Chapter 20: Don’t Be Fierce

On the final day of the musical, Song Qingyou arrived just as the performance was about to begin. She headed to her usual seat, where Yu Rong was already sitting; to reach her spot, Song Qingyou had to pass by Yu Rong.

“Excuse me, could you let me through?” Song Qingyou asked, neither humble nor arrogant.

There was a faint scent of incense about her, subtle and pleasant, only noticeable when one drew close. Yu Rong shifted sideways to make room for her.

When the show ended, Song Qingyou didn’t speak to her again. Seeing the young woman preparing to leave, Yu Rong hurriedly called out, “You’re the youngest daughter of the Song family, aren’t you?”

Song Qingyou nodded lightly. “Madam Ruan.”

Most people had already left the theater, leaving only the two of them behind.

Yu Rong was surprised. “You know me?”

Song Qingyou smiled gently. “I met you when I was little. Your appearance hasn’t changed.”

Yu Rong found the words especially pleasing. She waved her hand. “It’s been so many years. I’m long past my youth. I never expected you to enjoy musicals.”

Song Qingyou replied, “My mother loved them before she passed. Perhaps because she listened to them every day while pregnant, I was influenced too.”

At the mention of Song Ning, Yu Rong’s expression dimmed. Back then, Song Ning was beautiful and clever, the most beloved among the children—a pity she later married poorly and met a tragic fate.

Yu Rong looked at her. “Since you know me, why haven’t you greeted me these days? I used to hold you when you were little.”

Song Qingyou paused, lowering her gaze. “I didn’t expect you to remember, Grandma Ruan.”

That one address drew them closer. Her delicate demeanor reminded Madam Ruan of Song Ning in her youth. That girl and Ruan’s granddaughter had similar temperaments—both proud and headstrong. Now, though, the daughter had grown timid and fragile.

The elders knew something of what went on in the Song family, and seeing Song Qingyou like this, Yu Rong could guess what sort of life she had endured over the years.

Thinking of the illness Song Qingyou had carried since birth, Yu Rong felt a surge of sympathy for the girl before her. “Though our families haven’t kept in touch much since your mother passed, the old ties remain. Come to the Ruan house more often and play with Yinyin.”

Song Qingyou agreed, stepping forward to support Yu Rong as they walked out of the theater.

On the way, she spoke of childhood anecdotes, eliciting constant smiles from Yu Rong. By the time they reached the street corner, the two had become much closer.

Yu Rong took a strong liking to Song Qingyou. No matter what was said, the girl responded thoughtfully, and her understanding of musicals was profound. After their conversation, Yu Rong almost wanted to take her home for a proper chat.

The Ruan family’s driver waited at the corner. Song Qingyou helped Yu Rong into the car, promising to visit over the weekend, then watched as the vehicle drove away.

Only when the car disappeared from view did the itch in Song Qingyou’s throat finally overwhelm her. She gripped a streetlamp and coughed violently, each spasm harsher than the last.

She was freezing. The wind at the intersection cut into her throat, making even breathing difficult.

The theater stood by the river, the evening breeze rippling across the water. Pedestrians moved in scattered groups, and cars sped ceaselessly along the road.

Inside a silver Maybach—

“Damn!”

Fu Wenzhou frowned impatiently. “Why are you so jumpy?”

Gu Bai patted Fu Wenzhou’s shoulder. “Isn’t there a ghost by the river?”

Fu Wenzhou’s gaze was as cold as a blade. “Say one more word and I’ll make you a ghost.”

Gu Bai shivered but forced himself to point. “What’s that white lump over there?”

Fu Wenzhou glanced sideways, then suddenly slammed the brakes.

Gu Bai nearly went flying, cursing all the while.

Hearing the seatbelt unfasten, Gu Bai looked up to see Fu Wenzhou getting out of the car. He was startled. “Fu Wenzhou, are you insane? Getting out in the middle of the bridge? How many lives do you think you have?”

Cars passed endlessly, horns blaring.

Song Qingyou crouched beneath the streetlamp, a handkerchief pressed to her lips, her face pale and figure frail, like an abandoned rag doll.

Suddenly, a shadow blocked the blinding lights, and before she could look up, she fell into a warm embrace.

Scorching heat seeped through their clothes, and Song Qingyou’s icy body finally began to thaw.

But she seemed unable to support herself and collapsed in his arms.

Fu Wenzhou’s jet-black eyes were cold and fierce, his entire person radiating hostility—emotions barely contained beneath his gaze. Yet his hold on her was gentle.

At times like this, he always hated that his body wasn’t warm enough, that the heat from his palms took so long to dispel her chill.

Gu Bai switched to the driver’s seat and had to circle a long way before finding a spot to turn around. As soon as he got out, he couldn’t help shouting, “You—”

Before he finished, Fu Wenzhou’s steely gaze stunned him into silence.

When he spoke again, his tone was subdued. “It’s cold out here, why not get in the car?”

Fu Wenzhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He carefully lifted her and got into the back seat. “Drive.”

Gu Bai dared not delay, immediately starting the car, willingly playing chauffeur.

“Turn on the heat,” Fu Wenzhou’s voice was low and icy, his palm pressed to Song Qingyou’s pale cheek, trying to restore her color with his warmth.

Gu Bai cranked the heat to the maximum. “No wonder your grandfather sent you to the army. Your eyes are sharper than an eagle’s.”

Song Qingyou had been curled up in a ball—just a blur of white from afar. Gu Bai had no idea how Fu Wenzhou recognized her at a glance.

Fu Wenzhou held her tightly, his brows and gaze full of longing, unwilling to let go.

As warmth seeped into her body, Song Qingyou gradually awakened.

She possessed eyes filled with emotion; a glance from her was heart-rending. Years of illness had left her waist slender and fragile, adding a delicate allure and an almost breakable beauty.

When she looked up at someone, it always seemed as though her eyes brimmed with affection.

But Fu Wenzhou knew better than anyone how indifferent the owner of those eyes could be.

As her senses cleared, Song Qingyou tried to move away from Fu Wenzhou; their posture was too intimate, and she felt awkward.

The man’s arms were iron-strong, unmoved no matter how she pushed.

Song Qingyou grew annoyed. “Let me go.”

Fu Wenzhou only looked down at her, his gaze cold and forbidding. “Where’s Song Chang?”

It was an interrogation.

Song Qingyou understood.

But she didn’t want to explain further. “Release me first.”

“I’m asking you, where is Song Chang?” Fu Wenzhou’s hostility was barely restrained, but he still asked patiently.

Gu Bai couldn’t stand it. “Song Qingyou, you nearly fainted just now—it was Wenzhou who warmed you with his body. Are you just going to abandon him now?”

Song Qingyou was silent for a moment. “Uncle Chang’s son’s memorial is today. He returned to his hometown. Will you let me go now?”

“No,” Fu Wenzhou replied bluntly, his expression frighteningly cold. “What are you doing wandering alone at night? If Song Chang isn’t here, why didn’t you call me? Or did you forget how to ask for help?”

Song Qingyou wasn’t intimidated. “I called for a car. Even if you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have fainted by the river.”

She had calculated her time; she knew her own body best. Once she got in a car and warmed up, she would be fine.

It was just that she’d caught the scent on him, relaxed, and fallen asleep.

Fu Wenzhou gave a bitter laugh. “Called for a car? Song Qingyou, you’re something else. I stood there holding you for ten minutes and never saw a single car stop, and you tell me you called for one?”

Song Qingyou bore it with difficulty. “Can you not be so harsh?”