Despite the Xiao Group’s PR department taking precautions, someone at the annual gala had still recognized Song Liang. Before long, everyone in Linhai’s wealthy circles knew that Xiao Ji, the Xiao family’s future heir, had attended the event alongside the Song family’s second son.
The news sparked a flurry of speculation. Everyone wanted to know why Xiao Ji had passed over the Qiaos in favor of the Songs. The gap between the two families was enormous, and the Qiao heiress and the Song family’s illegitimate son were hardly comparable prospects.
Within days, another rumor emerged: Xiao Ji, the young master most likely to inherit the Xiao Group, had made a serious mistake. Not only had he ruined the proposed alliance with the Qiaos, but he might also lose the vice president’s position that had practically been his for the taking. That was why he had settled for the Song family’s illegitimate son, who had been pursuing him for years.
The story sounded like a mixture of truth and fiction, and most people remained skeptical. Linhai’s younger generation of wealthy sons, however, had long known Song Liang’s reputation as a simp. They also knew he had been chasing Xiao Ji for seven or eight years. At the first whisper of the news, they perked up and began asking everyone they knew whether it was true.
Song Liang had no idea what things were like on Xiao Ji’s end. His own phone, meanwhile, had been ringing nonstop for days, and WeChat was awash with unread notifications. All sorts of people wanted to know what was going on between him and Xiao Ji. People who had once looked down on him were suddenly eager to get close, inviting him out for dinner and drinks.
Naturally, no one was more eager than the Song family.
Song Zhicheng called in the middle of the night to ask whether the news was true. Song Liang, still half asleep, hung up on him.
Gone was his father’s usual overbearing manner. He swallowed his anger and waited until Song Liang was awake the next morning before calling again.
Over the phone, Song Zhicheng could barely contain his excitement. He repeatedly asked whether Song Liang really was dating Xiao Ji. Once he received confirmation, he immediately adopted the manner of a loving father.
He even brought up cutting off Song Liang’s allowance, insisting that it was unfair to call him heartless. Song Liang had only himself to blame for being immature and never discussing anything with the family. Finally, he asked when Song Liang could come home for a meal—preferably with Xiao Ji.
Song Liang listened to the flowery speech while watching the progress bar for “Earn Song Zhicheng’s approval” on the system interface.
It remained firmly stuck at one percent.
He felt nothing.
Even 3085 couldn’t resist cursing the old bastard. His words and his intentions were two entirely different things.
Song Liang wasn’t surprised. Song Zhicheng had never truly accepted this son’s existence, let alone approved of him. Even that one percent was entirely on Xiao Ji’s account. There was nothing beyond it.
【Are you going back, then?】
“Of course I am.”
Although the original Song Liang had rented a place off campus, he had left plenty of his belongings at the family home. Song Liang still hadn’t received his memories. Perhaps coming into contact with those possessions would give him more information.
Besides, it was time he met his “family.”
Since he had decided on the visit at the last minute, his promise to show Xiao Ji the Emperor’s Tear would have to be postponed.
Xiao Ji was decidedly unhappy. He coldly warned Song Liang not to let his success go to his head and forget that, without the Emperor’s Tear, he was nothing.
He made no effort to soften the words. In the original story, Xiao Ji had said much the same thing, leaving the original Song Liang clutching his phone and agonizing over it for eight hundred words.
The current Song Liang, however, wasn’t remotely affected. Instead, he made an even more presumptuous demand: Xiao Ji was to pick him up from the Song family home.
Xiao Ji promptly asked whether he was dreaming.
Song Liang wasn’t offended. He merely said that, after the meal, he could take Xiao Ji to see the Emperor’s Tear.
The man on the other end fell silent for a long moment before asking where he had put it.
Song Liang answered honestly: a safe-deposit box at the bank.
Xiao Ji’s breathing immediately grew heavier. His anger was palpable even over the phone. After thoroughly berating Song Liang, he agreed anyway.
Once the call ended, Song Liang couldn’t help remarking, “This male lead is surprisingly easy to handle. A couple of threats and he gives in. He hasn’t even tried to kill me. What a kind man.”
3085 was speechless.
【Compared with you, everyone is kind.】
Song Liang couldn’t quite bring himself to argue. Putting himself in Xiao Ji’s position, if someone had stolen something important from him and used it to threaten him, he certainly wouldn’t have let them off easily.
【…What would you do?】
Song Liang smiled faintly and offered no answer.
The Song family couldn’t compare with elite dynasties like the Xiaos or the Qiaos, but it still possessed a considerable business empire. Having caught the property boom in its early years, it had accumulated substantial wealth and connections, earning a modest standing in Linhai.
Even its home followed the example of the old-money families in high society: a hillside villa with mountains and water around it, suitably grand.
What surprised Song Liang more was that the family was hosting a party.
Men and women in lavish evening wear and exquisite accessories stood together, holding stemmed glasses as they chatted and laughed with elegant ease. Yet every one of them kept glancing toward the entrance.
The moment Song Liang walked in, all eyes turned to him.
For a second, he thought the Songs had thrown this lavish reception especially to welcome him. Meeting those dozens of gazes, he greeted them cheerfully.
“Hi~”
No one responded. They were all looking behind him.
Song Liang raised an eyebrow.
“You can stop looking. He isn’t here.”
“…”
The gazes immediately withdrew, and several people turned displeased looks toward the man at the center of the gathering.
Song Liang followed their eyes.
There stood a middle-aged man in a navy suit who bore a strong resemblance to him. The soft contours of his face, in particular, gave him a kindly, unassuming air. It was easy to imagine him in his youth as a mild-mannered, scholarly young man.
When Song Liang looked over, Song Zhicheng instinctively frowned. Then he forced a benevolent smile and approached.
“Weren’t you coming together? Why are you here alone? Where’s Xiao Ji?”
“I never said I’d bring him,” Song Liang replied without hesitation.
Song Zhicheng’s smile froze.
It was true that Song Liang hadn’t agreed over the phone to bring Xiao Ji. But he hadn’t believed his son would actually dare to turn up alone.
Struggling to maintain his smile, he made a show of being accommodating.
“Is he too busy? Never mind if he is. You can come together next time.”
Song Liang found his attempt at self-deception rather entertaining. His lips curved, and he walked straight past him toward the stairs.
Song Zhicheng’s expression went completely rigid. He was about to lose his temper when a stern voice spoke up.
“Song Liang. Dad is talking to you. Didn’t you hear him?”
Song Liang turned.
The speaker was a man in a black suit, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Tall and lean, he had a stern face and neat, refined features that closely resembled Song Zhicheng’s. Their relationship was obvious at a glance.
Unsurprisingly, this was the original Song Liang’s older half brother, Song Xinglang.
In the original story, he had been the first person Song Liang encountered after escaping Xiao Yi. With a show of concern, he had taken his younger brother home. The very next day, he had drugged him and delivered him, battered and wounded, straight back to Xiao Yi.
Studying that solemn face, Song Liang became interested. He turned toward him.
“What do you want to say?”
Song Xinglang frowned slightly, his voice taking on a patiently admonishing tone.
“You haven’t been home in so long. Dad has been worried about you.”
“Then why didn’t he send money?”
“…”
Song Xinglang faltered, his frown deepening.
“I’ve been worried about you too.”
“You can send money too.”
“…”
Song Xinglang took a deep breath.
“Stop being so difficult.”
Difficult, my ass.
Having confirmed that the entire family was a pack of cheapskates, Song Liang wasted no more time and headed straight upstairs to the original owner’s room.
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