The Lu family had spent such a hefty bride price to bring her into their home—not to live a life of ease.
As their daughter-in-law, she was expected to obey every word of Li Qing’e and Lu Lin, tend to her parents-in-law, and never show the slightest hint of defiance.
They really were cut from the same cloth—their shamelessness was practically identical.
The “four major household items” were meant to be kept for the whole family to use, while the cash portion of the bride price had already been taken by the Song family.
Yet they acted as if Song Qinghuan owed them something.
Back then, though, Song Qinghuan was still new to all this and had no idea how to handle such a situation—so she’d simply endured it in silence.
It was only later that she learned Lu Qiming had treated her so poorly because Wang Siyu had once gone to him and cried in secret.
For a man as self-righteous as Lu Qiming, a woman’s tears were the deadliest weapon of all.
Wang Siyu didn’t even need to twist facts or make up stories—all she had to do was put on a pitiful face, glance at him with a look that said she wanted to speak but held back, and it was enough to stir up all his misplaced tenderness.
No doubt he’d convinced himself it was all Song Qinghuan’s fault that his sister-in-law was so wronged—and so he’d turned every bit of his resentment onto her, no questions asked.
To treat his own lawfully wedded wife this way for an outsider… Lu Qiming deserved to rot!
The thought made Song Qinghuan’s gaze turn cold.
She stepped forward without a word, raised her hand, and slapped Lu Qiming hard across his left cheek.
“You’re a soldier—for heaven’s sake, act like a man and take responsibility.”
“If you had the guts to admit how you feel and marry the woman you love openly and honorably, I might even have a shred of respect for you.”
“But sneaking around like this—meeting her in secret like you’re having an affair? Do you really think you’re nothing more than a pair of rats scuttling in the gutter?”
This was unheard of.
Li Qing’e and Lu Lin were more distraught seeing Lu Qiming struck than if they’d been slapped themselves.
Furious, they lunged forward to tear into Song Qinghuan—only for another sharp crack to ring out as she landed a second hard slap across Lu Qiming’s right cheek.
His hair was now disheveled, bright red handprints burned on both sides of his face, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He looked utterly pathetic.
The entire Lu family stood frozen, stunned into silence for a long moment.
Wang Siyu’s eyes darted around—she quickly feigned heartbreak and began fanning the flames.
“Qinghuan, I know you might be upset with our family, but we can talk this out calmly. Why resort to violence?”
“You know Qiming has to report for duty this afternoon—how is he supposed to show his face like this? If his superiors see him and get the wrong idea, what if it ruins his chances of promotion? You’re only going to hurt him doing this.”
The Lu family cared more about their reputation than anything else. Li Qing’e and Lu Lin would never allow their beloved son to have his career tarnished in any way—and Wang Siyu’s words struck right at their weakest point.
She fell silent, stepping back to wait smugly for the two elders to fly into a rage and tear Song Qinghuan apart.
But much to her surprise, though Li Qing’e and Lu Lin were seething, the sight of the handprints on their son’s face made them swallow the curses that had risen to their lips. They wanted to curl up and hide—terrified that if they pushed her too far, Song Qinghuan would turn on them next and humiliate them in front of everyone.
Song Qinghuan, meanwhile, remained perfectly composed. She wasn’t riled up by Wang Siyu’s attempt to sow discord—instead, she smiled slowly and flexed her fingers.
“You’re asking for a slap too, aren’t you?”
Wang Siyu’s saccharine act vanished instantly, replaced by pure terror. She flailed her hands, about to protest—but Song Qinghuan’s hand came down before she could speak.
Sharp, crisp sounds rang out one after another—music to her ears.
Points racked up in her mind, and with every slap, a little more of her anger faded away. Seeing the Lu family utterly defeated, she felt lighter than ever.
Song Shouyang and Zhao Yufang cowered in the corner—they’d come to drag Song Qinghuan away and stop her from ruining the engagement. Now, staring at the chaos unfolding before them, they were too shocked to speak. They dared not interfere—afraid that if they so much as breathed wrong, they’d end up on the receiving end of her anger too.
This scene would haunt every single one of them for a long time.
Satisfied at last, Song Qinghuan smiled and pointed toward the door.
“Now that we’ve said all that needs saying—get out.”
“If you don’t want this to get ugly, you’ll do exactly as I say and keep your mouths shut.”
“Otherwise, I won’t mind going to chat with all those gossiping aunties down the lane—and tell them all about the epic, undying love story between Lu Qiming and Wang Siyu.”
Li Qing’e felt sick to her stomach at the thought—she couldn’t begin to imagine how their family would ever show their faces in Beijing if word got out. Trembling with hurt and rage, she turned her frustration onto Lu Qiming.
“Qiming, your father and I don’t care if we get hit—but we can’t let this ruin you!”
“If that wicked girl Song Qinghuan goes around spreading lies and tarnishes your good name, what if your superiors think you’re morally unfit? Do something—teach her a lesson, make her hold her tongue! If that doesn’t work, call the police, pull whatever strings you have—throw her in prison! Then she won’t be able to hurt us anymore!”
These people really thought their son was untouchable. Lu Qiming may have held a rank in the military, but his influence didn’t stretch that far. Even if they called the police, all he had were a few bruises and handprints—nothing serious. And since he and Song Qinghuan were legally married, it would be written off as a domestic dispute. She wouldn’t even be detained, let alone sent to prison.
Instead of being intimidated by her threats, Song Qinghuan’s smile only grew brighter. In the sunlight, her delicate features seemed to glow. Even Lu Qiming, still simmering with anger, found himself momentarily distracted by the warmth in her eyes.
But then she picked up a chair and swung it at them without hesitation.
The smile vanished as if it had never been there, replaced by a look of pure revulsion. Her entire demeanor turned cold, as if she’d wrapped herself in a sheet of ice.
“I won’t say this a third time—get out of my sight. Now.”