Jin Zhuochuan’s words made a certain amount of sense, and Song Qingtang didn’t reply—she only nodded.
She walked inside with him.
Song Huaiyi and the household servants were already waiting at the entrance.
Only when he saw Song Qingtang return did Song Huaiyi break into a smile and stride forward quickly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jin Zhuochuan holding Song Qingtang’s wrist, and the smile on his face grew even wider.
These two young lovebirds seemed to be getting along quite well.
Song Huaiyi led the two of them inside.
A smile colored his face.
He remarked with a sigh, “As your father, seeing you two doing well puts my mind at ease.”
Jin Zhuochuan listened, his expression appearing extremely indifferent.
Occasionally he would offer a simple, casual response or two, just enough to keep the atmosphere from going stale.
The hand loosely wrapped around Song Qingtang’s wrist—whether intentionally or not—kept brushing against her skin very lightly.
Once, twice, carrying a faint trace of heat.
There was even a slight ticklish sensation.
Song Qingtang bit her lip, desperately wanting to pull her hand free from his grasp.
But Song Huaiyi was still right there.
She didn’t dare move.
If Song Huaiyi ever found out that her relationship with Jin Zhuochuan at home was like that of strangers, she’d surely get another scolding.
Song Huaiyi walked ahead, maintaining a bit of distance from the two of them. Song Qingtang slowed her steps, turned her head to glance at Jin Zhuochuan, and whispered, “Can you stop moving around? It’s so ticklish.”
Song Qingtang’s voice was pitched very low, barely audible to begin with. Jin Zhuochuan lifted his eyelids and looked at her.
Her eyes were misted with a hint of moisture, her delicate brows furrowed, and the tip of her nose tinged with red.
She tilted her head up slightly to look at him, her lips parting and closing, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Jin Zhuochuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and his voice came out a bit husky: “What?”
Song Qingtang: “…”
Song Qingtang was convinced he was doing it on purpose.
Because she could clearly feel that after she’d said those words, his fingertip deliberately rubbed against her wrist two more times.
Even more ticklish.
This man was absolutely insufferable!
And he was even pretending he couldn’t hear her.
Song Qingtang shot him a glare and said indignantly, “You’re so annoying.”
Jin Zhuochuan: “?”
What had he even done?
The two of them dawdled behind, their voices so low that what reached the ears was somewhat muffled.
Song Huaiyi stopped in his tracks, turned to look at the pair with a smile, and said in a gentle tone, “Qingqing, what secrets are you two whispering about?”
Caught talking, Song Qingtang averted her gaze, a flush creeping onto her face. She was just about to say “nothing” when—
Jin Zhuochuan spoke up from beside her, his voice lazy: “It’s nothing much, really. Qingqing was just saying how wonderful I am and how much she adores me.”
Song Qingtang: “??”
She looked at Jin Zhuochuan in utter disbelief.
Feeling her gaze on him, Jin Zhuochuan merely turned his head and raised an eyebrow at her.
The smile in his eyes looked languid, even carrying a hint of nonchalance.
He showed absolutely no awareness that he’d just said something utterly outrageous.
When had she ever said anything like that?!
How could his mouth produce such words?!
Absolutely absurd!!
Even the smile on Song Huaiyi’s face froze for a split second.
A moment later, his smile returned.
Though it was fainter than before.
His tone remained genial: “Qingqing, a young lady should still maintain a bit of reserve.”
Song Huaiyi said.
A very natural remark, yet laden with warning.
—You need to maintain the relationship, but you can’t be in a position of weakness in matters of the heart. That’s beneath you, and it would disgrace the Song family’s name.
Song Qingtang pressed her lips together, nodded, and hummed in acknowledgment.
Inwardly, she couldn’t help but mentally condemn Jin Zhuochuan all over again.
When they reached the main hall, Song Qingtang forcefully pulled her hand back and immediately put some distance between herself and him.
The table was already laden with dishes, and the servants had finished all the preparations.
Hearing the commotion, Han Shuang finally descended from the second floor.
Han Shuang had kept her chestnut-brown short hair for years, a pair of earrings dangling from her ears, her makeup immaculate.
Her eyes held a cool detachment, the corners tilted upward, and her face showed no trace of the years.
Having fought her way through the corporate world for so long, she exuded an overwhelming presence.
She swept a glance over Song Qingtang and Jin Zhuochuan, furrowed her brow slightly, and walked down.
She asked a few perfunctory questions, then stopped.
She had always been cold and distant—Song Qingtang had always known this—and she was extremely tense the entire time.
When they took their seats, Han Shuang patted Song Qingtang on the shoulder and said in a flat voice, “I have something I need to discuss with you.”
Song Qingtang rose from her chair and followed behind Han Shuang toward an adjoining room.
Once the door was shut, ensuring no one outside could hear, Han Shuang finally spoke: “Song Huaiyi made you marry him, didn’t he?”
Song Qingtang blinked but said nothing.
“Now. Immediately. The two of you go file for divorce.”
Han Shuang’s tone was calm, brooking no argument.
“I warned Song Huaiyi before I left—business is business, marriage is marriage. The two can’t be conflated. He’s got some nerve, ignoring what I said.”
Han Shuang’s presence was truly overwhelming. When she spoke, Song Qingtang barely had a chance to get a word in.
Only after Han Shuang finished did Song Qingtang say, “Mom, I’m not unhappy with this marriage. There’s no need to—”
Before she could finish speaking, Han Shuang frowned and interrupted, “Song Qingtang, you need to think about yourself. Song Huaiyi is purely after profit. What about you? What kind of future do you have like this?”
Han Shuang’s tone was calm, analyzing methodically.
“If you refuse to divorce, your whole life will be ruined.”
Song Qingtang lowered her head, listening quietly, her gaze fixed on the tips of her shoes.
She felt her mind go blank for a moment.
A familiar, suffocating tightness clogged her chest.
After a long while, she blinked and finally said, “Mom, I think this is fine. At least I’m satisfied with my current state…”
“What use is being comfortable?” Han Shuang frowned. “What use is you being satisfied? It’s completely useless. What you need to think about is the future, what lies ahead.”
With that, Han Shuang paused for a moment before continuing, “Think it over carefully on your own.”
After speaking, Han Shuang opened the door and led Song Qingtang out.
Han Shuang and Song Huaiyi basically had nothing to say to each other; they had lived their own separate lives for all these years.
The atmosphere at the table carried a faint hint of awkwardness, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable.
They chatted in fits and starts, keeping the mood from freezing over.
Song Qingtang hadn’t planned to stay overnight for this return visit. After finishing the meal and lingering in the main hall for a while, the two of them prepared to leave.
Song Huaiyi didn’t try to persuade them to stay either.
As they were escorted out, Han Shuang didn’t follow.
Getting into the car, Song Qingtang opened the door, settled into the passenger seat, and glanced sideways at the house.
Her eyes felt sore and swollen.
Han Shuang had always been indifferent.
Song Huaiyi valued profit above all.
Song Qingtang pressed her lips together and blinked.
What was the point of this return visit anyway?
This home didn’t feel like a home at all.
It’s okay.
She told herself.
I just won’t come back anymore.
With that thought, she raised her hand and rubbed her eyes.
But she only felt a dampness spreading across her palm.
She froze.
Until Jin Zhuochuan’s voice came from beside her: “Why are you crying?”
She blinked, reacting a beat too slow.
So these were her tears.