What on earth was all this about?
Song Yunyi furrowed her brow and casually brushed it off: “President Feng is overthinking things. He’s just my younger brother.”
“Younger brother?” Feng Cheng’s gaze darkened. “I wasn’t aware that Lawyer Song had a younger brother. When did that happen?”
Her background wasn’t exactly a secret in their circles.
The Song family had only ever been middle-class back in the day—nothing compared to families like theirs. It was only three years ago, after the Song family had forged ties with the Gu family, that their fortunes had risen steadily. They’d landed several major projects over the years, and their standing was no longer what it used to be.
Naturally, more people had started paying attention to her.
Given that her entanglement with a strange man was indeed unreasonable, she did need to clarify: “There is nothing between him and me—absolutely nothing improper. I can vouch for that with my integrity.”
Feng Cheng’s languid demeanor paused slightly, his voice flat. “Is that so.”
“Lawyer Song is truly a rare paragon of devotion.”
Song Yunyi frowned.
How utterly baffling.
She caught the faint trace of mockery in his words but couldn’t pinpoint the reason behind it. Not knowing how to respond, she simply pretended not to hear.
Only Feng Qiyue looked like he had something to say but held his tongue.
Director Li had known he was in deep trouble the moment he saw how familiar Feng Cheng and Song Yunyi were with each other.
After the two finished talking, he stepped forward, keeping his posture low: “Ma’am, however you’d like to handle this matter, I’m fully prepared to cooperate.”
As much as Song Yunyi wanted to have those men killed, she knew full well as a lawyer that it was utterly impossible. So she only said coldly: “Compensation, an apology, and criminal liability.”
Director Li’s face lit up with relief.
She seemed like a reasonable one.
He smiled so hard his face crinkled, quickly agreeing: “Of course, of course. Rest assured, they won’t escape any of the compensation owed or the legal consequences they deserve.”
“Filming a commercial here, are we?” Feng Cheng’s languid voice cut in. “If you don’t call an ambulance soon, he’s going to pass out.”
The moment his idle demeanor fell away, the aura around him shifted completely. Even the air itself turned heavy and oppressive, sending a chill down one’s spine.
Director Li broke out in a cold sweat.
How could he have forgotten—just because the lady was easy to deal with didn’t mean President Feng was.
Director Li swallowed hard and hurriedly ordered his subordinates to make the arrangements. Song Yunyi thought of something and suddenly added: “It has to be a private hospital.”
Feng Cheng glanced at her again.
“Of course, of course.”
The ambulance would take a while to arrive. Song Yunyi found a soft cushion and placed it under Feng Qiyue’s chair, then pulled a bottle of glucose from her bag and handed it to him.
Feng Qiyue cooperated readily. After drinking the glucose, he spoke up under Feng Cheng’s slightly scrutinizing gaze: “President Feng, might I ask for a favor? If you settle this matter today, I’ll owe you one—I’ll do anything for you in the future.”
Feng Cheng let out a cold scoff: “You’re quite the schemer.”
Feng Qiyue’s demeanor shifted considerably in Feng Cheng’s presence. His handsome face carried a depth of cunning that belied his age. He curled his lips slightly: “President Feng, don’t be so quick to refuse. Hear me out—resolving this is just a word from you. I consider myself clever, and I’m young. One word in exchange for a deal—you won’t lose on this.”
The youth stood tall as bamboo, showing no sign of dishevelment even in his injured state. He could read people with precision, remaining composed without arrogance—neither fawning nor off-putting. Clearly, his family had invested heavily in his upbringing.
Feng Cheng said nothing.
But Feng Qiyue knew the matter was settled.
Since he was young, everyone around him had said his mother was forced into marriage by his father—that he was an unwanted child born of their mutual torment.
He’d been too young back then, with limited ability to discern the truth, and had once genuinely believed it to be so.
But as he grew older, he’d realized with alarm that there might be more to what had happened back then.
He could be certain his father loved his mother—he just didn’t know when that had started. After all, from everything he knew, his mother currently had a partner, and that man was his father’s sworn enemy.
So he couldn’t be sure whether his father would help.
With his worries set aside, a metallic taste rose in Feng Qiyue’s throat. He lowered his head and coughed violently. Song Yunyi quickly steadied him: “Did your lungs get injured? Does it hurt when you cough? Has the ambulance arrived? We need to go now—we can’t delay any longer!”
With that, she called for people to help.
“President Feng, thank you for today. I’ll repay your kindness.” After the flurry of chaos, Song Yunyi offered her sincere thanks before helping Feng Qiyue leave.
Feng Cheng suddenly spoke up: “When are you settling the fee for the piano piece?”
Song Yunyi stumbled mid-step: “How much?”
“Figure it out yourself.”
Song Yunyi: “…”
Her already threadbare wallet was about to face an epic-level storm.
Even after getting into the ambulance, Song Yunyi still looked thoroughly deflated.
Feng Qiyue lay on the stretcher while a nurse performed a preliminary examination. He suddenly spoke: “I’m sorry.”
Song Yunyi snapped back to reality: “Don’t worry about that now. Just cooperate with the hospital’s examination.”
Feng Qiyue let out an “oh” and said no more, his fingers tightly gripping the edge of the stretcher.
At that moment, at the Hurricane Boxing Gym, in the storage room.
Obscene heavy breathing, uncontrollable moans, mixed with the sound of flesh colliding, seeped through the crack of the door. Those outside listened with faces turning pale and flushed by turns; some couldn’t help but vomit.
Feng Cheng’s assistant, He Zhang, glanced at his watch. Before long, a bodyguard in black walked out from inside, holding a phone in his hand.
He Zhang checked the recording, turned off the screen, and headed toward the office.
Inside the office.
Feng Cheng sat in the boss’s chair, a blanket of unknown origin spread beneath him, his fingers idly flipping through the gym’s account books.
After He Zhang finished his report, Feng Cheng tossed the ledger back onto the desk and rose to his feet.
The city bureau chief stood off to the side, his expression somewhat uneasy.
Feng Cheng seemed utterly oblivious, tapping the ledger with his fingertip, his tone so casual it was unsettling: “I’ve helped you find the evidence of the gym’s tax evasion. You’d better make sure they never have a chance to leave prison.”
The city bureau chief nodded hastily: “Rest assured, President Feng.”
Feng Cheng rose and walked out, taking the handkerchief He Zhang offered to wipe his hands, and said in a low voice: “Post the video on the website.”
He Zhang: “Yes, President Feng.”
“Look into that kid beside Song Yunyi—his background, his life, and exactly when he got to know Song Yunyi. Find out everything.”
He Zhang’s fingers flew across the tablet. Hearing this instruction, he showed no extra expression, as steady as a man who’d been gutting fish at the market for ten years: “Understood.”
At the private hospital.
After the examination results came out, Song Yunyi went to the attending physician’s office.
“The patient suffered severe trauma to the head and has a mild concussion. In addition, his right hand is fractured, and he has multiple serious wounds elsewhere on his body. This is our preliminary treatment plan; we’ll make adjustments in a couple of days depending on his recovery.”
After Song Yunyi finished reading, the attending physician said, “If there are no issues, you can go ahead and complete the admission procedures.”
Song Yunyi thanked him and left.
Back in the ward, Feng Qiyue had already fallen asleep.
The wounds on his face had been treated and the swelling had subsided considerably, though the bruise at the corner of his mouth was still rather alarming. His right hand was in a cast, and several knuckles were wrapped in gauze.
He looked as if all the vitality had been drained out of him.