Late at night, Song Qingyou lay on a rattan chair, looking at the moonlight outside the window. These days, her sleep has been getting worse and worse, and she spends most of her nights on this recliner.
She finally drifted off to sleep around midnight.
When she woke up, she found herself back in bed. Song Qingyou's slender white fingertips brushed against the soft sheets. She looked at the empty rattan chair in front of the French window and stared blankly for a moment. Was she so sick that even her memory was failing?
The sound of Zhouzhou scratching at the door pulled her back to reality. Song Qingyou got out of bed in her pajamas, the silk fabric making her skin look even smoother and whiter.
As soon as the door opened, Zhouzhou came right up to her.
She bent down, picked up Zhouzhou, and walked out. Her eyes lit up when she saw Xu's food box on the table.
Song Qingyou is actually quite particular about food. She is not picky but eats very little. She will only eat more when she encounters something she likes.
She served Zhouzhou first before sitting down to eat. Just as she was finishing, Song Chang pushed open the door and came in carrying two large bags of ingredients.
After eating her fill, Song Qingyou looked like a cat with a satisfied expression: "Uncle Chang, you're getting old, so don't go to Xu Ji's to queue up so early in the future."
Song Chang took the things to the kitchen and sorted them, then asked in confusion, "What are you talking about, Miss? What Xu Ji?"
Song Qingyou sensed something was wrong: "Didn't you buy this breakfast?"
Song Chang shook his head: "No."
He went to the supermarket early in the morning to buy food; he didn't have time to queue for two hours at Xu's restaurant.
If it wasn't Song Chang who bought it, then who did?
Song Qingyou was puzzled. She suddenly remembered that she had also eaten at Xu Ji's restaurant not long ago, on the day Fu Wenzhou was injured. At the time, she thought it was Song Chang who bought it, but later Gu Bai said that Fu Wenzhou had come that day.
She looked up: "Who bought Xu's food last time?"
Song Chang stammered, and finally said, "It's Young Master Fu."
The fact that she slept on the bed instead of the rattan chair last night suddenly became clear.
Song Qingyou didn't speak, and Song Chang thought she was unhappy, so he quickly explained, "Miss, I know you don't like Mr. Fu. I won't take anything he sends up without permission in the future."
Song Qingyou remained silent for a long time before murmuring, "No."
Song Chang: "Nothing?"
Song Qingyou turned around and picked up Zhouzhou, her tone very soft: "There's no one who doesn't like it."
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"Nothing you dislike?"
Fu Wenzhou asked excitedly, "Uncle Chang, are you sure that's what Youyou said?"
Song Chang held his phone and doubted himself for a few seconds. He had called Fu Wenzhou to tell him not to barge into Miss's house so often and not to bring breakfast anymore. He told Fu Wenzhou about his conversation with Song Qingyou that morning.
But why does the other party seem quite happy about this reaction?
He hesitated for a moment before saying, "That's exactly what the young lady said. She also told you not to do these things again..."
“I don’t dislike it.” Fu Wenzhou automatically ignored Song Chang’s next words, his eyes and brows filled with joy: “Not disliking it means liking it? Liking it means loving it? Loving it means you can’t live without me? I knew Youyou had me in her heart!”
Song Chang: "..."
Before he could explain, he heard a clanging sound, and then the other party hung up the phone.
Song Qingyou came downstairs dressed and saw Song Chang staring at his phone, dumbfounded. She couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong, Uncle Chang?"
Song Chang's eyes twitched; how could he dare tell Song Qingyou the truth? "No... Miss, shall we leave now?"
"Mmm." Song Qingyou bent down and rubbed Zhouzhou's head as she lay on the ground: "Don't cause trouble, be good."
Song Qingyou had experienced Zhouzhou's destructive tendencies firsthand. When Fu Wenzhou first brought it home, the kitten turned her and Fu Tingshen's master bedroom into a complete mess.
Strangely enough, Fu Tingshen, who never stayed overnight in their new house, returned that night.
Seeing that there was suddenly a cat in the bedroom, along with the torn sofa curtains and the broken antique vase on the floor, Fu Tingshen got angry and left again that night.
Aside from destroying things at home, the kitten was usually quite well-behaved. It would even raise its paws to scratch Lin Niaoniao when she came over to bully it. After Lin Niaoniao got a rabies vaccine, it behaved itself for a long time.
Who wouldn't love a loyal, protective kitten?
After patting Zhouzhou's head and scratching its chin, Song Qingyou reluctantly left.
She had inquired and learned that Madam Ruan would be attending a musical at the Yasong Grand Theatre today. The performing team was internationally renowned, and tickets were extremely difficult to obtain. Song Qingyou had gone to great lengths to get the tickets.
Madam Ruan usually arrives 10 minutes early, but Song Qingyou made a point of arriving before her.
Despite her simple attire, she couldn't diminish her innate aloofness. Under the dim theater lights, her features possessed an ethereal, unreal beauty.
As soon as Yu Rong sat down, she noticed the young girl next to her, quietly jotting something down in her notebook with a pen. In this materialistic age, there aren't many young people who can calmly listen to a musical, especially one as strikingly beautiful as her.
Yu Rong took a second look, and the more she looked, the more familiar he seemed.
The girl in the red dress next to her, with a good figure, tugged at Yu Rong's arm in dissatisfaction: "Grandma, why are you staring at people like that? They're not as pretty as your granddaughter."
Ruan Yinyin has a striking beauty. She is the only girl in the Ruan family for generations, and she has been spoiled rotten since childhood. So when she sees someone who is prettier than her, her grandmother's attention is drawn to her, and her competitive nature comes out.
Yu Rong looked away and patted her granddaughter's hand affectionately: "Keep your voice down, this is the theater."
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