Song Hengjue's face stiffened, his scalp tingled, and he reached out and pulled her off: "Xu Changchang, you're a big girl now. Don't hug other men all the time. Do you know that men and women shouldn't touch each other?"
Xu Changchang awkwardly lowered her hand, looking somewhat at a loss.
Song Hengjue was under immense pressure and had no energy to pay attention to her mood. He looked warily at Xu Lan on the sofa and said, "You didn't come to Beijing just to catch up with me, did you?"
"Of course, sit down and chat?" Xu Lan crossed her legs and raised her chin. "Xu Changchang, pour your uncle a glass of water."
"I won't drink. No need to beat around the bush, just tell me your purpose." Song Hengjue said warily.
Xu Lan's lips twitched: "Drink it without worry, there's no medicine in it."
Song Hengjue shook his head firmly: "I'm not thirsty."
He's drunk countless aphrodisiacs since he came to the capital; if he drinks water given to him by others outside, he's a dog.
Besides, Xu Lan is a cunning woman, she's no good. He'd rather die of thirst than drink water from this poisonous woman.
Xu Lan clicked her tongue and pointed to Xu Changchang next to her: "I have some business in Beijing in a few days. Xu Changchang is practically your niece. Can you look after her for a few days? That should be fine."
Xu Changchang was overjoyed when she heard this and rushed over to snuggle into Song Hengjue's arms: "Yay, I want to go with Uncle Song!"
Song Hengjue took a deep breath and patted the child's head: "Go to your room and stay there. Your uncle and your mother have something to talk about."
Xu Changchang looked at Xu Lan expectantly, and only after receiving permission did she enter the room, turning back every few steps.
Song Hengjue's expression suddenly changed, and he became icy cold: "If you can't afford a nanny, I can find someone to help you take care of her. But it's impossible for me to take care of her."
If a child were to appear in his life, he could easily guess what kind of sensational stories the newspapers would fabricate. If those stories reached Yang Qingheng's ears, wouldn't that just cause her distress?
On the bus.
Yang Qingheng hung up the phone, her face extremely pale, her knuckles white as she gripped the photo.
Tang Bainian patted her shoulder reassuringly: "Song Hengjue probably didn't do it on purpose, don't be angry."
"Not on purpose? You've already had someone report you and you still say it wasn't on purpose?" He shouldn't have said that, because Yang Qingheng was so angry she almost couldn't breathe.
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