Chapter 54: The Song Family Bears the Surname Song, Not Luo

At the dinner table, Song Qingyou stood aside holding her bowl and chopsticks, while the entire family sat together, fatherly and filial, immersed in their meal. The servants cast contemptuous glances at her, as if she were nothing more than a piece of unwanted trash in this household.

Song Qingyou curved her lips slightly, and with a flick of her fingers, the delicate porcelain bowl slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor with a crisp crack.

The sudden sound startled those at the table. Song Wei cried out in alarm, as if frightened.

Song Yuan barked sharply, “Can’t even hold a bowl—what else are you good for?”

Song Chen sneered, “You’re just here to ruin the mood, aren’t you, Song Qingyou?”

Song Shi frowned. “What happened?”

“Sorry, my hand slipped,” Song Qingyou replied with a smile. “Xiaoxiao, come clean this up.”

Xiaoxiao, caught off guard at being named, was slow to mask her scorn. “What?”

Song Qingyou’s tone was indifferent. “Are you blind? Can’t you see the broken pieces on the floor?”

Xiaoxiao glanced at Li Ruo for support, who came to her defense: “You broke it, you clean it up. Why should someone else do it for you?”

Xiaoxiao looked triumphant as she snorted at Song Qingyou, not budging an inch.

Song Qingyou’s eyes turned icy. “A servant who acts as if she’s the real heiress of the Song family—how curious. And you, so eager to shield her? Are you afraid I’ll make her do her job?”

Li Ruo was left speechless by the retort and sent Song Qingyou a hateful glare.

Song Yuan, impatient with such trivialities, said coldly, “What are you standing there for? Didn’t you hear Miss tell you to clean up?”

Biting her lip, Xiaoxiao walked over and crouched down to gather the shards.

Song Qingyou looked down at her from above, then lifted her right leg and pressed her foot—not too heavily, but not lightly either—over Xiaoxiao’s hand.

“Aah!”

Xiaoxiao’s hand was forced onto the broken pieces, drawing blood. She shrieked in pain.

Song Qingyou withdrew her foot and bent down with feigned concern to help her up. “Sorry, my foot slipped.”

Xiaoxiao stared at her with hatred, tears streaming down. “You did that on purpose!”

Song Qingyou had, indeed, done it intentionally, but she had controlled her strength; Xiaoxiao was not truly hurt.

A servant’s worst fault was always bullying others on behalf of their masters.

The other servants hurried over to tidy up and led Xiaoxiao away to tend to her wound.

Song Chen raised his brows, intrigued. This sister of his was nothing like the frail, helpless figure whispered about by outsiders. She was a rose bristling with thorns, eager to draw blood from everyone around her.

Song Wei’s eyes darkened. Had she simply been away too long? In five years, Song Qingyou had transformed from someone weak and easily bullied into a person who answered every slight in kind.

But what did it matter? As a child, she’d been able to cut off her long hair, and she could do it again now. Song Qingyou was nothing but a useless wretch with one foot in the grave—how could she possibly vie with her for the Song family’s legacy?

Each person here nursed their own schemes, but their goal was the same—they all wished for Song Qingyou to die as soon as possible. Only then could they claim legitimacy for themselves.

How could Song Qingyou not perceive their thoughts? In this treacherous house, these parasites had stayed so long they’d started to mistake themselves for masters.

She curled her lips, almost amused. But this time, she held back her laughter.

After the meal, Song Yuan summoned her to the study.

“Pull your investment from Shiyu Ventures,” Song Yuan said bluntly.

Song Qingyou stood at a distance, her voice drifting, “Why? You need to give me a reason.”

Song Yuan’s tone was cold. “If you’re still a member of this family, you’ll do as I say. Otherwise, tomorrow I’ll publicly announce that I’ve severed all ties with you. From this day on, you are no longer my daughter, and you’ll never set foot in this house again.”

He now despised this daughter more than ever. With Yan Shaoqin shielding Shiyu Ventures, he couldn’t get his hands on it directly, so the simplest solution was to force Song Qingyou to withdraw her investment.

If not for this, he wouldn’t have bothered inviting her to tonight’s family dinner.

Song Qingyou smiled faintly, her eyes holding no warmth. “Father, what are you so afraid of?”

