Otherwise, what does your husband do with all that money?
The answer came so quickly that Song Chan was speechless, stunned by the series of unexpected events.
“You mean you went to the amusement park last weekend, right?”
Song Chan was extremely excited and asked him repeatedly for confirmation.
Zhong Lingyu nodded patiently. His eyes were long and willow-leaf shaped, handsome and spirited, with a captivating charm. When they curved into crescent moons, they seemed to flow like clear water.
Song Chan almost gasped in surprise at this unexpected encounter.
However, she quickly felt embarrassed and anxiously explained to Zhong Lingyu about her abrupt “Uncle”: “I didn’t dare open my eyes at the time. Zhong, your voice sounds so mature and reliable. I’ve never met a boy my age with such an aura, so I called you ‘Uncle.’ I apologize. Zhong, you look very young.”
Zhong Lingyu: “Song Chan, you mean I look very young, but I’m actually quite old?”
Song Chan: “No, I meant your demeanor affected me.”
Zhong Lingyu: “My demeanor is significantly older than yours?”
Song Chan: “Your demeanor is quite good! It was purely a misunderstanding…”
Zhong Lingyu stopped teasing Song Chan and tapped a page in his book. “The teacher is watching us.”
Song Chan quickly pursed her lips, nervously focusing her eyes on the book.
Zhong Lingyu was clearly bolder than Song Chan. As soon as the teacher’s stern gaze disappeared, he slowly raised his eyes to the side.
At this moment, Song Chan looked unlike any Zhong Lingyu had ever seen. She wore a simple school uniform, her unkempt hair falling obediently over her forehead. Her face was chubby and fair, her jawline indistinct; sometimes, when she read, a small sliver of soft chin would peek out, making her look like an adorable steamed bun.
Zhong Lingyu suddenly felt a strange sensation, as if observing a butterfly larva.
He wanted to accompany this clumsy, awkward little creature, who could only lie softly on the ground, step by step, as she transformed into the confident and beautiful butterfly he remembered.
Zhong Lingyu’s lips curved upwards, and as love welled in his eyes, he slowly withdrew his gaze.
Song Chan, our fates were ultimately intertwined in our youth.
At noon, Song Chan went to find her younger brother, Song Qing, from Class 7 of the first year of high school.
As usual, the two siblings happily went to the cafeteria for lunch together.
Song Qing ordered a large plate of rice and ate it happily with pickled vegetables. “Song Chan, thank goodness for your lunch allowance!”
At this point, he had actually already finished two meat dishes.
Song Chan sighed, “You eat so much, where did all that weight go?”
She couldn’t help but think of the arm under her deskmate’s white shirt again—skin as smooth as porcelain, muscles as defined as an ancient Greek statue.
Song Qing patted his chest. “Song Chan, don’t worry, I’ve started developing! In a few days, I’ll be a little wolf!”
Song Chan: “Then your development is really slow.”
Song Qing was simple-minded, a glutton, and thin, but he had the same delicate features as his twin sister, plus a baby face, fair skin, not handsome, but cute, with a clear, innocent naiveté in his eyes, which always made him popular with girls.
Female classmates often couldn’t resist Song Qing’s coquettishness and lent him their test papers to copy, so Song Qing relied on his beauty to become increasingly foolish.
Out of courtesy, Song Qing would occasionally repay their kindness, like now—
“Sister, a rich kid named Zhong Lingyu joined your second year of high school. Have you heard? It’s not me asking, it’s the girls in my class who asked me to find out, really, you have to believe me!”
“Yeah, I heard.” Song Chan wiped her mouth and affectionately placed the leftover rice in front of her younger brother. “He’s sitting right next to me.”
Song Qing, who still had some room in his stomach and was about to happily enjoy his sister’s feeding, heard this; his hand trembled, and he overturned the plate.
“Sis…why are you so calm?” Song Qing’s hands trembled as if he had Parkinson’s. “That guy’s a millionaire!”
Song Chan gently brushed the rice off her brother’s face. “So what? He’s rich, that’s his richness. What does it have to do with us?”
Song Qing patted his head and sat down awkwardly. “It seems like what you said makes sense.”
