Perhaps a few years ago, Wang Xia's explanations might have managed to confuse Liu Zihan at least a little, making her wonder if she could be right. Now, however, they seemed utterly ridiculous.
First, Liu Zihan was certain these were merely excuses to mask her greed. Specifically, the desire to strip her stepdaughter of her shares came first, and only then did Wang Xia begin to worry about the hardships the girl might face in the future; it wasn't as if she had been losing sleep over Liu Fengying's future, only to conclude, after countless hours of reflection, that the girl would be better off owning nothing. Moreover, even leaving that aside, her mother's reasoning failed to hold up under cold scrutiny.
For example, take the claim that it would be too demanding for Liu Fengying to be both a mother and run a company: Liu Zihan thought about the countless women who work despite having young children at home. Moreover, when one has substantial wealth, they can access as much help as they desire; Liu Fengying could hire an army of assistants to help run the company and dozens of nannies to raise her children.
"So, what do you think, Hanhan? Wouldn't it be better for your sister to lead a carefree life?" Wang Xia asked at the end, eager to see how much of her speech had actually stuck with her daughter.
"......" Liu Zihan looked at her mother with a strange expression—a combination of contempt and wonder—as if she wanted to ask, "How stupid do you think I am?"
Just as a single crack is enough for a dam to fail against the weight of the water, Liu Zihan could no longer suppress her resentment toward her mother once her mask of indifference had cracked.
Furthermore, she began to wonder: what was the point of avoiding an open conflict with her mother anymore? After all, it wasn't as if her current situation was something she would mourn. Even if her mother were to sever their mother-daughter relationship and kick her out of the house, she would likely breathe a sigh of relief.
Would she miss maternal love? Unlikely. Since this affection had always come bundled with Wang Xia's obsessive need for control, Zihan perceived it more as a burden than something that made her feel protected.
As for financial security, this wouldn't be an issue for her for a while, even without her family's support. In a way, she had learned a lesson from her half-sister's departure, who hadn't been allowed to take anything of value with her, as over the past year, Zihan had withdrawn half of her allowance in cash and left it in the care of a trusted classmate, accumulating a considerable sum that her family was unaware of. Perhaps due to the insecurity of growing up in a broken home, she had developed a habit of suppressing her emotions, but this defense mechanism also came with a level of prudence unusual for her age.
"Ummm, Hanhan....", Wang Xia didn't know what was happening with her daughter. She had grown used to Liu Zihan playing the "adult" in their interactions—the one least influenced by emotions—so her current expression was completely unfamiliar.
"Do you really care about my opinion?", Liu Zihan asked with the casualness of a farmer walking into a flock of ducks with an axe in hand; what duck could ever sense his macabre intentions? Simply put, she didn't expect her mother to treat her with any caution.
Well, it wasn't as if Wang Xia didn't suspect that Liu Zihan would disagree, but what could she do now besides keep harping on the same point? Regardless, she hadn't expected to convince her daughter on the first try, so she was prepared to start her explanations all over again.
"Of course, Hanhan, I trust your judgment. You've always wanted what's best for everyone..." she said, intending to counter hardness with softness; after all, a sword cannot split a feather, no matter how sharp it is.
However, while feathers are resistant to hard objects, the same cannot be said for fire. And Liu Zihan's anger—accumulated after years of emotional suppression—was exactly that: a wildfire which, once out of control, was capable of consuming everything in its path.
"Well, I think everything you've said is beyond ridiculous. What kind of logic is this? How can someone be happier and safer when they no longer own anything in their name?" Liu Zihan snapped. "Furthermore, Zihao is supposed to be the guarantor of Fengying's happiness? Could anything be more absurd? I don't expect him to consider my interests, so what chance is there that he'd care about Fengying's, whom he clearly hates? And even if that weren't the case, is he a capable person—someone in whose hands you could entrust your future? Zihao can hardly be classified as a rational being; his mind holds nothing but petty desires and momentary pleasures. As for his education... well, I think you're aware of the situation. If not, maybe you should go right now and check what kind of 'homework' he's actually doing..."
