After her shower, Song Chutong went downstairs, letting her freshly washed black hair air-dry as she watched Old Master Wei and Wei Ying play Go.
There was a hairdryer in her room—her eldest uncle had bought it—but she found the noise too annoying, so she had only dried her hair halfway.
The two of them had completely different playing styles.
Wei Ying was aggressive, pressing forward step by step, refusing to give any ground.
Old Master Wei, on the other hand, played defensively—careful, steady, and airtight.
“Grandpa, take his pieces!” Song Chutong urged, growing anxious just watching. Her face, still flushed from the bath, looked like a ripe apple.
Old Master Wei smiled calmly. “No rush.”
Wei Ying thought to himself that the old man must be scheming again. But the moment he placed his next move, his white stones were suddenly swallowed whole.
Song Chutong’s mouth fell open slightly. “Grandpa, you’re amazing!”
Old Master Wei chuckled proudly. “That’s called casting a long line to catch a big fish—step by step, I lure him in. The moment he follows my lead, the entire board is lost.”
Wei Ying refused to accept defeat. “No way, Dad—you’re using that trick again! Let’s start over!”
Old Master Wei waved him off. “A loss is a loss. So, what about that girl from the Cao family? She’s quite pretty—want to go take a look?”
Wei Ying replied flatly, “No.”
Old Master Wei immediately grabbed his cane and tried to hit him. “You brat! You just agreed to it!”
Wei Ying dodged with a grin, then turned to Song Chutong. “Tongtong, let me teach you something—if there’s something you can get out of through connections or a bit of shamelessness, then go ahead and do it! That’s a skill too!”
Old Master Wei chased after him, fuming. “Let’s see if you’ve got the skill to get out of this today!”
Song Chutong laughed, telling her grandfather to slow down, while quietly mulling over their earlier conversation.
Before she could fully piece her thoughts together, the phone rang.
Her grandfather and uncle were still busy chasing each other around, so she went to answer it.
“Hello? Dad. Is Tongtong there?”
The moment she heard the man’s voice, Song Chutong’s mood dropped instantly.
She had almost forgotten—just because she didn’t go home didn’t mean her family wouldn’t come looking for her.
And was it for her sake?
Of course not.
Her father, Song Weiqiang, was a factory director. To secure his position, he needed to stay on good terms with his late wife’s family.
With her mother gone, Song Chutong had become the bridge between him and the Wei family—and, more importantly, someone easier to control.
Her lips parted slightly as she replied, “Oh, Dad. What is it?”
Hearing her voice, Song Weiqiang actually sounded a bit disappointed. “Tongtong… where’s your grandfather? Is he there?”
“Aren’t you calling for me?” she asked casually.
On the surface, he was calling for her—but in reality, he just wanted to use her to present himself as a caring father in front of her grandfather.
Caught off guard by her tone, Song Weiqiang paused before continuing, “Tongtong, if you’re not feeling well, why didn’t you come home? Your Aunt Cui made some porridge for you. Ranran told me what happened today—come back first. Dad wants to talk to you properly.”
“Oh, and today is Ranran’s big day—she got the lead dance role. Even if you had a disagreement with Zhixing, you shouldn’t ruin your sister’s celebration. The whole family is waiting for you to come back and celebrate.”
At those words, Song Chutong suddenly remembered how things had played out in her dream at this exact moment…
After being publicly dumped by Jiang Zhixing, Song Chutong had immediately gone home.
But instead of comfort, she was met with a scolding from her father. He blamed everything on her—her bad temper, her arrogance, her unreasonable behavior—saying that was why Jiang Zhixing had left her.
And even though she was heartbroken, that didn’t stop their “family of three” from celebrating Song Weiran’s success in becoming the lead dancer.
For a long time, Song Chutong had doubted herself because of this.
She kept wondering if something was wrong with her—if she wasn’t good enough, if that was why she lost Jiang Zhixing. She even thought about how she could change, how she could improve.
Then she saw the box of cookies.
That was when everything clicked.
All the excuses were just that—excuses. Jiang Zhixing had simply fallen for her stepsister. For Song Weiran, he had betrayed all the feelings she’d had for him over the years—and then turned around and placed all the blame on her.
So who was really the “villain”?
Song Chutong smiled faintly and asked, “Dad, are you saying that without me, you wouldn’t celebrate for Song Weiran?”
Song Weiqiang was momentarily speechless. “You girl—watch how you speak to your father!”
Before he could continue, the phone was quickly taken by someone else. Bai Qingcui’s voice came through, soft and gentle:
“Tongtong, of course we’re waiting for you to celebrate together. If it weren’t for your help, Ranran wouldn’t have gotten this opportunity. Auntie prepared a lot of delicious food today—we’re just waiting for you to come home. Ranran also wants to thank you in person!”
“Oh, and Tongtong—where’s your grandfather? Auntie would like to thank him personally too.”
If this had been before, Song Chutong would have been deeply moved.
After her mother passed away, there had been a time when she lived alone with her father. He was always busy with work and often neglected her. It wasn’t until Bai Qingcui came into the house that she felt what seemed like real care.
But now she understood—
that care had been like a poisoned blade wrapped in silk. Gentle, but deadly.
It was true—without her, that opportunity would never have gone to Song Weiran. The performance slot had originally been secured because Song Chutong asked her grandfather for help.
She glanced at her grandfather and uncle, still bickering in the courtyard, and recalled what they had just taught her:
Cast a long line to catch a big fish. Use your advantages wisely.
Suppressing her disgust, she said, “Aunt Cui, Grandpa wants me to stay here with him. You all go ahead and celebrate. Please congratulate my sister for me.”
Before Bai Qingcui could say more, Song Chutong hung up the phone with a sharp click.
Holding the receiver, Bai Qingcui looked slightly hurt as she turned to Song Weiqiang.
Song Weiqiang was furious. “That ungrateful girl—her temper just keeps getting worse! I’ll teach her a lesson next time!”
Bai Qingcui quickly pulled him back. “Alright, alright—don’t get upset over such a small matter. Tongtong is still young.”
“Still young?” Song Weiqiang sneered. “She’s already nineteen—two months older than Ranran. Yet in both ability and personality, she’s nowhere near her. She was the one who insisted on joining the dance troupe, and that’s why both of them got in. But in the end? The one who stands out is still Ranran!”
Bai Qingcui gently patted his back, soothing him with a helpless smile. “You’re only angry because you care too much about her. How can Ranran and Tongtong even be compared? Tongtong grew up pampered—it’s only natural she has a bit of a temper.”
Guilt crept back into Song Weiqiang’s heart. “It’s my fault… you and Ranran have suffered all these years.”
While Song Chutong had been living a life of comfort, Bai Qingcui and Song Weiran had struggled on their own. That was the thing he felt most guilty about.
Bai Qingcui lowered her eyes, hiding the faint smile in them, her voice soft and submissive. “What are you saying? For you, I was willing to wait no matter how long.”
“Enough about that,” Song Weiqiang said. “I specially bought Ranran that ‘Fuji’ camera she’s always wanted as a reward—the first one in the entire capital!”
“Really? Then what about Tongtong…”
His expression darkened. “Don’t ruin the mood.”
After all, no matter what—
Song Chutong was still his daughter.
And how could she possibly defy him?