Chapter 56: Lawyer Wen, Long Time No See

As expected.

And yet, unexpected.

Feng Shengzhi had never been a domineering parent. From childhood to adulthood, whether he studied, took exams, chose what to do or not to do, even his decision to become a lawyer after graduation—she never interfered. Or rather, she had always placed him on an equal footing, never making decisions for him or arranging things on his behalf as a mother.

So, he had anticipated she might ask about Song Mi.

But he had not expected her to take such a stance.

Wen Yanli's greatest concern now was her health. There was no way he could say anything that might add to her emotional burden at such a moment.

Quickly, he instinctively softened his expression, raised his eyes to meet his mother's gaze—resolute, yet fraught with anxiety. "I understand."

Feng Shengzhi's brow furrowed deeply, her tone shifting as well. "A-Li, are you just brushing your mother off?"

"What I'm saying now is, you must immediately sever all ties with that Song Mi." Her face hardened, even the faint lines at the corners of her eyes expressing the utter lack of negotiation in this matter. "This is the only thing your mother asks of you."

After speaking, she turned away, refusing to look at him again.

Wen Yanli lowered his head slightly, pressing his lips together.

The air was thick with an indescribable oppression. Just then, Feng Jue's call came in.

He stood up. "I'll take this outside."

But Feng Shengzhi's emotions surged instantly. "If it's Song Mi—"

"Mom." The word was tinged with a hint of aversion, a shadow flickering in his deep eyes. "It's Feng Jue."

He paused for several seconds, then lowered his gaze, turned, and walked toward the door.

Behind him, Feng Shengzhi watched her son's retreating back and sighed silently.

—

Director's office.

The attending physician and several leading hepatology experts engaged in an in-depth discussion of Feng Shengzhi's test results since her admission.

The conclusion: a rejection response.

Given the timeline of her liver transplant and her subsequent recovery, such a reaction should not have occurred six years after the surgery.

Yet, the problem had indeed arisen.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy.

Finally, Feng Jue pressed both hands on the table. "So, tell us—how do we treat it?"

"We need the patient's family to fully cooperate with treatment."

The words seemed kind and polite, but carried an overwhelming pressure.

A rejection occurring in the sixth year after surgery, and considering the ascites and complications, it looked... problematic.

The attending physician and other experts exchanged glances, but none spoke up.

Noticing this, Director Zhang—the only one present who knew their identities—grew increasingly uneasy, especially when Feng Jue shot him a look.

Just as Feng Jue was about to lose his temper, Wen Yanli spoke first. "Director Qin, please tell us the truth."

"...In my opinion, the safest course is to simultaneously search for a new liver donor for matching."

His heart sank heavily. After a moment, he asked, "What can we do at this stage?"

"...Help the patient maintain a positive mood, proactively address any symptoms that may arise, fully cooperate with treatment, do everything possible to preserve existing liver function, and buy more time to find a suitable donor."

His voice caught in his throat, finally breaking through some invisible barrier as he spoke. "Understood."

—

Stairwell behind the fire door.

Feng Jue instinctively pulled out a cigarette, but as the lighter flicked on, a hand reached over and snatched the cigarette from his lips. "There's a smoke alarm."

Wen Yanli didn't throw the cigarette away or return it. He simply held it in his hand, head lowered, lost in thought.

Feng Jue stared at him for a while, unconsciously running his tongue along his back teeth. "Are you staying here, or heading back to the capital?"

"I'll go back. I'll take care of her with my mom."

Wen Yanli's lips were tightly pressed; he said nothing.

"Shouldn't you at least inform the old man?" Displeased by his silent demeanor, Feng Jue grew increasingly agitated. After a while, he asked, "Why did my aunt suddenly come to Jinzhou?"

Just as Feng Jue's patience was wearing thin, the man in his line of sight finally spoke again. "She came for an art exhibition."

And then silence once more.

As if Feng Jue didn't exist at all.

Feng Jue's temper flared, sparks crackling two meters high inside.

The doctors hadn't said the worst would certainly happen—things had only just begun! They'd weathered bigger storms seven and six years ago; why give up now?

He couldn't stand Wen Yanli moping around like this!

He wanted to curse, but the words stuck in his throat.

Fury burned inside, unsettling him. He pocketed the lighter, leaned against the wall to calm himself, then changed the subject. "Could it be that my aunt found out you have someone, and came back especially to see her daughter-in-law?"

To his surprise, that worked. Wen Yanli immediately reacted—though his icy gaze could freeze a man dead.

Wen Yanli's brows sank, his voice as cold as a winter gale. "Don't mention this to my mother."

"Even if she asks, don't say a word!"

With that, he turned and left.

The door creaked as he pulled it open and walked out.

The fire door slammed shut behind him, leaving Feng Jue bewildered.

—

At seven in the evening, Song Mi took a turn through the kitchen.

