Fang Nan shrugged.
Is it his fault?
Song Hengjue's shoes, which were almost flying sparks, stopped with a "whoosh" in front of the office door. He straightened his collar, raised his hand, paused in mid-air, and finally gritted his teeth and waved his hand.
...I tapped it lightly.
"Yang Qingheng?"
There was no sound coming from inside. Feeling strange, he called out a few more times, and after confirming that no one answered, he...
He didn't know whether he felt relieved or his heart skipped a beat, but he finally gave a self-deprecating laugh.
He had almost forgotten that Yang Qingheng had never waited for him.
Turn the handle, push the door open, and go inside.
A woman was curled up on a beanbag chair behind the French windows, her long, silky hair spread out on the sofa, her face covered with a copy of Sun Tzu's Art of War. She had fallen asleep sometime earlier.
Song Hengjue's steps faltered, and he stopped in his tracks. He gently closed the door with his toes pressed against it, and like a thief, he tiptoed toward the balcony, afraid of waking the woman and getting punched in the face.
"Did you step in poop?" Yang Qingheng removed the book from her face.
Song Hengjue froze: "You're not asleep?"
"It's so cold, you try sleeping with me," Yang Qingheng rolled her eyes at him, pulled a business agreement out of her bag and slapped it on the table, then waved her over, "Come over and let's talk."
Song Hengjue glanced at the document, sat down opposite her, and subconsciously crossed his legs. Realizing who was opposite him, he awkwardly put them back, coughed lightly with his fist to his lips, and asked, "What do you want to talk about?"
"You can either take this land back yourself, or accept my money. Although I can't pay you back all at once now, I will pay you 100,000 every month from now on." Yang Qingheng presented a document and a check for 300,000.
"You don't need to pay me back. I told you, this is compensation I'm giving you in our divorce." Song Hengjue pursed his lips.
“I don’t want it,” Yang Qingheng said.
Song Hengjue's eyes dimmed: "It's not for you. This land is for the welfare home. You have no right to refuse it on behalf of the children."
Yang Qingheng was silent for a moment, then looked up and stared straight at him: "Song Hengjue, you did nothing wrong to me about the divorce. Our marriage was a mistake from the beginning, and I have nothing to complain about now. I only hate you because you brought Xu Lan to provoke me, and because you conspired with outsiders to get me detained for six months. Now I've hit you, I've cursed you, and I have no more anger in my heart. From now on, we'll go our separate ways."
Song Hengjue saw the unprecedented seriousness in her eyes. He placed his clasped hands back on his knees, paused, and then changed his posture. He felt an empty unease in his heart, and his throat was dry and hoarse: "What do you mean by 'the bridge is the bridge, and the road is the road'?"
"Let's be strangers. You live your life, I'll live mine. Don't appear in my life," Yang Qingheng said indifferently.
The wind chilled Song Hengjue's knees. He crossed his hands on his knees and stood in the empty office. He didn't know how long it had been before he heard his own voice: "Okay."
The Tang family.
When Tang Bainian entered the room, he saw Mu Xiaoxiao curled up on the sofa, hugging a fruit plate and laughing heartily. He called her twice but received no response, so he frowned and turned off the TV.
Mu Xiaoxiao's laughter stopped abruptly, and her expression immediately changed to one of disdain: "Why are you back?"
"Why can't I come back to my own home?" Tang Bainian returned the same look of disdain, glancing around the living room. "Where's your sister-in-law?"
"Where else can I go if I don't go to the company?" Mu Xiaoxiao jumped over and turned the TV back on, deliberately turning up the volume.
Tang Bainian's head throbbed from the shock, so he went to the balcony and made a phone call: "Is President Yang at the company right now?"
"Deputy Director Tang? He came this morning, but left after lunch, apparently to discuss cooperation."
Do you know who you're collaborating with?
"Shall I ask Sister Sun?"
"No need." Tang Bainian hung up the phone and immediately dialed another number.
The silence of the office was broken by the ringing of a cell phone. The name "Bainian" flashed before their eyes. Yang Qingheng reached out and answered the phone, her voice gentle: "You're back? What's up?"
“It’s nothing. Xiaoxiao said you didn’t come back for dinner and asked me to ask,” Tang Bainian said. “Mom said we should come home for dinner later. Where are you? I’ll pick you up on the way.”
Yang Qingheng glanced out the window and lied without batting an eye: "I'm at the orphanage. I'll go back by myself in a bit. You can wait for me at home."
Welfare home?
Tang Bainian glanced at his watch; it was a little past 3:40 PM, not the children's nap time.
The hand gripping the phone tightened suddenly: "I just bought some gifts for the kids, so I'll just deliver them. It's no trouble at all."
Yang Qingheng's lips froze: "I've already left the orphanage. The children are all getting medical checkups. If you come over to distribute gifts, they'll cause a fuss and it'll be hard to manage. Come another day."
"Okay, be careful on your way back. Oh, by the way, has Xuanxuan's crib not been washed in a while? I'll ask the nanny to clean it." Tang Bainian gave her a way out.
This question seemed out of place in this context, and Yang Qingheng felt a bit strange, but she still went along with it and replied, "He was just washed last week, but he's not very clean. If you don't like it, you can have the nanny wash him again."
Upon hearing their conversation, Song Hengjue's eyes instantly dimmed.
The welfare home was only a ten-minute walk from home, but it was half an hour away from here. Yang Qingheng was in a hurry, so she took out the restaurant's share transfer agreement from her bag, slammed it on the table, and ran outside as if her life depended on it.
He had just left when the same ringtone sounded in the office. Finally, on the third ring, he reached out and answered it.
"Song Hengjue, it's not good to go back on your word," Tang Bainian's mocking voice came through the phone.
Song Hengjue loosened his tie and leaned back on the sofa: "I have a clear conscience and I can do what I say."
“I hope my child with Qingheng can grow up in a complete family. You wouldn’t want him to have a bad life, would you?” Tang Bainian took off his glasses and threw them on the table, his voice carrying a hint of threat.
Song Hengjue felt his throat was dry and uncomfortable, but his words were not at all timid. Instead, they were sharp and aggressive: "Poor child? So you're having affairs outside because you want to manage a family? You say one thing and do another. How come I never noticed you were such a hypocrite before? Yang Qingheng is kind and won't hold it against you, but I will definitely see this through to the end."
Tang Bainian's temple throbbed, and he suddenly felt a pang of regret. He finally realized the consequences of lying and sincerely assured him, "You don't need to worry about my family matters, and the things you're worried about won't happen. You'd better keep your promise for today."
With a cold expression, Song Hengjue hung up the phone, threw it back on the table in frustration with a sharp scraping sound, picked up his car keys from the table, and went out.
He had barely opened the office door when he was met with more than a dozen pairs of eyes. He slammed the door shut, his face turning completely dark: "So you like to look so much? Should I invite you into my office to take a closer look?"
The group of people shuddered and shrank back to their workstations, behaving as docilely as quails.
As soon as Song Hengjue disappeared into the elevator, everyone went wild.
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