Wealthy Woof Chapter 61

Hearing the sound of water in the bathroom stop, Zuo Ning initially wanted to wait for Lu Chenghe to come out and show him the Weibo post. But suddenly, a flash of realization struck, and he dismissed the idea. Some mistakes only need to be made once. It was bad enough that he exposed himself because of a phone call; if he exposed himself further because of a Weibo post, he’d truly be a fool.

A dog that can read Weibo and recognize words? Even if it were a spirit, it wouldn’t adapt to human civilization so quickly. Kids need nine years of compulsory education to learn to read. Okay, maybe real spirits could adapt that fast, and learning to read would be a piece of cake. But clearly, he wasn’t one of those. If he exposed himself in front of Lu Chenghe, he’d have to confess everything.

When Lu Chenghe came out of the shower, he saw Little Pudding lying on the bed, fiddling with a phone, pressing the home button repeatedly, occasionally touching the screen. When the screen lit up, it jumped back like a little fool. Seeing Lu Chenghe come out, its tail swept once, and it sat upright in front of the tablet. It seriously opened the tablet, pressed the icon it was most familiar with, and the TV series it hadn’t finished watching started playing.

Lu Chenghe couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked over, sat on the bed, and scooped the dog into his arms. “Are you trying to say that the fool playing with the phone earlier wasn’t you?”

Zuo Ning let out a soft whimper, leaned against Lu Chenghe, and rubbed his head against Lu Chenghe’s chin. The faint, fresh scent was particularly comforting. He had initially wanted to say that spreading rumors like this might cause trouble for Lu Chenghe, but seeing him, Zuo Ning realized he was overthinking. Such a small matter probably didn’t even register as an issue for Lu Chenghe. Who knows which brainless person was also at the hiking site yesterday, recognized him, and made up such a ridiculous story.

Anyone with a brain wouldn’t believe it.

Lu Chenghe picked up the phone, intending to look at today’s photos and videos and select a few to post on Weibo. Naturally, he saw the comments under Little Pudding’s Weibo. After skimming through the various mentions and links, he came across the rumor.

There were various debates under Little Pudding’s Weibo; some believed the rumors, while others didn’t.

Initially, when Lu Chenghe created Little Pudding’s Weibo account, it was simply meant to document his growth. However, after Little Pudding acted in two dramas and appeared on a reality show, the Weibo account gained more and more followers. For Lu Chenghe, this increase in attention didn’t hold much significance. Then one day, Little Pudding carried his phone over and claimed that if Lu Chenghe ever ran out of money, he could earn enough to support him. That was the moment Lu Chenghe started taking Little Pudding’s Weibo account more seriously—not because of the money but because Little Pudding genuinely believed that his account could support them.

In the past, Lu Chenghe thought Little Pudding didn’t understand much. But now, Little Pudding seemed capable of understanding human speech. With the TV, news, and variety shows he watched daily, he was gradually learning about human society. Lu Chenghe didn’t want the things Little Pudding hoped to manage well to end up ruined.

Although it would be easy for Lu Chenghe to retract the rumors or pursue legal action against the false statements, these baseless attempts to smear and tarnish reputations were clearly the result of impulsive, ill-considered actions.

Lu Chenghe turned on the camera and tapped the bed. “Little Pudding, look over here.”

Hearing him, Zuo Ning turned around and looked at Lu Chenghe holding the phone and aiming it at him. He tilted his head slightly, wondering what Lu Chenghe was up to.

Through the screen, Lu Chenghe spoke to him, “Now let’s play a question-and-answer game. Tell me, is your name Little Jelly?”

Though he didn’t understand what Lu Chenghe was trying to do, Zuo Ning realized he was being filmed, so he followed Lu Chenghe’s lead and barked twice.

Lu Chenghe smiled faintly, “You hate eating dog food the most, right?”

Zuo Ning barked decisively, showcasing just how deeply he detested dog food.