It still looked exactly as it had after she had forced Qiao Weiwei to clean, organize, and tidy everything before leaving yesterday.

No sound of chopping vegetables, no broth bubbling in the pot, no man's figure.

After a moment, a self-mocking smile tugged at her lips.

What was this?

Utterly... sentimental.

She quickly dismissed the thought and walked out.

Just then, the doorbell rang—Ye Zhao had brought her dinner.

It was food from Tianxiang Lou.

Before leaving, Ye Zhao suddenly turned back. "Minghao is clamoring to see you!"

Song Mi, sipping her soup, didn't even lift her eyelids. "Let him clamor all he wants!"

After dinner, she dealt with some emails on her computer, called Assistant Lin, then turned off both her phones and went to bed.

If you don't hope, you won't know the loneliness of disappointment.

If you don't wait, you won't be left waiting in vain.

Song Mi never allowed herself to sink into negative emotions—because that was the most useless thing of all.

It was undeniable that man had given her a kind of unprecedented physical and emotional joy. His presence, their interactions, brought her immense emotional value.

Normally, when that pleasure vanishes, so too does the value.

Returning to zero means returning to the start.

Negativity, on the other hand, is clearly a negative emotional value.

To put it more plainly: supposing her emotional value in this regard was originally zero, his presence raised it to one hundred; once he left, it should naturally return to zero—not drop to negative one hundred.

That would be illogical.

This made her instinctively vigilant, her psyche automatically deploying a layer of defense.

At first, as she lay down, she tossed and turned a little. People, after all, are not machines—there is no switch to simply shut off feelings.

But one's will can indeed adjust and shift; so gradually, she drifted off to sleep.

What she did not know was that outside her apartment, a black SUV had pulled up on the main road near midnight and remained parked there for quite some time.

The next day at noon, Ye Zhao sent her a photo.

It was a picture of Shen Yanlie and another boy.

High schoolers dating was not unusual; that Shen Yanlie preferred boys was, in fact, not so remarkable either.

The real question was: could Tang Lishi accept it?

At three in the afternoon, Ye Zhao drove up to the apartment building to pick her up and take her to Yunshang.

Song Mi did not let him carry her this time.

Spending so long at the art exhibition two nights ago had been unexpected; after two days' rest, she felt much better.

She mused that Tang Lishi probably still saw her as a rival in love.

This suspicion was confirmed unmistakably the moment Tang Lishi's gaze settled on her. "Miss Song, you truly are beautiful."

Song Mi simply smiled, responding candidly, "The beauty of this world cannot be kept; rosy cheeks depart the mirror, blossoms leave the tree."

"You’re saying this too soon, Miss Tang." There is likely no woman in the world who does not mind aging. She had not meant to provoke Tang Lishi, but only to introduce her next point. "By the time I reach your age, I fear I won’t be as fortunate as you."

She was referring to Shen Yanlie.

Tang Lishi was only forty, yet already had a son in high school. As long as she dressed youthfully, the two could easily be mistaken for siblings.

Compared to Song Mi, who neither could raise a child nor expect to live so freely to forty, that was indeed a kind of blessing.

In her view, Tang Lishi's expression was unpleasant, but not unbearably so.

After all, she was more than a decade her senior. If she couldn't withstand a few unpleasant truths, it would be rather unreasonable.

Moreover, Tang Lishi had, in her early twenties, managed to win over Old Master Shen, and since then, he had never publicly become entangled with another woman.

Proof enough—she was formidable.

As for her relationship with Shen Yanye—whether it was an inextricable entanglement or mutual exploitation, setting aside the moral implications, it showed she was no ordinary woman.

She was unafraid of public scrutiny and could endure Shen Yanye having both a wife at home and mistresses outside.

In sum, Tang Lishi was every inch a force to be reckoned with.

The ripple effect of Song Mi's words played briefly across Tang Lishi’s well-maintained, deceptively youthful face, then quickly dissipated. "A-Ming said you had something for me, Miss Song."

Song Mi made no comment, sipping her tea before setting the cup down. "Strictly speaking, Miss Seven asked me to help her retrieve something from you and Third Young Master."

She quickly smiled and corrected herself, "Oh, I shouldn't say it like that—a child is not a thing."

"As a mother yourself, I'm sure you can understand Miss Seven's desperation, that she'd come seeking my help."

Tang Lishi's initial reaction seemed genuine rather than feigned. "A-Ming's child?"

Unless Tang Lishi was a masterful actress, Song Mi's sharp eyes told her this was real surprise.

She couldn't be bothered to beat around the bush. After a succinct explanation, she produced the photo, immediately angering her counterpart.

"Song Mi, aren't you afraid you'll lose your life in Jinzhou if you dare mess with my son?" Tang Lishi's former poise vanished. "Hasn't Old Master given you enough? Why won't you let us go!"

"Leave a way out for yourself, so we can meet again in the future!"

