Chapter 86: The Resentful Woman in the Inner Chambers

"Qingyou, Song Chang, you’re finally here. Is it snowing outside?" Bai Yan wore an apron with a spatula in hand, looking nothing like the feared warden of Prison No. 12, known as a living hell.

Song Chang, having just parked the car, hurried into the kitchen to help. "It’s snowing, and quite heavily too. No wonder we got stuck for so long."

"If you ask me, you two should’ve set out earlier. The weather report clearly said there’d be snow today, but you insisted on leaving at the last minute," Bai Yan grumbled, handing the spatula to Song Chang. Together, they carried the dishes out of the kitchen.

Bai Yan invited everyone to sit. Old friends like him and Song Chang always had endless things to talk about.

Song Qingyou glanced at the clock on the wall—it was nearly eight. She wondered if Fu Wenzhou had eaten dinner yet.

Bai Li noticed her staring at the clock, his gaze darkening as he placed a piece of deboned fish in front of her.

Song Qingyou paused, then pushed the dish back. "Thank you, but I don’t need it."

She didn’t dislike fish, but she only liked the tender, succulent part near the gills. Fu Wenzhou always made sure to give her the best piece.

Her picky eating habits were mostly cultivated by Fu Wenzhou, bit by bit. Even with a plate of greens, he would pick out the tender hearts for her and eat the leaves himself. When she couldn’t finish her food, he would take her bowl and finish the leftovers.

Bai Li said nothing, his gaze lingering on the returned dish for a couple of seconds before quietly eating the fish himself.

Bai Yan noticed this. As Bai Li’s father, he had always understood his son’s feelings. Every time Bai Li called from the military over the years, he’d ask about Song Qingyou.

When he learned she had gotten married three years ago, Bai Li enrolled in special forces training, postponing his planned discharge for another three years. When Song Qingyou divorced and he finally returned, someone else—Fu Wenzhou—was already by her side.

Bai Yan felt these two simply weren’t meant to be. He knew Song Qingyou never really liked his son. As a prison warden, Bai Yan was adept at reading people. In his long life, he’d seen all kinds. Someone as cold and detached as Song Qingyou found it difficult to love anyone—her mind was always clear and purposeful, with revenge as her focus and everything else secondary.

Two people, one introverted, one indifferent—how could they possibly fit?

His niece could only be held onto by someone as shamelessly persistent as Fu Wenzhou, who clung to her with relentless devotion and feigned pitifulness.

This was why, even knowing Bai Li’s feelings for Song Qingyou, Bai Yan never tried to match them together.

He changed the subject. "Qingyou, why not spend the New Year with us? Come with Song Chang. It’s just Bai Li and me at home, and the four of us together would make things livelier."

Song Qingyou’s fingers paused as she looked up apologetically. "Uncle Bai, this year I promised my boyfriend I’d spend it with him."

A sharp snap—a pair of chopsticks broke.

Song Qingyou looked up in surprise.

Bai Yan’s voice was stern. "Bai Li, how do you even break chopsticks eating?"

Bai Li replied in a low voice, "I didn’t hold them properly."

Song Qingyou frowned. She thought Bai Li seemed different today, but after a moment’s reflection, realized they hadn’t seen each other in ten years. People change; it was only normal.

She didn’t dwell on it. After dinner, she said her goodbyes and prepared to leave.

Bai Li walked them out. Snow was still falling. He held an umbrella, closely following Song Qingyou, tilting it so much toward her that his own shoulder was covered in a thick layer of snow.

Standing by the car, Song Qingyou’s voice was soft. "Thank you, Brother Li. The snow’s too heavy—head back in now."

Bai Li nodded. "Get in the car first."

Song Qingyou got in, and Song Chang circled to the other side, starting the engine. The car eased away.

Not far off—

A man’s hand gripped the car window, knuckles whitening with cold tension.

His lashes, as dark as raven’s feathers, swept over his pale face. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to watch this so-called ‘friend’ thoughtfully holding the umbrella for her, opening the car door.

He only withdrew his gaze when the car disappeared from view.

Snowflakes drifted into his car, bringing with them a chill. But Fu Wenzhou seemed not to notice, as if numb. After a long moment, he finally closed the window. The silver Maybach shot away like an arrow loosed from a bow.

He pressed the accelerator to the floor, driving as if he no longer cared for his life.

There was a mountain road nearby. At the fork, Fu Wenzhou turned onto it without hesitation.

He drove around and around, the speedometer climbing to 300 kilometers per hour, wind roaring past like the howls of vengeful ghosts in the night.

Not until the clock pointed to eleven did he slow down, heading back toward the city.

When Song Qingyou arrived home, she heard movement in the kitchen.

She paused, unwrapping her scarf and approaching. "Why are you making food so late? Didn’t you eat?"

Fu Wenzhou, back to her, was picking vegetables. "I’m making winter melon porridge for you tomorrow morning. It needs to simmer overnight."

She was still cold from being outside. Walking up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself against his broad back.

Fu Wenzhou was so warm that the chill seemed to melt away at once.

Quietly, she said, "Fu Wenzhou, you’re so warm."

He stiffened for a moment, then wiped his hands and turned to embrace her. "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

With her eyes closed, relishing her human heater, she murmured, "It was fine. What did you have tonight?"

When she spoke with a drawn-out lilt, her voice was soft and sweet, with a hint of coyness.

Burying his face in her neck, Fu Wenzhou inhaled her scent deeply, his voice hoarse. "Just ate something simple. You’re so cold—go shower first, I’ve run the water for you."

She pinched his earlobe. "Why are you so obedient today?"

"Jie," he said, his eyes dark and intense. "I tell you everything. Can you tell me everything too? I don’t want to control you, I just want to know everything about you."

She didn’t understand why he brought this up so suddenly, feeling a little puzzled. "You want to know who I had dinner with today?"

He was silent for a moment, then asked, "May I?"

She nodded. "It was with an old friend of my grandfather’s—he’s like an uncle to me. He’s helped me a lot. His son just got out of the military, so they invited me over for a meal."

She couldn’t help but laugh. "Fu Wenzhou, you sound like a jealous housewife."

"…"

"I’m going to shower. Come join me when you’re done. I’m cold." The weather was getting colder, and Fu Wenzhou was better than any heater.

Watching her retreating figure, Fu Wenzhou’s hands slowly clenched.

No one knew how jealous he felt seeing her with another man.

But he had to restrain those dark thoughts, forcing that shameful, twisted possessiveness back into his very bones.

He was afraid of frightening his Qingyou.