Chapter 3: The Gift

On the day of the divorce, the weather was perfectly pleasant.

Song Qingyou was wrapped in a cherry-red silk cheongsam, her porcelain skin and striking beauty set off all the more brilliantly by the vivid crimson—a hue that dispelled the pallor of long illness and made her radiate with captivating allure. Almost as soon as she stepped out of the car, the gazes of those around were drawn irresistibly toward her.

Fu Tingshen stood at the entrance, his expression cold and grim. In his eyes, Song Qingyou at this moment was more poisonous than a serpent.

The divorce proceedings were handled swiftly. Stepping out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, Song Qingyou held the little red booklet and studied it carefully.

Fu Tingshen sneered, his voice filled with mockery, “Regretting it already? Of course you are. Now that you’re out of the Fu family, where else can you go? I doubt the Song family even wants you anymore.”

Song Qingyou raised her clear, luminous eyes, the corners of her lips lightly curving. “Let me give you a divorce gift.”

Fu Tingshen assumed she was about to play another trick and frowned in annoyance. But when he saw what she handed over, he froze.

It was a very fine needle.

“Lin Niaoniao should thank me. If I hadn’t pricked holes in all your condoms for you, how would she have gotten her wish?”

Song Qingyou laughed—a laugh so free and unrestrained that Fu Tingshen, in three years of marriage, had never seen it before. Yet the sight of her smile stabbed at his heart.

For three years, Fu Tingshen had spent every night away from home, flaunting his affection for Lin Niaoniao right in front of Song Qingyou, but had never considered divorcing her. After all, the Song family’s power was not to be underestimated. Even if Song Qingyou was out of favor, she was still a Song.

But now Lin Niaoniao was pregnant. He had always felt guilty about not giving her a proper status after so many years, and couldn’t bear to make her have another abortion. With the Song and Fu family’s stocks now stable, after careful consideration, he decided to divorce.

He hadn’t expected it to be a trap.

A trap set by Song Qingyou.

Recalling the things she’d said the night before, Fu Tingshen even began to suspect that her goal from three years ago had been to force him into divorce.

Song Qingyou bent down, brushing a green leaf from the corner of her dress. Her figure was slender, and as she leaned over, the pale nape of her neck was exposed.

All at once, Fu Tingshen narrowed his eyes, staring at the red mark on her neck that looked suspiciously like a bite. He drew a sharp breath, nearly grinding his teeth as he seized her by the back of the neck. “Who did this?”

Song Qingyou frowned, finding it hard to breathe as he gripped her neck. She raised a leg and kicked him hard in his most vulnerable spot. Caught off guard, Fu Tingshen staggered back in pain, but his gaze remained fierce and menacing.

Song Qingyou ground her teeth in annoyance. “We’re already divorced.”

Fu Tingshen growled, “Was it Fu Wenzhou?”

Her face went cold. “What does that have to do with you?”

Fu Tingshen was so enraged his jaw trembled. “Well done. You and Fu Wenzhou set me up—you think I’ll let you off that easily? I knew at the wedding that kid looked at you the wrong way, and it seems I was right! Song Qingyou, I cheated, but are you any better? If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have married Niaoniao long ago! Don’t forget, you were the third party!”

Song Qingyou lifted her gaze. “Three years ago, the Fu family’s financial chain was strained, but not beyond hope. If you truly loved Lin Niaoniao, why beg to marry me? You had countless chances to ask for a divorce these three years, but you didn’t. You wanted both the Song family’s power and the beauty in your arms. Fu Tingshen, do you think you can have everything both ways?”

With that, Song Qingyou turned and got into the car. “Uncle Chang, let’s go.”

She looked exhausted, yet her spirit was light. After three long years, she had finally freed herself from the Fu family.

Uncle Chang asked curiously, “Miss, why did Fu Tingshen suddenly ask for a divorce?”

Song Qingyou’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Lin Niaoniao is pregnant.”

“What?!” Uncle Chang was furious. “It was bad enough for Fu Tingshen to keep a mistress behind your back, but now she’s pregnant—he—”

“I made it happen,” Song Qingyou interrupted calmly. “Only with Lin Niaoniao pregnant would the Fu family, weighing their options, choose what benefits them most.”

When Old Master Fu passed away, his will stated that if the Fu family produced an heir, an extra share of the inheritance would be granted. Since Lin Niaoniao failed to conceive, Song Qingyou had to give things a little push.

Given Fu Changlin and Qin You’s greedy, short-sighted natures, they would surely urge Fu Tingshen to divorce her.

Having been by Song Qingyou’s side for over twenty years, Uncle Chang understood immediately. He thought of Fu Wenzhou and asked, “But doesn’t that mean Young Master Fu will inherit less?”

Song Qingyou raised her brows. “Are you Fu Wenzhou’s uncle, or mine?”

Uncle Chang grumbled, “I just don’t want Young Master Fu to make a fuss if he finds out.”

Song Qingyou’s beautiful eyes flickered, the corners of her lips curving—who knew who she was talking about. “Such a puppy temperament.”

Uncle Chang didn’t catch it. “What did you say, Miss?”

“Nothing,” Song Qingyou replied. “Could you make another trip to the Fu house and bring back Porridge for me?”

When they arrived at the Fu residence, Uncle Chang got out. “Miss, aren’t you coming in?”

“No, I can’t stand the sight of them,” Song Qingyou replied, then added, “Don’t get into any arguments with them—it’s not worth it.”

As soon as Uncle Chang entered, he saw that the servants had dumped all of Song Qingyou’s belongings in the yard. Several of her favorite silk scarves lay soiled on the ground, making his heart ache with anger, but remembering her instructions, he forced himself to hold back.

He gathered up the scattered things, then went inside to retrieve Porridge from the cage. After spitting on the ground in disgust, he left the Fu house.

Song Qingyou took the cat from Uncle Chang and rubbed its fluffy head. The little cat burrowed into her arms and mewed coquettishly.

Song Qingyou chuckled. “Just as clingy as your owner.”

Now that she’d moved out of the Fu house, and after arranging to sell all the properties she’d gotten from Fu Tingshen, she had nowhere to go for the moment except the apartment she’d bought before marriage.

She’d spent most of the past few years there anyway, so everything was ready for her to move in at once.

The apartment was dark when she entered. Turning on the lights, she set Porridge down. The kitten, well-accustomed to the place, scampered about without knocking anything over.

Exhausted from the day, Song Qingyou showered, fed the cat, and settled into bed. As her slender body sank into the soft mattress, she slowly closed her eyes.

But her sleep was uneasy. Perhaps it was the wind she caught during the day, for she felt cold all night, curling up tightly under the covers.

Half-asleep, she felt something press against her. It seemed someone slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her in close.

Her back was suddenly warmed as if pressed against a stove—so hot, so comforting, she surrendered any urge to struggle.

Yet the source of that heat was greedy and restless, a hand slipping in, lips trailing delicate kisses down her spine, teasing and nibbling at her lower back.

Song Qingyou’s body flushed with heat, her head aching, the pain at her waist dragging her from sleep. She shrank her neck and mumbled, “Porridge, stop it.”

A low groan sounded in her ear. The grip on her waist disappeared, and as she thought the cat had left, her earlobe was suddenly caught between someone’s teeth.

Song Qingyou’s body trembled unconsciously—her sensitive spot, one only Fu Wenzhou knew.

Fu Wenzhou…