Chapter 34: Winter Solstice

Jiangcheng.

Song Qingyou stepped out of the SY Group’s main entrance and let out a long breath of relief. She had expected the contract negotiations to be arduous, but everything proceeded unexpectedly smoothly. The representative on the other side signed the contract immediately after reviewing the proposal, even agreeing to a confidentiality agreement.

SY held a monopoly in Jiangcheng, spanning multiple industries. Securing SY meant securing the city itself. Her mission had been accomplished with perfection.

She uncapped her medicine bottle and swallowed a small pill, the tension in her chest dissipating greatly. Taking out her phone, she called Song Chang.

“Uncle Chang, the SY contract is signed. They’ve agreed to invest eighteen billion in Qingning and assist us in listing overseas.”

Song Chang was ecstatic. “That’s wonderful! But how did SY agree to such a large sum so quickly?”

Song Qingyou hesitated. “I’m not sure. Perhaps they see great potential in Qingning.”

No matter the reason, with this capital, she could invest in the projects sent by the Song family, making it much easier to acquire their stock in the future.

The SY person in charge watched Song Qingyou get into her car, respectfully holding his phone as he spoke, “Young Master Fu, everything has been handled as you instructed. Is there anything else? Yes, understood, I will take care of it.”

After hanging up, he couldn’t help but sigh. Who exactly was Miss Song, to have the renowned grandson of the Jiang family personally offer eighteen billion at her word?

But matters of the upper circles were not for ordinary employees to speculate about. Clutching the freshly signed contract, he entered the elevator.

The wind brushed past the treetops.

Song Qingyou leaned against a nearby ginkgo tree, coughing for a long time. Jiangcheng was colder than the capital. She had dressed warmly today, trading her usual cheongsam for business attire. Black stockings wrapped her calves, straight and elegant, exuding a refined beauty.

Seated in the taxi, Song Qingyou softly gave an address.

Back at the hotel, her first act was to soak in a hot bath. Scalding water enveloped her delicate skin, and only when her body gradually warmed did her taut nerves finally begin to relax.

Sleep crept upon her unawares.

“Qingyou.”

“Song Qingyou.”

In her haze, she thought someone was calling her.

Her vision darkened, as if she were plunging into a boundless abyss, someone below desperately pulling her down. Song Qingyou was suffocating. She struggled fiercely before she could open her eyes and, in the darkness, saw Song Yuan.

Song Yuan was berating her again.

He called her unlucky, a little beast, shouted at her for not dying alongside Song Ning. Song Qingyou hated when people spoke of Song Ning, so she argued back. Song Yuan whipped her with a belt.

Pain...

It hurt unbearably...

Song Qingyou curled up in agony in the snowy yard. Song Yuan ordered the servants not to feed her, and she felt she was on the verge of death.

Because she seemed to see Song Ning.

Who could save her...

Would anyone save her...

Her swollen eyes were barely slits, the moon hanging high in the heavens, its gentle light pouring down.

Someone approached through the snow.

“Qingyou!”

Fu Wenzhou hauled Song Qingyou from the water, anxiously calling her name.

Song Qingyou was torn from her nightmare, her gaze dazed. She blinked, as if seeing her deity.

“Fu Wenzhou?”

He breathed a sigh of relief at her awakening, holding her tightly as though she were a lost treasure returned. His voice was low, strained, tinged with a tenderness even he hadn’t noticed. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”

Song Qingyou’s breath caught; the terror of impending death vanished in an instant.

Perhaps it was Fu Wenzhou’s words, perhaps it was the warmth and strength of his embrace.

Whatever the reason, for the first time, Song Qingyou wasn’t so afraid upon waking from a nightmare.

Her fingertips trembled, her heart clinging to the comfort of his arms, reluctant to let go.

Luckily, Fu Wenzhou sensed her calm and released her voluntarily.

“Another nightmare?” he asked, peering down at her, his dark eyes filled with endless concern.

Song Qingyou nodded stiffly. “Mm.”

As if remembering something, she looked up. “What season was it when we first met?”

Fu Wenzhou didn’t know why she suddenly asked. He lowered his gaze, his cold fingers brushing away a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Winter Solstice,” he replied.

Song Qingyou was startled. “Wasn’t it summer?”

Fu Wenzhou thought, You met me in summer, but I first saw you on the Winter Solstice.

The overhead light was bright yet gentle, reflecting in his deep, dark eyes.

He sighed, almost helpless. “Sister, you were lying in the courtyard then, and I carried you back inside.”

That day was his first visit to the Song family with his grandfather, and his first sight of Song Qingyou being bullied.

He had never seen anyone so lifeless, like a fragile rag doll, discarded in a snow-laden yard.

Fu Wenzhou pleaded with Old Master Fu on her behalf, and only then did Song Yuan relent and allow someone to bring Song Qingyou inside.

No one in the Song family wanted the broken doll, so Fu Wenzhou carried her himself.

He always knew she suffered in the Song household, which was why he went abroad, built his own power, and reclaimed everything for the Fu family.

Back then, he begged her not to marry Fu Tingshen, just to wait for him for two more years. After two years, he would have established himself in Jiangcheng, and whether it was the Fu family or the Song family, he could solve everything for her.

But she didn’t wait.

She still married.

But it didn’t matter. The one who kissed her, embraced her, whose skin touched hers, was still him.

It could only be him.

Song Qingyou’s heart raced, unsure if it was embarrassment at his calling her ‘sister’ or shock that the moon in her dream truly existed.

Once she let her mind drift, she suddenly realized she was bathing, unclothed, exposed entirely before Fu Wenzhou’s gaze.

Her ears flushed bright red. She hurried to stand and reach for a towel, her graceful figure revealed with every movement, every inch of her body displayed before the man’s eyes.

Fu Wenzhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his gaze deepening, hidden desire smoldering in his eyes.

Yet he dared not expose his clumsy longing to the air, fearing it would frighten her.

Song Qingyou soon realized that standing made her even more exposed; she was caught between sitting and standing, finally glaring at him in frustration and embarrassment. “Get out!”

“Qingyou, how can you turn your back on me now?” Fu Wenzhou chuckled softly, his voice languid and husky, his gaze trailing down her collarbone, his eyes darkening. “Want me to carry you out?”

Song Qingyou’s teeth nearly cracked from clenching, her cheeks as red as persimmons, both ashamed and annoyed. “I can walk myself. You leave first.”

Fu Wenzhou stepped forward, his gaze intense, and without a word, scooped her from the bath, striding out of the bathroom with her in his arms.