Chapter 15: The Show Begins

“I can’t believe Fu Tingchen actually brought Lin Niaoniao here. Does she not know her place? How could she possibly be worthy of coming to Grandpa Ruan’s home?” Yan Miao fumed, well aware of what kind of life Song Qingyou had endured in the Fu family these past few years. Fu Tingchen bringing Lin Niaoniao here was nothing short of a deliberate slap in Song Qingyou’s face. The story of the groom sneaking off to meet his sweetheart on his wedding night three years ago had already made the rounds in their circles—there wasn’t a soul in the capital unaware of the entanglement between these three.

Yan Miao had long resented the injustice on Song Qingyou’s behalf, but the woman herself always maintained an air of calm detachment, never perturbed. Yan Miao once told her, “What will you do when Lin Niaoniao shows up on your doorstep flaunting her swollen belly?” She never expected those words to come true so soon.

Song Qingyou let out a soft laugh. “She’s here now. What can you do, drive her out yourself?”

“Of course I can!” Yan Miao huffed. “Who does she think she is? I’ll just have a word with Grandpa Ruan and get the bodyguards to throw her out.”

Seeing she was really about to seek out Ruan Yutang, Song Qingyou caught her arm. “She came with Fu Tingchen. Don’t put Old Master Ruan in a difficult position.”

Yan Miao paused for a moment, then pursed her lips and sat back down. “Qingyou, you’re simply too kind.”

Song Qingyou was, for once, at a loss for words.

Not far away, a small group sat on the sofa, each impeccably dressed and exuding an aristocratic air.

“I heard Wenzhou beat up the Zhang family’s youngest a few days ago?”

“Don’t mention it. Because of that, Old Man Zhang Song nearly beat Wenzhou to death in the hospital. We were all about ready to lay out the straw mat for his corpse,” Xu Zezhan joked as he peeled an orange. “Zhiyuan, you should’ve seen how Wenzhou threw those punches—looked like he’d just been released from the madhouse, a total mad dog.”

Jiang Zhiyuan took a sip of red wine. Three buttons undone at his collar revealed a seductive collarbone, yet a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose lent him an air of scholarly depravity. “Let me guess, it was over Song Qingyou again?”

Gu Bai picked up the conversation. “Who else could it be? But to be fair, Zhang Yinan had it coming—his words were downright vile. If it had been me, I’d have crippled him.”

Jiang Zhiyuan glanced at the man idly playing with a lighter nearby. “So, what’s your next move?”

Fu Wenzhou lifted his eyelids, his expression cool and languid. “Doesn’t Zhang Song love to flaunt his seniority? I suppose I’ll have to make sure his reputation doesn’t survive his twilight years.”

His tone was detached, as if speaking of someone else’s business, but his eyes never strayed from a particular spot in the distance.

Jiang Zhiyuan, unlike Gu Bai and the others, had met Fu Wenzhou in the business world. They’d once competed for the same project, and after three sleepless days, Jiang Zhiyuan had still been beaten to the punch. The project thief had been none other than Fu Wenzhou. After multiple encounters, they’d grown somewhat familiar with each other.

He understood Fu Wenzhou’s hidden side better than the others—cold, ruthless, and utterly merciless.

So when Fu Wenzhou said he’d ruin Zhang Song’s reputation, Jiang Zhiyuan immediately grasped his meaning. “Just be careful not to get burned yourself.”

Fu Wenzhou only smiled, his gaze following a slender figure. “Don’t worry. That fire won’t reach me.”

As that figure disappeared around a corner, Fu Wenzhou’s brow suddenly furrowed. With a sharp click, he snapped the lighter shut and rose to his feet. “You all carry on.”

“Where’s he off to now?” Gu Bai asked, puzzled.

Xu Zezhan replied, “Haven’t you noticed? Ever since the youngest Miss Song walked in, he hasn’t taken his eyes off her.”

Gu Bai muttered a curse under his breath.

The Ruans’ estate was vast. Fu Wenzhou circled two long corridors but still couldn’t find Song Qingyou. His face grew colder by the minute. Just as he was about to lose patience, a clear, soft voice came from behind.

“Fu Wenzhou?”

Song Qingyou coughed lightly, her eyes puzzled as she looked at the figure at the end of the corridor. “You’re not in the banquet hall—what are you doing here?”

Fu Wenzhou’s long legs closed the distance in a few strides. His handsome face remained as chilly as ever. Before Song Qingyou could react, he scooped her up and carried her toward the main hall.

“What are you doing?” Song Qingyou panicked. There were so many people around—what if someone saw?

Fu Wenzhou’s expression was grim, and he said nothing until they’d reached the hall and he’d set her down. “The wind outside is fierce. Why are you wandering around?”

Song Qingyou looked up, then took a step back to put some distance between them. “Do you need anything else?”

Fu Wenzhou felt as if he’d punched a cloud, half exasperated, half amused. “Am I some kind of monster? Why are you so desperate to avoid me?”

Song Qingyou pursed her lips. The way he’d just picked her up without a word—he really wasn’t far off from being a monster.

She checked the time, a delicate frown creasing her brow. “I have things to attend to. I’ll be off, then.”

Fu Wenzhou’s expression grew even colder. He’d worried about her catching a chill, and here she was, eager to be eight hundred meters away from him.

Heh. If he kept offering his affection only to be rebuffed, he might as well be a dog.

The charity auction would begin after the banquet. Reporters weren’t allowed in during the dinner; only once the auction started would they be granted entry.

Fu Wenzhou, face like thunder, returned to the table where Gu Bai and the others sat.

Xu Zezhan teased, “Who’s gotten under your skin now?”

Fu Wenzhou snorted. “Song Qingyou.”

Xu Zezhan and Gu Bai both gave him knowing looks.

Jiang Zhiyuan remarked, “Zhang Song is at the main table.”

Fu Wenzhou reached for a few lychees from the fruit platter, his long fingers peeling them absently. He snorted, “Ruan Yutang and he go way back. It’s perfectly normal for him to be invited.”

“You’re not worried he’ll cause you trouble?” Jiang Zhiyuan raised an eyebrow.

Fu Wenzhou finished peeling one, placed it on a clean dish, and reached for another. “I’d welcome it.”

Jiang Zhiyuan watched as he peeled one after another, even removing the pits with cutlery, and remarked, “I never took you for a fan of lychees.”

Fu Wenzhou replied languidly.

Suddenly a commotion erupted in the distance, and someone rushed over to whisper in Zhang Song’s ear. His face darkened instantly. After exchanging a few polite words with the others at the main table, he hurriedly excused himself.

Fu Wenzhou frowned, rose, and, not forgetting the plate of peeled lychees, followed him out.

Gu Bai, Xu Zezhan, and Jiang Zhiyuan exchanged glances, their instincts telling them something had happened to prompt Zhang Song’s reaction. Seizing the moment, they slipped away as well.

No sooner had they left than Ruan Yutang ordered the exits guarded, allowing no one in or out.

Aside from the main house, the Ruan estate had three other wings. Zhang Song had headed east.

Wrapped in a shawl, Song Qingyou stood on the second floor balcony of the eastern wing, perfectly positioned to observe the scene below.

A woman knelt on the ground, sobbing and pleading, “Master, I was wrong! Please forgive me! I won’t dare do it again!”

Zhang Song was already shaking with rage, his cane striking the kneeling man beside her. “How could you? Climbing into bed with my wife—do you take me for dead?”