Chapter 53: That slap just now was only an advance on the interest
Song Mi had guessed correctly.
Soon, young women at the scene restrained their excitement and began to scream, “It’s Rong Yue!”
“Oh my god, it’s really Rong Yue!”
“He’s really here—is Rong Yue somehow connected to her?”
“Just now, Rong Yue said something about a child. How could he possibly—”
Rong Yue was dressed in a white casual suit, tall and long-legged. As an entertainer, managing his appearance and physique was a daily discipline. He certainly had the kind of appeal that drove young women wild—a decidedly boyish charm.
Seeing him stride confidently toward her, Song Mi raised her eyebrow in disdain. “So, you’re saying I’d actually be interested in you?”
The moment those words left her lips, Rong Yue’s fans immediately began to attack her personally.
“Hey, Song Mi, what do you mean by that?”
“What’s wrong with our Yue? Who are you to decide if he’s good enough for you?”
“Exactly!”
“You… you’re with men…”
At that moment someone shouted loudly, “The woman in the video just now—that’s her, right?”
“It’s her, isn’t it? Song Mi! That man, before he was with her, didn’t he say ‘Song Mi, aren’t you afraid at all?’”
On hearing this, Song Mi’s gaze shifted, icy and threatening, toward the source of the voice.
—A person unrelated to the matter, faced with such a deeply private secret that should never have been exposed, not only failed to close their eyes and ears, but paid such close attention, hearing everything so clearly?
“It’s her!”
“She’s Song Mi!”
The loudest voices at the scene were either arranged by Lu Zhizhi or belonged to Rong Yue’s fans.
Throughout the video, her face never appeared. Yet Lu Zhizhi’s slap, her words, and Rong Yue’s subsequent questioning all pointed toward Song Mi, inviting connection.
But stating it outright was a whole different effect.
So, from the sudden appearance of the video on the wall, to Lu Zhizhi’s slap, to Rong Yue’s entrance, the entire process clarified everything—even those who hadn’t understood before now knew.
—Song Mi was a shameless interloper, who not only seduced Lu Zhizhi’s boyfriend through despicable means, but also publicly aired a scandalous video at someone’s art exhibition.
Not only was her character questionable, she dared insult art itself.
It wasn’t just a matter of stealing someone’s lover—now a fourth person appeared, revealing that Song Mi not only meddled with someone’s boyfriend but was a notorious flirt, discarding lovers as she pleased.
And the dumped man was none other than a superstar with millions of followers on Weibo—Rong Yue!
The thought amused Song Mi so much she couldn’t help but smirk; what a roundabout way to brand her, to establish a persona—had Shen Ruming hired a scriptwriter for this elaborate plot?
Did they want her drowned in the abuse and cyberbullying from Ye Ying and Rong Yue’s fans?
Ridiculous!
Was she supposed to be afraid?
Seeing Song Mi’s expression become ever more disdainful, Rong Yue spoke first to calm his fans, then walked toward her. “Mi’er, that’s not what you said before!”
A look of anguish crept over Rong Yue’s face. “You said you’d be sincere with me, you said—”
Song Mi raised her hand to cut him off, glancing briefly at Qiao Weiwei before returning her gaze to Rong Yue. “When was this ‘before’? This year? Last year? In spring or summer?” She folded her arms and looked at him, her long lashes lowering and lifting. “Since Mr. Rong remembers me so fondly, you must recall our sweet moments vividly!”
“Then tell me, when did I confess to you, and when did we get together?”
Rong Yue was clearly prepared, spinning tales with the finesse of a drama—chance meetings in first-class cabins, fields of spring flowers, summer nights under the stars—did he really think life was an idol drama?
He even glanced toward his female fans, mentioning what show he was filming at the time, which set off another wave of excitement among them.
But Qiao Weiwei, bursting with energy, jumped up and scolded loudly, “Nonsense!”
“Fields of flowers and starry skies? Airborne romance? Why not just say you and Mi’er registered your marriage in Las Vegas already?”
“In spring, my Mi’er heroically rescued me in Bloemfontein.”
“In summer, Mi’er and I delivered bread to homeless children in a remote town in Syria.” Qiao Weiwei snorted. “With your slick hair and delicate face, that bruise under your eye screams kidney deficiency; my Mi’er would never be interested in you, let alone have your child!”
With Qiao Weiwei’s rapid-fire delivery, she had no trouble putting him in his place. “You’re Rong Yue, right? Take some advice from your elder—have a little dignity!”