Lu Chenghe continued, “Did we go hiking yesterday?”

“Woof!” We did, and it almost cost me my doggy life.

“Did a little dog get bitten yesterday?”

Zuo Ning seemed to catch on to Lu Chenghe’s intent and quickly barked, “Woof!”

Lu Chenghe asked, “Was it you who bit that dog?”

Zuo Ning looked at the camera with a deadly serious expression, “Woof woof!” Curse those who fabricate stories based on mere pictures and have their showers cut off halfway!

“Someone’s falsely accusing you of biting another dog. What do you plan to do about it?”

Zuo Ning thought for a moment, stretched out his paw in a scratching gesture, then bared his teeth slightly at the camera.

Lu Chenghe hadn’t expected Little Pudding to react this way. He thought Little Pudding would bark fiercely at the camera, but didn’t anticipate this reaction to be aggressive yet tinged with a puppy-like innocence. He couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, “Come on, give everyone your New Year’s greetings.”

Zuo Ning silently glanced at Lu Chenghe, then sat upright, clasped his two paws together, and shook them up and down toward the camera.

After recording the video, Lu Chenghe immediately posted it on Weibo, titling it: “Little Pudding’s Press Conference.”

Because that news was deliberately pushed to the trending list, it gained a lot of attention. With the mix of adorable pets and gossip about abuse of power, it attracted quite a crowd. So, when Lu Chenghe posted on Weibo, the views skyrocketed.

【My Little Pudding is so adorable; there’s no way it could be that vicious! See? Those who make up stories based on pictures are so irresponsible!】

【Wow, in my lifetime, I’ve seen a dog hold a press conference to clarify false rumors. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime moment, hahaha】

【Is Little Pudding fluent in human language now? Can it really understand every word?】

【What’s this ‘Little Jelly’ thing?! LOL, shoutout to the guy behind the camera—his voice is so magnetic and pleasant to hear.】

【Finally, someone else noticed the owner’s voice behind the camera! It’s so captivating that it gave me phantom limb syndrome!】

【That head tilt is lethal! I was hit with a critical strike the moment I opened the video. Let me recover my health bar before watching further.】

【What nonsense about having evidence! Dare to release a video of Little Pudding biting the poodle? Even a picture of the bite would do. Just a few photos, and they think people are fools?】

【Look how wronged my Little Pudding is, even having to hold a press conference to explain. But can we have more of these little videos? They’re so adorable I can’t take it anymore—I’ve fallen, and I need Little Pudding to lick me back to strength!】

【Brilliant move, this operation is solid and flawless!】

【Oh no, so fierce! Little Pudding baring its teeth is so scary! I’m terrified and need Little Pudding to kiss me to heal my frightened little heart!】

【Awwww, other people’s dogs! That scratching and tooth-baring expression—I can’t take it anymore! I’ve watched it dozens of times and still can’t get enough!】

【Every day, someone tries to trick me into getting a dog! Ugh, I’m just a student—I can’t even afford to take care of myself, let alone a dog!】

【There’s definitely someone behind the scenes signaling the dog. Whichever hand they raise, the dog barks accordingly. Ha!】

After posting the short video, Lu Chenghe didn’t pay further attention to the online buzz. It wasn’t a big deal to begin with. This indirect explanation was enough—those who believed it would, and those who didn’t, well, it didn’t matter. However, if someone continued to deliberately stir the pot and smear his name, Lu Chenghe wouldn’t hesitate to show them what a team effort looked like. The Lu Corporation’s PR department was usually quite idle, so this could be a good opportunity to give them something to do.

Lu Chenghe’s attitude toward the matter was one of indifference. Even his explanation was casual, yet the results were unexpectedly effective. The key was the lack of solid evidence. Despite the abundance of photos showing Little Pudding and the poodle in the same location—even one angle where both dogs appeared in the same frame—there was no definitive proof. One dog was clearly frolicking freely on the grass without a leash, while the other was being held in the arms of a man whose body was only partially visible from behind.

