Song Fuxiang was no longer melancholic.
He looked at his daughter with a face full of pride.
Heh heh heh, Little Chan took after him, she was just outstanding!
That’s why, back when he got divorced, he let his ex-wife have the house and money, but he insisted on keeping his daughter.
Over the years, outsiders only knew he dated many women, thinking him a playboy, but they didn’t see how wonderfully he’d raised his daughter!
Song Fuxiang was immensely proud.
He wouldn’t remarry lightly, who knew if a stepmother would treat his daughter well!
Zhao Dong, meanwhile, was choked by Song Chan’s words.
Staying in the hospital room, Zhao Dong’s mind had stopped functioning, especially with Song Fuxiang’s “heh heh heh” idiotic expression, which made Zhao Dong feel like staring too long would lower his IQ. He asked Song Chan to step out for a private talk, and the two went to the corridor.
Song Chan glanced at Song Fuxiang, seeing her father didn’t object, and followed.
In the corridor, just Zhao Dong and Song Chan, Zhao Dong got straight to the point:
“Miss Song, you might not know how much compensation I’m offering. It’s a substantial sum, even more than what your father earned ghostwriting my autobiography. I don’t think the Song family’s situation is so good that you can afford to ignore such a large amount, right?”
If the Song family weren’t short on money, Song Fuxiang wouldn’t have taken the ghostwriting job.
Zhao Dong was speaking the truth.
But this truth sounded harsh to Song Chan’s ears.
“Mr. Zhao, you’ve already made this offer to my dad, haven’t you?”
Zhao Dong nodded, “Editor Song is too emotional to think rationally about my proposal, I believe Miss Song could persuade him.”
“No need!”
Song Chan was furious.
Did having money mean you could bully people?
From childhood to adulthood, as Song Fuxiang’s daughter, Song Chan was always treated with respect. Though Song Fuxiang hadn’t amassed great wealth, his reputation as a scholar gave Song Chan preferential treatment.
Why did her classmates admire her? Not because her family was rich, but because of her father’s and her own talent.
Sometimes, talent was worth more than money.
Song Chan, in her anger, spoke coldly, “Mr. Zhao, stop harping on my dad’s ghostwriting. So what if he ghostwrote? He did it because you couldn’t write it yourself and needed his help! He worked, you paid, isn’t that how it should be? But my dad being beaten is about his dignity, you think money can settle it? Even if he agrees, I won’t!”
Zhao Dong never expected the Song family, father and daughter, to think this way.
They earned the ghostwriting fee with confidence.
But the compensation, even more than the ghostwriting fee, they refused!
This was beyond Zhao Dong’s expectations.
Without the ghostwriting connection, he wouldn’t have been so confident he could handle Song Fuxiang. Now, with Xie Jinghu still waiting for a response, and the Song family refusing to budge, Zhao Dong found the situation tricky.
What about Mr. Xie, would he have to spend the night at the police station?
…
Xie Qian hadn’t reached the police station yet when he got word on the way that Zhao Dong had gone to the hospital.
“Zhao Dong will convince Song Fuxiang to settle.”
Xie Qian turned to Wen Ying, “I’ll go in first, you follow later, just take a quick look from afar, don’t let them spot you.”
Xie Qian didn’t want Xie Jinghu to notice Wen Ying.
“Zhao Dong went to the hospital, huh?”
Zhao Dong’s style was always to throw money at problems.
Who knew if Zhao Dong would offer to send Song Chan abroad to study, his usual trick for charming young girls. He’d said the same to Wen Ying, probably to Shu Lu too, and now it might be Song Chan’s turn. Could Song Chan resist the temptation?
Wen Ying wasn’t entirely confident in Editor Song’s integrity either, if the money was enough, Song would eventually cave.
So, to see the scumbag Xie locked up at the police station, they had to act fast.
“Does Aunt Zou know yet?”
Wen Ying was worried about this, but Xie Qian shook his head, “Don’t worry, no one will tell my mum.”
If Xie Jinghu had won the fight, he might’ve bragged, but having lost, he’d be too ashamed to face his mother.
Xie Qian went in first, and Wen Ying waited ten minutes at the police station entrance before entering.
A man in a suit stopped her, “Miss Wen, come with me.”
Wen Ying was wary, but the man smiled warmly, introducing himself, “No ill intentions, Young Master Xie asked me to show you around.”
“Oh…”
Wen Ying put on a smile, “How should I address you?”
“I’m Zhong Yong.”
“Nice to meet you, Brother Zhong!”
Zhong Yong had dealt with Wen Ying before, though she didn’t know it.
He was Xie Qian’s best friend in Rongcheng, his details vetted by the higher-ups, so Zhong Yong naturally treated Wen Ying with care.
Wen Ying found it odd, Zhong Yong was so enthusiastic toward her.
She was certain this was their first meeting.
But since he was someone Xie Qian trusted, Wen Ying lowered her guard for now, following Zhong Yong to a window outside a room where a middle-aged man in a suit sat, with sharp eyes and thin lips.
Wow, that’s the scumbag Xie!
His appearance perfectly matched the domineering CEO in romance novels.
A middle-aged CEO was still a CEO.
Just by looks, Xie Jinghu outshone the middle-aged bosses Wen Ying knew by a mile, even Qin Xianming paled in comparison.
Wang Jun was no contest, with his ever-growing belly, probably trailing Xie Jinghu by seven or eight Qin Xianmings.
But thinking of how Mr. Xie couldn’t even beat a frail literary man like Song Fuxiang, the natural CEO aura around him dimmed considerably.
If he couldn’t beat a weakling, he was just another weakling.
Who’d have thought Xie Jinghu, a scumbag CEO, was all show and no substance?
Xie Qian really looked like Xie Jinghu.
But Xie Jinghu, being such a scumbag, didn’t deserve that face.
Clearly, good looks weren’t fairly distributed by the heavens.
Wen Ying had said she only wanted to see what Xie Jinghu looked like, and she kept her word, not causing trouble for Xie Qian.
Seeing her step away from the window, Zhong Yong smiled and pointed to the next room, whispering, “Want to wait for Xie Qian there?”
“Will Xie Qian sort this out quickly?”
With no word from the hospital and Song Fuxiang not budging, how would Xie Qian get Xie Jinghu out of the police station?
Zhong Yong thought Mr. Xie might have to spend the night there.
Xie Yuping had said no help was allowed, and Zhong Yong had to take that seriously, follow the proper process.
Of course, if Mr. Xie really wanted out, there were ways.
But Mr. Xie was proud and didn’t want today’s events known.
Xie Qian’s visit didn’t seem like a rescue mission, more like he was here to watch the show.
In the eyes of the world, this was unfilial, but Zhong Yong understood.
He couldn’t explain why the police station wouldn’t release Xie Jinghu, so he vaguely said, “Just wait for now, you two skipped evening study, and Xie Qian will definitely take you home before it ends.”
Xie Qian was Xie Qian, but in Zhong Yong’s mouth, he was “Young Master Xie,” which felt strange to Wen Ying. She usually didn’t feel such a gap between her and Xie Qian, sometimes even thinking she was close to him. But Zhong Yong’s words made her feel the distance widen again.
After all, when she walked out, no one called her “Miss Wen,” except that time in Modu when she bought three houses in one go… and that was only because she used Xie Qian’s card.