“The entertainment circle is messy enough; how did someone as dim-witted as you get in?”
She brushed past Rong Yue’s shoulder and, stepping forward, directed her wrath toward his foolish fans. “And you lot—try insulting Mi’er one more time!”
“All you do is call him Yue, Yue—do you live next door to him? Do you know what kind of person he really is?”
“You spout lies so easily. If you actually knew Mi’er, I’d kneel down and call you—”
“You—” Rong Yue finally managed to interject, but only got one word out before Qiao Weiwei’s barrage resumed. “What about me?”
“If you can say my name, where I live, what I do!” Qiao Weiwei advanced on Rong Yue. “Didn’t you and Mi’er share romantic moments, and even have a child? How could you not know her best friend—me?”
“You—” At that moment, Rong Yue’s face was far more expressive than his forced look of pain earlier—because now, it was genuine.
Rong Yue was clearly panicked, stretching his neck and shouting, “Song Mi, dare you say you didn’t have an abortion at Jinzhou Second Hospital just three nights ago, nearly bleeding to death in the emergency room?”
The proximity, volume, and shocking content left Qiao Weiwei stunned.
Not just Qiao Weiwei—everyone present was rendered speechless, mouths agape.
At that moment, a man closely connected to the incident, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke, his cold lips moving, “Article 246 of the Criminal Law states: ‘Fabricating facts to defame others, if the circumstances are serious, is punishable by up to three years imprisonment, detention, control, or deprivation of political rights.’”
His voice was cool and gentle, devoid of personal emotion, yet it cut through every ear in the room.
“As far as I know, Mr. Rong is currently under investigation for gathering people to use illegal substances.” Wen Yanli lifted his long gaze, his expression indifferent yet filled with an intimidating aura. “Mr. Rong’s actions toward my client, Miss Song Mi, provide ample reason for me to suspect that you are maliciously slandering and retaliating against her, which constitutes an illegal act. Your motive is clear: my client previously reported your illegal activities out of civic duty.”
Though his words were hardly technical for a lawyer—more like a formal statement—Rong Yue’s eyes began to flicker, his face flushing and paling in turn.
Wen Yanli’s tone and expression remained calm, but his gaze—deep as a frozen lake—locked onto Rong Yue’s guilty panic.
Meanwhile, Song Mi, who had become a spectator since Qiao Weiwei’s intervention, watched everything unfold with casual indifference.
Well, just one final act, and tonight’s drama would be over.
But before she could act, the man suddenly called out crisply, “Mi’er, when did we meet—spring or summer? Where?”
Song Mi’s beautiful eyes curved like crescent moons as she replied, “Between spring and summer, in Sorrento, along the cliff road, under the wrath of Mount Vesuvius.”
Under the gaze of all, Song Mi looked up at him, seeing only him, and everything else faded into nothing.
Her eyes lifted lazily, her tone teasing, “The air, the sea breeze, the night—everything smelled of lemons… sour.”
The final word was playfully drawn out.
In her gaze, the frost in the man’s features melted away, softening inch by inch.
He smiled, a curve only she understood. “Yes, sour.”
This exchange, with their glances and flirtation, left Qiao Weiwei’s jaw practically on the floor.
These two—were they flirting with their eyes? And in front of so many people!
Amazing!
Mi’er was truly impressive!
But Lawyer Wen wasn’t lacking, either—they really did seem perfect together, ready to marry and head straight to the bridal chamber!
“So you left me behind to go to Sorrento?” Qiao Weiwei exclaimed, torn between surprise and jealousy. “Mi’er, you’re so unfair—so you found a dog, huh? Afraid I couldn’t handle your public displays of affection, or worried I’d compete with you? Why not announce it sooner and avoid all this trouble?”
Song Mi, “….”
Wen Yanli, “….”
The scene grew increasingly chaotic, mostly because of Rong Yue’s fans.
Between illegal substances and investigations, Rong Yue realized too late he couldn’t escape the situation.
A dozen female fans swarmed him, blocking his exit. “Yue, they’re slandering you, right?”
“Rong Yue, say something!”
“Yeah, it’s Song Mi, isn’t it? She’s just abusing her power…”
When people become fanatical, not only do they lose perspective and twist the truth, but they might even break the law for their idol.
No one noticed one fan, staring at Song Mi from a distance, her gaze growing wild, twisted, nearly deranged.
Song Mi and the man were not far apart; before she could shift her gaze, he moved, stepping into her line of sight. “Let me take you home.”
Song Mi looked at him, considering her options.