More importantly, none of the photos showed Little Pudding biting the poodle. While the internet was full of impulsive critics and trolls who bashed for the sake of bashing, there were also plenty of reasonable people. As a result, the overall sentiment remained relatively harmonious, with many expressing disbelief in the accusations.

But this left the person behind the scenes dissatisfied. This individual, whom Zuo Ning might have heard of but never met—and likely forgotten entirely—was Shu Wan. She was a woman who had once cruelly killed countless dogs, someone who appeared gentle and serene on the surface but was, in reality, deeply twisted and malicious.

Back when Shu Wan’s dog abuse in her basement was exposed by the Lu family’s butler, her husband, Qiao Bo, dragged her to the civil affairs office the very next morning to file for divorce. Qiao Bo had been drawn to Shu Wan not for her family background or material benefits, but for her gentle and elegant demeanor—the kind that fulfilled every man’s fantasy of an ideal wife and mother. Who would have thought that beneath such a beautiful face lay such a malicious heart? Naturally, he didn’t hesitate to divorce her.

The dog abuse incident couldn’t be kept under wraps. Although it had nothing to do with Qiao Bo, it still affected him, causing some setbacks in his career. Especially since it was the Lu family who exposed the matter, it signaled that the Lu family cared deeply about this issue—or at least, that’s how outsiders perceived it. As a result, some companies that had planned to collaborate with Qiao Bo backed out, fearing they might offend the Lu family.

Qiao Bo was furious but understood that this was just how society worked. The root cause of all this trouble was the woman he had married. While Qiao Bo couldn’t do much to Shu Wan, he wasn’t about to let her off easily.

Shu Wan was a moderately popular contracted writer for a website. One of her novels had been adapted into a screenplay, bringing her fame and fortune. However, Qiao Bo exposed her dog abuse incidents directly on her novel account and repeatedly revealed them on her Weibo.

Although Shu Wan wasn’t a major celebrity, she had a modest following. During that period, she became a target of public outrage. The malicious comments under her Weibo posts pushed her to the brink of collapse, forcing her to disable comments. Meanwhile, the website she was contracted with—possibly influenced by Qiao Bo—publicly announced the termination of her contract on its homepage. All her completed and ongoing serialized novels were locked.

Such a public contract termination was unprecedented on the website, causing a massive uproar. In addition, due to her tarnished personal image and the closure of her Weibo, advertisers who had collaborated with her filed lawsuits, demanding compensation. As a result, she ended up paying a significant amount in damages.

Having essentially left her marriage with nothing, Shu Wan used her savings to pay off the advertising breach penalties. With only a small amount of money left, she was forced to rent a tiny room in a remote suburban area.

One advantage of being an online writer was the ability to start over with a new pseudonym at any time. As long as she kept her identity hidden and adjusted her writing style, she could potentially rebuild her career. Although her previous account, which she had worked hard for years to grow into a moderately popular one, was banned, she had a good understanding of the preferences of the website’s readers. With her new pseudonym, she quickly secured a contract, and her first book under the new name earned a decent income. While it couldn’t compare to her past success, it was at least a source of livelihood.

However, having once lived in a spotless mansion, driven around in a private car, and enjoyed the life of a pampered socialite with maids to handle household chores, the drastic change was something Shu Wan couldn’t easily accept. And she blamed it all on the Lu family.

In her heart, Shu Wan harbored deep resentment. The Lu family had nothing to do with her, so why did they meddle? That one act of interference had ruined her entire life! On countless quiet nights, Shu Wan seethed with hatred, fantasizing about storming into the Lu family’s home and taking them down with her. She even secretly spied on the Lu family at times and had more than once seen their white dog frolicking in the yard.

