Chapter 44: So, Are You Still Going to Make Up for This Ticket or Not?

The call came from the law firm’s office.

Because Jiang Zihao was barely holding it together, he was profoundly grateful when the phone finally connected. “...Hello, Boss, there’s a Mr. Feng looking for—”

“I’ll call him back!”

Feng Jue was sitting in the chair before Wen Yanli’s desk, his long legs stretched out straight, feet propped up on the tabletop. Seeing the call finally go through, he simply spread his hand. “Hand me the phone, I’ll talk to him.”

Jiang Zihao instinctively shrank back. “He hung up.”

“What does he mean by that?” Feng Jue looked impatient, and as soon as he spoke, the phone rang again—it was the person he’d been searching for all day. “Broad daylight, and Lawyer Wen is skipping work to wait on Xiao Yuezi somewhere?”

His voice was brash and full of energy. Not only Jiang Zihao, but everyone outside heard it.

On the other end, Wen Yanli’s expression darkened at once. “Watch your words!”

Feng Jue was already suppressing his temper. “Fine, but at least show your face—give your little brother a chance to speak properly!”

Wen Yanli knew Feng Jue was a volcano on the verge of eruption, and it was true he hadn’t explained things. He softened his tone immediately, “I’ll send you an address. Come over.”

“Alright, I just have to see my future sister-in-law!” Feng Jue’s voice was so loud, he wondered if Song Mi had heard it.

He quickly glanced at her. She maintained her previous posture, calmly sipping soup, utterly undisturbed by external matters. He hung up swiftly, opened his messaging app, and sent Feng Jue his location.

Of course, he wouldn’t let Feng Jue come upstairs.

Calculating the time, by the time Feng Jue arrived from the law firm, dinner would be ready.

In fact, not only ready—he’d even have time to watch Song Mi eat.

Even without listening to his phone conversation, the fact that he’d only set out one place setting told Song Mi he was about to leave.

It made sense—he’d picked her up from the hospital, brought her home, and personally prepared such a sumptuous dinner. Given their relationship, the man’s attentiveness was impeccable.

But she still asked, “Lawyer Wen, won’t you eat before leaving?”

Wen Yanli was considering how to broach the subject. Hearing her question, he raised his hand to check the time. “I have an appointment.”

“It’s almost time.”

Song Mi nodded, then looked at the four dishes and soup before her. “There’s so much food. Lawyer Wen, do you mind if I invite Ye Zhao to join me?”

His lips barely dipped downward. He feigned indifference, grabbed his jacket, and tossed out a single word: “Enjoy!”

Then he strode out.

Soon, Sansan’s farewell echoed: “Take care, Master.”

Once the door clicked shut, Song Mi turned her head, raised her hand nonchalantly and propped her chin, clicking her tongue—he’s angry!

“Sansan, do you think he’s being petty?”

Sansan replied after a pause, “Master, why are you still at home? Who was that person who just left?”

“How should I address him or her in the future?”

The AI’s doubtful tone carried a hint of apprehension and disbelief, so lifelike it amused her.

But honestly, she couldn’t answer that question.

What were they, exactly? By today’s most fashionable term, perhaps a situationship?

Sansan persisted, “Master?”

Song Mi narrowed her eyes, amber irises shimmering with elusive light. “Next time he comes, ask him yourself.”

...

In the elevator, Wen Yanli’s phone pinged with a new message from Pei Qiuyang: “Li-ge, let’s hit Meise tonight and hang out!”

Another quickly followed: “Mi-er didn’t seem to go to work today.”

And another: “I have to ask Jo Weiwei, that tomboy.”

When the elevator reached the ground floor, he finally replied with two words: “Busy now.”

He’d sent Feng Jue the location of a nearby hotpot restaurant.

Catering to his taste.

Feng Jue liked hotpot.

Wen Yanli arrived first. When the soup base and ingredients were served, Feng Jue’s call came.

It wasn’t a private room; Feng Jue’s dissatisfaction was written all over his face. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Wen Yanli gestured for him to sit.

Feng Jue glanced around, then finally pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, snorting from his nostrils, “Anyway, no one knows me in this dump!”

The implication: even if he gets worked up and shouts, whatever he says and whoever hears it—it’s none of his concern.

No one knows him in Jinzhou, and he doesn’t operate here.

A public hall seat it was—he wasn’t afraid!

Wen Yanli gave him a cool look. “The soup’s boiling.”

Seeing Wen Yanli’s detached manner made Feng Jue’s jaw tense with irritation. But the two brothers had grown up together—no one knew him better. If Wen Yanli didn’t want to talk, you could pry his mouth open with a crowbar and he’d still say nothing.

But since he’d agreed to meet, and purposely chose a hotpot restaurant, it meant he was ready to talk.

