Chapter 62: Could it be that President Song took this stab on purpose?

Wen Yanli stared into the woman’s eyes.

He had seen her draw a gun before—her form was impeccable, swift and decisive, her reactions sharp as a blade. With her skills, and the fact that she had clearly spotted Lu Zhizhi in the moment the incident occurred, and considering the angle between her and Lu Zhizhi just now, he believed that if she had truly wanted to avoid it, Lu Zhizhi shouldn’t have been able to hurt her.

He already knew the answer in his heart, but he desperately hoped it wasn’t so. Or rather, he couldn’t bring himself to face the truth.

Song Mi knew he had guessed. She had no intention of hiding it. Yet, in this moment, she chose to play coy, “If you kiss me, I’ll tell you.”

Her lips had lost all color, her face so pale it seemed as if it had been soaked in water—like a sheet of white paper. Whatever means she used to deal with Lu Zhizhi, he would not interfere. But if she had deliberately taken the knife for his sake, that crossed his line.

Song Mi turned her face to him, eyes already closed. Wen Yanli felt a suffocating blockage in his throat, as if every breath was stifled, his heart aching beyond all relief.

His tightly shut lips finally pressed gently against her cheek.

As the warmth faded, Song Mi slowly opened her eyes. “I did it on purpose.”

She saw clearly the shadow that flashed through his gaze. In those fathomless eyes, light and darkness tangled together, filled with cold and depth, like a black hole, making Song Mi feel another pang of remorse.

Just as her eyelids threatened to fall shut, the man finally parted his thin lips, “Was it to retrieve the video, or was it…”

With difficulty, his Adam’s apple bobbed, “For my mother’s liver transplant?”

“The video.” Try as she might to rally her strength, Song Mi had none left—her answer came with closed eyes, “Lawyer Wen, I don’t want to stay in the hospital.”

Seeing the woman drained of her last breath, barely clinging to life, his heart was suddenly seized by a stabbing pain, as if pierced by a thousand arrows. “Alright.”

The doctor soon came in to finish the suturing.

Perhaps the anesthesia had worked at its fullest, for the woman uttered not a single cry, lying motionless on the hospital bed, eyes closed for a long time, her face turned toward him.

It seemed she was asleep.

When leaving the hospital, Wen Yanli dared not carry her in his arms; he carefully let her climb onto his back, walking with deliberate gentleness, carrying her all the way back to the hotel.

The real ordeal began when the medicine wore off.

All through the night, Wen Yanli watched her without blinking, never leaving her side for a moment. She couldn’t take too many painkillers, so Song Mi could barely sleep. Each time she woke in pain, or moved even slightly, even her breathing changed, he noticed instantly.

And each time, he would lean in to press the gentlest of kisses—sometimes on her forehead, sometimes on the corner of her mouth, sometimes on the back of her hand, sometimes on her cheek—again and again, telling her that he was there.

Her pain was his pain.

For Song Mi, the night was excruciatingly long, yet with his protection, she felt it wasn’t so hard to endure.

At ten the next morning, he had to appear in court. Before leaving, he repeatedly kissed her nose, her eyes, the corners of her mouth, her forehead, murmuring again and again, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

Song Mi felt her heart melting away in his gentle whispers. She didn’t think he needed to apologize, nor did she want to ask him to stay, but when he left, she felt an unprecedented loneliness.

It turned out that a man’s heartfelt affection and care could have the effect of painkillers and anesthetics.

After he disappeared from her side, she truly began to experience the stabbing knife in her back, the blood spilling, the tearing of flesh and bone—the weakest, most painful moment.

Everything she had endured before had been softened, scattered, by his presence.

Despite this, Song Mi couldn’t stay in bed at the hotel.

Lu Zhiyuan wanted to see her.

Assistant Lin couldn’t stop him; he tracked her down to the hotel directly.

Song Mi had been expecting him, so after taking four painkillers, she tidied up briefly and, accompanied by Ye Zhao, stepped out of her room.

Lu Zhiyuan had booked a room on the same floor.

Song Mi made no effort to conceal her pallor, just changed into fresh clothes and loosely pinned up her long hair.

Lu Zhiyuan knew she was not an ordinary woman, but he certainly hadn’t expected that after taking a knife to the back just yesterday, she could face him today, calm and composed.

Anyone who could be so ruthless to herself—if his foolish sister could gain even the slightest advantage over her, it would be a ludicrous joke.

To be fair, this woman truly warranted his respect.

“What’s wrong, President Lu? Are you doubting the injury on my back?” Song Mi noticed the complex admiration in Lu Zhiyuan’s gaze. “Ye Zhao, show President Lu the photos the police took at the hospital yesterday.”

