Song Qingtang thought that perhaps she had a problem too.
She had actually brought that big bag of toys home and placed it on the table in her room.
Those toys were all things kids loved to play with—small puzzles, building blocks, little dolls…
She was bored anyway, so she took the toys out one by one.
If she were a child, she would have loved these toys.
She would have been so happy.
When she was little, Song Qingtang always felt that she was especially, especially happy.
She couldn’t detect the subtle tension between Song Huaiyi and Han Shuang, couldn’t see how much Song Huaiyi valued profit, and didn’t think Han Shuang was so indifferent that it bordered on coldness.
Because all she knew was that there would always be an endless supply of princess dresses, beautiful jewelry, and shoes at home.
Later, as she gradually grew older, she began to touch the edges and corners of this world.
She finally discovered the fracture in Song Huaiyi and Han Shuang’s relationship.
She also discovered that Song Huaiyi’s love for her was never pure fatherly love—it was mixed with self-interest.
He wanted to mold her into a proper young lady, to make her potential value higher and higher, so that she could bring greater benefits to Song Huaiyi.
Her dancing talent was discovered by accident when she was ten years old.
From that time on, Song Huaiyi focused heavily on cultivating her.
Song Qingtang hadn’t suffered much hardship as a child. She would cry and throw tantrums, refusing to practice, and the result of her resistance was a full set of family discipline.
Han Shuang would only watch coldly from the side every time. Only after Song Qingtang had knelt for three full hours would she walk over and make her a cup of hot milk.
Then she would calmly tell Song Qingtang that crying and throwing tantrums couldn’t solve any problem. “If you’re not willing to endure even a little hardship now, then what about later? What do you plan to do? Besides, it’s just dance practice—this bit of hardship is nothing.”
Song Qingtang would stop resisting.
She would stop defying them.
She would just obediently listen to what they said.
Later came middle school, then high school, with countless exams.
And countless dance competitions.
Sometimes she did well, sometimes she did poorly.
Song Huaiyi and Han Shuang weren’t like some parents who would curse and scream when their child did poorly.
They would simply, without any visible reaction, give her more free time when she did well—that was their form of recognition.
When she did poorly, they would tighten her schedule and invite prominent figures in the industry to talk with her. Their tone was mostly harsh and unpleasant.
They wanted to show her the gap between people, to make her understand for herself how badly she had done.
Song Huaiyi and Han Shuang were both respectable people; they would never do anything that would lower their standing.
They wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t do anything, yet it was as if they had said everything and done everything.
In subtle, almost imperceptible ways, they controlled her mind.
By the time she slowly realized it, it seemed too late.
Some things are carved into the bones, just like how in a raging snowstorm, the only warmth is so precious and rare.
Among all these years of memories, the memories from age four or five were like that cluster of warm torchlight.
It made her forgive again and again, and it also made her yearn and feel wronged, time after time.
When Song Qingtang arrived at the rehearsal room, the progress was barely halfway through.
Lin Jiaying then sent her a message, asking her to come to the office.
Though she didn’t know what it was about, she still went.
Lin Jiaying sat in her chair with some anxiety. When she saw Song Qingtang arrive, she stood up, glanced around to make sure no one would eavesdrop, and then closed the door.
She pulled Song Qingtang over and had her sit in the chair.
“There’s a performance tonight, hosted by Xingying Company. They’ll be inviting a lot of people.”
Lin Jiaying’s tone was measured and calm, but her anxiety was visible to the naked eye.
“This performance was announced last minute. All the previous acts had already been arranged, and now they’ve suddenly named you and Su Yiyun to go. There’s no need to explain what that means.”
Lin Jiaying finished in one breath before looking at Song Qingtang.
Song Qingtang was calmer and more composed than she had imagined. She nodded. “Okay, I understand. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” Lin Jiaying shook her head.
“Be prepared.”
“Mm.” Song Qingtang acknowledged.
When she looked at Lin Jiaying, there was a slight flicker of evasion in Lin Jiaying’s eyes.
It was a bit strange, but Song Qingtang didn’t pay it much mind.
Her mind was filled with what Lin Jiaying had told her.
This was probably just a performance meant to embarrass her.
They would invite some professionals to casually critique her, to put her down.
Song Qingtang pressed her lips together. She didn’t stay long in the office and quickly got up to return to the rehearsal room.
Perhaps it was because of what she had said in front of Su Yiyun last time that made Su Yiyun uncomfortable.
That’s why she was determined to find an opportunity to make Song Qingtang uncomfortable in return.
She stood in the rehearsal room. The speakers were playing music, and the trainees were moving to the rhythm of the music.
The mirror reflected everyone’s figures.
Song Qingtang watched quietly, her mind somewhat blank.
Xingying Company was a subsidiary of the Chen family’s enterprise.
The Chen family was also a major clan that could not be overlooked in all of Nanyuan. Their wealth might not match the extravagance of the Jin family, but they still carried considerable weight.
The Song family had been on a steady decline recently. Even Song Huaiyi would show the Chen family’s son a measure of respect.
It took a long while before she blinked, her scattered thoughts finally settling down.
After finishing the afternoon dance session, Song Qingtang received a message from the studio manager.
She was asked to participate in the evening performance, and a car would be sent to pick her up shortly.
After all the students had left the rehearsal room, Song Qingtang walked back to her own studio.
She wasn’t sure what format the performance would take, so she simply settled on a few dances she was most familiar with.
That was better than being thrown into the deep end with no preparation at all.
It wasn’t until the sky had begun to darken that the manager notified her that the car had arrived and she could head downstairs.
Song Qingtang walked down, and a car was already waiting at the entrance.
The driver was a man of some age. When he saw Song Qingtang, he paused for a moment.
Song Qingtang was truly beautiful—her eyes carried a lively spark, her skin was as white as snow, her cheeks flushed with a hint of pink, and her lips were a vivid red. She was almost impossible to look away from.
A girl this pretty, going to that kind of entertainment venue.
She’d end up ruined sooner or later.
Starting the car, the driver seemed to hesitate before speaking. Finally, he said, “Miss, you look young, so I’ll just say this—call it an old man’s unsolicited advice. Sometimes, some money is easy to earn, but there are things you’d better not touch.”
Hearing this, Song Qingtang paused for two seconds.
Her fingers resting on her knees trembled slightly as she asked hesitantly, “Sir, what do you mean by that?”
The driver let out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his voice tinged with helplessness. “Just be careful when you get there. Make sure you stay safe.”
He had driven many young girls to that place before.
It was not a proper establishment at all.
Even as slow as Song Qingtang was to catch on, she could tell something was off from the driver’s words.
But hadn’t they said it was a performance?
Or maybe it wasn’t just a performance.
What exactly did they want her there for?