If it were any other day, had he ignored Song Qinghuan, she would already be looking dejected by now, gazing at him with those big, teary, pitiful eyes.
But today, for some reason, she seemed unusually cold and distant.
Anyone who didn’t know better would think she’d fallen out of love with him.
The thought had barely crossed Lu Qiming’s mind when he dismissed it instantly.
There was no way she didn’t love him anymore.
On this one thing alone, he had absolute confidence.
Song Qinghuan had loved him since they were children; they’d even been promised to each other since birth.
No matter what happened, she would never turn her heart to someone else.
With that thought, Lu Qiming felt a little reassured.
He had no idea that Song Qinghuan hadn’t paid him any attention at all—every bit of her focus was fixed on Li Qing’e standing beside him.
This former mother-in-law of hers was no soft touch.
Even now, Song Qinghuan remembered all the absurd things Li Qing’e had done in her past life, and all the ridiculous, laughable things she’d said.
Logically speaking, the Lu family was so respectable—they should have held a grand, lavish wedding for their son.
But the day Song Qinghuan married Lu Qiming in her past life had turned into a complete farce.
It was supposed to be Song Qinghuan and Lu Qiming’s big day, yet Li Qing’e was the one who stole every bit of the spotlight.
She was already getting on in years, with a waist as thick as a water bucket, but her heart was still young and restless. She’d insisted on having a brand-new outfit made just for herself—bright red, of course, to “add to the festivities.”
If it had only been about clothes, Song Qinghuan would have let it slide.
But Li Qing’e’s antics didn’t stop there. She’d actually demanded to sing and dance on stage with her group of elderly friends during the wedding—putting on a full performance.
And she’d called it “making up for never getting to join the cultural troupe back in the day.”
Back then, Song Qinghuan had been so overjoyed at the thought of marrying the man she loved that her whole world revolved around Lu Qiming.
She hadn’t wanted to start off on the wrong foot with her future mother-in-law before she’d even joined the family.
It was just a little performance, she’d told herself—it wouldn’t hurt anything.
So she’d gritted her teeth and agreed, saying nothing, figuring Li Qing’e would at most sing a quick song.
She’d thought of it as indulging her, as showing respect to her elders.
But on the actual wedding day, a huge scandal had broken out.
Li Qing’e had turned up in a tight-fitting bright red dress, her hair pinned up with large red peony blossoms—dressed far more extravagantly than the bride herself.
To make more time for her act, she’d even chased the master of ceremonies off the stage before the wedding ceremony was finished.
Grabbing a loudspeaker, she’d started doing the yangge folk dance with her friends, gyrating wildly—like maggots writhing in an outhouse in the height of summer.
Every time she moved, the thick powder caked on her face flaked off in clouds that stung the nose.
The guests could barely keep it together; faces twisted as they tried to hold back their laughter. Some who couldn’t help it burst out laughing right there and then.
Before the ceremony was even over, word had spread all through the alley.
“Haven’t seen such a show in years! You missed out if you didn’t go to the Lus’ wedding today!”
“That mother-in-law of theirs is quite a character! Song Qinghuan’s the one getting married, but Li Qing’e’s up there singing and dancing, decked out in red and green like a fattened pig all dressed up for slaughter!”
“And that dress is so tight—every move she makes, all that flesh just spills out!”
Song Qinghuan had stood by, watching it all happen, powerless to stop it.
Her whole family had become the laughingstock of the entire neighborhood.
Li Qing’e, though, had acted as if nothing was wrong—taking everyone’s mocking looks for praise, absolutely delighted with herself.
She’d gone around bragging for days that she had real talent for the stage, that she was a natural-born star.
She’d had her fun—but it was Song Qinghuan and Lu Qiming who’d been left humiliated.
After all Li Qing’e had done in her past life, Song Qinghuan knew that even with a second chance, things wouldn’t be any different.
All she had to do was stand back quietly and watch the drama unfold.
Sure enough, once all the discussions about the betrothal gifts and dowry were settled, Li Qing’e began to get restless.
Seizing the moment while everyone was still in good spirits, she brought up her request casually as they went over wedding arrangements.
“I hear nowadays all the young folks like to hire performers for their weddings—says it livens things up.”
“Seems to me we don’t need to waste money on that. I could go up there and perform myself! I used to have a lovely singing voice—known as the prettiest flower in the whole factory!”
Song Shouyang and Zhao Yufang had already thought they had no shame—but this was something else entirely. They were both stunned into silence.
Even Wang Siyu, who’d been sitting quietly off to the side saying nothing, glanced over at Li Qing’e.
She knew this was completely out of line. If they let Li Qing’e do this, it would ruin their family’s reputation.
She’d been about to speak up—but the words died in her throat.
She told herself: I’m not the one getting married. Why should I stick my neck out?
Even if Li Qing’e made a fool of herself at the wedding—so what? The Lu family was giving such a generous betrothal gift; it would be more than enough to silence any gossip.
And in the end, it would be Song Qinghuan who looked bad.
Everyone would blame her—say she was useless, a poor thing who couldn’t even stand up to her mother-in-law.
That way, she’d have nothing to do with it at all.
Wang Siyu immediately decided not to interfere. In fact, she decided to add fuel to the fire:
“I think that’s a wonderful idea! Qiming’s wedding is already costing so much—we’re not exactly made of money, after all. Every little bit we save helps.”
“And Mother really does have a lovely voice! I’ve heard you humming around the house—you sound just like a professional singer! You really are talented.”
Li Qing’e had only been making up an excuse to make her request sound more reasonable. She’d never expected anyone to actually agree.
Puffed up with pride, she brought one hand to her face, asking in delighted disbelief:
“Siyu—are you serious? Am I really that good of a singer?”