With that in mind, Feng Jue calmed himself, picked up his chopsticks, and started dropping ingredients into the pot.

But he never expected, as they ate, to suddenly hear Wen Yanli say, “The child was from a one-night stand.”

“It was an accident.”

“She... had some trouble last night.”

Feng Jue’s chopsticks dropped into the hotpot. He choked, coughing hard. “Cough, cough, cough...”

Most people get hit with three soul-shaking revelations in a row; for him, it was like three atomic bombs.

—A one-night stand?

—An accident?

—Some trouble?

Too devastating. Feng Jue coughed so hard tears nearly sprang to his eyes. “You... you two...”

He was used to spicy food and had been enjoying the heat, but suddenly, with that choking mouthful, his insides were burning. “You say ‘some trouble’ and just like that, my nephew is gone?”

“I don’t care if it was one night or many,” Feng Jue’s eyes nearly popped out. “But losing my nephew? That won’t do!”

He glanced around; sure enough, several tables had turned their attention, drawn by his loud voice.

Apparently his aura was so intimidating—when he shot them a blade-like gaze, people quickly looked away in embarrassment or haste.

After collecting himself, Feng Jue stared his brother down. But Wen Yanli, unbothered, just took a piece of beef from the pot.

“You’re still eating!”

“Your son’s gone and you can still eat!”

Feng Jue’s anger flared again. “If the old man finds out, he’ll break your legs himself!”

Wen Yanli looked up coolly. “If you don’t say anything, how will Grandpa know?”

“I!” Feng Jue grabbed a bone dish, about to throw it, though it was just for show. He pressed his tongue to his molars. “Then what’s this panda blood business all about?”

At this, Wen Yanli’s expression grew markedly serious—the reason he wanted to explain things face-to-face. “She has panda blood.”

“I checked—this blood type is extremely rare. People line up with cash and still can’t get it.” Feng Jue frowned, pondering, then recalled another big question. “Then why were you so desperate to cancel the surgery in the beginning?”

Wen Yanli knew he couldn’t dodge this. He’d prepared his answer: it made sense to him. “She had a high fever before, didn’t know she was pregnant, and had saline for the fever in the ER.”

He lowered his gaze, hiding a trace of sorrow in his eyes. “Probably worried the child would have problems.”

“Nonsense. The Feng family genes aren’t that fragile!” Feng Jue’s temper rose again, but he pressed on, “What about last night? The child couldn’t have just disappeared, right?”

This question Wen Yanli couldn’t answer, nor could he think of a reasonable explanation. But he knew how to move on. “Bro, try to stock some panda blood at a few hospitals.”

Hearing “bro,” Feng Jue melted.

He rarely called him that.

Their ages were close; they’d been in the same grade until Wen Yanli started skipping ahead. Always classmates.

But Wen Yanli was steady, mature beyond his years, and in their elders’ eyes, seemed more like the older brother.

A brother who was handsome, likable, academically gifted—even better at fighting—and Feng Jue couldn’t be more satisfied.

This kind of brother, the only thing to do was spoil him rotten.

Moreover, as a high-IQ accelerated student, Wen Yanli had always been a star—every teacher’s favorite, every girl’s dream. Feng Jue never had to worry about him.

Even seven years ago, when their father got into trouble, it was thanks to Wen Yanli that the Feng family held onto its last bit of dignity.

Though Feng Jue never knew exactly what conditions the Wen elders demanded, even stepping into their home was a humiliation for his brother.

A huge humiliation.

Especially the forced surname change.

So this “bro” left him defenseless, but his mind remained sharp. “Panda blood is rare, but if it’s for my future sister-in-law, I’ll go through hell and high water—steal it from the King of Hell if I must!”

He leaned forward, eyes shining. “So, what are you two now?”

“You’ve been in bed, had a child, and then lost it. Are you going to make up for it?”

For the first time in his life, Wen Yanli was speechless.

Song Mi had said, unless it was some fantasy of eternal love, something that didn’t exist, she wouldn’t feel wronged.

It was clear enough.

Together when it suits; apart when it doesn’t. No promises, no constraints.

—Make up for it?

That would depend if she’d give him the chance.

She was a mystery, captivating without knowing it. He’d entered her labyrinth without realizing, only to find himself lost in a maze—his own reflection everywhere he turned.

Feng Jue waited eagerly for a reply. After a long pause, he only got a gruff “Mm,” and Wen Yanli resumed eating methodically.

Feng Jue was hot-tempered, rough around the edges, but the man before him was his own brother! He’d closed the hospital to stop a surgery, hunted down panda blood in the middle of the night, and now wanted to stock it in case of emergencies.

