Wen Ying said she needed to use the bathroom, giving Song Foxiang and Song Chan no chance to object. She darted into the restroom, locked the door, and did it all in one swift motion!
Song Foxiang was in a single ward with a private bathroom, and the hospital’s disinfection was impeccable.
But Wen Ying’s behaviour still struck the father and daughter as odd.
…Like a dog was chasing her. Was she really in such a rush?
Before Song Chan could speak, Jiang Xuekun entered the ward, “Boss Xie has arrived at the hospital.”
Song Foxiang’s emotions flared.
“How can he show up?”
“For a medical check.”
Jiang Xuekun was just giving Song Foxiang a heads-up to prepare him mentally.
Song Foxiang felt a rare twinge of guilt.
Had his kick really injured Xie that badly?
On second thought, so what if it did? Maybe Xie was just a flashy but useless type!
Besides, Xie struck first. Song Foxiang was only defending himself—his reasoning held up anywhere.
Song Foxiang calmed down, even smirking, “It’s been this long. If he’s really hurt, can his injury still be saved?”
What a sharp tongue.
Luckily, Jiang Xuekun had good composure and wasn’t on Xie Jinghu’s side. If it were Zhao Dong, he’d have been hopping mad by now.
“Old Song, I’m just letting you know. What you do is up to you. Rest assured, the company’s got your back.”
Jiang Xuekun’s composure and neutrality made Song Foxiang a bit embarrassed.
Song Chan smoothed things over, “Uncle Jiang, don’t mind my dad. He’s just fuming at the thought of Boss Xie showing up.”
“Boss Jiang, I was wrong.”
Song Foxiang didn’t let Song Chan apologise for him.
Jiang Xuekun said nothing.
As fathers, comparing Song Foxiang to Xie Jinghu showed a clear winner.
For that alone, Jiang Xuekun couldn’t help but advise Song Foxiang to quit while he was ahead.
As the three talked in the ward, Xie Jinghu arrived at the hospital, accompanied by his assistant Zhong Yong and police officers. Pushed in a wheelchair past Xie Qian, Xie Jinghu glanced at his son and sneered, “I thought you were some hotshot!”
A double-edged jab—Xie Qian hadn’t dealt with Song Foxiang or stopped Xie Jinghu from leaving the police station, failing on both fronts.
Xie Qian smiled, “Chief Editor Song says a tiger father has no weak son. Whatever skill I have, I learned from you. I still think I’ve got plenty of room to grow.”
Young and not yet skilled—what’s strange about that?
What’s strange is someone like Xie Jinghu, old enough to know better, getting into fights and landing in the police station, yet still having the gall to lecture his son.
Hiding in the bathroom, Wen Ying overheard Xie Jinghu and Xie Qian’s exchange, feeling it was unfair to Xie Qian.
Verbal abuse was still abuse.
Xie Jinghu, the living scum, always belittling her idol!
Hmph, anyone else with such an outstanding son would cherish him, but this scum couldn’t see Xie Qian’s worth!
Good thing Xie Qian knew how to fight back.
Well done, that’s the way to do it!
Xie Jinghu was indeed riled up by Xie Qian and was about to snap when Zhong Yong urged, “Boss Xie, your injury… can’t wait any longer.”
Xie Jinghu, face dark, let his assistant wheel him away.
Though he passed Song Foxiang’s ward, Xie Jinghu didn’t enter, seemingly unaware Song Foxiang was inside.
Ten minutes later, Zhong Yong told Xie Qian that Xie Jinghu had checked himself into the hospital.
“Seriously that bad?”
Xie Qian didn’t believe it.
Zhong Yong, deadpan, said, “Young Master Xie, it’s hard to say with such injuries. If Boss Xie feels unwell, he can stay, just like Chief Editor Song’s concussion.”
Talking at the ward’s door, their voices carried to Song Foxiang inside, who was so furious he nearly leapt out of bed.
Xie Jinghu was shameless enough to copy his tactic!
Copycat!
No scholar could tolerate this. Song Foxiang wanted to turn the tables and give Xie Jinghu a beating.
“Old Song!”
Jiang Xuekun quietly stopped him, “You’re unwell, why get out of bed?”
If you’re playing injured, play it properly.
Song Foxiang, indignant, turned his face away.
Song Chan thought: As expected, Xie Qian and Boss Xie aren’t on the same side, and even Boss Jiang’s stance is subtle.
Wen Ying, wondering whether to leave the bathroom—hospital disinfection or not, it was still a bathroom—heard Xie Jinghu’s assistant approach.
The assistant was there to apologise on Xie Jinghu’s behalf.
Now this got Wen Ying’s attention. She pressed against the door to listen, and then Song Chan’s sharp wit kicked in.
Song Chan’s voice wasn’t loud, still carrying her school’s goddess vibe, but it stung.
“I have a question.”
As Song Chan spoke, everyone in the room turned to her. She asked Xie Jinghu’s assistant earnestly, “Does your Boss Xie usually skip meals?”
“…?”
What kind of question was that?
The assistant was caught off guard.
“Of course he eats—”
Song Chan delivered a mocking blow, “Oh, so he does eat himself? I thought his assistants and lackeys took turns eating for him. Speaking of, you were there when Boss Xie attacked, right? Why didn’t you ‘step in’ for him?”
Calling him a lackey?
The assistant’s face flushed red.
Zhong Yong’s lips twitched upward but he held back, given the occasion.
—Though, catching Young Master Xie’s smile in his peripheral vision, maybe he could relax a bit?
Song Chan chuckled, “What, did I get it wrong? Boss Xie eats himself but won’t apologise himself? Don’t both come from the same mouth?”
The assistant’s face darkened, but he adjusted his mindset to respond, “Miss Song, this is between adults. You’re a minor, don’t butt in. I’m apologising to Chief Editor Song on Boss Xie’s behalf, not to you.”
Song Chan wasn’t fooled by his sidestepping.
“I’m my dad’s daughter. He’s injured and can’t talk easily, so of course I can speak for him. But you, are you Boss Xie’s son? What gives you the right to apologise for him?”
Boss Xie’s son, standing at the door to watch the show, smirked.
The assistant’s eyes were resentful, blaming Xie Qian for not considering the bigger picture. Song Chan cut him off, “Oh, it’s not Xie Qian’s business either. He already apologised for Boss Xie, and I personally accepted it.”
Before the assistant could feel relieved, Song Chan pivoted, “Too bad my dad didn’t.”
—You little brat, are you toying with me?
Song Chan’s sharp tongue had the assistant spinning, and even Xie Qian couldn’t help but glance at her.
Noticing Xie Qian’s gaze, Song Chan instinctively straightened her posture.
Song Chan wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but she was tall and slim, with an elegant neckline.
Unbeknownst to her, while Xie Qian looked at Song Chan, he was thinking of Wen Ying: Song Chan’s knack for verbal jabs was almost as good as Wen Ying’s.
