Song Lingxi almost laughed. On one hand, he had done his best to belittle her and drag her through the mud; on the other, he had deliberately concocted such a despicable scheme that everyone in Sima Zhao’s heart knew it was a low blow.

It was almost as if he was openly declaring to the world, “There’s someone behind me,” effectively saying goodbye to any subtlety or intrigue.

She wasn’t sure whether Mother Song had made up those words on her own or if Miss Wang had coached her. But Song Lingxi guessed the last line was probably Mother Song’s own addition—Miss Wang wouldn’t be foolish enough to expose herself like that, no matter how careless she might be.

Even if he lacked the original owner’s memories, the man who’d just stepped through the door with his usual composure didn’t believe a word of Song Mu’s accusations.

Still, the scheme was a vicious one—a triple strike in one fell swoop.

First, if Song Lingxi had any hope for this couple, what awaited her was the heartbreak of being pushed into the abyss by her own parents. And Mother Song’s words were a calculated blow to shatter any such hope.

From a mother’s perspective, she denied and slandered her own daughter outright, humiliating and belittling her before everyone, painting her in the harshest, cruelest terms imaginable.

Second, it was also Mother Song’s primary aim: to make sure Zong Xuecheng understood just how “ridiculous” and “pampered” Song Lingxi had been in her youth.

After all, the accusation came from her biological parents. Parents always knew their children best and loved them most—what could be more trustworthy than their judgment?

Not to mention, Zong Xuecheng might have been ready to discard Song Lingxi on the spot, but as long as he harbored even a flicker of doubt, the plan would succeed—and the wedge would be driven deeper between them.

The only pity was that Song Lingxi felt no attachment to the Song family and didn’t care about their damage or disdain. Nor did she care what Zong Xuecheng thought.

She merely lamented that not everyone in this world deserved to be a parent. At least, the Songs were not worthy.

They probably had no idea that the original owner was a formidable university powerhouse—handpicked by Harvard with a full scholarship every year, who completed all her credits in just two years and graduated at twenty.

If such a person mingled with society in her youth, she was truly a prodigy among prodigies—and no amount of gossip or slander could derail her future. As for the so-called “impurity”…

The Qing Dynasty had been dead for centuries, yet they still made a racket about women’s chastity and humiliation. Whether it was Song Mu or whoever had instructed her, they were nothing but ignorant and poisonous.

Song Lingxi had lost all patience with her family and was about to strike a decisive blow—taking down Song Mu and then banishing them all. But before she could act, Xie Qiao and Zong Fei intervened first.

Before Mother Song could finish her tirade, Xie Qiao, face dark as thunder, strode directly to Song Yaozu, grabbed his clothes, and yanked him toward the door. “Out.”

The single word nearly hissed through clenched teeth.

Though Song Yaozu was big and bulky, he was all bluff and no muscle—while Xie Qiao was lean but fierce, dragging him harshly toward the exit.

Tang Hongmei was stunned and stepped forward, desperately trying to shield her son. “What do you think you’re doing? Leave my Yaozu alone!”

Xie Qiao sneered, “I haven’t laid a finger on your son. But you might want to keep an eye on that.”

It was no small feat for Xie Qiao to hold back from using violence after witnessing such blatant disrespect toward his mother in front of her child.

Xie Qiao was a man who demanded repayment; this matter was far from over.

Tang Hongmei felt uneasy under his words. She’d always thought Xie Qiao was a dangerous character, just like her own mother—both fond of swords and walking the edge. Maybe they’d drop a thunderbolt on her at any moment.

Moreover, this was a boy—a son. Tang Hongmei felt that sons were not to be trifled with at their core. While she could manage her difficult daughter, facing a tough guy like Xie Qiao ignited her maternal fury. There was no way she’d let her son be thrown out like that.

Zong Fei saw Xie Qiao make the first move, then pulled out his phone and summoned the Zong family bodyguards, along with the security team from the lower floors.

The Zong family’s guards were seasoned mercenaries, men with blood on their hands. The moment they arrived, the three stubborn Song family members clamoring to stay silent down instantly.

