Chapter 89: Organizing the Gathering

The next day, Song Qingyou received a call from Yan Shaoqin.

“What do you mean, an investigation?” Song Qingyou frowned, brushing aside Fu Wenzhou’s face as he leaned in. “Didn’t they already check before? And the last two times weren’t even a month apart.”

Yan Shaoqin gave a cold laugh. “You can thank your dear father for that. Like father, like daughter. He reported a batch of Shiyu’s projects to the Market Regulation Bureau for not having approval reports. Now we’ve been slapped with a fine of 766 million yuan.”

The money itself wasn’t a problem; Yan Shaoqin could afford it. The real issue was that Shiyu was just getting started, and at least six projects under his belt hadn’t yet been submitted for approval. If the Market Regulation Bureau set its sights on them, there was a high chance those six projects would be shut down.

At that point, it wouldn’t just be a matter of losing a few hundred million. The whole of Shiyu might be implicated.

Song Qingyou understood the gravity of the situation. Though she had used Shiyu and Yan Shaoqin to goad and restrain Song Shi, she had never intended for Yan Shaoqin to make a losing deal. If Shiyu went down, all of Yan Shaoqin’s efforts these past months would be wasted.

Yan Shaoqin had already gotten into trouble abroad for venture capital, and after returning home, he’d stayed away from the field. Now, having been provoked by her, if something went wrong again...

Song Qingyou pressed her lips together and said softly, “I’ll handle things with the Regulation Bureau. You focus on keeping an eye on Shiyu’s projects.”

Yan Shaoqin snorted. “And how are you going to handle it? What, you have connections at the Regulation Bureau?”

His tone was gentler than before, with a hint of teasing, probably not wanting Song Qingyou to feel too burdened.

He said lightly, “I’m just calling to remind you to deal with things sooner rather than later—the longer you wait, the more trouble you’ll have. As for Shiyu, don’t worry. Right now, it’s just a fine. As long as nothing else crops up, it shouldn’t be a big problem.”

After the call ended, Song Qingyou’s frown deepened.

Fu Wenzhou’s hand was still wandering over her, and he leaned in close to her ear, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Song Qingyou briefly relayed Yan Shaoqin’s words, her expression growing colder.

Fu Wenzhou kissed her, only to be pushed away. “Don’t mess with me.”

Song Yuan’s matter couldn’t be rushed. He had held power in the Song family for so many years; he couldn’t be toppled so easily.

Fu Wenzhou’s move to have Uncle Liang Muchuan investigate Fu Changlin had given Song Yuan an idea. Now that he was holding on to Shiyu and wouldn’t let go, she had to come up with a solution quickly.

Fu Wenzhou’s large hand was restless at her waist. He clicked his tongue. “He reports you, so why don’t you report him?”

Song Qingyou looked up. “Report him for what?”

Fu Wenzhou replied nonchalantly, “Song Group’s stock price plummeted two months ago and then rebounded quickly. You think that’s just a coincidence?”

Song Qingyou turned to look at him.

Fu Wenzhou chuckled, his breath warm against her ear, his voice low and seductive. “Darling, are you really so naïve? Song Yuan manipulated the stock price for personal gain. Based on one and a half times his profit, he’ll have plenty to pay in compensation.”

Fu Wenzhou’s slender fingers cupped her chin, his eyes fixed on her rosy lips as he kissed her. “If you don’t want trouble from someone, just give them a headache of their own. When he’s busy cleaning up his own mess, he won’t have time to bother you. Didn’t you teach me that, my dear?”

Song Qingyou stared at him for a few seconds, then curved her lips in a smile. “You’ve learned well.”

“Is there a reward?” Fu Wenzhou immediately seized the opportunity.

Song Qingyou nodded. Meeting the man’s expectant and faintly excited gaze, she drawled, “Your reward is sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

Fu Wenzhou: “?”

His face darkened, and he pulled her into his arms, biting at her neck.

Song Qingyou couldn’t dodge and grew annoyed. “Are you a puppy?”

Fu Wenzhou’s voice was hoarse. “I’m your exclusive puppy.”

Song Qingyou’s ears grew hot. How could he say such things without the slightest shame...

With his teeth grazing the tender skin at the back of her neck, Fu Wenzhou murmured, “Come with me to a dinner tonight.”

He didn’t give her a chance to refuse. “Please, dear?”

Song Qingyou felt her bones soften. She truly couldn’t resist when he called her that. After a long moment, she sighed helplessly. “Fine.”

When they arrived at the venue, Song Qingyou was startled to find the gathering anything but ordinary.

Looking around, she saw nearly all of the capital’s most prominent families represented—some she had met, others she recognized from news or hearsay.

Yun Rui’s Xu Zezhan, Huakong’s Liang Muchuan, Yan Group’s Yan Shaoqin, the Gu family’s young master Gu Bai, Chenfeng’s Jiang Zhiyuan, E.I. Capital’s Shen Guannan, and Qixun’s deputy general manager Chu Fan. Of the capital’s Nine Young Masters, only Ruan Mingchen was absent; all the rest were present.

What kind of gathering was this?

Song Qingyou was a bit bewildered.

She also noticed that sitting beside Qixun’s deputy general manager was a young woman—delicate features, gentle bearing, every gesture exuding the grace of the river towns of the south.

When Chu Fan looked at her, his eyes were filled with deep affection. Song Qingyou guessed that this must be the wife Chu Fan had kept hidden for three years.

But why was she here, of all places?

She instinctively took half a step back.

Suddenly, a pair of hands landed on her waist, anchoring her in place. She lowered her gaze and stayed still.

With a roguish grin, Fu Wenzhou introduced her: “Everyone, this is my girlfriend.”

His words were laced with pride and a hint of showing off.

None of those present had expected Fu Wenzhou to bring Song Qingyou along. A few exchanged glances, all too aware of what it meant to include someone in such a gathering.

Most of the others already knew Song Qingyou. Shen Guannan and Chu Fan, however, were less familiar—one focused on overseas ventures, the other had become reclusive after marrying. They only knew that Song Qingyou, the youngest daughter of the Song family, had once been married to Fu Wenzhou’s uncle.

Shen Guannan asked, “Wasn’t she your little aunt?”

The moment the words left his lips, Song Qingyou’s face drained of color, her fingers curling tight.

In a setting like this, the words “little aunt” felt like a slap in the face—leaving her at a loss, wishing she could escape.

Fu Wenzhou took her hand, pulled out a chair, and sat beside her. His eyes swept coolly around the private room. “She’s my woman—the one I’ll marry in a grand ceremony, with all the proper rites.”

Song Qingyou was momentarily stunned. The tension that had gripped her slowly began to ease.

His meaning was so clear that if Shen Guannan failed to get it, he could only be a fool.

Gu Bai rolled his eyes. “Look at you, showing off.”

Xu Zezhan raised an eyebrow. “Hasn’t he always been like this? He finally won her over—of course he can’t wait to mark his territory.”

Liang Muchuan simply lifted his glass in silence.

Yan Shaoqin clicked his tongue. “Fu Wenzhou, you’ve got guts.”

He didn’t specify in what way, or how much. But everyone present understood.

Through his actions, Fu Wenzhou was telling Song Qingyou that he didn’t care about public opinion, nor what others might say. In his heart, Song Qingyou would always come first.

Bringing her to such a private gathering, before all of them, was his way of making it clear: Song Qingyou was his, not just some passing lover.

She was family.