Lu Zhiyuan raised his hand immediately, “That’s unnecessary.”

“Since you agreed to meet me, I assume you’ve already considered how to resolve this matter.” His expression shifted, showing a hint of apology. “On behalf of my sister, I apologize to you, President Song. I’m sorry.”

He managed to force out a semblance of sincerity.

But Song Mi didn’t care. She had taken the knife; whether he apologized or not wouldn’t change anything.

She could endure the pain, so long as the wound didn’t reopen and bleed anew.

Before leaving, Wen Yanli had repeatedly urged her to stay in bed, to lie on her side if she was uncomfortable, to turn slowly if she needed to, and under no circumstances was she to get out of bed or move recklessly.

If he found out she’d left the room, he would be furious.

So, for this meeting, how could she not seize the opportunity?

“I suppose President Lu wouldn’t come just to apologize,” she said. “I want the video in Miss Lu’s hands, and a signed agreement for a liver donation.”

Lu Zhiyuan’s face changed instantly!

He had expected her first demand, but the second caught him off guard. “The video, no problem.”

“A liver donation?” He asked directly, “Do you want my sister’s liver?”

Song Mi glanced at Ye Zhao.

When Ye Zhao finished explaining on her behalf, Lu Zhiyuan immediately refused, “Impossible!”

“Even if the liver can regenerate, I won’t risk my sister’s health.”

His reaction was predictable. Song Mi’s lashes fluttered, “Then your sister can prepare for prison.”

“Miss Lu has been pampered all her life, waited on hand and foot, with servants at home and a driver when she goes out.” Her voice was gentle, as if recounting a trivial anecdote. “Prison life, behind bars—she might not survive three or five months, let alone years.”

“Health is important, but if Miss Lu truly can’t withstand prison, if her spirit breaks, or she does something foolish, the consequences would be irreparable.”

Lu Zhiyuan’s expression grew darker.

“You said yourself, the liver can regenerate.” Song Mi sat motionless, conserving every ounce of energy, her face devoid of expression, making her look like a finely crafted doll—beautiful, but empty.

“Even with the agreement, it doesn’t mean your sister will necessarily donate part of her liver. You can ask a medical professional yourself.”

She paused deliberately.

Lu Zhiyuan was clearly thinking hard, his face grim, brows nearly knotted.

Once Song Mi had regained her composure, she stated the crux of the matter, “It’s possible the secret agreement might never need to be used.”

Lu Zhiyuan raised a brow, “A secret agreement?”

“Yes,” Song Mi replied. “Until it is fulfilled, I don’t want a fourth person to know.”

She had to keep this from Lawyer Wen.

After saying this, Lu Zhiyuan stared at her for a long time.

She never believed Lu Zhiyuan was a fool, so it was natural for him to see through her intentions.

Sure enough, he soon twisted his lips into a strange, ambiguous smile. “It seems President Song truly cares for my partner, my good friend.”

“To think someone as shrewd and ruthless as you would give so much for a man.” For some reason, Lu Zhiyuan felt a sting of discomfort, and that discomfort made him want others to suffer as well, so he sneered, “Could it be you deliberately took the knife?”

He laughed, “A real-life martyr for love!”

Song Mi’s face remained as impassive as a delicate wooden puppet, her lips barely moving, “So President Lu agrees?”

Lu Zhiyuan’s smile lingered, “Do I have a choice?”

Of course not.

After all, Lu Zhizhi was still locked up in the police station’s holding cell.

How could Lu Zhiyuan not be anxious?

Thanks to Feng Jue, that was even possible.

Song Mi had only suspected that Lawyer Wen, even if not from a prominent family, must have come from a scholarly background. She hadn’t expected that a cousin of similar age would have such powerful connections.

After a few seconds of silent confrontation, Lu Zhiyuan stood up. “Then please call to withdraw the charges, so I can get my sister out and have her sign the agreement for you.”

Song Mi replied, “Agreed.”

As soon as she finished, Lu Zhiyuan strode out.

Though feeling unwell, Song Mi summoned her strength to call after him, “Wait.”

Lu Zhiyuan turned, his expression sour and warning, “President Song should know that pushing too far often brings backlash.”

Song Mi had no doubt that the words were forced through gritted teeth.

She remained unfazed, “I just thought of something, and felt it necessary to let you know.”

She referred to the “men” Lu Zhizhi had repeatedly mentioned.

When she finished, Lu Zhiyuan snorted coldly, “I thought you were bold enough to face the consequences, but after one knife, you’re scared?”

“You’re not wrong about me, President Lu. If I did it, I’ll admit it. If not, I won’t take the blame,” Song Mi said, laboring over her words.

