When Ning Pingping had been dating Wen Guohua, she had not been one hundred percent satisfied with him either, especially with some of the ways his circle operated.
For example, the habit of making someone else take the blame when something went wrong.
But Wen Guohua had shamefully told her that the world was this cruel. One general's success was built upon ten thousand bones; the tragic reality of stepping on one's own people to climb upward had existed for thousands of years. Those who rose to the top had to learn from childhood how to use people, especially how to use people to take the blame.
Yet Ning Pingping had never imagined that Lin Qiuyan, merely a factory director's daughter, would also be so well versed in this art—and would even use it on her.
What the fuck are you? You think you can play this game with me?
By now, Ning Pingping had thoroughly understood that Lin Qiuyan actually knew everything and understood everything.
Lin Qiuyan now wanted Ning Pingping to use her private connections to beg Fenghua Apparel to let her off.
As for how she should beg? Ning Pingping had her own ways.
Behind the rise of every celebrity, there was someone supporting them.
In Lin Qiuyan's eyes, Ning Pingping was merely a vase. And what was the mouth of a vase for? Did that even need saying?
Even if things retreated ten thousand steps, they could still pin the label of "entirely an individual act" on Ning Pingping and kill her to appease the masses.
Having figured everything out, Ning Pingping's expression gradually became eerily calm—the calm before the storm.
But Lin Qiuyan had not noticed this at all. Or rather, she simply did not care whether Ning Pingping felt wronged or unjustly accused.
When