Chapter 218 Song Qinghe
"Song Qinghe and Fu Zhengming are close friends known to everyone in Jinghai's upper class. Your adopted father is Song Qinghe... Haha, interesting." Nian Yuxue smiled wickedly and looked at Zhang Pingling. "You're only a few years older than Song Qinghe, so how did you become his adopted daughter?"
"This kind of thing is not something you should know. All you can do is shut up." Zhang Pingling scolded.
In fact, she didn't know why Song Qinghe disguised himself as an elderly man and adopted her for more than ten years.
Whenever I think of this, a sense of fear arises in my heart.
"Mr. Fu, could it be that Song Qinghe adopted your wife because of you?" Nian Yuxue did not shut up, but added fuel to the fire, causing the atmosphere that had just calmed down to become turbulent again in an instant.
Fu Zhengpeng narrowed his eyes coldly and looked at Zhang Pingling thoughtfully.
Zhang Pingling frowned and asked unhappily, "What do you mean?"
"I don't mean anything, I just think what this girl said makes some sense." Fu Zhengpeng raised his hand to stroke his chin, and suddenly thought, "Your adoptive father hid everything from you. Are you sure he is here to help me? I won't let him swallow up the Fu family."
As soon as he finished speaking, a figure appeared at the door and walked in slowly.
"I don't have the ability to swallow up the Fu family. If you don't believe me, you can leave here. I won't stop you."
Song Qinghe was wearing a black suit, with an elegant temperament, calm and reserved gestures, and spoke slowly. However, there was a sense of oppression about him that could not be ignored.
"Godfather, Apeng is so heartbroken over Shang Jie's death that he's talking nonsense. Please don't take his words seriously. We certainly trust you. You're the only one we have right now."
Song Qinghe raised the corner of his lips: "My condolences."
Zhang Pingling's eyes were filled with tears of pain. "Foster father, I cannot mourn. My son died tragically. I want Fu Shangbei to pay for his life."
"You know exactly how your son died." When Song Qinghe said this, Zhang Pingling's face, which was full of hatred, froze.
"Godfather..." Zhang Pingling suddenly didn't understand what her godfather had just said.
Doesn't Fu Shangbei have no responsibility if he wasn't the one chasing Shang Jie?
No.
Fu Shangbei deserves to die.
If he hadn't fought for the family property, how could Shang Jie have done such a thing.
Song Qinghe glanced at Zhang Pingling indifferently and said coldly, "Let Fu Zhengpeng come with me. I will take him to see Fu Zhenhuan."
Hearing this, Fu Zhengpeng's eyes lit up: "Godfather, can you take me to see my dad?"
"He is your biological father?" Song Qinghe's smiling eyes drifted over Fu Zhengpeng, making Fu Zhengpeng feel a sense of irony for no reason.
But Fu Zhengpeng quickly dismissed the idea. Why would Song Qinghe mock him? He and Song Qinghe had no grudges.
"Not only can I let you meet Fu Zhenhuan, I can also let you vent your anger on Fu Zhengming. Isn't it nice to vent your anger on Fu Zhengming in front of Fu Zhenhuan?"
Of course it feels good!
So Fu Zhengpeng followed Song Qinghe.
The two got into the same car and drove out of the Song family manor. Fu Zhengpeng slowly leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
…
the next day.
"Hello? Old Song, what's up? Do you have something urgent to discuss with me? Sure, see you at the usual place." After ending the call, Fu Zhengming happily ran to Lu Ying and said, "Old Song wanted to see me. I might have had dinner with him. You and the two kids shouldn't wait for me to come back for dinner."
"I understand. Go ahead." Lu Ying was watching a TV series and waved her hand, not wanting to pay attention to him.
Fu Zhengming changed into a dignified suit and took the driver's car to another hill of the Song family's home, where there was a private winery. Fu Zhengming and Song Qinghe often played golf here.
After arriving at the winery and getting out of the car, Fu Zhengming was about to walk into the winery when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Amin—"
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