That light question made Song Yuan stiffen, anger slowly rising in his eyes. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

“If you’re worried Shiyu poses a threat to the Song family, you needn’t be. It’s just a small company, like an ant trying to shake a tree. I don’t know why you’re so concerned—unless…”

She looked up at him, her gaze colder still. “The Song family bears that surname, but do you, Father, go by Luo?”

Song Yuan’s expression cracked, his eyes growing dark and sinister. For a moment, Song Qingyou’s face overlapped with one from his memories. He took a step back, but quickly remembered she wasn’t Song Ning, and his anger erupted. “Song Qingyou!”

Song Qingyou lifted her chin. “Am I wrong? All these years, you made your children change their names one by one, swapping Luo for Song. But, Father, never forget—a rat in new skin is still a rat.”

Song Yuan’s face turned ashen, veins bulging on his forehead. Suddenly, he let out a deep, menacing laugh. “It seems I’ve let too much time pass without reminding you who’s in charge, letting you think you can stand as my equal.”

Song Qingyou’s gaze remained calm. “So you plan to do what you did when I was young? Lock me up and beat me senseless?”

Song Yuan drew his belt slowly from his waist, purposefully drawing out the movement, making the room’s narrowness oppressive in hopes of rekindling her old fear.

Song Qingyou’s fingers trembled, but she gripped them tightly, refusing to show any weakness. “Song Yuan, in all these years, have you ever felt a shred of guilt for my mother?”

Song Yuan laughed angrily, his words dripping with scorn. “Song Ning? She was nothing but a stepping stone to power—a mere woman. Once I became chairman of the Song Group, I could have any woman I wanted. She actually thought I’d stay loyal. If she’d just done as I said and fooled that old man out of his fortune, maybe I’d have pretended a little longer. But she was as stubborn and useless as you.”

He raised his belt high and struck.

Song Qingyou, frail as always, collapsed to the floor under the blow, biting her lip hard, sweat beading on her brow. She had been bullied and sickly since birth—pain was nothing new.

This one lashing wasn’t enough to kill her.

When Song Yuan raised his arm for a second blow, Song Qingyou scrambled to her feet, her cold gaze locking onto him.

He hesitated, frozen by her look.

Seizing the moment, Song Qingyou turned and left. She wasn’t foolish enough to invite more suffering—her goal was achieved; there was no need to endure more.

She hurried away, afraid Song Yuan might come after her.

Fortunately, he did not. Song Chen saw her emerge, drenched with sweat, and was about to make a cutting remark when he caught sight of the fresh welt on her arm. His eyes narrowed and he seized her arm. “He hit you again?”

Song Qingyou’s laugh was cold. “Why act so surprised? Didn’t you used to hand him the belt when we were kids?”

She shook off his hand and walked straight out the door. Song Chang was waiting anxiously outside; when he finally saw her emerge, he caught sight of the long, red welt on her arm.

His heart clenched. He hurried over to steady her, both worried and angry. “Miss, you—”

Song Qingyou gave him a small smile. “It’s nothing, Uncle Chang. I got what I came for. One lash in exchange for Song Yuan’s downfall—that’s a bargain I’m willing to make.”

Song Chang’s heart ached for her; he couldn’t even bring himself to scold her.

He had known from the start what she intended to do. The plan had been in place for a long time, and with Song Wei’s return, he had guessed today would be the day.

The Song Group was too vast—it wasn’t easy to seize control completely. Public confidence mattered most. She needed Song Yuan to show himself as a perfect abuser and usurper, to lay bare the truth of the Song family before the world.

She wanted everyone—including the other shareholders—to know that she was the true heiress, that the Song Group was her grandfather’s legacy, and that it was the Song name, not Luo, that mattered.

Only when the Song Group changed hands and Song Yuan fell would she be able to convince the shareholders.

Every step she’d taken had been hard-won. To bring Song Yuan down, she’d even gambled herself, becoming a pawn on the chessboard.

The only one she refused to involve was Fu Wenzhou. Song Chang hadn’t understood before, but now he did.

Perhaps it wasn’t that she didn’t wish to be entangled with Fu Wenzhou, but rather that she simply refused to use him.