His fingers tightened, and he pulled out... several ID cards and a wallet?!

Her face froze, and she looked out of the car in shock. Night had fallen, and it was pitch black outside. A biting cold wind howled against the car window. The temperature was below zero, enough to freeze a person into an icicle.

He cursed angrily, grabbed his luggage, and jumped off the train before the doors closed.

When the train arrived at the station on its return journey, it was already midnight. It was pitch black outside the window, the lights in the train station were dim, and she was all alone in the empty station. All she could hear was the sound of the wind and the rustling sound of her shoes crushing fallen leaves.

Not seeing a man, Yang Qingheng breathed a sigh of relief and pulled her suitcase into the train station.

"Yang Qingheng." A voice called from behind.

Yang Qingheng's expression changed, and she suddenly turned around.

Song Hengjue sat in the corner of the flower bed, his long legs wrapped in suit trousers curled up in the cramped space, making him look even more aggrieved.

She couldn't see his eyes in the darkness, but Yang Qingheng was certain that they were fixed on her, burning with passion and sincerity, like a puppy's.

The moment I saw his wet eyes, all my anger vanished, and my hardened heart crumbled into a ball.

She gestured with her chin at him: "Hurry up and come here."

Song Hengjue stretched out his long legs and ran towards her, opened his coat and hugged her, the tiny glints in his eyes more dazzling than starlight.

Yang Qingheng was startled by the cold air emanating from him. Her brow twitched, and she pushed him away, striding into the train station.

Song Hengjue followed along eagerly.

"Song Hengjue, have you lost your mind?" Yang Qingheng said coldly. "Your documents are gone, can't you even make a phone call?"

What if she doesn't find the documents in the bag?

Song Hengjue followed closely behind: "I knew you would come back."

If she doesn't find out tonight, he'll wait until tomorrow; she'll find out eventually anyway.

As it turned out, he made the right bet; Yang Qingheng's heart wasn't so hardened that it was immune to all poisons.

"I shouldn't have come back!" Yang Qingheng knew exactly what he meant. After all, they had spent more than twenty years together in their previous life, and he could easily understand her thoughts.

Enraged, she would have turned and left if it weren't for his pitiful red nose.

Song Hengjue tugged at her sleeve in a conciliatory manner and took the suitcase from her hand: "Where are we going now?"

"Let's eat." Yang Qingheng raised her wrist and glanced at the time; it was 11:30 p.m.

When I got off at the train station, the streets were pitch black and all the shops were closed. I walked along the road for a long time before I saw a small shop with lights on.

Song Hengjue watched the woman in front of him playfully swing her fishtail braid, and his mood also lifted with excitement. He put one hand in his pocket and followed slowly behind her.

To hell with Tang Bainian, to hell with his children, to hell with his broken marriage, there's no one here but him and her.

Despite the late hour, the two managed to get two bowls of noodle soup. The shop owner, an old lady, took pity on them and specially lit a stove for them.

The table had already been cleared away, and Yang Qingheng, without being picky, picked up her bowl and was about to sit down on the steps by the door.

Song Hengjue reacted quickly, firmly grabbing her arm and deftly pulling off his scarf to place on the ground, patting it down: "Sit here."

"The young man looks a bit simple-minded, but he knows how to love his wife," the old woman shook her head and chuckled, then tapped the stove a couple of times and took out a roasted sweet potato, throwing it into Song Hengjue's arms. "This is for you two. Put the bowls at the shop entrance when you're done."

The door slammed shut.

Song Hengjue grabbed the steaming sweet potato with his large hand, chuckled, and presented it to Yang Qingheng like a treasure: "Would you like a piece of sweet potato?"

Before the woman could nod, he eagerly peeled off her skin.

They're really stupid.

Yang Qingheng remained silent, slurped up two mouthfuls of soup noodles, and pointed to his large bowl: "Your noodles are cold."

Without any hesitation, I reached out and took the sweet potato from his palm, took a bite, and found it to be a honey sweet potato, naturally sweet without any artificial sweetness. My mood improved inexplicably.

"Do you remember when we used to eat this noodle soup in the middle of the night?" Song Hengjue slurped up a mouthful of soup noodles and leaned over to reminisce.

Yang Qingheng squinted: "Don't force me to hit you when I'm in the best mood."

"You have a terrible temper," Song Hengjue muttered, glancing at her.

"You're acting all aggrieved!" Yang Qingheng got angry at his pretentious manner and slapped him on the head.

I've never seen anyone so shameless. In the freezing weather of the South, he dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night. There were no flowers, no fireworks, just him standing by her bedside with a pot of noodles and asking, "Wife, do you want some noodles?"

"I...I didn't mean to!" Song Hengjue retorted, only to be met with a slap to the head that made his skull ache.

"Idiot, shut up!"

The capital city.

When Tang Bai heard the phone ring in the middle of the night, he jumped up and listened to the report on the other end. His face turned pale, and his fingernails, which were pressing on the phone, became bloodshot with tension: "How is Madam?"

"The police said he was only slightly frightened and boarded a train to the south that same day. Also on the train that day were..." Secretary Qian swallowed, a little nervous.

"Who?" Tang Bainian's heart skipped a beat, and his blood ran cold.

Sure enough, a familiar name came from the other end: "And there's Song Hengjue, the boss of Boxiang."

"Okay, send a private investigator immediately to find out who hired the person," Tang Bainian pinched his brow, unsure whether to be relieved that Yang Qingheng was alright or annoyed that Song Hengjue had entangled Yang Qingheng again. Just as he was about to hang up, he added, "Have that woman come see me tomorrow."

“Yes, Deputy Director.” Secretary Qian nodded.

hotel.

Yang Qingheng coldly looked at the man outside the door: "Go back to your own room."

"The water heater in my room is broken, just let me use it for a bit, don't be so stingy." Song Hengjue placed his palm against the door, his dark eyes fixed on her.

"Really?" Yang Qingheng looked him up and down, still somewhat doubtful, and then opened the door.

Having succeeded, Song Hengjue strode into the room, carrying his clothes.