Fu Yao stood there with a smile, looking very proper, but even so, the hostility hidden deep in her eyes was still clearly captured by the person in question, making people feel uncomfortable.
She stepped forward and greeted Fu Siming and his wife, who were standing in front of her. A subtle atmosphere filled the hall.
Everyone was focused on the interaction between the three, with all sorts of teasing and amused glances directed at them.
Fu Yao's voice was neither too loud nor too soft, so that everyone present could hear it clearly: "Si Ming, happy wedding! I'm hosting a yacht party in a few days, you'll be there, right?"
When she came up to greet him, a rare crack appeared on Fu Siming's face.
Her polite blessing did not convey generosity or innocence; instead, every word was sharp and pointed at Song Xingyao standing to the side.
Seeing her like this, Song Xingyao's expression turned cold, and she looked at Fu Yao in front of her with a cold gaze.
She did appear quite generous, but her innocent and harmless eyes still carried a hint of secret rivalry.
Fu Siming: "Send the invitations to Tiansheng."
"I'm inviting you, and you want me to make an appointment? That's too formal." His businesslike tone didn't deter the woman in front of him; instead, she chided him, "Alright, remember to bring your wife along, so people don't misunderstand."
After saying this, he turned and walked away from the two of them, causing a stir among the crowd, who felt as if they had missed a good show.
Everyone present couldn't help but sigh that Song Xingyao's fighting ability was rather low; otherwise, she would have been able to keep quiet even after dancing right up to the Empress...
Such excitement was nothing to discuss for these rich kids, and the hall quickly returned to normal.
Fu Siming looked down at Song Xingyao, whose face showed no extra expression. He felt relieved on one hand, but also somewhat disappointed on the other.
Why can the woman in front of him always manipulate his emotions without him even making a move?
Fu Siming's voice suddenly rang in my ears: "If you don't want to go, then we won't go."
A single, incredibly simple sentence calmed the turmoil in Song Xingyao's heart.
...
“It’s alright. She invited quite a few people. Since you say it’s nothing, and I told you I trust you, if you don’t go, we’ll just be the ones being gossiped about.”
After saying that, she stopped looking at him and instead turned her gaze to Yuan Zhao on the stage, who was wearing a floral shirt and looked like a playboy.
She didn't care what was said on stage. Although she spoke so generously, a slight unease still lingered in her heart.
Song Xingyao always said such understanding things, and over time even she herself began to believe that she really didn't care.
Fu Siming looked down at the woman in front of him, and no matter how he looked at her, he had a strange feeling in his heart.
Even though his eyes were unfocused and he was staring blankly, he forced himself to look, which made him extremely irritable.
This time, he didn't listen to her words, which sounded like a first wife in a secluded mansion willingly offering herself to her husband as a concubine. Instead, he took her hand and led her outside.
Song Xingyao stumbled as he pulled her, and the man stopped and waited for her to stand still.
"Hmm? What's wrong?" She stared at the enigmatic man in front of her.
"Let's go!" Without explanation or response, Song Xingyao felt somewhat confused. Wasn't everything fine just now?
The man took long strides, but because he was holding Song Xingyao's hand, he deliberately slowed his pace, keeping the distance between them neither too close nor too far.
Until they were pulled out of the exhibition hall, neither of them knew that Fu Yao had been watching them from a corner until they disappeared from sight.
No one noticed the gloom creeping over her originally well-behaved makeup, her hands clenched into fists until her delicate nail polish tore the smooth hem of her skirt, leaving a frayed mark.
Song Xingyao was pulled by Fu Siming to a small room around the corner. It was pitch black inside, but a little moonlight shone through the window, illuminating their faces.
Fu Siming pressed her against the door, but the man's hand was still supporting her head, as if afraid she would bump into something. The distance between them also became closer because of his actions.
She looked up, puzzled, not understanding what this meant: "What...is wrong?"
He barely drank any alcohol inside, so why suddenly…
His dark pupils gleamed with shrewdness, as if trying to see through her. Their breaths mingled at a very close distance, brushing against her face, causing a slight itch.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked again.
Even though the man in front of her was looking at her coldly, Song Xingyao was not afraid or retreated when she saw him like others would. Instead, she reached out and stroked his face.
"Don't you really care?"
Huh? The sudden question caught her off guard.
"Go to her welcome party, don't you really care at all? Aren't you angry?" Fu Siming's words sounded like he was throwing a child's tantrum.
...She was even more confused. Was this all the reason for his sudden change? Song Xingyao found him rather strange.
"I believe you? Isn't that good enough?" she said indifferently. "Besides, you told me that you and her are in the past. Why should I hold onto it?"
These words only fueled his irritation. "Should I praise you for being understanding, Song Xingyao?"
He addressed her by her full name with a hint of sarcasm, which annoyed Song Xingyao: "What's wrong with you? I asked you to go because I don't want you to be talked about or become the subject of gossip. I don't understand what you want."
As soon as he finished speaking, he raised his voice a little, widened the distance between them, and looked down at the woman in front of him who seemed a bit angry.
"I don't want you to pretend to be understanding. You're clearly unhappy, so why don't you say so? You clearly don't want to go, and you don't want me to go either, so why don't you say so? You have a temper, so why don't you express it? What are you worried about?"
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