Chapter 17: The Lychees Are Very Sweet

That word, "yours," though spoken lightly, tore open a gaping wound in the waves like a hurricane at sea.

Yang Jiao's expression changed drastically. She turned to Li Qingqing, her eyes brimming with confusion, shock, and fury.

Li Qingqing hurriedly tried to explain, "Jiao Jiao, don’t listen to Song Qingyou’s nonsense, I didn’t—"

"How convenient." Song Qingyou quietly interrupted, sliding her phone across the table. "I happened to take a photo that day by accident."

With a guilty start, Li Qingqing reached out to snatch the phone, but Yang Jiao seized it first. On the screen was a photo of Li Qingqing and her own husband kissing at the entrance of a hotel.

Yang Jiao's anger exploded. She raised her hand and slapped Li Qingqing hard across the face. "You wretch! Seducing my husband—after all I’ve done, treating you as my closest friend!"

Li Qingqing was no pushover. Stunned by the blow, she threw caution to the wind and snapped back, "It was your husband who came to me first! He said you’re like a dead fish in bed, can’t arouse even a bit of interest. If you want to blame someone, blame your husband—"

"Ah!" Yang Jiao screamed and lunged, grabbing Li Qingqing’s hair. The two women became entangled in a violent scuffle.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of the other guests in the hall. They whispered among themselves, but none stepped in to intervene. Sympathy runs thin among the wealthy; most only watched, eager for more drama.

At that moment, Ruan Yutang was still in the East Wing and had not returned. The servants, flustered, hurried upstairs to inform the young master of the Ruan family.

Ruan Mingshen paused his wheelchair at the landing and surveyed the chaos below with cold detachment. "Who are those two?" he asked.

"Second Miss Li Qingqing from Li’s Department Stores, and Yang Jiao, granddaughter of a hardware magnate," the servant replied hastily.

Ruan Mingshen’s thin lips parted icily, "Such disgraceful creatures dare show themselves in the Ruan house? Throw them out."

"Yes, young master."

With his approval, the servants signaled the bodyguards. Two of them descended at once and forcefully separated the brawling women.

"Sorry, the young master asks you to leave."

Without further ado, they dragged the struggling women toward the exit.

Seizing the chaos, Li Qingqing suddenly broke free from the bodyguard’s grip and charged toward Song Qingyou, screaming through clenched teeth, "You vile instigator!"

She moved so swiftly that Song Qingyou was caught off guard, momentarily stunned, and tried to dodge, but Li Qingqing was already upon her.

Yan Miao reached out to pull Song Qingyou aside, but before she could, a tall figure suddenly stepped in front, shielding Song Qingyou in his embrace.

In the next instant, Li Qingqing was sent flying backward—someone had kicked her away.

"Why are you still standing there? Drag her out," Fu Wenzhou’s voice rang out, cold as ice.

Startled by his glare, the bodyguards hurriedly hauled Li Qingqing from the floor and out the door.

At last, the hall fell silent.

Fu Wenzhou kept Song Qingyou sheltered in his arms, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd with scorn curling at his lips. "What’s the matter? Have you not seen enough?"

The guests quickly averted their eyes.

Turning back to Song Qingyou, the hostility in his eyes vanished. He almost reached up to touch her cheek, but restrained himself. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Song Qingyou replied, gently pushing him away.

Fu Wenzhou let her go, displeased.

One of the women at Song Qingyou’s table, a friend of Yang Jiao’s, couldn’t resist muttering sarcastically, "Having a powerful backer really makes a difference. If you lose your uncle, there’s still the nephew to stand up for you."

"Right? Some people are just sick—"

But the man’s gaze swept over, and she fell instantly silent.

Fu Wenzhou nonchalantly adjusted his cuffs, sat beside Song Qingyou, leaned back, and glanced up lazily.

He picked up the dinner knife and idly polished it. "If anyone says another word, I’ll cut out her tongue."

The air turned instantly tense.

No one dared utter another sound.

Yan Miao leaned closer to Song Qingyou, whispering, "Sometimes it pays to have a madman on your side—see, all those mouths have finally shut up."

Song Qingyou glanced down at the man’s refined profile, her heart stirring slightly.

In a soft voice, she said, "Thank you. The lychees… were very sweet."

Fu Wenzhou’s back stiffened for a moment, then the corners of his lips lifted in a faint smile.

Upstairs, Ruan Mingshen asked, "Who is she?"

"Who does the young master mean?" the servant asked in confusion.

"The one in the plain white cheongsam," Ruan Mingshen clarified.

"That’s the youngest daughter of the Song family, Song Qingyou," the servant replied. "She just recently divorced Fu Tingshen from the Fu family. Old Master is quite fond of her and made a point of sending her an invitation."

Ruan Mingshen’s expression remained indifferent. "Take me back to my room."

"Yes, young master."

—

When the banquet ended, the event transitioned into the charity auction.

Ruan Yutang presided himself. The guests, not wishing to offend him and eager to burnish their own reputations and those of their enterprises, bid enthusiastically, driving the prices of the items ever higher.

Ruan Yutang announced, "It is my honor to host you all at the Ruan family’s charity auction banquet. The final item tonight is a masterpiece by Master Lin Qingshan—his first work in twelve years since his retirement—entitled ‘Green Mountain Azure’."

Interest surged through the room; everyone knew how hard it was to commission Lin Qingshan, and few had expected Ruan Yutang to succeed in doing so.

When two models wheeled out the display case holding the cheongsam, gasps of awe rippled through the crowd.

It was breathtaking.

With a base of verdant green, from afar it looked like a stunning landscape painting woven into the fabric—rippling jade waves, lustrous yet restrained. Only up close did one realize it wasn’t mountains and rivers at all, but a phoenix soaring through the heavens.

Lifelike, both real and dreamlike.

Three-color embroidery—truly a masterpiece worthy of his return.

The host announced the starting price.

Bids came swiftly: "Two million two hundred thousand."

"Two million eight hundred thousand."

"Five million."

…

Song Qingyou estimated the value, then slowly raised her paddle. "Seven million."

In the front row, Lin Miaomiao whipped around, glaring viciously at Song Qingyou.

Every time she remembered that all this money Song Qingyou was spending had come from Fu Tingshen, she could barely contain her anger. And this cheongsam—she was determined to win it! How could Song Qingyou, with her sickly body, possibly wear it as beautifully as she could?

Malice flashed in Lin Miaomiao’s eyes as she turned back and nestled against Fu Tingshen, her voice saccharine. "Tingshen, I want to wear this cheongsam at our wedding. It’s just so beautiful."

As if afraid he might refuse, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I want to be the most beautiful bride in your heart on our wedding day, is that alright, Tingshen?"

Fu Tingshen replied warmly, "As long as you like it."

He had always been generous with anything Lin Miaomiao wanted, especially if it was something Song Qingyou had her eye on.

With a cold smile, Fu Tingshen raised his paddle. "Ten million."

Song Qingyou: "Eleven million."

"Fifteen million," Fu Tingshen continued, as if determined to oppose her at every turn.

Song Qingyou hesitated. Although Lin Qingshan's creations were priceless, this cheongsam had already soared far beyond its intrinsic value. Bidding any higher would be senseless.

She frowned slightly; it seemed she would have to find another gift for Madam Ruan.

"Fifty million."

Suddenly, a languid, deep voice called out from the back.

The words fell like a heavy hammer, stunning everyone present.

All eyes turned toward the source, curious to see who was so extravagant, so eager to honor Master Lin.