Inside the room, Song Qingyou reached out and turned on the light, instantly illuminating the room as if it were daytime.
Fu Wenzhou clung to her like a large dog, but his eyes suddenly caught sight of the stain on her clothes. His brow furrowed, and he grabbed Song Qingyou's wrist: "Why are your clothes dirty? What happened?"
Fu Wenzhou knew that Song Qingyou was always very clean, and that she would immediately wipe her clothes clean with a handkerchief if they got a little dust on them.
He stared intently at her. If something hadn't happened, Song Qingyou would never have gone unnoticed that her dress was covered in so many stains.
In fact, Song Qingyou had indeed forgotten.
My mind is a mess; I feel more lost than upset.
She paused for a moment, then slowly forced a smile and said, "I guess it was from accidental contact. I'm going to take a shower and change my clothes."
Fu Wenzhou didn't let go, his gaze fixed on her.
Song Qingyou handed the cat to him: "I'll tell you when you've changed your clothes."
Fu Wenzhou looked at her silently and slowly released his grip on her hands.
After closing the bathroom door, Fu Wenzhou went downstairs, settled Zhouzhou in, and then made a phone call to the prison.
His voice was deep and cold: "Send me the video of Song Yuan visiting me in prison today."
He hung up quickly, and the other side did the same.
A short while later, Fu Wenzhou received an anonymous email on his phone.
Fu Wenzhou opened the video attached to the email, his face growing increasingly grim.
“Song Qingyou, the truth is that Song Ning, your mother abandoned you. After giving birth to you, she left you, an infant, in the delivery room and ran away! And your maternal grandfather, Song Zhi, do you think he loves you? Let me tell you, he actually hates you to the core! Song Zhi thinks that if it weren't for you, Song Ning wouldn't have died. I saw him with my own eyes choking you with his hands.”
"Like this, you were almost strangled to death on that snowy winter night! If I hadn't stopped you, do you think you would be alive today? Of course, I didn't save you out of any fatherly love, but because you're alive, I can use you to get the Song family's shares. Otherwise, if you died, I would be completely cut off from the Song family."
"Song Qingyou, your revenge all this time has been a joke, hahaha... You took back the Song family, avenged your mother and grandfather whom you thought were dead, and tried every means to kill me, but in the end, the people you love don't love you back."
"No one in this world loves you. You are destined to be an orphan from birth and never receive a single bit of love!"
"Song Qingyou, you're just a piece of trash nobody wants!"
Fu Wenzhou's dark eyes surged, concealing a deep bloodlust and ferocity. Veins bulged as he growled in a low voice, "Song Yuan!"
The large study was filled with a murderous aura as Fu Wenzhou made a phone call.
His face was as black as ink, like the cold wind of the dead of winter mixed with ice shards pelting down, sending chills down one's spine.
"I want to see the news about Song Yuan dying in a mass grave on the outskirts of the city before the end of tomorrow."
Outside the window, a fierce wind and torrential rain raged, with lightning and thunder, and the rain pattering against the glass.
Inside, however, there was a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere.
When Song Qingyou came out of the bathroom, Fu Wenzhou was sitting on the edge of the bed flipping through her medical books. Hearing the noise, he raised his eyebrows and smiled.
Song Qingyou dried her hair and went over, letting Fu Wenzhou press her down to sit on the edge of the bed, and then his large hand played with her hair.
Fu Wenzhou skillfully dried her hair, his fingertips lingering in her hair, reluctant to leave. It was Song Qingyou who reminded him, "If you keep drying my hair like this, it'll be ruined."
Fu Wenzhou turned off the hairdryer and snorted, "With my skills, how could I possibly ruin your hair?"
Song Qingyou remained noncommittal, but to be fair, Fu Wenzhou was indeed gifted at serving her.
He seemed to personally handle all the housework and cooking, and he did it even better than the household servants.
It's even better than what Song Qingyou made herself.
Everyone enjoys having fun.
Without having to lift a finger, Song Qingyou couldn't escape her lazy nature, and naturally enjoyed being taken care of by Fu Wenzhou.
Fu Wenzhou got up, put the water fan in place, and then walked to Song Qingyou, opening his arms.
His thin lips curved slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips: "Song Qingyou, come here for a hug."
Song Qingyou looked up at him, and the man's eyes seemed to be filled with an ocean of love, which was irresistible and made her unable to help but be immersed in it.
At this moment, her desire to be skin-to-skin with this man reached its peak.
Without hesitation, Song Qingyou rushed over and hugged him tightly, her eyes slightly sore, as if the emotions she had suppressed all day had finally found an outlet.
Fu Wenzhou gently patted her back, his gaze tender and undisguised, revealing deep affection in his eyes.
"Song Qingyou".
"Um?"
"I love you."
“I know,” Song Qingyou said softly.
Fu Wenzhou slapped her on the back with his large hand, his voice low and husky: "I love you, and I will always love you."
Song Qingyou blushed slightly: "Why are you suddenly bringing this up?"
"Because I wanted to tell you," Fu Wenzhou said, "No one will love you more than Fu Wenzhou, so it doesn't matter if you don't want the little bit of love from others."
Song Qingyou paused for a moment, her fingertips tightened slightly, and she slowly closed her eyes: "Mm."
It was a simple yet incredibly powerful hug that gave Song Qingyou an unprecedented sense of security.
This allowed her to finally find a place to rest her heart, which had been adrift since birth.
In her heart, riddled with wounds, Fu Wenzhou enveloped it once more with love, stitching it back together little by little.
For more than twenty years, it hid in a dark corner, afraid to see the light of day. Now, a ray of light pierced through the thick fog, illuminating that desolate and impoverished desert.
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