Tang Lishi stood above her, confronting her, the corners of her eyes twitching uncontrollably.

"That depends on your perspective, Miss Tang." Song Mi’s lips curled with careless indifference, though no warmth reached her eyes. "Your son's orientation, after all, goes against the mainstream public morality here. You might as well take him to a more tolerant country and live freely."

"If he stays here, sneaking around just to date is the least of it. More importantly, at any moment, his world could collapse."

"After all, let alone a rebellious teenager, is there anyone on earth who could calmly face the fact that their own mother and their half-brother..."

Song Mi spared Tang Lishi some dignity and left the rest unsaid.

But Tang Lishi, standing across from her, was already livid—her face shifting through shades of blue and purple, as if she could open a dye shop on the spot.

"You..."

"Song... Mi!" Tang Lishi's eyes flashed daggers; she might well have shattered her own teeth in rage.

"The choice is yours, Miss Tang." Sensing the moment was ripe, Song Mi unhurriedly pushed back her chair and stood. "Oh, and by seniority, you’re the grandmother, and Third Young Master is the uncle. Both are elders—let’s not frighten the child."

"Most importantly, Miss Seven has long known about your affair."

"A mother who hasn’t seen her child in two days—what might she do in desperation?" Song Mi gave her a knowing look. "Just put yourself in her shoes."

With that, Song Mi walked away without looking back.

—

That very night, Shen Ruming brought Su Zerui home.

As Song Mi had predicted, Shen Yanye had done nothing to the nephew—he’d merely kept him at one of his villas for two days, and under Shen Ruming’s name at that.

Su Zerui had not been frightened in the least.

It was a win-win outcome.

In truth, Shen Ruming could have achieved this result on her own.

First, she was too anxious and lost her composure.

Second, Song Mi guessed that while she knew about the relationship between Shen Yanye and Tang Lishi, she probably lacked proof.

To use this as leverage would not necessarily work out well.

Moreover, Shen Yanye's real target had always been Song Mi—or rather, to draw her into the fray.

His aim was most likely to retrieve those photos from her.

She didn't care. As long as Tang Lishi was willing to take Shen Yanlie abroad and send them away, she’d gladly hand over those unsightly pictures.

In other words, Song Mi never believed these things could threaten Shen Yanye. Shen Ruming was right—he was the one in the Shen family with the strongest ambition for the Sihai Group.

But he was avoiding a direct confrontation, hiding in the shadows.

At one moment, he incited Shen Yanan to kidnap Qiao Weiwei, relocating Xia Yuan as cannon fodder to test the waters.

Next, he set up Shen Ruming, pushing her to an all-or-nothing fight against Song Mi.

She let him play his games.

As always, things had to be done step by step.

People, too, must be dealt with one by one.

Especially since coming to Jinzhou, her health had been acting up.

So, for now, she had no desire to stand out.

Maintaining a façade of calm, surviving this extraordinary period, and giving herself some breathing space was exactly what she wanted.

She hoped for it in her heart, and so she acted accordingly.

Perhaps fortune favored her, for the entire Shen family proved unusually cooperative.

Even Minghao had stopped making trouble. Song Mi knew well that he had probably reached some agreement with Shen Yanye.

Of course, much of this was because Xia Yuan was now a comatose patient—so long as nothing happened, it didn't matter where she was.

Thus, the following days passed in busy, orderly routine for Song Mi.

With Sihai Group, she grew ever more adept.

Except, she never once saw that man again.

The cleaner came regularly, and after a few visits, the kitchen looked once more like a spotless showroom—no trace of life or warmth.

Sometimes, Song Mi missed him terribly; sometimes, she would go a long time without thinking of him.

Some nights, waking in the darkness, she’d wonder in a daze whether that man had ever truly existed in her life.

No wild night in Suliento.

No look in his eyes, turbulent as a river, at the scene of the accident.

No night of blood, no pain, no aching tenderness from him.

They had never, in a single encounter, conceived a child.

He had never held her so tightly, nor dried her long hair for her.

It was all an illusion.

Those feelings were gone.

Song Mi could easily convince herself of that.

And yet, somewhere inside her, there was an emptiness.

A place she could never quite fill.

Another week passed, and she went on a business trip to the capital.

A problem had arisen with a raw materials supplier. Xu Yu couldn't resolve it, so he called her office directly.

If she accepted the new price the supplier was demanding, first-quarter profits would drop by three percent, which was unacceptable.

So she decided to fly over herself to negotiate.

Booking a last-minute ticket, she couldn't get first class.

Unexpectedly, on the plane, she spotted the man she hadn't seen in nearly a month.

At first, he didn’t notice her, busy with his phone.

As she was about to pass by, he suddenly looked up—without warning, their eyes met.

Song Mi was struck by a sense of fate, as if across lifetimes. "Attorney Wen, long time no see!"