Money couldn’t sway Song Foxiang, who was determined to stand his ground, but upon seeing his nephew, he miraculously recovered and insisted on leaving the hospital.
If Xie Jinghu knew, he’d probably want to give Song Shao a big red envelope.
Song Shao, torn between laughter and tears, said, “Uncle, you don’t have to do this. I’m just here to check on you. The doctor decides if you can leave.”
“No, no, no, you decide… I decide!”
Song Foxiang was adamant. Song Shao, unwilling to argue, turned to Song Chan.
Song Chan didn’t spare her father’s feelings and explained the whole story, “I don’t think it’s entirely Dad’s fault, so don’t lecture him.”
Song Chan was a bit intimidated by Song Shao.
Mainly because Song Shao was so good at reasoning, with arguments that were impossible to refute.
“Then don’t leave the hospital.”
Song Shao’s expression shifted.
Though his uncle was unreliable, his cousin Song Chan wouldn’t lie. The situation had evolved beyond his uncle’s fault alone; others’ mistakes had overshadowed his uncle’s.
Leaving the hospital without clarity would mean what?
Song Foxiang was on the verge of tears.
Heavens, his nephew Song Shao was actually supporting him. Was it raining red today?
Song Shao had planned to visit briefly and leave, but now decided to stay. He stepped out of the ward to call home and explain, only to see Xie Qian approaching from the other end of the corridor.
Song Shao didn’t know Xie Qian at all.
But Xie Qian recognised Song Shao.
Why was Wen Ying’s junior high class monitor coming out of Song Foxiang’s room?
Both surnamed Song, could it be… Xie Qian’s first thought was relief that he’d sent Wen Ying away earlier. Why relief? He didn’t have time to dwell on it. His second thought was: why hasn’t Wen Ying texted yet? Even with a crowded bus, she should be home by now.
Perhaps today’s bus was especially packed, and Wen Ying missed a transfer.
Song Shao felt nothing towards Xie Qian, but Xie Qian gave him a second glance, thinking to himself, “Chengdu’s really small.”
…
In Xie Jinghu’s ward, Assistant Qi was nearly out of breath from persuading.
Jiang Xuekun also tried to persuade.
Medical fees and lost wages? Xie Jinghu didn’t care.
The only sticking point was apologising to Song Foxiang.
Deep down, Xie Jinghu didn’t believe he was wrong. Song Foxiang had coveted his wife first; Xie Jinghu’s beating came after. Where was the fault?
Xie Jinghu was arrogant, unable to empathise with others’ difficulties, and even felt Jiang Xuekun was disloyal for siding with Song Foxiang.
Xie Qian walked in, saw the stalemate, and felt genuinely fed up.
If this wasn’t resolved, his weekend would be wasted again.
Xie Qian dialled Xie Yuping’s number and handed the phone to Xie Jinghu, “Explain it to Uncle yourself.”
Xie Jinghu answered to no one, but he naturally feared his elder brother Xie Yuping. He was about to curse Xie Qian when the call connected.
Since it was Xie Qian’s number, Xie Yuping’s voice was warm as a spring breeze. But when Xie Jinghu said, “Big Brother,” Xie Yuping’s tone changed instantly.
“You still have the nerve to call me?”
“Big Brother, I…”
Xie Jinghu wanted to say he was the victim, but Xie Yuping wasn’t buying it.
“You disgraced the Xie family in Beijing, and now you’re doing it in Chengdu. If you don’t want to be a Xie, just tell me, and I’ll publicly disown you. Xie Jinghu, when will you grow up and stop making others clean up your messes?”
Xie Yuping was furious.
Xie Jinghu, who was fierce with Song Foxiang, was meek before Xie Yuping.
As Xie Yuping was about to mention the stack of “share transfer documents” waiting to be signed, Xie Qian took the phone, “Uncle, Dad realises his mistake. He called to tell you he’s decided to apologise to Editor Song.”
I never said that!
Xie Jinghu’s chest heaved.
Xie Qian pressed him, “Dad, you said that just now, right?”
Xie Qian switched the phone to speaker.
Xie Yuping’s voice came through, tinged with doubt, “You really know you’re wrong?”
“…Yes.”
Xie Jinghu clenched his teeth so hard his cheeks bulged.
“Good, I’ll trust you one more time. Settle this and return to Beijing quickly. Don’t linger in Chengdu.”
Xie Jinghu didn’t want to agree.
He’d gone through all this for Zou Weijun, even spending a night on a cold bench at the police station, and Zou Weijun didn’t even know yet. He couldn’t leave.
But being scolded like a child by his brother in front of others was humiliating.
He couldn’t voice these thoughts without backlash, so he kept them to himself.
After hanging up, Xie Jinghu tossed the phone to Xie Qian, who failed to catch it, and it fell to the floor.
It was the new phone Wang Jun had given Xie Qian.
The cost didn’t matter; what mattered was that he’d earned Wang Shuang’s family’s approval by tutoring Wang Shuang.
All of Xie Qian’s wealth came from family inheritance, something he was born with.
But this phone was earned through his own efforts, and that made it special!
Wen Ying, Li Mengjiao, and others all had one, but his was now broken, which stung.
Xie Qian’s face darkened.
Xie Jinghu, however, felt better, “It’s just a phone. Can’t your pocket money cover it?”
Xie Qian had taken two billion from him, plus group dividends. Breaking a phone was nothing compared to that!
Seeing Xie Qian upset made Xie Jinghu happy. He had Assistant Qi wheel him to Song Foxiang’s ward.
As Xie Jinghu left, Zhong Yong felt sorry and picked up the phone for Xie Qian.
“Young Master Xie, it might still be fixable. Shall I take it for repair?”
“No, I’ll handle it myself.”
Jiang Xuekun was shocked.
Who treats their own son like that?
Like an enemy!
Xie Jinghu had wronged Xie Qian and Zou Weijun, yet he acted so smug?
Jiang Xuekun didn’t know how to comfort Xie Qian, only feeling he was pitiful.
It was just a phone; Xie Qian could afford another, but he valued things. Such a good kid.
A good kid treated like dirt by his own father made Jiang Xuekun furious. He sent a message to Song Foxiang.
“President Xie is coming to apologise. He’s got money, so demand boldly!”
…
Song Foxiang read the message repeatedly, showing it to Song Chan and Song Shao.
“You both saw it, right? It’s not me being greedy, it’s President Jiang’s orders… but how bold is bold? I’m not sure.”
Song Shao glanced up, “How much does Sis Chan still need for studying abroad?”
“A million?”
Song Foxiang wasn’t certain.
Was he worth that much?
Song Shao nodded, “Then ask for a million.”
Start high, let them bargain down.
Song Foxiang’s eyes lit up.
So getting beaten paid better than ghostwriting?!