That vague “Mm,” and the fleeting confusion on his brother’s face—if he couldn’t see what was happening, he’d be a useless brother after twenty-seven years.

This kid had clearly fallen hard.

But now, Feng Jue’s curiosity only grew. Who exactly was this girl?

To make his brother commit such a taboo—one-night stand—was shocking enough. To think she’d truly moved him.

By Feng Jue’s logic, it must have been her relentless pursuit, culminating in seduction, and his brother—twenty-seven and never experienced—finally lost control and was conquered.

The loss of the child was regrettable, but at least their family’s iron tree had bloomed!

If it could bloom, fruit would surely follow.

He, as uncle, could wait.

With that thought, Feng Jue found the hotpot even more delicious, making his mouth water. “Hey, hey, leave that one for me.”

Seeing Feng Jue focused on eating, Wen Yanli knew this chapter was closed.

He was hungry himself.

While experimenting with recipes in Song Mi’s kitchen, he hadn’t felt it, but now his appetite was strong.

If not for Feng Jue’s love of hotpot, he’d have ordered a few dishes and eaten quietly.

And now, he found himself wondering if she’d really invited Ye Zhao up for dinner.

After all, it was his first time cooking.

This woman truly didn’t value his “firsts.”

...

Leaving the hotpot restaurant, neither man lingered. Feng Jue refused to be seen off, strode to the curb, hailed a taxi, and got in.

“Airport, please,” he told the driver. He had business in the capital early the next morning, so had to fly out tonight.

Having said that, he began calling people one by one.

His instructions were clear: spare no expense, assemble a team for panda blood.

Only after the car had driven far did he realize that, after a sleepless night and an insufficient meal, he hadn’t even learned the name of the girl who’d bewitched his brother.

Apparently, he’d come all this way just to receive a task.

As he pondered this, the phone rang—it was the family landline.

His grandfather.

“Heard you rushed off to Jinzhou?”

The old man was well-informed. “So, did something happen with Ah Li?”

Feng Jue feigned annoyance. “Who’s gossiping to you now?”

“Can’t I go on a business trip, negotiate a deal?” He chuckled. “All you care about is your precious grandson.”

The old man snorted. “While you’re there, see him and tell him to call home sometime—it’s been half a year since we saw him!”

“And you too, stop running wild all the time. It’s almost Mid-Autumn, your mother is arranging your matchmaking—”

“Ah, wait, Grandpa... I’m about to board, the flight attendant is urging me to shut down!” Feng Jue slipped into character instantly. “Anything else, I’ll hear when I get home!”

The old man kept talking, but Feng Jue had already moved the phone away, waited a few seconds, and hung up.

A smile played at his lips as he absentmindedly fiddled with his phone. He still sent his brother a message: “The old man wants you to bring her home for Mid-Autumn.”

...

When he received this message, Wen Yanli’s car was stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light.

After the crossing, a right turn would take him to the street outside Song Mi’s apartment.

Feng Jue’s message didn’t mean he’d actually told the family anything; he knew how to handle such matters.

Feng Jue had his own opinions on many things; though he liked to take unconventional routes, he was effective and well-connected.

Seven years had passed. He was no longer the impulsive troublemaker he once was. After his uncle went away, his growth and transformation were unmistakable.

He had planned to fly to the capital tonight—his application for a morning prison visit had already been approved. Now, he’d have to disappoint his uncle.

He was worried about Song Mi.

Now that he knew Lu Zhizhi had tampered with her drink, given her temperament, she would surely pursue the matter.

If it were only the Lu siblings, he wouldn’t be concerned.

But clearly, the Shen family had a hand in it.

He was proof enough.

Earlier, Shen Ruoming not only sent him that test report, but later also sent photos of Song Mi with a young man.

Just this afternoon, he received a fifteen-second video.

The star—himself.

So before Song Mi returned home today, he’d had Ye Zhao sweep every corner of her apartment.

They found the issue in a diamond hair clip she’d tossed in the bathroom.

He recalled last night’s details carefully; they’d begun in the bathroom, and when he entered, she was already taking her hair down for a shower.

He could still remember the visual impact—black hair like a waterfall, skin white as snow.

What he couldn’t ascertain was how much footage of her was in the full video, and how much was exposed.

The car soon stopped at the entrance of her apartment complex.

Quiet amid the bustle, this was the most expensive area in Jinzhou. The development was strictly high-end apartments, thanks to its central location and building restrictions.

Residents here were either wealthy or noble.

The property company’s security was impeccable.

For example, now—unless the security manager called Song Mi for confirmation, his car would never be allowed in.

It was nearly ten o’clock.

She was weak and tired; she should be asleep.

And how should he proceed?

Once upstairs—would he stay the night, or leave after a brief visit?