In the evening, Xu Chengyi limped home with a swollen calf.
She arrived just in time for dinner.
She was wearing a skirt, and the dark purple bruise on her fair calf was especially eye-catching. Even Elder Song furrowed his brows.
“How did this happen?”
Xu Chengyi’s eyes immediately reddened, and she sniffled stubbornly. “It’s nothing. I was just playing golf and accidentally got hit by a classmate’s club.”
Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a message. Lin Rui had sent a voice message.
Xu Chengyi tried to convert it to text but accidentally tapped the speaker button instead.
“I’m so pissed off. Wang Ling is saying in other group chats that you’re no better than a servant in the Song family, and that messing with you is…” — like kicking cotton.
As the voice message played, she hurriedly tried to turn it off.
Elder Song was furious. His face cold, he commanded, “Let it finish.”
Xu Chengyi sniffled, glanced timidly at the old master, and hesitantly played Lin Rui’s voice message again.
Elder Song slammed the table. “This is outrageous! Don’t worry, I’ll get justice for you.”
Xu Chengyi’s tears spilled over. “Thank you, Grandpa.”
Ling Zhu sat nearby, watching this young girl with a newfound sense of admiration.
Very few people had ever managed to pull off a scheme right under the old master’s nose.
In fact, the old master rarely involved himself in the trivial matters of the younger generation. He was like that even with his own grandchildren, let alone a granddaughter-in-law from another family.
This time, it was clear he was doing it wholeheartedly.
That Wang family was done for.
When Meng Aoshuang and Song Zhishan learned that the old master was personally handling the matter, they called to check on Xu Chengyi’s condition.
Aunt Wu answered the phone and brought it upstairs to Song Wenzhou.
Song Wenzhou opened the door to take the phone, then deliberately closed the door on Aunt Wu.
“Wenzhou, how is Xu Chengyi doing?”
Song Wenzhou glanced at the girl sitting with one leg crossed, fiercely playing a game, and replied calmly, “She’s doing fine.”
Meng Aoshuang felt relieved. “Your grandfather suddenly sent word, and we thought she’d been bullied so badly her leg was broken.”
Song Wenzhou didn’t respond.
Meng Aoshuang sighed helplessly. “Never mind. It’s fine now. We’ve suspended her classes for two days so she can rest and recover properly.”
Ever since Song Wenzhou’s head injury, he’d been like this—often dull and unresponsive. They’d consulted many specialists and famous doctors, but none could explain it. It worried them endlessly.
“Okay.”
The call ended, and Song Wenzhou returned the phone to Aunt Wu.
Turning around, he saw Xu Chengyi still playing her game. He said, “Mother said you should rest at home for two days.”
Xu Chengyi was overjoyed. “Really?”
Song Wenzhou nodded. “Doesn’t your leg hurt anymore?”
Xu Chengyi said lightly, “It hurt at first, but it’s much better now.”
Then she added, “Still, I should rest and take it easy.”
Song Wenzhou turned away with a quiet laugh and stopped paying her any attention.
A little while later, Aunt Wu brought up some ointment.
After Xu Chengyi finished her shower, Song Wenzhou handed her the ointment. “Aunt Wu brought this.”
She waved her hand. “Too lazy to apply it. No need.”
Song Wenzhou glanced at the bruised, swollen lump on her leg and said seriously, “You need to apply it.”
She remained unconcerned. “Really, no need.”
In the past, bumps and bruises always healed on their own after a few days.
Song Wenzhou pulled her over. “If you won’t do it yourself, I’ll do it for you.”
Xu Chengyi looked at him, thinking that if she didn’t have to do it herself, she’d definitely take him up on it.
She sat down in the recliner and carefully propped her bruised leg on a small stool. “Thanks. I’ll play a game.”
Song Wenzhou pulled over the small chair from the vanity, sat down beside her leg, picked up the ointment, squeezed some into his palm to warm it, and gently pressed it over the bruise.
Xu Chengyi winced and pulled her leg back.
Song Wenzhou immediately withdrew his hand, looking a bit at a loss.
And she said it didn’t hurt.
Usually, she’d make a fuss over the slightest grievance, but now that she’d actually been hurt this badly, she only shed two tears in front of Grandpa, and in front of him, she acted like nothing was wrong.
Xu Chengyi hesitantly put her leg back. “Go ahead.”
“Mm.”
His warm palm rubbed very gently, but the pain radiating from her leg still made her furrow her brows.
He looked at her brows twisted into a knot and asked, “How much did it hurt today?”
Xu Chengyi had thought the grievance had long passed, but his question made her eyes inexplicably sting, and tears fell without warning.
Throughout her life, she’d cried only a handful of times, because Grandmother always said crying was useless—it only made the people who bullied you more pleased. So no matter how much it hurt, she never shed a tear. She swallowed her grievances with gritted teeth.
Even the tears at the dinner table today had been measured, controlled, and let go at will—her acting so good she’d impressed even herself.
But now, the tears came like a flood, impossible to stop.
Because this was real grievance.
Because Song Wenzhou genuinely cared about her.
“You’re crying,” he said.
Xu Chengyi wiped her tears and insisted stubbornly, “I’m not crying.”
Song Wenzhou looked at her, didn’t argue, but turned his head away, his eyes darkening as he continued applying the ointment with careful control.
The next day.
It was rare for Aunt Wu not to come wake Xu Chengyi.
Xu Chengyi got her wish and slept straight until noon, waking up refreshed and energized.
Yesterday, Song Wenzhou had been very diligent in applying medicine for her, which eased the pain considerably, though she still walked with a slight limp.
Going downstairs, she happened to run into Meng Aoshuang, who had just returned.
Meng Aoshuang sat on the sofa, her gaze sweeping lightly over Xu Chengyi’s calves. Her first reaction wasn’t concern but a question: “Did you share a bed with Wenzhou?”
As if afraid Xu Chengyi might twist her meaning and brush her off, she added a more explicit clarification, “Sharing a bed isn’t just sleeping on the same mattress—it’s stripping naked and lying tangled together.”
Xu Chengyi was indeed young, and at those words, her ears flushed with heat. She bit her lower lip lightly and said, “I tried, but Song Wenzhou was unwilling. You should go have a talk with him instead of putting all the blame on me.”
Damn it all—she had done everything. She had kissed him, stripped down, and put real effort into building feelings with him. It was he who wouldn’t catch on. What else could she do?