“Fu-ge, you feeling any better this time?” An Qing perched on Fu Qianchen’s hospital bed, one hand cupping his cheek to feel the warmth of his skin.
Fu Qianchen’s brow creased. “Get your hand off me.”
An Qing laughed and crossed her legs, amused. “You never change, do you? Really set in your ways.”
He ignored her. Through the slightly ajar door he’d noticed a tray of fruit waiting outside. He fell silent for a few seconds, visibly thinking.
An Qing followed his gaze, saw the fruit, and hopped off the bed to pick it up. “Well, look at that—someone sent you fruit.”
Fu remained mute.
Feng Yu’s emotions were raw and unsteady—why had she walked out earlier? Why hadn’t she stayed and demanded answers? She had meant to tell Fu that she was leaving for Beidu to teach, but after the scene she’d witnessed, telling him seemed pointless.
Outside, Wind had been boiling. “So it’s because of that woman you went cold on me,” Feng Yu muttered to herself, anger fueling her as she threw herself into work.
Meanwhile, Qiu Chunlai had already called the hospital on his own. The name made Fu Qianchen’s face tighten; he and Qiu had history—bad history.
“You were the one who called him, weren’t you?” Fu finally asked An Qing, looking at her with tired, accusing eyes.
An Qing blinked, then smiled sweetly. “Of course. You have no idea how impossible that old stubborn man is to pin down. So—how are you going to pay me back?”
She leaned closer as she spoke. Fu turned his face away and refused to meet her.
Back at the company, events unfolded faster than anyone expected. Old Yan wired no less than one hundred million into Feng Yu’s account—payment for buying her research proposals and drug formulas. He didn’t stop there; in her name he registered a new cosmetics line and launched it under the banner of her plans.
The office was stunned. Colleagues who had treated Feng Yu poorly suddenly went white when the rumor spread: “Feng Yu is Old Yan’s granddaughter.”
That revelation hit like a cold slap. Those who had mocked or ignored her realized just how precarious their positions might be if the tables turned. Apologies began pinging into her phone—nervous, belated, contrite messages that Feng neither welcomed nor understood. She skimmed them, brow knitting, but didn’t reply.
She had already packed and was waiting for the driver. At the airport she stood for a long moment looking back at the city she was leaving—“the capital”—then squared her shoulders and walked on.
“Xiaoyu!” a voice called from behind. Yi Chen came up to her smiling, eyes soft and warm.
“Wait for me,” he said.
Feng Yu rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Who said I was waiting for you?” She hoisted her suitcase and kept moving.
Yi Chen watched her go and, unconcerned, let a small smile lift one corner of his mouth.
News of Feng Yu’s departure reached everyone except Fu Qianchen later that day. When Bai Shaoting visited the hospital, he mentioned it casually. “Third brother, Xiaoyu’s gone. Why don’t you two meet before she leaves?”
Fu’s expression flickered—something cold and dangerous pooled under his skin. “What did you say?”
Bai froze at the shift in the room’s atmosphere. “She didn’t tell you? She left the capital—weren’t you aware?”
Fu’s aura turned icy. “I don’t want to know where she goes. From now on, don’t tell me anything about her.”
Bai’s face fell. He hadn’t realized how deep the wound was between the two who’d once been close. “Third brother—then… does that mean I have a chance?”
Fu gave him a look that could have launched a thousand daggers and turned his head away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
At the airport, Feng Yu spotted a large sign: “Feng Yu,” printed in bold. The man holding it was elderly and casual, leaning on a cane, his face perpetually creased into a smile.
She stepped forward. The old man raised his eyes and suddenly his features lit up. “You must be Feng Yu. Yi Chen has mentioned you—aren’t you the granddaughter of that old fellow Wu Tong? In other words, you and my grandson were almost betrothed when you were children.”
Feng Yu’s surprise registered plainly—this man was Yi Chen’s grandfather, Yi Shan. “Did Yi Chen send you to pick me up?” she asked, a little annoyed at being received by someone so elderly.
Yi Shan laughed. “No, no—came to see my future granddaughter-in-law in person.”
“I’m not—” She stopped; the old man had already swept into action. “You must be hungry after a trip. Come, let’s eat.”
Before she could protest, Yi Shan had taken her by the arm and steered her away. Only then did the men Qiu Chunlai had assigned to fetch Feng Yu appear, but by then she was already whisked toward Yi’s car.
The drive ended at a villa that could be a miniature palace—gold-trimmed, expansive, ostentatiously grand. Rows of house staff in neat uniforms bowed in unison when they arrived, voices ringing polite and proud: “Good day, Master Yi. Miss Feng, welcome.”
For a moment Feng Yu almost thought she was in a dream; the display was overwhelming. Then a man and woman detached from the throng. The man’s eyes widened as he took her in, giving her a quick, appraising look. The woman closed the distance with an affectionate sweep and hugged Feng Yu as if she were her own child.
“Xiaoyu—my, you’ve grown into a fine young woman. If only your mother were here to see this, she’d be proud,” the woman murmured.
“Treat this as your home from now on,” Yi Shan said cheerfully. “If you need anything, don’t be shy to ask.”
Feng Yu stood there, stunned by the warmth and ceremony that greeted her. It was almost too much—too sudden, too complete. She had come to leave, to put distance between herself and everything that had been bruising her. Instead, she’d been pulled squarely into someone else’s family, welcomed with arms wide open.
Outside the house, somewhere between the hospital and the champagne-bright villa, old debts and new alliances were being rearranged. Fu Qianchen lay in his bed and chose silence; An Qing smiled at the power she wielded; Yi Shan plotted a new household; and Feng Yu—tossed between relief and confusion—had to decide how she would live inside a life that had just been handed to her.