, rescheduled their flight for the evening, and decided to go. It wasn’t like he was afraid of whatever tricks Bai Wensheng might pull.
When he saw Bai Wensheng again, the man was completely different from before—his eyes dull and lifeless, bloodshot and vacant, like withered leaves.
The moment he saw Zhang Yang, though, those dead eyes flickered faintly with a strange glimmer of hope.
“You came!” His pale face was weak, but his voice was clear. The nearby police didn’t interfere much, standing at a distance.
“My condolences,” Zhang Yang said after a pause, forcing the words out. His heart was still too soft—that was his biggest flaw. Even when facing a man who had tried to kill him, seeing his current state softened him a little.
“So the news spreads fast,” Bai Wensheng said, glancing at him and lifting his handcuffed wrists. “You may not have been the one who killed my son, but if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have ended up like this. In that sense, you are one of the killers.”
Zhang Yang snorted coldly. “You really think you and your son didn’t deserve what you got?”
“You’re right,” Bai Wensheng admitted. “I’ve done plenty of dirty things. But tell me, who hasn’t, starting from nothing? It’s only a matter of degree. I won’t argue. I called you here for one reason.”
“Those assassins that day weren’t hired by me. There were others involved in the He Mei incident. And as for who they were, I can tell you clearly…”
“Wait.” Zhang Yang raised a hand, interrupting him, his voice cold. “You’re telling me this because you want me to find your son’s real killers, right?”
“Heh, I knew you were smart. Yes, I want you to avenge my son.”
“And what makes you think I’d do that?”
“Not for us. For yourself. For He Mei. You’re the type who always gets revenge. From the moment you turned down a billion just to hunt me down, I knew you weren’t someone to mess with.” Bai Wensheng suddenly laughed. “To be honest, I’ve already leaked news of this meeting. Our mutual enemies know we’ve met. They know I’d tell you things.”
Zhang Yang froze. Of course Bai Wensheng was cunning—he’d just set him up. If word got out about their meeting, those who wanted the Bai family dead would panic. They killed Bai Liangfeng to silence him, and now Bai Wensheng had met with Zhang Yang—so that silence was broken.
This old fox wanted him and the murderers to tear each other apart. No matter who won, Bai Wensheng would have his revenge.
Seeing Zhang Yang’s annoyed face, Bai Wensheng smiled faintly. “I’ve hidden something important—consider it my will—at a small, obscure law firm. I gave them the retrieval code. When the time comes, just contact them. Inside are detailed records of what I’ve done over the years with the Peng and Du families. The document password is your name in pinyin.”
Zhang Yang froze. Had Bai Wensheng foreseen this all along? Or did he hate him so much that he even used his name as the password?
“Don’t be surprised. I used your name because I know—if I die mysteriously, you’ll be the only one who can avenge me.”
Zhang Yang’s expression turned wry.
“The law firm is tiny and barely scraping by, so no one pays attention to it. It’s called Biying Law Firm. There are only two practicing lawyers there—practically kids playing house. I gave everything to their director, Zhou Biyao. Her number is 139xxxxxxx. I told her both the account and password use your name.”
“Biying?” Zhang Yang thought. Why did that sound so familiar?