WSGCC 20

Chapter : 20

Song Jinyi smiled gently. “Dad, don’t scold Song Ling like that. He’s my younger brother—if you curse him, aren’t you cursing me too?”

Song Zhaoguang sighed. “Jinyi is the sensible one. With you, I feel at ease. It’s Dad who has wronged you.”

Looking at Song Jinyi, Song Zhaoguang couldn’t understand—how could someone as tall and handsome as him suffer from severe anemia and kidney disease? And on top of that, he had the rare panda blood type. Why did it just so happen that only Song Ling’s blood matched his?

Song Jinyi said softly, “Today is the anniversary of Song Ling’s mother’s death. It’s understandable that he’s in a bad mood. Dad, don’t be angry.”

The image of Song Ling’s mother’s fierce face had just faded from Song Zhaoguang’s mind, but Jinyi’s words brought it back again. He coughed awkwardly, patted his shoulder, and said, “Good child. If only everyone were as kind and tolerant as you.”

Unwilling to dwell on the topic, Song Zhaoguang went upstairs.

Song Jinyi watched his back and let out a sinister smile.

Zhou Qingluo had been dragging Song Ling by the arm the whole way out, only letting go once they reached the gate of the villa compound.

He turned back to glance at the magnificent mansion. Later, when he had time, he decided he would delete all the photos he had just taken.

It was suffocating.

No wonder Song Ling said this was the place he lived—not his home.

When he turned back, Song Ling was staring at him, making him feel a bit awkward.

“You don’t have to be this touched. It was just a normal act of justice.”

Song Ling seemed to see through him. “Do you still think this place is beautiful?”

“Looks flashy on the outside, rotten on the inside.”

Song Ling looked disgusted. “Zhou Qingluo, have some culture. That’s called ‘gold on the outside, decay within.’”

In less than half an hour, Zhou Qingluo had already been looked down on twice in terms of “culture.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, you’re cultured, highly educated, amazing.”

“Who said I’m highly educated? I didn’t even graduate high school.”

Zhou Qingluo laughed in disbelief and puffed out his chest proudly. “Oh? Then what right do you have to mock me? At least I went to college!”

Song Ling glanced at him and smirked. “What’s there to compare?”

“……” How does he say that so naturally?

Originally, Zhou Qingluo didn’t want to get involved in Song Ling’s family matters. But his family was just too awful. As a warm-hearted citizen, he couldn’t help but say something.

“I think you should move out. It’d be good for your mental and physical health.”

Song Ling let out a cold laugh but said nothing.

“If you won’t move out, then fight back. Beat him a few times—he’ll behave.”

Song Ling paused.

Zhou Qingluo asked, “You can’t win?”

“?”

“Even if you can’t, you should still fight. One day you will. Enemies are like springs—if you’re strong, they’re weak; if you’re weak, they’re strong.”

A faint smile appeared on Song Ling’s lips, but then his expression suddenly stiffened. He turned and started walking back.

Zhou Qingluo was confused. “Hey?”

Song Ling quickened his pace without answering.

He had left his laptop behind.

He always carried his laptop with him—this was the first time he had forgotten it.

Today was his mother’s death anniversary. In the past, Jiang Shiyan had always accompanied him. Now he was alone. He had originally intended to completely break with Song Zhaoguang.

Jiang Shiyan had always advised him to endure it—after all, they were still family. One day, everything would get better.

But now Jiang Shiyan was gone too. All that talk about things getting better—it was all bullshit.

He had always lived in a swamp. Jiang Shiyan had just made him dream a dream he shouldn’t have. Now that the dream was over, he would drag everyone into the abyss with him.

And the key to dragging everyone down into that abyss was in his laptop.

But when Zhou Qingluo had grabbed him earlier, something strange had happened. The hatred filling his mind seemed to stall, as if something had interrupted it. As if guided by some unseen force, he had just walked out—forgetting his laptop.

With a dark expression, he walked back to the gate. Song Jinyi was standing outside, smiling warmly, holding his laptop.

Song Ling quickened his pace toward him. Song Jinyi handed it over. “I was just about to bring this to you.”

Song Ling took it expressionlessly and turned to leave.

Still wearing his gentle smile, Song Jinyi said, “If you want to eat luosifen, just go ahead. It’s fine. I’ll handle things with Dad.”

Song Ling stopped, turned back, and let out a cold laugh. “You’ve always been so good to me, brother.”

Song Jinyi replied, “What are you saying? We’re brothers.”

Song Ling curled his lips in mockery. “Then when will you tell Dad that there are plenty of people in the world with panda blood—and that he should stop taking my blood for your transfusions?”

After saying that, Song Ling turned and walked away.

The smile on Song Jinyi’s face disappeared, and his heart sank slightly.

In Song Ling’s lifeless eyes, he had seen the frenzy of someone with nothing left to lose. He was no longer someone who endured silently.

It seemed that after destroying his hope, Jiang Shiyan—the chess piece—had already lost its usefulness.

Song Ling went to the garage and drove out his red Maserati. He set the navigation to Xiangshan Cemetery, stepped on the gas, and the car roared out of the garage like a ferocious beast.

From upstairs, faint shouting could be heard: “Driving that fast in the yard—why don’t you just crash and die!”

Song Ling ignored it completely and sped out.

As he drove out of the gate, he saw Zhou Qingluo parked under a tree, waiting in the shade with his electric bike.

This guy is really stupid, Song Ling thought. Anyone could tell he had just used him.

And yet, after being used, he didn’t even leave. Did he really intend to take him out for luosifen?

Song Ling originally intended to step on the gas and leave, but for some reason, he found himself pressing the brake instead, stopping steadily beside him.

He was going to Xiangshan Cemetery to visit his mother. He had no intention of taking Zhou Qingluo with him—but he didn’t know why he had stopped.

A strange feeling stirred in his heart.

Something like guilt.

Zhou Qingluo squinted slightly at the flashy red car. Song Ling, wearing sunglasses, held the steering wheel with one hand, looking straight ahead. His sharp profile and bold tattoo gave off an arrogant, cold aura—as if an invisible barrier separated him from the outside world.