Every time she saw the Samoyed running freely in the sunlight, Shu Wan’s hatred grew stronger. It was because they owned a dog that they had gone out of their way to expose her. Seeing the well-fed and well-cared-for Samoyed made her itch with the desire to dismember it. She imagined hearing its pitiful cries, watching its body convulse in pain, and feeling its helpless struggle in her hands. These thoughts filled her with a twisted sense of excitement.

Eventually, the Lu family installed cameras in the woods behind their home, which deterred Shu Wan from returning. However, her hatred only deepened with time.

She had also been present on the day of the hike. Feeling like she was rotting away in her dark, tiny room, she wanted to step out and reclaim her life. If she had once been able to rise to success, why couldn’t she do it again? But the gap between her past and present was not something she could easily reconcile. Coupled with her fear of being exposed again and evicted by her landlord, she had refrained from abusing animals to vent her frustrations. As a result, her pent-up resentment only grew stronger.

Some things are like poison—once you’re hooked, it’s not easy to quit.

When Shu Wan saw the Samoyed and the Lu Corporation’s president, she was overwhelmed with the urge to pull out the Swiss Army knife in her bag and stab them. They were the ones responsible for her current miserable state. Few people truly have the courage to start over from scratch, and she had already lost everything—what was there to fear?

But in the end, she didn’t dare. Despite her hatred, she wasn’t desperate enough to risk her life. However, when she saw the Alaskan Malamute biting the little dog, she was instantly thrilled. That twisted desire within her was completely uncontrollable, and she instinctively captured the scene on video.

When she returned to her tiny room, she watched the video over and over again. Eventually, an idea struck her. Using the little money she had just earned, she hired a freelance studio to publish an article.

She didn’t even know why she acted so impulsively, but she couldn’t stand seeing them happy. She wanted everyone to join her in criticizing the dog and its owner. She knew that such trivial public opinion meant nothing to the Lu Corporation’s president, but she just wanted to irritate them.

Reality, however, didn’t follow her script.

Seeing the overwhelmingly positive comments praising and adoring the video, watching as people practically worshipped them for posting just one clip, Shu Wan’s face twisted into a grotesque expression of rage. She now desperately wished she could be reborn like the protagonists in her novels, but that was all fiction.

Shu Wan never imagined that her impulsive act would once again push her into a corner.

The saying “there are always experts among the people” couldn’t be more accurate. The blatant smear campaign against Little Pudding caught the attention of some bored internet detectives who decided to investigate for fun. Given Little Pudding’s growing fame as a minor celebrity dog, they were curious—could this dog have somehow offended someone in the industry, prompting such a poorly executed smear attempt? They also wanted to know who would create such a technically inept smear campaign, calling it a refreshing lack of sophistication in the world of scheming.

Initially, they just wanted to dig around and see if some brainless celebrity was behind it. But following the trail, they unexpectedly uncovered Shu Wan. Her impulsive and aggressive comments, filled with insults, were so unfiltered that tracing their origin was a simple task.

What they found left people stunned. Shu Wan turned out to be a former moderately popular online writer who had switched to a new pseudonym after her previous account was banned. Her past crimes were undeniable, with solid evidence backing them up—there was no room for misunderstanding. The gossip was so juicy that people couldn’t help but share it.

Since the smear campaign targeted Little Pudding’s Weibo, even those who weren’t avid dog lovers but liked cats and dogs in general felt compelled to expose Shu Wan. A habitual dog abuser deserved no mercy, and once found, they had to be publicly called out.

As a result, Shu Wan made it to the trending list for the first time in her life—not for her writing, but for the smear campaign she had paid to promote against Little Pudding. After being exposed, not only did the smear campaign against Little Pudding move up a spot on the trending list, but Shu Wan herself became a hot topic. Even screenshots of her anonymous communications with the freelance studio she hired were somehow leaked. She was branded as a “twisted, dog-abusing schemer.”

Despite Shu Wan’s decent looks—not stunning, but pleasant enough to leave a good impression—her landlord, who had a favorable opinion of her as a pretty tenant, stumbled upon the posts and evidence while browsing Weibo. Shocked, the landlord immediately refunded Shu Wan’s remaining rent and evicted her.