Before they could be escorted away, Song Lingxi approached Mother Song, lowered her voice to a whisper near her ear: “Go back and tell Miss Wang that the grieving family will not perish, and that if you don’t want to be at the top of this world, don’t come to me again. Your son won’t want to find a daughter-in-law in his life. Believe me, I have the patience to deal with you.”

Song Lingxi said it deliberately. The original story’s owner had been killed by Wang Ruowei, so if the ending was meant to remain unchanged, then her death would come at Wang Ruowei’s hands. If death was inevitable, the blame should lie with Wang Ruowei—and the interest collected in advance.

Even if she guarded herself against Wang Ruowei’s harm, this time Wang had dragged the Song family into the fray. She intended to return the favor—one or two blows at least.

Tang Hongmei was shocked, unable to comprehend how Song Lingxi had guessed that the person behind her was Miss Wang. She felt genuinely threatened by Song Lingxi’s words.

Her greatest hope was still that her son might find a wife and produce a big, healthy grandchild. Song Lingxi had hit the bull’s-eye this time—Tang Hongmei was utterly dumbfounded.

The Song family was watched closely and driven away from the apartment complex; their dreams of fortune reduced to ashes.

Song Yaozu, reluctantly, asked his mother, “Mom, are we just going to leave like this?”

Tang Hongmei was distracted, still trying to figure out how Song Lingxi had divined Miss Wang’s involvement. Her son’s shout had startled her back to reality.

“I don’t care,” she said, “that Song Lingxi was raised on my own sweat and tears. She should support me when I grow old.”

Father Song nodded in agreement. What Tang Hongmei said reflected exactly what he thought too.

“But what if Song Laidi doesn’t recognize us? Her son even threatened us, saying that if we tried again, he’d beat me to death.”

Song Yaozu’s words were heavy with hurt. He’d been beaten by Song Lingxi as a child and again by her son as an adult.

Clearly, he’d come with his parents, and everything was the work of the old man and the old lady. The old lady alone scolded Song Lingxi, but what came of it?

Song Lingxi and her son had no good relations with the old lady. They vented their anger on him—scolding and beating him—he was the one who’d provoked them.

Tang Hongmei’s face darkened when she heard this. She recalled Song Lingxi’s threat to have her son cut off.

“Well, then wait a bit longer. Wait for a solid foothold, turn around, fight back—and then take down that little brat.”

After speaking, Tang Hongmei patted her head. “By the way, you’d better call Miss Wang to report the situation quickly. When you get the rest of the money, it’ll be enough to buy a good house for Yaozu back home.”

Song Yaozu jumped at this. “Then what are you waiting for, Mom? Hurry up.”

After dialing, Tang Hongmei couldn’t wait to show the other party that she’d done everything she could, fueling the fire for Miss Wang’s anger, ensuring Song Lingxi wouldn’t get any respite.

Once Tang Hongmei finished complaining, she felt a surge of joy, thinking that if she couldn’t wipe out Song Lingxi, someone else could.

Then she cautiously asked when the rest of the money would arrive.

Wang Ruowei, on the other end, sneered lightly. “I told you to find a way to make Mr. Zong completely disgusted with Song Lingxi. Now he’s uncertain, unsure of what to do. You only want money? Then that money is easy to get.”

“Listen well—if Mr. Zong isn’t tired of Song Lingxi for even a single day, you won’t see a penny of the balance.”

After saying that, she ruthlessly hung up.

Mother Song’s face twisted in displeasure. She was busy eating but didn’t even touch her food.

Obviously, this wasn’t the plan at first. Miss Wang had promised that if they framed Song Lingxi in front of Mr. Zong according to her instructions, their family would prosper. But now she’d changed her mind.

Without the final payment and with little money in hand, they’d only be able to rent a dingy basement—far from their grand plan to settle in the big city.

Mother Song relayed Wang Ruowei’s words to Father Song and Song Yaozu. The family frowned sadly and trudged toward the train station with heavy steps.

