Song Chan was completely thrown off.
Seeing Xie Qian trailing behind Jiang Xuekun, her pupils practically shook, and her mind went blank.
Wen Ying felt a pang of sympathy for Song Chan.
Xie Qian’s status at school was undeniable. Even if Song Chan wasn’t one of his fangirls, she likely didn’t dislike him—who could hate Xie Qian, aside from a living scumbag like Xie Jinghu?
This put Song Chan in an awkward spot.
Her father, Song Fuxiang, had pursued Xie Qian’s mother, which led to him getting beaten by Xie Jinghu.
No girl in the entire school would want to cross paths with Xie Qian in *this* way, so Wen Ying genuinely felt for Song Chan.
Plus, since Song Chan hadn’t been swayed by Zhao Dong’s temptations, Wen Ying was starting to like her!
Even Song Chan’s little scheme at the Modu New Concept Awards, dragging Wen Ying for a photo, Wen Ying could forgive.
“Oh, President Jiang…”
“Old Song, lie back down, don’t get up.”
Jiang Xuekun didn’t notice the subtle glances between the youngsters. He quickly stepped to Song Fuxiang’s side, pressing his shoulder to keep him from getting out of bed.
Song Fuxiang groaned, tears welling in his eyes, “President Jiang, you’ve got to stand up for me. I was beaten at the office entrance in broad daylight. How can I show my face at work? I don’t mind getting hit myself, but I’m worried it’ll tarnish the company’s reputation!”
Song Fuxiang had been playing up a concussion since yesterday. Wen Ying, hearing his clear and calculated speech, elevating a personal grudge to a company matter in just a few words, couldn’t help but admire him.
Only someone this shameless could make Zhao Dong eat humble pie!
Wen Ying had come to the hospital today to watch the drama—er, to learn, of course. The real masters were among the common folk.
When Xie Qian and Wen Ying entered the ward, it wasn’t just Song Chan who was shocked—Song Fuxiang was equally stunned.
Xie Qian looked too much like Xie Jinghu.
And Song Fuxiang remembered Wen Ying vividly.
She and Song Chan had won the New Concept First Prize together.
…How did these two end up with President Jiang?
Song Fuxiang was genuinely starting to worry about himself.
Did he really have a concussion, making his brain too foggy to figure out what was going on?
Hearing Song Fuxiang’s words, Jiang Xuekun felt awkward.
He was here to plead for Xie Jinghu, but with Song Fuxiang throwing out such flattery, how could he even broach the topic?
“Ahem, Old Song, I know you’ve been wronged. I only heard about this late yesterday and didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I came to see you today.”
Jiang Xuekun didn’t mention Xie Jinghu, instead asking about Song Fuxiang’s condition—not from Song himself, but from the doctor.
Song Fuxiang’s vitals were all fine. The publishing group had annual check-ups, and Song had one two months ago—how could he have any serious issues?
Xie Jinghu had knocked Song Fuxiang to the ground, causing a swollen face, a bruised elbow, and some contusions, but nothing else.
After a day and night of rest, Song Fuxiang’s face had almost fully recovered.
The doctor would say Song didn’t even meet hospitalisation criteria, but Song insisted he felt unwell, dizzy, and nauseous, so the chart noted “suspected concussion.”
Anyone with eyes could see Song was faking, but everyone had to play along since he was the victim.
Using his authority as a senior leader to pressure Song Fuxiang to forgive Xie Jinghu?
That wasn’t Jiang Xuekun’s style.
Song Fuxiang might have been wrong in some ways, but in this matter, he was in the right.
As Song Fuxiang said, this incident had spread like wildfire at the company. If the company didn’t back him, it would be too unfair.
Plus, it involved Zou Weijun.
Gossip could be vicious, and mishandling this could force Zou Weijun to resign.
Jiang Xuekun pondered for a moment, then simply introduced Xie Qian to Song Fuxiang.
“Whatever requests you have, you can tell Xie here, he can agree on behalf of his father.”
Song Fuxiang raised an eyelid, “Oh, Mr. Xie’s son, huh? Truly a tiger’s son!”
His tone dripped with sarcasm.
You couldn’t blame Song Fuxiang for being petty. Xie Qian looked so much like Xie Jinghu, and since Song didn’t know the father and son were at odds, seeing Xie Qian just reminded him of Xie Jinghu, stirring his anger.
Catching Song Chan’s glance at Xie Qian, Song Fuxiang grew wary, “Little Chan, you know Xie?”
Song Chan nodded, “Dad, Xie Qian’s at our provincial key school, in the same class as Wen, a grade below me.”
Xie Qian was here to apologise, but what was Wen Ying doing here? Song Chan couldn’t figure it out.
Wen Ying quickly set down the fruit basket she was carrying, “Song Xuejie, I heard from Xie Qian that Uncle Song was hospitalised, so I thought I’d visit.”
Song Chan: “…?”
She remembered her relationship with Wen Ying wasn’t *that* close.
In Modu, Wen Ying had even ignored her.
Now so enthusiastic?
But Wen Ying was probably here for Xie Qian, since they were close at school.
Song Chan pursed her lips: Neither Wen Ying nor Xie Qian would get their way. She wasn’t like those schoolgirls who’d throw everything aside for one of Xie Qian’s smiles. Xie Qian was Xie Qian, Mr. Xie was Mr. Xie—she could tell who was at fault.
Song Chan held her ground firmly, but Song Fuxiang didn’t know that.
His gaze darted between Xie Qian and Song Chan, lingering on Xie Qian’s face several times!
Little Chan knew so much about Xie Qian, clearly paying attention to him. Could it be… Hmph, what good was being handsome?
Song Fuxiang clutched his head, “Oh, my head hurts again, Little Chan, quick, get the doctor.”
In front of President Jiang, he couldn’t hide under the covers to avoid talking, but he could fake a headache!
Wen Ying’s eye twitched slightly.
Was this the treatment Zhao Dong endured yesterday?
That must’ve been so frustrating.
If Xie Qian were a truly filial son, he’d be panicking now, but being a “dutiful” son, he was very understanding, “Uncle Jiang, let’s leave the ward so we don’t disturb Uncle Song’s rest. My dad was in the wrong, and while he’s locked up, Uncle Song’s mood will improve, and his injuries will heal faster.”
Xie Qian led the way out, and Wen Ying followed.
Jiang Xuekun gave a wry smile. Was Xie Qian here to negotiate peace?
He was clearly here to stall!
Realising this, Jiang Xuekun’s expression hardened: The conflict between Xie Qian and his father had reached such a sharp point.
Jiang Xuekun had only heard bits and pieces about what Xie Jinghu did.
He was definitely on Xie Qian and Zou Weijun’s side. The two families were connected, with Zou Weijun as the tie. If she weren’t the Xie family’s daughter-in-law, Jiang Xuekun wouldn’t bother cozying up to the Xies!
So Jiang Xuekun left too.
Song Fuxiang, faking his headache, was dumbfounded.
What’s going on? I just started my act, and you’re not even trying to persuade me? So cooperative?
Not a shred of sincerity in this apology!
