Volume One, Chapter 29: Trembling

“Song Qingyu!” Song Xinrui, her face contorted with fury, rushed toward Song Qingyu, but before she could lay a finger on her, Pei Jingmo pushed her aside. Pei Jingmo could no longer stand to see Song Qingyu hurt in front of him, even in the slightest; instinctively, he pulled her protectively into his arms.

Sensing the tension in his body, Song Qingyu guessed he was still brooding over the last time she was struck. She patted his arm in a gentle attempt to soothe him.

Then she turned to glare at Song Xinrui with anger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You were at the banquet just now. Why didn’t you help me? I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.” Song Xinrui’s voice trembled with indignation.

Song Qingyu gave a cold laugh. “So you know what shame feels like? Why should I join you in disgrace?”

“You’re my sister!”

“Stepsister, not by blood.”

“You—” Song Xinrui sputtered, lost for words.

Previously, Song Qingyu hadn’t bothered to hold grudges over Song Xinrui’s petty schemes, but she hadn’t expected her to have the audacity to seduce Gu Yuandong.

Who was Gu Yuandong? The crowned prince of Beijing’s elite circle—a man notorious for his ruthlessness, cold-blooded and merciless, with none who crossed him faring well. Simply being thrown out was already a light punishment for Song Xinrui.

“Take this lesson to heart. Don’t be so foolish again, or you might end up losing more than your pride—perhaps even your life.”

“Don’t lecture me!” Song Xinrui snapped, still unrepentant. “Every woman at the banquet wanted to catch the prince’s eye. I just did what everyone else dreamed of doing.”

Song Qingyu frowned. “Do you know why those women only dare to dream, but never act?”

“They’re just pretending to be prim and proper. Everyone knows they’re even more depraved behind closed doors.” Song Qingyu almost wanted to crack open Song Xinrui’s skull to see just what nonsense Song Yanfeng and Liu Yuer had filled her head with.

“That’s because none of them dare offend Gu Yuandong. Stop watching so many melodramas. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re the heroine destined to be his princess.”

Song Xinrui despised Song Qingyu’s lofty gaze, as if she were some filthy creature in the gutter. They were both daughters of the Song family, yet she bore the stigma of being the illegitimate child, looked down upon by all.

Over the years, she’d worked hard to win Song Yanfeng’s favor, earning his trust, even shouldering the responsibility of reviving the family name. After spending a fortune to obtain an invitation, she’d failed spectacularly and lost all dignity.

She couldn’t swallow this humiliation. What infuriated her even more was knowing that Song Qingyu had seen her being dragged away and done nothing to help.

Unable to outargue Song Qingyu, her angry gaze shifted to Pei Jingmo.

“Hmph, so this is your migrant worker husband? Did you marry him for his looks?” Song Qingyu had no interest in entertaining a madwoman. She glanced at Pei Jingmo, “Let’s go.”

Pei Jingmo nodded, but Song Xinrui was not done. She rushed to block their path.

She stared at Pei Jingmo and sneered, “How pitiful. Your wife attends a banquet and doesn’t even bring you along.”

“Song Xinrui!”

“Do you know why she didn’t bring you? Because she wants to seduce Gu Yuandong too. What kind of wealth can a laborer like you offer her? Sooner or later, she’ll either cheat on you or leave you.”

Smack—

Song Qingyu, unable to endure another word, raised her hand and slapped Song Xinrui hard across the face.

Song Xinrui stared at her, clutching her cheek in disbelief. “You hit me?”

“If you dare spout another word of nonsense, I’ll make sure both sides match.” Song Qingyu took Pei Jingmo’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

Pei Jingmo glanced down at their tightly clasped hands, a tingling warmth spreading through his chest.

After taking a few steps, he looked back at Song Xinrui. That look—cold and razor-sharp, like a blade piercing the soul—sent a chill through Song Xinrui’s bones. She realized it was the same look she’d seen in the banquet hall.

Only when they reached the spot where the motorcycle was parked did Song Qingyu let go of Pei Jingmo’s hand. “Sorry, my stepsister is out of her mind. Don’t take her words to heart.”

Pei Jingmo gazed at his now-empty palm, feeling as though something vital had slipped away with it. He quickly composed himself and said indifferently, “I didn’t.”

His gaze fell on her wrist. “Where’s your bracelet?”

“Oh, I dropped it by accident at the banquet. I couldn’t put it back on myself, so I put it in my bag.”

“I’ll put it on for you.”

Song Qingyu was about to refuse, but then remembered how Pei Jingmo had once told her he was her husband and she should trust him. After what Song Xinrui had just said, she worried rejecting him might make him overthink, so she nodded.

She retrieved the bracelet from her purse and handed it to Pei Jingmo, extending her wrist.

Pei Jingmo’s eyes brimmed with gentleness and focus. Every movement was meticulous, as though he were conducting a sacred ritual. He gently lifted her hand, slipped one end of the bracelet over her fingers, and slowly fastened it around her wrist.

His fingers brushed lightly over her skin, sending a subtle shiver through her. Song Qingyu’s heart raced in disarray.

Sensing the ambiguous tension, Song Qingyu cleared her throat lightly. “Is it done?”

“Almost.” The bracelet fit her wrist perfectly. Pei Jingmo fastened the clasp and only then withdrew his hand.

Damn! Even just this touch wasn’t enough for him anymore. When would he finally be able to hold her, to do as he wished?

Noticing that Pei Jingmo was holding the helmet but hadn’t placed it on her head as usual, Song Qingyu asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll call a cab for you. You can take the car home; I’ll ride back on the bike.”

“Why?”

Pei Jingmo fell silent.

Song Qingyu immediately understood. She took off her hair tie, took the helmet from his hand, and put it on herself. “I like riding the motorcycle. No worries about traffic, no motion sickness, and you get to feel the night breeze.”

After all, he was her hired husband—she had to be careful not to wound his pride.

To show Pei Jingmo she had no regrets about marrying him, as the engine roared to life, Song Qingyu wrapped her arms around his waist.

Pei Jingmo glanced at the slender arms encircling his abdomen and the corners of his lips lifted in a quiet smile.

Chu Xingzhi stood at the street corner, watching the two of them leave, his heart twisting in pain.

Later that night.

Chu Xingzhi returned once more to the Cloudtop Club.

Meng Yucheng watched him down drink after drink, at a loss for how to intervene. When Chu Xingzhi reached for another glass, Meng Yucheng finally grabbed his wrist. “It’s just a woman, isn’t it? She and her husband look perfectly happy together. Why drown your sorrows over her?”

“It’s not just Xiaoyu. Gu Yuandong won’t see me either.” Chu Xingzhi felt like a complete failure, especially lately—it seemed as if everyone and everything was against him. He was stifled, irritable, on the verge of madness.

“Hey…” Meng Yucheng slung an arm around Chu Xingzhi’s shoulders. “Speaking of Gu Yuandong, I heard something today. Apparently, he’s been in love for years with an unattainable woman—his white moonlight.”

Chu Xingzhi shook him off impatiently and continued drinking. “What does that have to do with me?”

“What if we delivered his white moonlight to his bed, let him fulfill his wish? Maybe then he’d do us a favor?”