From a distance, Lu Zhiyuan looked down at the woman sitting on the sofa.

Since she’d sat down, she hadn’t moved, her face nearly translucent white, a faint bluish tint beneath her skin.

Strange how, in such a tense confrontation, looking at Song Mi’s face reminded him of a porcelain vessel.

A white glass cup under moonlight, filled with sake—distant and serene, as if from another time. Fragile, untouchable.

In this untimely reverie, the woman’s bloodless lips moved again, “Whoever is orchestrating things behind the scenes, making me take the blame and using you as a weapon—if you don’t care, just treat this as me wasting words.”

…

Wen Yanli never imagined he would encounter Song Mi at the hotel entrance!

—Why wasn’t she resting in bed? Where was she going?

In a flash, a hurricane swept through his gaze.

Song Mi was dumbfounded.

She’d thought he’d said he had something urgent, would be back around six in the evening at the earliest. So it must be around six.

Yet now it was barely four, and he was already here.

—And they’d run right into each other!

In that moment, Song Mi wished she could crawl into the earth and disappear!

Just then, Ye Zhao drove up.

Standing in place, Song Mi took a few deep breaths, still unsure how to respond, when the man strode up to her. “Where are you going?”

“How are you home already?” She forced a smile, hoping to ease the tension, but her gaze froze upon his stormy eyes.

Her voice was low, “To meet someone.”

“Who?” The man’s cold voice could freeze a person on the spot.

“A client? Strategic partner? Ally? Or a competitor?” Wen Yanli stared at her, his face so dark it seemed about to drip water.

He had rushed through everything; except for the courtroom, where he had to focus, he forced himself to push her from his mind. Every other minute without her felt like his whole body was roasted alive by guilt and torment.

Over and over, ceaselessly.

Yet here she was, impeccably dressed, acting as if she were completely fine, about to go negotiate business?

What deal could be more important than her own health?

What person could be so significant that she would endure painkillers, bear the agony, risk her wound tearing open, just to meet?

He knew he shouldn’t stand and argue with her.

He knew that, in this condition, any ordinary girl wouldn’t even be able to stand.

Her ability to do so wasn’t because she was invincible, or had an iron body—she endured, she suffered, nothing more.

He knew it all.

And his heart ached so deeply.

Wen Yanli knew he ought to turn, kneel, and let her climb onto his back, as he had done the night before, carrying her gently back to bed.

Carefully adjusting her position until she was as comfortable as possible.

But he feared he simply couldn’t stop her.

And, as expected, he soon heard, “Then come with me, will you?”

She coaxed him, “I promise I’ll be careful, very careful. I took painkillers, so I don’t really…”

“Song Mi!” He didn’t even realize how much anger and pleading was in his voice—it sounded unfamiliar, as if it wasn’t his own.

So strange.

Their eyes met, and the storm in Song Mi’s heart was no less than his.

For she saw tears glimmering in his eyes.

Against the light, she saw the corners of his eyes redden.

—He cared for her that much!

If she could move, she would have rushed forward and kissed him fiercely.

If she could move, she would have crashed into his chest.

If she could, she would comfort him in a hundred different ways.

But now, she could do none of it.

She could only speak the truth: “Come with me to see President Yin from Kaida. Partly to discuss next year’s partnership, and partly because only he can persuade Huang Weiguo to drop the charges.”

At her words, the pain and shock in Wen Yanli’s eyes escalated to a new level.

—It was for him again?

To persuade the man who tried to harm her to drop the charges for his sake?

Song Mi had no energy left to soothe him, only hoped he would agree quickly. Ye Zhao had gotten out of the car and was standing a few meters away.

There weren’t many people coming and going at the hotel at this hour.

The man’s gaze was locked onto her, the pressure around him unusually tense.

Just as Song Mi gathered herself to say more, a voice sounded nearby, “Ah Li!”

His brow twitched, and he quickly shifted his gaze from her face, “Mom.”

—“Is this the important matter you mentioned?”

Song Mi’s turn was slow, but she managed, and saw the shocked face of Wen’s mother.

Feng Shengzhi had never imagined her son would learn to lie.

Wen Yanli stepped toward his mother. The emotional turmoil from Song Mi’s words was so intense, his reason nearly lost.

He hadn’t composed himself, and now saw his mother, who had followed him, so he asked knowingly, “Mom, why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” Feng Shengzhi’s heart trembled, her gaze shifting from her son to Song Mi. If not for this woman’s influence, her son, who had never lied or misbehaved, would not have deceived her.

Because of her resolute opposition, he had stalled for a month, and now he was lying?

What next? What else would he do?

And all because of Song Mi!

Before the words could settle, a sharp slap rang out as Feng Shengzhi swung her hand.