Should she let it go, for his sake? After all, his mother was still present.
Yet he seemed to understand her perfectly. “What do you want to do?”
Song Mi smiled again. “Half an hour has already passed!”
“Mm.” His face remained serene and dignified, but his tone clearly indicated consent.
“Alright.” With that, she lowered her gaze and walked forward. When she lifted her eyes again, her entire aura had changed.
Lu Zhizhi watched Song Mi approach.
To say she wasn’t nervous would be a lie.
But more than anything, she hated her!
If she could, she’d tear this woman apart with her own hands!
For now, she had to keep playing her part. Whether Rong Yue was sent by Shen Ruming or not, anyone here to cause trouble for Song Mi was welcome!
Who could have guessed he’d be so useless?
First, Qiao Weiwei’s words threw him off balance; then, facing Wen Yanli, undefeated in court, he didn’t even get a chance to retort.
He was only making things worse for her!
Lu Zhizhi cursed inwardly, knowing she was no different—timid and ineffective.
The real problem was Song Mi’s fierce aura, which made her instinctively afraid, but she had to stand her ground. “Miss Song, what else do you want—”
Before she finished, Song Mi raised her hand and slapped her hard across the face!
“Ah—” The blow left Lu Zhizhi dizzy and nearly blind.
Gasps erupted around them.
Song Mi slowly withdrew her hand, folded her arms, and looked at the stunned Lu Zhizhi, smirking. “I, Song Mi, always repay a grudge and count every slight. If you dare provoke me, you’d better be prepared.”
“This slap is for tonight.”
—“What does Miss Song mean by that?”
The sharp question rang out across the room, coming from none other than Lu Zhizhi’s brother, Lu Zhiyuan.
He had timed his entrance carefully; after all, many people had come here out of respect for him.
If he arrived too early, or was present from the start, it would look as though he’d invited everyone to buy his sister’s paintings.
He planned to make a grand entrance, socialize with his guests, strengthen relationships, and wrap things up—sending off those who needed to leave, and continuing with those who wanted to stay.
But he hadn’t expected to walk in and see his sister slapped from afar.
He couldn’t swallow that humiliation. How could the Lu family hold their head up in Jinzhou after this?
And the culprit was Song Mi!
Song Mi again!
Striding toward her, he was intercepted by his own people. “Mr. Lu.”
Lu Zhiyuan paused, glaring, and raised his brow. “Ah Li?”
Wen Yanli blocked his path, expression calm but attitude unmistakable. “Perhaps Mr. Lu should first ask Miss Lu what happened.”
“So,” Lu Zhiyuan’s gaze sharpened, his face darkening, “you want me to watch my sister get hit?”
Wen Yanli didn’t even furrow his brow, matching his presence. “Your sister struck first!”
At that point, Song Mi called lightly, “Lawyer Wen.”
“Guests follow the host’s lead, Mr. Lu. You’re the host here!”
Not just words—Song Mi moved toward the two men herself. “Mr. Lu, your timing couldn’t be better.”
Lu Zhiyuan’s eye twitched, and he coldly swept his gaze past someone’s shoulder toward Song Mi, stepping forward. “Then please, Miss Song, explain to me, the host who arrived at just the right moment!”
But the person ahead refused to give way, and, before he could react, Wen Yanli turned and walked away.
Wen Yanli moved toward Song Mi.
She had used all her strength on that slap. With her current weak health, she could barely stand!
To him, she looked as fragile as paper—a breeze could blow her away.
Before he could speak, Song Mi interjected, “Lawyer Wen, will you still take me home?”
For some reason, Wen Yanli felt a fissure open in his heart, leaking something urgent.
The next moment, he went to her and lifted her into his arms.
And, as she settled into his embrace, the fissure was magically sealed, filled.
“Yes.”
Everyone who saw this scene was yet again shocked.
No matter how many secretly resented Song Mi, at least one of them envied the man carrying her away.
That was Qiao Yudong.
Song Mi!
Mi’er!
This woman was truly extraordinary.
In thirty-one years, he’d never met someone he could just watch from afar and feel exhilarated.
Intriguing!
Exciting!
As he watched their silhouettes recede, a deep vortex began to form in Qiao Yudong’s phoenix eyes…
…
Meanwhile, Wen Yanli strode out with Song Mi, light as a feather in his arms, unaware that a pair of eyes followed them intently from behind.
Song Mi was utterly exhausted, eyes closed in his arms, and somehow felt the urge to call out, “Lawyer Wen.”
After a moment, she finally heard his voice. “What is it?”