Volume One, Chapter 35: Hidden Schemes

Song Qingyu never expected to hear such words from Wu Yijun’s lips.

She had always been aware that Wu Yijun looked down on her, but she never imagined that, in her eyes, she was so worthless.

“What’s wrong with Sheng Yuru anyway? She’s devoted to you, she’s the prince’s cousin. If you’re with her, you won’t have to worry about connecting with the Gu family.”

Chu Xingzhi was about to speak when he noticed Song Qingyu approaching.

His expression changed dramatically; he immediately rushed over, anxiously trying to explain, “Qingyu, I really have no feelings for Sheng Yuru at all. I didn’t ask Lin Tiange to take care of Grandma. She—”

Before he could finish, Song Qingyu interrupted him. “There’s nothing between us anymore. You don’t need to explain.”

Every time he saw her cold indifference, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

Song Qingyu then turned to Wu Yijun. “But since Aunt Wu suggested it, you should consider it. After all, she only has your best interests at heart.”

Wu Yijun maintained her composed demeanor as a wealthy matron, but her face had turned ashen.

She was certain that Song Qingyu had overheard her earlier words.

Was this revenge?

Hmph. She had always known that Song Qingyu only looked gentle and easy to handle on the surface—deep down, she was vengeful and petty.

A girl without a mother’s upbringing could never be presentable.

As Song Qingyu left, she couldn’t help but say, “Take good care of Grandma. She’s old now—let her worry less.”

Chu Xingzhi wanted to chase after her, but Wu Yijun grabbed his arm. “She’s already encouraged you to be with another woman. Why shamelessly follow her? Beg for more humiliation?”

His fists clenched tight, a terrible look on his face.

“Xingzhi…”

Wu Yijun patted his back comfortingly as she held his arm.

“Song Qingyu has moved on. There’s no need for you to dwell on the past. You need to start over too—think about your own future!”

He turned to glance at her, gently pried her hand away, and patted it soothingly. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve made you all worry these last few days.”

Wu Yijun shook her head, thinking he had finally come to his senses.

But the next moment—

“I won’t give up on Qingyu. Never!”

Wu Yijun was speechless.

After leaving the hospital, Song Qingyu finally let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Telling Grandma about what had happened between her and Chu Xingzhi had weighed on her heart like a stone.

She knew Grandma would find out sooner or later, but considering her health, she had delayed as long as she could.

Who would have thought that the collision between Sheng Yuru and Lin Tiange would lift that stone from her chest.

Though Grandma was badly shaken, she had, in the end, accepted it.

Now, Song Qingyu no longer needed to dwell on it.

She had taken leave at noon and now had to return to the office.

Everyone was working feverishly to prepare for the launch, and she didn’t dare relax for a moment.

After a long, busy afternoon and working overtime until half past eight, Song Qingyu stepped out of the building to find it was raining.

Great.

She’d forgotten her umbrella.

Jie Changhe, noticing she had no umbrella, was about to approach gallantly—

But then, spotting a familiar car, he abruptly changed direction and ducked back inside the building.

The car pulled up right beside Song Qingyu.

The window rolled down slowly, revealing a face that made one instinctively want to stand at attention.

“Get in.”

The man’s deep, pleasant voice reached her. Song Qingyu looked around—there was no one else.

She incredulously pointed at herself. “Me?”

He Shubai had already opened the rear door for her. “Miss Song, please…”

Song Qingyu was a bit dazed, unsure what the CEO intended.

Suddenly, she recalled Xie Liuzheng’s earlier advice:

“When you’re at the company, always put your boss’s needs first. If the boss says go east, don’t you dare go west. Especially your CEO—he’s ruthless, used to being in charge. If you cross him, you and ‘The Interpreter’ are both finished! Who knows how long you’ll be laughed at by Sheng Yuru and your relatives.”

Song Qingyu considered that she hadn’t done anything lately to offend Gu Yuandong, and since he was a former soldier, he probably wouldn’t sell her out.

With this thought, she got into the car.

Inside, the subtle scent of woodsy cologne surprised her—she hadn’t expected the CEO to wear fragrance.

Jie Changhe watched the car glide away, a knowing smile on his face.

Just as I thought—there’s something going on between Song Qingyu and the boss.

In the car, no one spoke; the atmosphere was heavy.

Song Qingyu was nervous. She knew she ought to break the tension, to say something.

But her mouth seemed glued shut—she couldn’t utter a single word.

“Where do you live, Miss Song?”

It was Pei Jingmo who broke the silence.

Song Qingyu straightened up and quickly answered, “Yunqi Garden.”

Silence fell again. Just as she was wondering if she should message Xie Liuzheng for help, he spoke once more.

“Are you afraid of me, Miss Song?”

“No… Of course not. How could I be afraid of you when you’re so kind, President Gu?”

“Oh? And what is it you find kind about me, Miss Song?”

Song Qingyu broke out in a cold sweat. Sure enough, once you flatter someone, you have to keep piling on compliments to cover the first.

“Hmm?”

Just that one word, and Song Qingyu felt as if she were standing on a cliff’s edge—if her answer displeased Gu Yuandong, she’d be pushed off and shattered to pieces.

“President Gu is like the sky, like the earth, the brightest star on the horizon.”

“Heh…”

Hearing the man’s low chuckle beside her, Song Qingyu blushed furiously, wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Oh God.

What was she saying?!

By the time they reached the gates of her neighborhood, the rain had stopped.

After getting out, Song Qingyu looked seriously at the man in the car. “President Gu, thank you for your trust and help. I won’t let you down.”

She thought he’d urge her to work hard, but instead, he simply replied,

“I know.”

Watching the car drive away, Song Qingyu was puzzled.

She’d thought he wanted to discuss “The Interpreter,” but he’d only given her a ride home.

Are CEOs always this concerned about their employees these days?

The air was cool after the rain. Song Qingyu didn’t dwell on it, hurrying home.

Pei Jingmo wasn’t back yet; he’d been even busier than she was these past days—leaving earlier, coming home later, working himself to the bone.

But he should be back soon.

Song Qingyu boiled some water, took a shower, and threw herself onto the bed.

Exhausted.

She didn’t even know when she fell asleep, face-down on the bed.

A crash of thunder split the sky, lightning flashing terrifyingly across the darkness.

“Ah…”

Song Qingyu woke with a start, face pale as a sheet, her heart pounding uncontrollably.

Blood—

The bed was soaked in crimson; the white sheets dyed red. Her mother lay motionless, no breath left in her.

“Qingqing—”

Pei Jingmo burst through the door to find Song Qingyu curled up with her blanket in the corner between the bed and the window, trembling violently.