When Song Qingtang returned home, the household servant was standing at the door waiting for her.
Seeing her arrive, Nanny Liu hurried forward, opened the door, and draped the coat she was holding over Song Qingtang’s shoulders.
Nanny Liu had always doted on Song Qingtang.
Song Qingtang had striking features, with bright, lively eyes and a gaze that shimmered with expression.
She had a gentle temperament, always carrying an air of quiet grace. Though born into a distinguished family, she treated others with warmth.
Nanny Liu had come to regard Song Qingtang as her own daughter.
She knew that Song Qingtang took everything seriously.
All she could do was cook her some warm porridge or drape a coat over her shoulders.
Song Qingtang reached up and held the coat, smiling as she thanked her: “Thank you, Nanny Liu.”
“It’s nothing. Go on inside.” Nanny Liu said. “The master is waiting for you. It seems like something very important.”
Song Qingtang nodded upon hearing this.
She walked quickly toward the study in the villa.
The study was filled with the scent of incense, drifting through the air.
Song Huaiyi sat in a chair before the bookshelf, his elbows resting on the desk.
He was pressing his temples.
He always carried an impenetrable air of authority that felt oppressive.
Even though his eyes were closed now, seemingly at rest.
“Father.” Song Qingtang spoke softly. “You called for me—is something the matter?”
Song Huaiyi slowly opened his eyes only after hearing her voice.
Seeing Song Qingtang, he gave a brief acknowledgment and said succinctly: “Sit.”
Only after receiving Song Huaiyi’s permission did Song Qingtang take a seat in the chair nearby.
“It’s like this—our Song family and the Jin family have long had a marriage arrangement. Recently, the Jin family has been pressing us, hoping we can finalize the engagement as soon as possible.”
After speaking, Song Huaiyi picked up a cup of tea from the table.
Bringing it to his lips, he took a light sip: “What do you think?”
Song Huaiyi’s tone was calm, betraying no emotion.
Even his gaze was gentle, making it seem like nothing more than the most ordinary conversation between father and daughter.
Only Song Qingtang knew that at times like this,
she had no room to refuse.
Song Huaiyi only ever pretended to ask for her opinion—in reality, it was merely a notification.
Song Qingtang lowered her eyes, hands resting on her lap, back straight, not daring to show the slightest slack.
When she was little, she had been lazy and somewhat playful.
She would sit in her chair without any semblance of a proper young lady. Every time Song Huaiyi saw it, he would strike her with his ruler.
She didn’t know how many times she had been hit, but sitting up straight had become a habit, and then an instinct.
“I’ll follow whatever arrangement Father makes.” Song Qingtang said.
A strand of loose hair fell by her ear, veiling the expression in her eyes.
She was always this obedient.
Song Huaiyi was accustomed to it, and quite satisfied.
He nodded: “This Saturday, then. Go get the certificate, and then get married.”
Song Qingtang froze for a second.
Why so soon.
She had a performance this Saturday—it had already been scheduled.
Pressing her lips together, she finally said: “Could it be postponed by a day? This Saturday I have a…”
Before she could finish, Song Huaiyi set the teacup down on the wooden table.
The sound was soft, yet it rang out with unusual clarity in the silent study.
Song Qingtang’s voice stopped abruptly.
She said nothing more.
“Qingtang, your father knows your performance is important.”
Song Huaiyi said in a low voice, letting out a soft sigh: “But marriage is a bigger matter than that. I hope you can understand which weighs more.”
Her fingers on her knees clenched tightly at the fabric of her clothes.
Until her knuckles turned white.
Only then did she nod. “I understand. I’ll cancel the performance that day.”
“Mm.” Song Huaiyi nodded.
A smile finally appeared on his face: “That’s my good daughter.”
Song Qingtang forced a smile, feeling only a faint bitterness in her mouth.
Then she stood up and gave a slight bow. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
Song Huaiyi nodded and waved his hand.
Signaling that she could go.
After Song Qingtang walked out, it was only then, as if belatedly, that she felt an exhaustion she had never known surge through her heart.
She didn’t care who she married.
She had no expectations for marriage.
But being treated as a commodity for trade like this—
it brought her an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and confusion.
Returning to her room, she sat down on the sofa.
The room was decorated in solid colors. Everything that should be there seemed to be present, yet it still felt empty.
Just as the bookshelf held only books, notebooks, and pens.
Nothing else at all.
Her life was like her bookshelf—monotonous, clean, running along a predetermined track.
Not a single mistake allowed.
Her mind went blank for a long time—that was her only outlet for releasing emotion.
Only then did she take out her phone and send a message to the dance troupe’s director.
[Song Qingtang: Sister Jiaying, I’m so sorry. Something came up on my end, and I might not be able to make it to Saturday’s performance. I’m really sorry.]
[Lin Jiaying: No worries. Take care of your things.]
Song Qingtang had never asked for leave before—even once when she was sick.
Running a fever, enduring the discomfort, she had still finished that dance performance.
If she truly needed to ask for leave, it must be something very important.
【Lin Jiaying: If you need any help, feel free to reach out to me anytime.】
【Song Qingtang: Okay, thank you, Sister Jiaying.】
【Lin Jiaying: No problem.】
Saturday.
Early in the morning, the makeup artist Song Huaiyi had hired arrived to do Song Qingtang’s makeup.
The Song and Jin families had a very important collaboration to discuss recently.
However, both companies were wary of each other.
The most effective way to solidify trust was through a marriage alliance.
Turning formidable business rivals into in-laws.
After the makeup was done, Song Qingtang changed into her outfit.
The dress was from a luxury brand, custom-made. The color was pale, understated, yet exuding an air of refinement.
Worn on Song Qingtang, it accentuated her gentle temperament, even lending her a classical, graceful elegance.
Her porcelain-white skin was tinged with a hint of pink, her eyes were moist and clear, with a tender, flowing gaze.
The Jin family’s car was waiting for her outside.
She gathered her skirt and got into the car.
A woman sat in the back seat, dignified and opulent, wearing a necklace of considerable value around her neck.
Her brows carried a hint of pride, with a slightly overbearing air.
She seemed to be the mistress of the Jin family.
Song Qingtang got in and closed the door.
The woman handed a contract to Song Qingtang.
Somewhat puzzled, Song Qingtang still accepted it.
She looked down.
It was a prenuptial agreement.
Clause after clause, densely written.
Her gaze fell on the last line.
— The marriage will last one year.
So it was a marriage of convenience.
“I trust Miss Song is fully aware,” the woman spoke.
Her tone was filled with the arrogance of one in a high position and disdain for those beneath her.
“Marrying into the Jin family is entirely your Song family reaching above their station.”
“So there’s no need for me to explain further. Just sign it.”
Song Qingtang looked at it, said nothing, and simply picked up the pen beside her.
She signed her name neatly at the signature line.
Then handed it back to the woman.
“Is that all?”
Song Qingtang’s movements were clean and decisive, her brows gentle, her lips rosy.
As if she didn’t care at all.
Or perhaps she was used to it, her emotions as calm as a still pool of water.
The woman had expected Song Qingtang to resist signing the contract desperately.
She hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly.
Somewhat surprised, the woman took the contract.
“That’s all.”
The woman nodded.
But inwardly, she thought.
This daughter of the Song family, she’s nothing like Song Huaiyi at all.