Chapter 58: The Deeds of a Mad Dog

When Song Qingyou received the call from the police station, she thought there must be something wrong with her hearing. She checked several times before she dared believe that Fu Wenzhou had truly been arrested.

Seeing her face pale, Song Chang couldn't help but ask, "Miss, what's wrong?"

Through clenched teeth, Song Qingyou squeezed out a few words: "Uncle Chang, drive to the police station."

Song Chang was startled. "What happened?"

Song Qingyou frowned. "Fu Wenzhou put Song Yuan and Song Wei in the hospital right in public."

Song Chang was speechless. This young master Fu certainly did things his own way.

The car glided steadily to the police station as a light snow began to fall outside. Song Chang got out first, opening an umbrella. Wrapped in a fluffy shawl, Song Qingyou's slender figure was hidden beneath its shelter, every movement full of elegance and charm.

When she entered, Fu Wenzhou was sitting on a bench, casually flicking a cigarette. His eyes, habitually narrowed, watched as the blue flame of the lighter danced briefly on the silver handcuffs at his wrists. When the flame died, he lazily pulled the cigarette from his lips.

The police chief nearby was sweating profusely—caught between Chairman Song and young master Fu, he could afford to offend neither. Catching a glimpse of the graceful figure at the door, his eyes brightened as if he’d seen a savior. He hurried forward, "Miss Song, you’re here."

At the sound of "Miss Song," Fu Wenzhou reflexively snuffed out his cigarette, the indolent nonchalance vanishing instantly, replaced by a rare look of fluster—like a big dog afraid of displeasing its master after causing trouble.

"Qingyou…" Fu Wenzhou called out softly.

She cast him a sidelong glance, and he fell silent at once.

The police chief glanced back and forth between them. Just now, young master Fu had been acting like he owned the place. But at the sight of her, he changed entirely? Who would have thought such a man could fear anyone! The chief was deeply unsettled, though he showed nothing on his face, and was about to speak when that slender figure brushed past him, heading straight for the man behind.

Song Qingyou lowered her gaze to look at Fu Wenzhou.

He swallowed hard and tried to explain, "I didn’t cause trouble. Song Yuan brought it on himself."

He was annoyed, not understanding why the police had called Song Qingyou. He could have resolved this himself and hadn’t planned to tell her at all. Fearing she’d be angry, he added, "So I hit him. It’s not a big deal. Worst comes to worst, I’ll let him hit me back."

Seeing the silver handcuffs on his wrist, Song Qingyou frowned. "Your hand."

Fu Wenzhou obediently held out his hand.

Her slender, fair fingers examined his palm carefully.

She said nothing, making Fu Wenzhou uneasy. He tried, "Are you upset?"

Ignoring him, Song Qingyou carefully checked his wrist for marks; only when she saw none did she breathe a little easier.

Fu Wenzhou sat as if on pins and needles. Suddenly, he shot a glare at the police chief, his tone sharp, "Who told you to call her?"

The chief broke out in a cold sweat and quickly replied, "You only have Miss Song in your contacts. We asked you to call someone else, but you refused…"

His voice trailed off, growing softer, not daring to argue further.

Song Qingyou glanced up lightly. "You hit someone, and you still think you're in the right?"

Fu Wenzhou fell silent.

His arrogance faded, and he turned into a pitiful big dog clutching at his master’s sleeve, eyes misty. "Qingyou, don’t be angry…"

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

Fu Wenzhou snorted. "No. I used a hammer, didn’t do it with my bare hands."

The word "hammer" made Song Qingyou suck in a sharp breath. She’d only heard that Fu Wenzhou had crippled Song Yuan’s arms, but she hadn’t expected he’d used a hammer.

A hammer—just the sort of thing this mad dog would do.

Suppressing the twitch at her lips, Song Qingyou found herself oddly satisfied thinking of Song Yuan getting beaten.

She reached out and stroked Fu Wenzhou’s cheek. "There won’t be a next time."

She cared little for Song Yuan’s beating; what worried her was Fu Wenzhou hurting himself.

Fu Wenzhou broke into a smile. "Alright."

The police chief watched them, an odd feeling creeping over him. Why did this feel so much like his wife scolding their Tibetan mastiff at home?

Song Qingyou turned to the police chief and nodded slightly. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Not at all, Miss Song. It’s just… Young master Fu hit your father. If Chairman Song doesn’t agree to a settlement, we’re caught in the middle."

"I’m his daughter," Song Qingyou replied. "I can sign the settlement."

"Well…" The chief looked uneasy. "If Chairman Song says something afterward, we won’t know how to explain…"

Fu Wenzhou sneered, his tone insolent. "Wang Jun, you’ve gotten bold, haven’t you?"

Even when called by name, the chief didn’t dare take offense. Here at the station, he was in charge, but in the capital, a mere gesture from the Fu family could overturn their little precinct. Yet the Song family was no pushover either. This young master had shattered Chairman Song’s arm—if those arms were ruined, it was intentional injury, and if the Song family pressed charges, prison time was certain.

Song Qingyou’s throat tickled; she covered her mouth and coughed a few times. "Leave Chairman Song to me. You needn’t worry."

Wang Jun had been waiting for just this assurance. Whoever wanted this hot potato could have it—his little temple couldn’t house such a god.

"Alright, just sign the papers and we’ll release him immediately."

"Very well," Song Qingyou agreed.

As soon as they left the station, Fu Wenzhou clung to her. "Qingyou, I want to take care of you."

"And how will you do that?" she asked casually.

The two walked closely, one behind the other.

"I want to move into your place," Fu Wenzhou said, swallowing.

Song Qingyou paused and looked back at him. "Don’t you live right across from me?"

"It’s not the same," he replied, his eyes dark.

She gave him a glance, then continued walking. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no, either.

In Fu Wenzhou’s eyes, not refusing was as good as agreeing. He was all smiles.

"I need to go to the hospital. Head home yourself," Song Qingyou said.

His smile faded, brow furrowing. "Why go to the hospital? To visit Song Yuan? You’re not allowed!"

He’d just beaten the man—if Song Qingyou went now, who knew what Song Yuan might do.

"I need to discuss the settlement with him, and I have something to say to Song Wei," she replied.

His face darkened. "You’re not going."

He’d let her out of his sight once, and she’d come back with injuries. How could he let her near Song Yuan again?

Song Qingyou ignored him, turning to get in the car. "Uncle Chang, let’s go."

Just as Song Chang started the car, someone squeezed in beside her.

Surprised, he said, "Young master Fu?"

Fu Wenzhou, face black as thunder, ordered, "Drive."

Through the rearview mirror, Song Chang looked at Song Qingyou, who sighed softly. "Go ahead," she said.

Only then did Song Chang press the gas.