Volume One, Chapter Seventeen: We Are Lawful Spouses

All ambiguity abruptly ceased.

Sang Hai, her clothes disheveled, nestled in Rong Shaoqin’s arms, breathing lightly. “I’ll go inside and hide for a while.”

She struggled to get down.

Rong Shaoqin’s arm circled her waist, displeased. “We’re legally married, not having an affair.”

“Look at me like this—anyone would know what just happened,” Sang Hai said, touching her flushed cheeks.

Her lips were reddened from his kisses, glistening with a delicate sheen of moisture.

Rong Shaoqin’s eyes darkened slightly as his fingertips brushed her lips, gently twirling them.

His hands were strikingly handsome.

Long, slender knuckles, veins running vividly across the back, pulsing with strength when slightly tensed.

Sang Hai lowered her gaze and noticed the damp mark on his middle finger.

Her face grew even redder as she pushed his arm away and hurried into the inner room to tidy up.

Rong Shaoqin casually pulled out a handkerchief and slowly, elegantly wiped his fingertips.

But to Sang Hai, this simple gesture carried an inexplicable, intimate undertone.

She quickly closed the door.

Rong Shaoqin chuckled softly.

“Mr. Rong?” The second secretary knocked, having received no response.

“Let her in,” Rong Shaoqin replied.

Almost immediately, Luo Qingyao appeared, holding a thermal pot, a faint smile on her face. “Shaoqin.”

“Why are you here?” Rong Shaoqin set the handkerchief aside.

“I was worried you hadn’t eaten, so I made some food myself—come, have a taste.” Luo Qingyao placed the pot before him.

Rong Shaoqin took a few sips out of courtesy. “You’re delicate; let the servants cook. Rest well at home and don’t come out so often.”

Luo Qingyao took out a handkerchief and coughed softly twice.

Her complexion was pale, lips lacking color, accentuating the fragile innocence of her delicate face—a pitiful, fragile sight.

“The Rong family had sudden troubles. I worried about you but couldn’t help much, so I thought I’d do these little things.”

After a pause, Luo Qingyao continued, “You’re so busy you don’t even have time for meals. Didn’t Sister-in-law come to bring you food?”

Inside, Sang Hai suddenly heard her name and instinctively quieted her movements, straining to listen.

Rong Shaoqin said, “She did. I just finished eating.”

Luo Qingyao smiled sweetly. “Oh, I thought so. Sister-in-law and you are so close, she wouldn’t neglect to bring you food. Guess I was just unnecessary.”

Rong Shaoqin pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine. The soup you made is light and appetizing; having some after meals isn’t bad.”

Though it still paled in comparison to Sang Hai’s cooking.

Listening to the exchange between the siblings outside, Sang Hai sensed something amiss.

Why did it feel like Luo Qingyao was subtly poisoning her reputation in front of Rong Shaoqin?

It seemed Luo Qingyao, as Chu Yi had said, was not one to be taken lightly.

Yet Sang Hai didn’t care.

As long as it didn’t affect her, it was fine.

The conversation continued.

Luo Qingyao held Rong Shaoqin’s tablet, playing back the video of Sang Hai being besieged by reporters earlier.

Her smile faded slightly. “I just saw this video—Sister-in-law is amazing, not intimidated at all in front of the media. But…”

“But what?” Rong Shaoqin asked, cigarette between his fingers.

Luo Qingyao furrowed her brows. “Shaoqin, you’re officially hidden in marriage and never let Sister-in-law appear publicly. She coming to the company is one thing, but how did the reporters recognize her?”

Rong Shaoqin paused.

He knew Sang Hai being recognized was likely due to the servants at the old mansion being careless, leaking her whereabouts.

But Luo Qingyao’s reminder made him recall their secret marriage.

It was better, then, for Sang Hai to avoid public appearances.

He had no intention of revealing their marital status.

Snuffing out the cigarette, Rong Shaoqin lifted his eyelids slightly and looked at Luo Qingyao coolly. “Enough. Don’t worry about it. Go home and rest.”

Luo Qingyao suddenly sounded aggrieved. “I’m just worried about you…”

“Focus on recovering your health; that’s more important. Don’t trouble yourself with other matters,” Rong Shaoqin said calmly.

Yet his concern for Luo Qingyao was evident.

Her smile returned. “Alright, I’ll leave now. Shaoqin, take good care of yourself.”

“Mhm. Have the secretary arrange a car to send you,” Rong Shaoqin instructed.

“Okay.”

After Luo Qingyao left, Sang Hai emerged casually from the inner room. “Qingyao seems quite concerned about us.”

In those few minutes of conversation, Luo Qingyao had stirred trouble twice before Rong Shaoqin.

First, she questioned whether Sang Hai had brought him food, implying that if she hadn’t, it was her failure as a wife.

Second, she hinted at Sang Hai’s unannounced visit to the company, suggesting under the guise of delivering food, she sought public recognition as Mrs. Rong.

One had to admit, Luo Qingyao was skilled at these sneaky tactics.

Sang Hai neither cared nor respected her.

To stoop to such scheming for a man was both laughable and ironic.

Rong Shaoqin said, “She’s naturally meddlesome. Don’t pay her any mind.”

Sang Hai said nothing further.

“By the way,” Rong Shaoqin lit another cigarette, “you don’t need to bring food to the company anymore. Reporters are always lurking outside these days.”

Sang Hai understood his meaning: he feared she might accidentally reveal herself, breaking their secret marriage.

Clearly, Luo Qingyao’s provocation had taken effect.

But this suited Sang Hai perfectly.

Grandmother Rong often wanted her to bring meals, and she never had a good excuse to refuse. Now she did.

Inwardly, Sang Hai silently commended the little troublemaker Luo Qingyao.

She readily agreed, “Alright, have the secretary order meals for you.”

Rong Shaoqin nodded faintly.

“Also, there’s something I want to discuss,” Sang Hai said. The earlier intimate moment had almost made her forget the real matter.

Rong Shaoqin looked up at her. “What is it?”

“The secretary told me the details. I’ve thought it through and found a breakthrough: to start with the victim.”

The victim was an elderly man in his sixties.

His surname was Sun.

In his youth, during land development, the compensation for selling the land was embezzled by Secretary Zhang.

To reclaim the money, Mr. Sun and Mrs. Sun repeatedly petitioned and wrote complaints, all intercepted by Zhang.

To stop Mr. Sun’s protests, Zhang had Mrs. Sun killed.

He even threatened that if Mr. Sun continued, he would harm his children.

Mr. Sun was anguished but had to relent for his children’s sake.

Until now, the matter had escalated. Consumed by hatred, Mr. Sun was exploited by the Zheng family, posting pleas online accusing the Rong family.

In truth, the entire affair was Zhang’s doing alone.

Sang Hai believed they could act through Mr. Sun.

After all, Zhang had not yet been caught, and since there was a lead, it was worth pursuing.

Rong Shaoqin rubbed his temples. “We’ve sent people, but the old man is stubborn and won’t listen.”

“Understandable. His wife was killed, so his reaction is justified,” Sang Hai said, considering her own interests in using Mr. Sun to resolve this.

But having experienced loss herself, she knew the pain of losing loved ones.

And so, she wished to offer some shelter to others.

Sang Hai decided to keep this from Rong Shaoqin and go in person.