Volume One, Chapter Five: The Art of Angling

When Pei Jingmo returned home, Song Qingyu had already gone back to her room.
The table had been tidied, and a note was left behind.
"Dinner was delicious, thank you for your effort."
The handwriting was neat and elegant, just like its owner.
Pei Jingmo smiled, put the note away, and walked upstairs.
He paused by Song Qingyu's door, wanting to knock, but restrained himself and returned to his own room.
One cannot eat hot tofu in haste.
They were already married; everything else could come slowly.

Song Qingyu wasn't actually asleep. With a stranger she had only just met suddenly living in her home, she was understandably unsettled.
She lay staring at the ceiling, unable to believe she had married a man she'd only seen once before.
Yet, having someone by her side in her darkest hour made things seem not quite so unbearable.

The next morning.
Song Qingyu got up and went downstairs for a drink of water, just as Pei Jingmo returned from his morning run.
He must have assumed Song Qingyu was still asleep, for he took off his T-shirt as soon as he walked in.
His honey-toned upper body was exposed to the air, muscles taut and sculpted, every line defined and free of excess.
His waist and abdomen were adorned with eight perfectly arranged abs, and his v-line was sharply alluring.
He had worked up quite a sweat, and the heady scent of his presence seemed to fill the entire house.
Song Qingyu stared, dazed, and choked on the water she had yet to swallow.
"Cough..."
She coughed violently, her face and neck flushing red.
Pei Jingmo seemed to notice her only then, quickly pulling his shirt back on. "Sorry... I thought you weren't up yet."
"I... I don't usually get up this early, but today I just couldn't sleep."
His dark eyes lingered on her blushing cheeks and neck. He stepped closer to her, heat radiating from his body as he approached.
Heart pounding, Song Qingyu awkwardly turned to leave, but in that instant—
Song Qingyu: "!!"
Her face nearly brushed his chest.
Pei Jingmo leaned in even closer and reached out, prompting Song Qingyu to instinctively raise her hand in defense, only to realize he was simply reaching past her for a bottle of water.
Song Qingyu patted her wildly beating heart.
Clearly, she would have to get used to having a man in the house.

At noon, Song Qingyu received a call from Wu Yijun, Chu Xingzhi's mother.
Wu Yijun already knew about what had happened between Song Qingyu and Chu Xingzhi, and wanted to meet with her.
After some thought, Song Qingyu agreed.

In a stylish coffee shop,
Song Qingyu arrived to find Wu Yijun already there.
Wu Yijun was the epitome of an aristocratic lady, dressed head to toe in designer brands, exuding elegance and refinement.
"Qingyu, you’re here..."
"Aunt Wu."
Song Qingyu walked over and sat across from her.
A waiter quickly brought a cup of coffee to Song Qingyu.
Wu Yijun said calmly, "It's rare that this place serves Geisha coffee, the flavor is quite good. Have a taste."
Song Qingyu wasn’t fond of coffee, but she knew Geisha beans were expensive—five hundred grams cost a hundred dollars.
"Thank you, Aunt Wu, but I don’t drink coffee."
In fact, Wu Yijun knew Song Qingyu disliked coffee; she had orchestrated this little scene deliberately. Song Qingyu was well aware of her intentions.
Ever since she had been with Chu Xingzhi, Wu Yijun had tried to remind her of the gap between them more than once.
Wu Yijun’s expression didn’t change; she simply replied, "That’s a pity."
She then asked the waiter to bring Song Qingyu a glass of milk.
Song Qingyu didn’t touch the milk either; right now, she couldn’t stomach anything.
Wu Yijun noticed Song Qingyu’s resistance and spoke slowly, "Qingyu, I know everything about you and Xingzhi."
"Aunt Wu, if you’ve come to plead for Chu Xingzhi, it’s pointless. It’s over between us."
Lately, everyone who came to see Song Qingyu tried to persuade her to forgive Chu Xingzhi.
Their arguments were all the same.
Chu Xingzhi had merely made the mistakes all men make, but his heart still belonged to her—no need to be so merciless.
Hah—
One after another, they stood upon the moral high ground, condemning her for being cold and unfeeling, while the real culprit was painted as the victim.
Wu Yijun sighed, "Is there really no chance for reconciliation?"
"None. If a man can’t even be faithful, what else is left to trust?"
Wu Yijun looked regretful. "Qingyu, I watched you grow up and have always liked you. I hoped you and Xingzhi would marry, that we could be a family. But now..."
She sighed again. "Well, since you’ve made up your mind, I won’t try to persuade you. But there’s something I’d like to ask of you."

"Aunt Wu, please speak freely."
"Xingzhi hasn’t been home or to the office these past few days. He spends all his time at the club, drinking non-stop—he’s wasting away. I want you to talk to him."
Wu Yijun neither liked nor disliked Song Qingyu; she simply felt Song Qingyu wasn’t good enough for her son.
Song Qingyu was the eldest daughter of the Song family, but after Xie Qingya passed away and Song Yanfeng remarried, she had been marginalized.
But her son insisted on marrying Song Qingyu, so Wu Yijun had no choice but to agree.
Now, with things as they were, she was actually relieved.
Who would have thought her son would fall apart so completely? With no other solution, she turned to Song Qingyu.
Song Qingyu frowned, "Aunt, I..."
Before she could finish, Wu Yijun continued, "I know you don’t want to see him, but I really have no other way. Xingzhi’s grandmother asked me about your wedding recently—I still don’t know how to tell her."
At the mention of Grandma Chu, Song Qingyu’s heart ached.
After her mother died, Grandma Chu was the one who cared for and protected her most. Whenever there was something good, Grandma Chu always thought of her.
When she suffered grievances at home, Grandma Chu comforted and accompanied her.
To Song Qingyu, Grandma Chu was even closer than her blood relatives.
"I understand. I’ll go see Chu Xingzhi."

At the club,
Chu Xingzhi kicked the manager hard in the leg, his face twisted in anger and gloom, looking every bit the Lord of the Underworld.
"Can’t even find a person—utterly useless!"
Chu Xingzhi had always gotten whatever he wanted.
But last time, he was pinned helplessly to a table by another man, who uttered the words he feared most.
He wanted to track the man down and teach him a lesson, but the guy had vanished like smoke, leaving no trace behind.
No surveillance footage, no witnesses who saw his face.
The manager trembled. It had been a week.
This master treated the club like a hotel, getting drunk and causing trouble daily. The manager dared not provoke him nor risk offending him, exhausted and on the verge of collapse.
Knock, knock, knock...
There was a knock at the door. A nervous waiter pushed it open, "Young Master Chu, there’s a Miss Song Qingyu here to see you."