Chapter 19: No Dislike at All

Late at night, Song Qingyou lay on the rattan chair, gazing at the moonlight outside the window. Her sleep had grown worse these days, and most of her nights were spent in this very chair. It was nearly dawn when she finally drifted off in a daze.

When she woke, she was surprised to find herself back in bed. Her pale fingers brushed over the soft sheets as she glanced toward the empty rattan chair by the window, a fleeting look of confusion in her eyes. Had her illness made her so forgetful?

The sound of Zhouzhou’s paws scratching at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Song Qingyou got out of bed in her silk pajamas, the delicate fabric accentuating the smooth fairness of her skin.

As soon as she opened the door, Zhouzhou pressed close to her. She bent down to scoop the kitten into her arms and, as she walked out, her eyes lit up at the sight of a Xu’s Deli food box waiting on the table.

Song Qingyou was always particular about her food—not picky, but she ate very little, unless she truly liked something, and then she’d take a few more bites. Only after tending to Zhouzhou did she sit down to eat. Just as she was finishing, Song Chang entered, carrying two large bags of groceries.

Sated, Song Qingyou looked as content as a cat. “Uncle Chang, you’re getting on in years. You really shouldn’t line up so early at Xu’s Deli anymore.”

Song Chang sorted the groceries in the kitchen, puzzled. “Miss, what are you talking about? What Xu’s Deli?”

A flicker of suspicion crossed Song Qingyou’s mind. “You didn’t buy this breakfast?”

Song Chang shook his head. “No, I didn’t.” He had gone to the supermarket early that morning—he hadn’t the time to stand in line for two hours at Xu’s Deli.

If Song Chang hadn’t bought it, then who had?

Song Qingyou was perplexed. She suddenly remembered that the day Fu Wenzhou was injured, she had also eaten Xu’s Deli. She’d assumed Song Chang had bought it then, too, but later Gu Bai had mentioned that Fu Wenzhou had come by that day.

She looked up. “Who bought Xu’s Deli last time?”

Song Chang hesitated, then finally replied, “It was young Master Fu.”

The mystery of how she had gone from the rattan chair to her bed last night was suddenly solved.

Song Qingyou said nothing. Song Chang, thinking she was displeased, hurried to explain, “Miss, I know you don’t like young Master Fu. In the future, I won’t bring up anything he sends.”

Song Qingyou was silent for a moment, then murmured, “No.”

Song Chang asked, “No what?”

Song Qingyou turned, picking up Zhouzhou, her voice soft. “No, I don’t dislike him.”

—

“Didn’t dislike?” Fu Wenzhou asked excitedly. “Uncle Chang, are you sure that’s what Qingyou said?”

Song Chang clutched his phone, doubting himself for a moment. He had called Fu Wenzhou intending to tell him not to barge into the house or bring breakfast anymore, and had recounted his morning conversation with Song Qingyou.

Yet the reaction on the other end sounded rather pleased.

He pondered before saying, “That’s indeed what Miss said, but she also said you shouldn’t do these things anymore…”

“Didn’t dislike.” Fu Wenzhou filtered out the rest, his eyes and brows brimming with joy. “If she doesn’t dislike me, that means she likes me! And if she likes me, that’s love! And if she loves me, she can’t live without me! I knew Qingyou cares for me!”

Song Chang was speechless.

Before he could clarify, there was a crashing sound on the other end, and then the call was abruptly cut off.

Song Qingyou, now dressed, came downstairs and saw Song Chang staring at his phone in shock. She couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong, Uncle Chang?”

Song Chang’s eyelid twitched. He dared not tell her the truth. “Nothing… Miss, shall we go now?”

“Mm.” Song Qingyou bent down to rub Zhouzhou’s head as he sprawled on the floor. “No mischief. Be good.”

She’d learned firsthand how destructive Zhouzhou could be. When Fu Wenzhou had first brought the kitten home, the master bedroom she shared with Fu Tingshen had been turned inside out by the little troublemaker.

Oddly enough, Fu Tingshen, who never stayed overnight in their new home, had returned that night. Seeing a kitten in the room, the torn curtains and sofa, and the shattered antique vase on the floor, Fu Tingshen had stormed out in anger once again.

Aside from his talent for wreaking havoc, the kitten was usually well-behaved. When Lin Miaomiao showed up to bully her, Zhouzhou would raise a paw to scratch Lin Miaomiao, who, after getting a rabies vaccination, kept her distance for quite some time.

Who could resist a loyal, protective kitten?

Song Qingyou finished scratching Zhouzhou’s chin before reluctantly heading out the door.

She had heard that Madam Ruan would be attending a musical at the Yasong Grand Theatre today. The visiting troupe was internationally renowned, and tickets were nearly impossible to get—Song Qingyou had gone to great lengths to acquire one.

Madam Ruan typically arrived ten minutes early; Song Qingyou made a point of arriving before her.

—

Though simply dressed, Song Qingyou’s innate, cool elegance could not be concealed. In the dim theatre lights, her features possessed an almost unreal beauty.

Yu Rong noticed the young woman beside her as soon as she sat down. The girl sat quietly, making notes in a notebook with a fountain pen. In these ostentatious times, few young people had the patience to truly listen to a musical, let alone one as striking in appearance as this.

Yu Rong glanced at her several more times, the feeling of familiarity growing with each look.

Beside her, a girl in a red dress with a shapely figure tugged at Yu Rong’s arm, dissatisfied. “Grandma, why are you staring at her? She’s not even as pretty as your own granddaughter.”

Ruan Yinyin was strikingly beautiful, the only girl born to the Ruan family in generations. Spoiled since childhood, she had grown up headstrong and willful. Seeing someone who outshone her, and noticing her grandmother’s attention drawn away, her competitive streak flared.

Yu Rong withdrew her gaze and patted her granddaughter’s hand indulgently. “Keep your voice down, this is a theatre.”

Ruan Yinyin huffed and sat down reluctantly. She preferred punk rock; if not for her grandmother, she would never have come to such a soporific venue.

During their exchange, Song Qingyou appeared not to notice.

Once the musical began, Song Qingyou listened attentively, occasionally jotting notes in her notebook.

The troupe would perform at the Yasong Grand Theatre for a week, and Yu Rong soon noticed the same young woman sitting beside her every night. That very evening, after returning home, Yu Rong finally remembered who she was. At first, she’d wondered if the repeated encounters were deliberate on Song Qingyou’s part.

After all, this delicate beauty had just divorced, only to co-found a venture capital firm with Young Master Yan. Recently, she and the Song family had both been vying for a Ruan family project—these frequent meetings felt a bit too coincidental.

But for five nights in a row, Song Qingyou watched the show and left without so much as a word to her. Tonight, when she saw the empty seat on her right, Yu Rong found herself oddly disappointed.

Yu Rong had glanced at the notes in the girl’s notebook—a series of insights into the musicals, eloquently articulating all the reasons she herself had loved musical theatre for so many years.

More than once, she’d felt a rare sense of kinship, as if someone truly understood her passion.

After the performance, Yu Rong woke her dozing granddaughter. “Are you here for me or for a nap?”

Ruan Yinyin pouted and shook Yu Rong’s hand coquettishly. “Grandma, you know I don’t like this sort of thing.”

Yu Rong sighed, glanced once more at the empty seat to her right, and left the theatre with Yinyin.