He quietly propped himself up and tiptoed over. "Mu Hengshi, are you asleep?" Wen Zhiling's voice wasn't particularly out of place in the pouring rain, but Mu Hengshi heard it. Having had his sleep interrupted twice, his expression wasn't particularly amiable. There was even a hint of impatience between his features.
Wen Zhiling's gaze fell on his face, catching the hint of trust between his brows. Unsettled mind, good opportunity! Wen Zhiling pulled out the clock hidden behind him, lowered his voice, and bewitched Mu Heng.
The heavy rain started and stopped as it pleased. When the morning light was just beginning, the morning sun shone on Song Qingmo's face. He did not sleep in, but started another day of cleaning without complaint.
It was summer, the sun was shining brightly, and the air was filled with the fragrance of grass and soil. His nose was sensitive, and as he smelled the fresh air, he felt his lungs being attacked by the refreshing mint, which was very comfortable.
Yesterday's unpleasantness was swept away, although it was very embarrassing at the time. Looking at the window of the master room on the second floor from outside, he couldn't describe the feeling. That room was originally his. Song Qingmo had lived in this villa for more than ten years, and it was occupied by two scumbags. It was simply torture for himself.
The hand holding the pruning shears paused for a moment, and he sighed slightly. While trimming the flowers and plants, he estimated that it was almost time for the two people to come for breakfast.
He found a corner where no one could see anyone else. Just as he was about to sit down, Mu Hengshi's voice came from behind him.
Song Qingmo didn't want to see Mu Hengshi from the bottom of his heart, but he still asked with a stiff upper lip: "Boss Mu, do you have any instructions?"
Mu Hengshi remained silent. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles formed around them, and a dangerous aura emanated from him.
Something's wrong with Mu Hengshi. Where is he trying to take me? Song Qingmo suddenly sensed something was wrong and pushed Mu Hengshi hard, grabbing his hand. Passing by the stairwell leading to the second floor, Wen Zhiling was upstairs, grinning maliciously and silently mouthing a message to him. "You're done."
"What are you doing? Let me go."
Realizing that he was in trouble, he struggled even harder. Mu Hengshi tutted.
"If you want the Song family to be safe and sound, you'd better be quiet." Mu Hengshi knew how to grasp Qingmo's lifeline. After he finished speaking, Song Qingmo really became honest.
Seeing that Song Qingmo had stopped struggling, Mu Hengshi snorted and said, "Remember your identity." He continued to pull Song Qingmo's hand forward.
Perhaps not noticing, Song Qingmo retracted his hand and twisted his wrist. Song Qingmo raised his numb face and stood up straight. "Let's go. Don't bother me. I've grown my own legs."
Mu Hengshi's already irritable mood was made even more irritable by Song Qingmo's series of actions. This time, he used all his strength to grip his wrist, and Song Qingmo felt that his bones were about to be crushed. He closed his mouth tightly and did not struggle any more, allowing Mu Hengshi to lead him.
He lowered his head, and only raised it again when he felt the person in front of him stop. Mu Hengshi pushed the door open and walked in. It was Song Qingmo's studio, with paintings of all sizes hanging on the wall.
Because the owner had ignored him for too long, a thin layer of dust had accumulated in the room. Song Qingmo was confused. Wen Zhiling also came in. "Hengshi, even if you feel sorry for me, you can't repay me in kind."
"Xiao Ling, you don't have to plead for him. I want him to pay the price for his evil deeds." Mu Hengshi comforted Wen Zhiling who was coming anxiously, and then turned his head and looked at Song Qingmo coldly and cruelly.
Song Qingmo thought he was some unforgivable sinner. He'd thought he'd be heartbroken, but he realized he'd long ago grown immune to it. Listening to their conversation, he figured out the key point: it looked like he was going to suffer some physical pain. Fortunately, it was just a physical beating; it was better than having his pride trampled upon.
Because the incident happened suddenly, the things in the Song family's old house had not been cleaned up, so they were all left behind. Looking at the paintings on the wall, Mu Hengshi took out a lighter from his jacket pocket and asked someone to tear down all the paintings and throw them on the open ground. The flaming lighter was thrown and they caught fire.
Song Qingmo hadn't stopped him. He was being held captive, witnessing his blood and sweat burn to ashes. He was released, lifeless, and sat on the ground, his eyes staring blankly at the pile of ashes in front of him.
"Oh..." Those things had accumulated since he was six, and now they were all gone. He wasn't crying anymore; the tears didn't seem to want to flow anymore. He suddenly hated himself for crying over something completely irrelevant, and then being unable to cry when he wanted to. His hands moved unconsciously, slapping himself again and again.
Mu Hengshi was with Wen Zhiling, observing the entire process of his orders with cold eyes. He moved his fingers unconsciously. He remembered how he hated Song Qingmo's paintings, because they were just imitations of others. Wen Zhiling was a thousand times better than him, and his paintings were no different. His actions were clearly meant to pierce Xiaoling's heart.
Now all the paintings and all the sense of superiority were gone. His eyes fell on Wen Zhiling's limp right hand. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had killed someone. A voice pulled him.
"You look like a dead man. If you don't know, you would think those things are important to you. Get up now." Mu Hengshi said with sarcasm.
Just then, Wen Zhiling stepped forward, trying to take Song Qingmo's arm and pull him up. He squatted down, but Song Qingmo dodged his outstretched hand. Wen Zhiling lost his balance and fell forward, and Song Qingmo leaned sideways, unable to hold Wen Zhiling's leaning body.
He stood up and took a step forward when he was unexpectedly kicked in the back. Caught off guard, he fell to the ground, his knees and palms burning with pain. The already hideous wounds on his palms began to bleed again.
"Ugh!" He cried out in pain, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He felt a shadow appear above his head and slowly raised his head. Before he could see the person in front of him clearly, something happened that he would remember for the rest of his life.
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