Chapter 22: A Pleasant Surprise

“Yuyu, surprise!” Fu Wenzhou stood tall, holding a bouquet of roses, a roguish smile tugging at his lips, and a beautifully wrapped gift box dangling from his hand.

Song Qingyou felt as if she were being stalked by a wild beast, a chill creeping down her spine. She had no idea what game he was playing this time. Staring at him, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be nervous.” Fu Wenzhou’s eyes were dark as night, and he suddenly gave a small smile. “I’m here to bring a housewarming gift to my new neighbor.”

Song Qingyou’s eardrums rang. She asked, “Neighbor?”

Fu Wenzhou raised an eyebrow lazily. “I forgot to tell you—I bought the place across from yours last month. Moved in today. Yuyu, aren’t you happy?”

It was hard for Song Qingyou to say she was happy; instead, a nameless fire rose in her chest. No wonder he was so agreeable last night—he’d planned this all along.

Her lips parted, her face expressionless as she looked at him. “So you said you’d remove the tracker from my car and stop having people tail me just because you moved in across from me, is that it?”

Fu Wenzhou looked at her, his voice low and steady. “Yes.”

He didn’t even bother to deny it, openly admitting everything. He’d never tried to hide those twisted, selfish intentions from Song Qingyou.

She hated him having her followed? Fine—he’d just move closer.

But why did this not please her either? Fu Wenzhou couldn’t understand.

Song Qingyou’s fingers whitened as she gripped the doorframe. “Suit yourself.”

The apartment wasn’t hers, and where he chose to live was none of her concern—she just couldn’t waste any more time on these things.

She moved to close the door, but Fu Wenzhou blocked it with his arm. The solid wood pressed against him, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

Startled, Song Qingyou quickly let go, frowning. “Are you trying to get rid of your arm?”

“The gift.” Fu Wenzhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke in a deep voice.

Song Qingyou glanced down at the gift box in his hand.

“You’re not allowed to refuse.”

Song Qingyou fell silent.

Fu Wenzhou’s voice was hoarse. “This is a piece by Lin Qingshan, his first work since coming out of retirement. If you don’t want it, I’ll just throw it away.”

Song Qingyou’s clear eyes met his. “I wouldn’t object if you burned it.”

Without waiting for his reply, she slammed the door shut.

She was truly furious. A qipao bought at auction for fifty million—he could throw it away on a whim. He always did as he pleased, as if the world revolved around him, as if everything had to bend to his will!

But she would not let him have his way.

After all, it was his money being wasted, not hers.

Song Qingyou scooped up Zhouzhou from the floor. She kneaded the little thing for a while before her mood began to ease.

Her phone rang where it rested on the coffee table. She glanced at the screen and answered.

“Miaomiao?”

Yan Miao’s voice was excited. “Qingyou, I have some juicy gossip for you! Do you want to hear it?”

Song Qingyou knew Yan Miao well—she’d tell it whether Qingyou wanted to hear or not.

As expected, Yan Miao didn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “Do you know Old Master Zhang? The one with Zhang Song, who used to be the second most powerful man in the capital.”

“I know,” Song Qingyou played along. “What about him?”

“Last week, the Ruan family threw a charity banquet, remember? That very night, Zhang Song’s wife and a bodyguard were caught in the act by Zhang Song himself in the east wing of the Ruan estate. The bodyguard had his leg broken that night, and Mrs. Zhang was thrown out of the Zhang family. But that’s not the main point—the real shock is that Zhang Yinan isn’t even Zhang Song’s biological son. He’s the child of Mrs. Zhang and the bodyguard!”

Yan Miao went on, “Now Zhang Yinan’s not only been struck from the family registry, Zhang Song confiscated all his assets and froze his accounts. He’s like a rat in the gutter—everyone who sees him gives him a kick. I hear his situation is downright miserable.”

Song Qingyou stroked Zhouzhou’s head, her voice calm. “That does sound miserable.”

Yan Miao, breathless from her rapid-fire story, gulped down some water before going on.

“And after just a couple days, Zhang Song himself was reported to the authorities. Apparently, he took bribes and embezzled funds back in the day—there’s conclusive evidence now, and the higher-ups are investigating. I’d say he’s pretty much done for.”

Song Qingyou paused, a small frown forming. “You’re saying Zhang Song was reported?”

Yan Miao replied, “Yeah. My dad said someone set him up behind the scenes—dug up stuff from ages ago. If things go badly, he might end up in prison. Who knows who he managed to offend, to end his days in disgrace like this.”

Who had he offended, indeed...

Besides Fu Wenzhou, who else could it be?

Song Qingyou understood perfectly but kept her face impassive. “I’ve heard he made plenty of enemies during his time in office. Maybe it’s just a case of everyone kicking a man when he’s down.”

Yan Miao sighed, “Remember how arrogant Zhang Yinan used to be? It was like he wanted to walk sideways through the world. Well, look at him now—he’s a complete wreck. Poetic justice.”

Song Qingyou gave a quiet chuckle. “He never did anything to you.”

“He was always badmouthing you!” Yan Miao bit into an apple. “Oh, right—has your little nephew stopped pestering you?”

Song Qingyou hesitated for a beat. “He moved in across from me.”

“What?!” Yan Miao shrieked, dropping her apple. “You mean Fu Wenzhou moved in across from you? The apartment in Wutong Residences?”

“Mm.” Song Qingyou’s voice was soft. “He moved in today.”

Yan Miao’s gossip-loving heart was ablaze. “He’s obviously not here for the apartment—he’s here for you!”

Song Qingyou rubbed her temples. “Don’t mention Fu Wenzhou. He’s a headache.”

Yan Miao obediently fell silent and switched the topic.

The two chatted for over an hour. Only after hanging up did Song Qingyou realize she hadn’t had breakfast, and now she felt a little hungry.

She couldn’t cook, and Song Chang had gone back to their hometown.

While she was pondering whether to eat out, Zhouzhou suddenly jumped out of her arms. The next thing she heard was the sound of the door lock turning.

Looking back, she saw Fu Wenzhou standing at the entrance, calmly changing his shoes.

Her headache worsened. “You realize this is trespassing, right?”

Fu Wenzhou held the still beautifully wrapped gift in his left hand and a food carrier in his right, his tone restrained. “Come eat.”

Zhouzhou clung to Fu Wenzhou’s pant leg, begging to be picked up.