Chapter : 02
After being sick for so many years, Zhou Qingluo always listened to the doctor. He obediently closed his eyes and rested, temporarily not thinking about who had found him, nearly dying, and kindly called 120 for help.
The wailing ambulance moved through the traffic without obstruction and arrived at the hospital in no time.
As soon as the vehicle stopped, a cold, young male voice sounded:
“He’s not dead, then I’ll leave.”
Zhou Qingluo shivered. The voice was deep and dark, like it came from a decaying, shadowy hell.
Could it be Brother Wuchang?
Then just go. No need to see me off.
The doctor asked, “Aren’t you his friend? You—”
The icy voice was impatient: “His family will be here soon.”
Zhou Qingluo understood. It wasn’t Wuchang, but his lifesaver.
He opened his eyes and weakly grabbed at an arm.
The skin was cool, the muscles firm.
The voice reminded him of that annoying colleague at work—the one who acted cold but showed off only for the boss.
His surname was Song, nicknamed Song Pijing.
But the arm didn’t feel like Song Pijing’s. It was too strong.
The man was already turning to leave. Zhou Qingluo vaguely saw a protruding Adam’s apple with a tattoo nearby. On his pale skin, it was clear enough that even with blurry vision, Zhou Qingluo could recognize it.
Zhou Qingluo thought: Song Pijing has never been this rebellious—tattooing near the neck’s main artery.
Could it be the boss’s name?
Still, even if Song Pijing was annoying, he owed gratitude for saving his life.
He weakly said,
“Thank you.”
But the man shook off his hand, coldly, with a hint of disdain.
Zhou Qingluo tried again:
“Little Song, I’ll treat you to a meal later.”
Even in his dying breath, his sincerity was unmistakable.
As Zhou Qingluo was lifted off the car, he turned his head to see a man in a white shirt walking away.
Even in his daze, Zhou Qingluo knew he wanted to treat Little Song to a meal. The man’s name was Song Ling, the second son of the Song family, leaders of the leading company Baomu Group in Qingling City.
Song Ling left the hospital, hailed a car, and gave an address.
The ride-hailing driver, probably a stock investor, had the financial news channel on the radio.
The experts on the broadcast spoke confidently:
“Baomu Group’s half-year report is full of positive news. I am optimistic about its stock performance in the second half.”
“Yes, under Mr. Song Jinyi’s leadership, Baomu Group continues to flourish, exceeding stockholders’ expectations.”
“Mr. Song Jinyi was named Outstanding Youth last year. Likely to be selected as a Young Leader this year—very good news.”
The driver muttered, “These experts are talking nonsense. Baomu Group is a blue-chip fighter; everyone knows that. Does it need analysis?”
Song Ling raised his eyelids slightly, staring at the in-car screen, and coldly said:
“Turn it off.”
The driver felt a chill on the back of his neck, instinctively reached out, and shut off the radio.
He glanced at the rearview mirror. The boy in the backseat was barely over twenty, almost the same age as his own son, scowling at his phone screen.
A misanthropic expression, the signature look of a teenager in the throes of youthful pain.
He didn’t understand how such a young man could have such a cold tone.
Had he not invested in Baomu Group’s stock?
He felt a pang of sympathy and said softly, “Young man, why the unhappy face?”
Song Ling didn’t even lift his eyelids, staring at the phone.
“Twenty is the best age, full of youth and joy—you should be happy.”
Happy?
Song Ling’s eyelid twitched. He scrolled through his own sent messages, smiling bitterly at himself.
The last one, ten minutes ago:
[Shiyan, please don’t go abroad. Stay.]
Jiang Shiyan hadn’t replied.
Song Ling bit his teeth, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath.
The driver sighed: “Your generation is too sensitive. When we were twenty, our hearts were full of dreams and hope.”
Song Ling suddenly opened his eyes and handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill.
The driver protested, “We haven’t reached the destination yet.”
“I told you to shut up.”
The light turned red. The driver pulled the handbrake, turning to scold this impudent, disrespectful kid.
So young, already using money to intimidate?
He opened his mouth, but the words froze in his throat.
The boy’s gaze was ruthless, like a villain in a movie about to strike. In the next moment, he could kill silently.
A tattoo near the neck artery, with patterns and letters, added to his dangerous aura.
Forty years of life experience told him: this boy may be young, but he’s a wolf cub licking blood—a future threat to society.
The driver swallowed his words, silently waiting at the red light.
Late at night, Song Ling sat in Jiang Shiyan’s small garden downstairs, calling him.
“Shiyan, I can get your school’s course materials, research data… you don’t have to go abroad.”
Jiang Shiyan was silent for a moment, then scolded: “Song Ling! Hacking someone’s website and stealing data is illegal!”
“I won’t leave any traces. They can’t find it. Please, just don’t go.”
Song Ling felt he had humbled himself completely. If Jiang Shiyan stayed, he didn’t care about anything else.
“That school in the U.S. is world-class in kidney disease research. I finally got the scholarship.”
“But you promised you’d always be with me. You said right after college you’d be with me…”
Jiang Shiyan took a deep breath:
“Song Ling, there’s nothing between us.”