Song Chan handed her meal card to Song Qing. “You can get more if you’re not full. I have an exam during evening self-study, so I won’t eat.”
Song Chan only spent half an hour eating, but when she entered the classroom, she found that most of the students were already seated, all studying and munching on bread.
Oh no, she couldn’t compete with them again.
She quickly returned to her seat, took out a pen and paper, and frantically did practice problems.
The afternoon nap bell rang, and students from the supervision team came to check. Doing practice problems during the designated nap time would result in points being deducted!
Song Chan was trying to sneakily read under the table when Dong Xianneng, a student in the row in front of her, was seen writing vocabulary words on his hand and reciting them. The sharp-eyed headmaster noticed and suggested reprimanding him. Song Chan immediately closed her eyes in fright.
After a while, when she heard no more noise, Song Chan opened her eyes.
Zhong Lingyu, sitting next to her, placed her hand on her stomach and sighed.
Song Chan: “Zhong, does your stomach hurt?”
Zhong Lingyu: “It’s nothing serious, I just missed lunch.”
Song Chan was taken aback. “I was wondering why you came back so quickly. Turns out you didn’t even have lunch. There should have been enough time for lunch. Why didn’t you go?”
Zhong Lingyu: “I’m not familiar with the school yet, and I haven’t gotten my campus card.”
Song Chan’s eyebrows drooped. “Zhong, why didn’t you tell me… Oh well, it’s my fault for not being attentive enough as your deskmate.”
Zhong Lingyu turned her head, looking at Song Chan’s self-reproachful expression.
Song Chan had an idea. “You can come eat with me from now on.”
Zhong Lingyu: “Won’t that bother you and the others?”
Song Chan: “It’s okay, the other one is my younger brother.”
She saw that Zhong Lingyu didn’t answer.
It seems Zhong is a little shy. Is he socially awkward like her?
“It’s fine if it’s just the two of us eating.”
Zhong Lingyu finally smiled and agreed.
Song Chan thought, “Sure enough, Zhong is socially awkward.”
“Then I’ll go to sleep first. Good afternoon.”
Song Chan turned her face to the side, resting her head on her arm.
Her sleep quality has always been excellent; she has a unique method for falling asleep quickly.
Song Chan was just about to use her tried-and-true method when she heard a whisper behind her head.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Song Chan.”
In an instant, it felt as if a thin current surged into her eardrums, then from her eardrums to her cheeks, and quickly pierced her heart.
Song Chan’s bloodshot eyes widened.
Damn it, she couldn’t sleep.
After a while, guessing that there was no more movement beside her, Song Chan quietly sat up.
She glanced at Zhong Lingyu beside her.
He was sleeping, facing her.
Song Chan quickly turned her head back.
But that still face…it seemed quite beautiful.
Unsure, she looked again.
Indeed, very handsome.
A flawless, perfectly sculpted face.
Actually, Song Chan knew a little about Zhong Lingyu. It wasn’t that she wanted to, but the news media always loved to write about the glamorous and mysterious lives of the wealthy and powerful. She had unintentionally seen glimpses of Zhong Lingyu’s mother’s unparalleled beauty as a national first-class dancer and his father’s strikingly handsome mixed-race features.
But their son had always been well-protected; not a single photo of Zhong Lingyu had been released to the public.
Song Chan kept fanning her cheeks.
When will this sweltering heat end?
Taking a nap next to a boy like this, it’s not entirely her fault she can’t fall asleep.
The quiet classroom, the constantly spinning fan, her male deskmate’s back rising and falling with his breath, his innocent, childlike sleeping face, the occasional Adam’s apple as he swallows, the bluish veins beneath his pale skin…
Song Chan frantically fanned herself.
Afternoon classes began.
Zhong Lingyu noticed Song Chan’s tired eyes beside him; she was resting her face against the outside of her water bottle, lost in thought.
He leaned closer, concerned, “Didn’t you sleep well?”
Zhong Lingyu hadn’t actually slept either. He never took naps; his demanding job required him to work tirelessly on documents and contracts even during company breaks.