Meanwhile, Wang Ruowei, after hanging up, flung her phone to the ground with such force it shattered on impact—enough to show just how furious she was.

“Song Lingxi! Target acquired!” Wang Ruowei’s beautiful face twisted with rage.

Back at the apartment, after seeing the Song family off, Secretary Qian quietly swept up the broken vase shards from the floor, eager to escape the chaos.

Zong Fei and Xie Qiao, having just worked together to expel the Song family, exchanged glances and simultaneously turned their heads away in disgust, refusing to look at each other.

The least embarrassed people in the room were, naturally, Zong Xuecheng and Song Lingxi.

Secretary Qian sighed quietly at the sight. The boss never got rattled by trouble, so most people never saw his depth. But he hadn’t expected Miss Song to hold the scene together so well—she truly deserved to be someone who could carry a situation.

How to put it? Ah, yes: you can’t expect two people to sleep in the same bed comfortably.

Zong Xuecheng casually picked up the watch he’d taken from the island and placed it in his hand, as if he’d never heard Tang Hongmei’s string of slanders against Song Lingxi. He said calmly to Song Lingxi, “Let’s go.”

Song Lingxi looked at him, curious. “Where to?”

Zong Xuecheng turned his head toward her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to the old mansion for the family banquet? Want to meet my grandfather?”

Song Lingxi: “…Wait, sir, you’re really coming?”

Obviously, Zong Xuecheng was serious.

Could Song Lingxi be cowardly now? That would be out of character.

So the mother and son from the Song family, along with Zong Xuecheng and his son, plus Secretary Qian, all headed to the Zong family’s old estate.

On the way, Secretary Qian sat in the passenger seat, watching the rearview mirror. He noticed Miss Song’s expression was relaxed, her face unburdened, while the boss seemed deep in thought.

Secretary Qian admired Miss Song again. This was her first time visiting the Zong house, and the first in over a decade she’d gone to see Mr. Zong’s partner—as a friend.

Look what Miss Song was doing—playing the game, unwilling to ask for comfort or help from the boss because she wasn’t sure what to do yet.

As soon as she got in the car, Miss Song sat by the window, away from the boss, avoiding eye contact.

The boss was the head of a powerful sect! How many women dreamt of being with him? How many failed to catch his eye?

If she weren’t a woman who liked men, she would have been clawing at the boss’s thigh from dawn. What would Miss Song do then?

The lover of Miss Song? Secretary Qian thought to herself, utterly impressed—she deserved that much.

Zong Xuecheng’s fingers drummed on his knees—a subconscious action when lost in thought.

He had indeed been influenced by the Song family, but not because of Mother Song’s words; it was the family itself.

Zong Xuecheng hated trouble. Only Song Lingxi had stayed with him over ten years, and not for any other reason than she met his standards of beauty—and didn’t act like a demon.

But things seemed to be shifting.

Zong Xuecheng was generally content with Song Lingxi and wanted to use this banquet to humble her—to make her see the distance between them clearly and stop chasing the impossible.

Besides, the Wang family’s hand had long reached out.

Removing Song Lingxi would also be a knockout blow to the Wang family. He wouldn’t marry Song Lingxi—but that didn’t mean the Wangs could meddle in his choice of companion.

The car glided smoothly to the Zong family’s old estate. Though called “old,” it wasn’t old at all. After extensive renovations and expansions, the Zong estate now sprawled across a vast area—a mansion in every sense.

The family banquet was nominally just that, but every time it was held, a small circle of business and political luminaries attended. So the guests were rich or noble.

At the mansion gate, luxury cars—some flashy, others discreet—arrived in an orderly stream.

Zong Xuecheng’s driver steered around the gate and headed straight to the underground garage.

As soon as Song Lingxi and her group stepped from the car, the garage door opened again, and a sports car rolled in.

From it stepped a sweet little girl and a handsome boy, holding hands and looking every bit the perfect couple. Behind them followed a man carrying a camera on his shoulder.