To say that Wang Xia was caught off guard by her daughter's outburst would be an understatement; she was utterly bewildered, as if she could no longer tell whether she was in a nightmare or reality.
"But... but he's your brother...", she stammered, her voice trembling. "Don't you want to see him become someone you can be proud of?"
It seemed that Wang Xia had momentarily forgotten that their discussion was supposed to be about Liu Fengying's well-being, not Liu Zihao's—or rather, she had allowed her true intentions to slip through.
However, Liu Zihan felt no pity for the weakness her mother displayed. On the contrary, her mother's expectation for her to be a "demon of brotherly support" (a sister who sacrifices her resources, time, and future for her brother) only made her more relentless.
"But does he have any legitimate claim to inherit the shares that belonged to Fengying's mother? Not only is it illegitimate, but it's also immoral. It's an audacity even to consider such a scenario..." Liu Zihan interrupted her mother. It probably wouldn't be long before she threw the cold, hard truth in her face: that as the woman with whom Liu Fengying's father had cheated on her mother, it was ridiculous for her to think she had any say in that inheritance. If Zihan remained silent on that point, it wasn't out of pity or a lack of courage, but out of a profound disgust; it was far too humiliating for her to utter aloud the sordid origins of her own existence.
Still, struck by a momentary inspiration, she attacked her mother from a different angle:
"But if you're so intent on seeing him as the head of a company, why don't you donate to him the shares of the company you created? Yes, I think that would be much better: even if he becomes the majority shareholder at YI, he would still be subordinate to his father. But in your company, he could step directly into the role of CEO. How does 'the youngest CEO in the Eastern Hemisphere' sound? I don't know if he'd make it into the Guinness World Records with such an achievement, but I'm sure all the business magazines would be lining up to interview him..."
It wasn't as if Liu Zihan was mocking her mother by mentioning a non-existent company; like many wealthy women looking to fill their time, Wang Xia actually had founded a company a few years prior.
However, for all intents and purposes, it might as well not have existed, as it was merely a bottomless pit that swallowed money. Specializing in the production of luxury gowns, it should have theoretically been a profitable business—the markup, dozens of times higher than the production cost, was no issue in that world. The problem was the abysmal sales volume; due to the limited number of potential clients and fierce competition, it was extremely difficult for a new brand to stand out.
Of course, it couldn't be said that Wang Xia hadn't tried everything to clear this hurdle. For a long time, she had invested colossal sums into recruiting talented designers and launching aggressive promotional campaigns. However, the resulting increase in sales was nowhere near enough to cover the financial drain. Even worse was the fact that once the marketing machine slowed down, public interest evaporated instantly as the new clients were mostly "novelty seekers"—always chasing the next trend, with zero brand loyalty. Thus, to remain relevant, the company had entered a vicious cycle: spending far more on advertising than it could ever hope to regain from sales profits.
Was Wang Xia to blame for the company's predicament? Well, one couldn't exactly say that; after all, her decisions weren't much different from those made by the heads of similar companies.
Rather, her mistake lay in the moment she chose the company's niche; believing that as long as you have enough money you can succeed in anything, she failed to take the fierce competitiveness of the fashion world seriously. Furthermore, she was starting from scratch, with no background in clothing design and without being a recognized figure in the industry, such as a famous actress or a supermodel. Because of this, she couldn't cut costs on any front.
That being said, the distance between the company founded by Liu Fengying's mother and the one founded by Wang Xia was as vast as the distance between heaven and earth—or rather, between heaven and hell. How could it possibly be better for Liu Zihao to take over his mother's company? It was clear that by proposing this solution, Liu Zihan simply wanted to force her mother to face her own inferiority compared to Liu Fengying's mother.
Moreover, Zihan told herself that, from a moral standpoint, even that failed company wasn't the result of her mother's hard work; the money fueling that 'black hole' came directly from the profits generated by YI. Thus, Wang Xia was someone who had not only achieved nothing through her own strength but had also squandered money produced by someone else's labor.
In a fair world, she should have treated the memory of Fengying's mother with the deepest respect, rather than daring to consider herself her equal and spending her days plotting how to seize the fruits of that woman's labor for her own son.