Shu Wan never expected things to turn out like this. She was used to operating behind the anonymity of the internet. Even when she restarted her writing career under a new pseudonym, no one had discovered her identity. She quickly regained a new batch of readers due to her skilled writing. She never imagined that casually posting an article would lead to such consequences.

Dragging a suitcase aimlessly down the street, she thought Qiao Bo had already been ruthless enough by disregarding their past marital ties. She believed she had already lost everything and had nothing left to lose. But life proved it could be even harsher.

Shu Wan regretted it. Why did she provoke people she shouldn’t have? She had been given a chance to start over, yet she failed to cherish it.

No mansion, no luxury car, no expensive jewelry or clothes—so what? At least she had a place to shield her from the elements and restart her life. Now, she truly had nothing left. Absolutely nothing. Walking down the street, she felt as if everyone’s eyes were on her, as though they were pointing and whispering about her.

She believed everyone despised her, mocked her, and insulted her. Her social media accounts, her novels, and even the new Weibo account she had opened were all flooded with hateful comments. She didn’t even dare to turn on her phone anymore, feeling as though there was no place left for her in this world.

Meanwhile, Zuo Ning continued to secretly monitor the situation as it unfolded. He had initially thought that Lu Chenghe wouldn’t care about such a trivial matter—after all, compared to the smear campaigns launched by rival companies, this accusation of allowing dogs to act aggressively was comically unsophisticated. Alternatively, he thought Lu Chenghe might have people investigate the source of the smear, which would have been a trivial task for him. However, aside from posting the ambiguous video explanation, Lu Chenghe appeared to take no further action.

Zuo Ning waited until the second day, when Lu Chenghe had a meeting at a mountaintop hotel. He claimed he wanted to stay in the room and watch TV, declining to accompany Lu Chenghe. Once Lu Chenghe left, Zuo Ning guiltily turned his back toward the door and powered up his tablet.

Scrolling through the comments online, he found that they were entirely different from the vicious attacks he had expected. Surprisingly, his follower count had even gone up!

There were links to the investigation and solid evidence uncovered by internet experts. Zuo Ning’s initially serious expression immediately turned into shock (⊙o⊙)! So it was her who was behind the scenes stirring up trouble? He had heard Lu Chenghe mention that this scary woman was definitely going to end up divorced. Clearly, her post-divorce life had been eventful—getting banned, restarting with a new pseudonym, earning a bit of money, and then spending it to smear him on the trending list. Zuo Ning couldn’t help but ask, Why would someone be so hung up on this? Why not just live life peacefully?

Initially, he thought the smear campaign was targeting Lu Chenghe, but it turned out to be aimed at himself. Zuo Ning frowned. Back when he was human for twenty years, he never caused trouble, not even once had a teacher called his parents. Now that he was a dog, it seemed he had become a magnet for trouble—every time he went out, something happened.

Does this mean he was better suited to staying home with Lu Chenghe and enjoying their cozy, two-person world?

Zuo Ning wagged his tail, scrolled further down to look at other trending news, and continued browsing Weibo enthusiastically. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching the door. Quickly, he exited to the home screen on his tablet, just as the door opened. Without time to lock the screen, he flipped over and pressed the tablet under his bottom.

When Lu Chenghe returned, he saw Little Pudding sitting upright on the bed, staring directly at him. After a few seconds of observation, Lu Chenghe walked over, gave him a once-over, and suddenly reached out his hand: “Left paw.”

Zuo Ning instinctively placed his left paw on Lu Chenghe’s hand.

Lu Chenghe continued, “Right paw.”

Zuo Ning’s brain short-circuited and once again put forward his left paw.

Lu Chenghe withdrew his hand, picked up the prepared clothes, and went to change into them. “Looks like even if you understand human language, you still can’t tell left from right.”

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