It was all for improving work efficiency, to go home early to his son, daughter, and wife. He didn’t want to waste his limited life in the cold, impersonal company.
Song Chan made a nasal sound, “Mmm.”
Zhong Lingyu frowned.
This is terrible.
He can’t sleep, but Song Chan can’t. Otherwise, what’s the point of earning so much money? His wife, in her youth, couldn’t even get the most basic sleep. What use is he as a husband?
“So, is something bothering you?”
Song Chan, too exhausted to detect Zhong Lingyu’s attempt at a spiritual counselor, answered dishonestly, “I’m too hot. I can’t sleep.”
Zhong Lingyu pressed the cap off his mechanical pencil.
What’s the point of earning so much money? It’s letting Song Chan be so hot she can’t sleep.
The afternoon temperature had indeed risen considerably. After going out for a while, the students who returned all said they couldn’t stand the heat.
In Chinese class, someone used their textbook to fan themselves and was scolded by Teacher Dai.
“Each generation is worse than the last! The learning environment thirty years ago was far worse than yours now. Those of you in the Northwest studied in sandstorms!”
“This is to let you know what hardship and difficulty are. Only by overcoming suffering can you become successful!”
“Studying in the sweltering heat, cultivating your character, is embodying the spirit of hard work and perseverance of the Chinese nation, it’s about carrying on…”
“Hello, is this Class 1, Grade 11?” The man in the blue uniform cautiously interrupted the teacher’s lecture.
Teacher Dai: “Yes, who are you looking for?”
“Hello, we’re from Aning Appliances. We’re here to install two cabinet air conditioners for your class.” She then glanced around the classroom. “Is Zhong Lingyu here? Your air conditioner has arrived. Please sign here.”
Under the bewildered gaze of the teacher, who was giving a lecture on hard work and perseverance, and under the envious and jealous stares of her classmates, Zhong Lingyu calmly stood up, walked out of her seat, a ballpoint pen in her hand, clicked it crisply, walked to the worker, bent down, rested her hand on the podium, and looked at the paper. “Where do I sign?”
The worker pointed to the spot. “Here, here.”
Zhong Lingyu, like a CEO, quickly signed her name and asked, “Anything else?”
The worker: “No, no more. Here’s the invoice. Please keep it.”
This series of smooth, boss-like actions left everyone dumbfounded.
The worker worked quickly and efficiently, and soon installed the air conditioner.
As the cold air whistled through the room and cooleditm rapidly, Song Chan looked at Zhong Lingyu with delight. “Zhong, having you is my blessing!”
Zhong Lingyu twirled his pen, watching Song Chan’s lively and adorable expression.
Then he repeated what Song Chan had said earlier.
“You were so hot you couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t even notice. It’s definitely my fault for not being attentive enough as your deskmate.”
Song Chan was indeed startled.
Holding a boiled corn cob, she looked surprised, like a little mouse.
Zhong Lingyu chuckled.
“Excuse me, could you call out to Song Chan from your class?”
Suddenly hearing the familiar voice, Zhong Lingyu swiftly crouched down, catching Song Chan off guard.
His short hair brushed against the outside of Song Chan’s thigh, making her feel a little sore and itchy. The boy’s hair looked soft, but it was actually much coarser than the girl’s. Song Chan awkwardly closed her legs, her cheeks burning. “Zhong, classmate!”
“I just dropped my pen cap, don’t look at me yet.”
As Zhong Lingyu spoke, he indeed glimpsed Zhong Xin and Zhong Cheng’s figures in the doorway through the space under the table.
This was bad; his disguise was about to be exposed.
To avoid his little one disturbing their time together, Zhong Lingyu had lied to his son, saying he was currently abroad.
His son was quite composed, but his daughter was spoiled rotten, having already cried to him several times on the phone. This little girl might very well forget everything the moment she saw him, running to him in tears, calling him “Daddy.”
This was a classroom, not home; Zhong Lingyu didn’t even want to imagine such a scene.
More importantly, how was he going to explain this to Song Chan?
He should probably leave first.
Unexpectedly, just as Zhong Lingyu reached the back, he heard a clear, crisp voice. “Dad!”