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This kiss came with the force of utter destruction.
Song Qingyu felt her scalp tingle.
She reached out, pressing against Li Huaidong’s chin, using her palm to push his kiss away.
“Li Huaidong, what are you doing?”
“Li Huaidong?” He let out a low chuckle. “Getting bold, aren’t you?”
“Didn’t you say I could call you by your name?”
“I also said you should call me ‘husband.’ Why don’t you listen to that?”
“I can’t bring myself to say it.”
“Didn’t you call me that so smoothly during the day? Say it again—let me hear it.”
During the day, she had blurted it out unconsciously in a moment of urgency. But now, no matter what, Song Qingyu couldn’t bring herself to say it. She felt too embarrassed to call this man—whom she still didn’t fully understand—”husband.”
Seeing her remain silent, Li Huaidong lowered his head and captured her lips again.
Song Qingyu winced at the pain and tried to escape, but he pulled her back.
She struggled to break free, but Li Huaidong was like an unshakable mountain, blocking her completely. No matter how hard she resisted, it was utterly futile.
She didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, but eventually, she began to feel lightheaded, her breath growing shallow.
“Mm…” Summoning the last of her strength, she bit him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The bedroom was dark, the only light seeping in from the moon outside. Their eyes locked in the dim glow, breathless, locked in a silent confrontation.
“You still want to remarry Lu Yanchuan? You want to have his child?” Li Huaidong pressed her further, his firm body trapping her, leaving her nowhere to retreat.
Song Qingyu recalled what Old Madam Lu had said earlier when pressuring Lu Yanchuan.
So that’s what this was about—Li Huaidong had misunderstood. He must have thought she had instructed Old Madam Lu to stand up for her, to speak on her behalf.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she explained.
“Everything Grandma said to Lu Yanchuan was of her own accord. She’s from an older generation, with more traditional views—you don’t need to take it to heart. Since I chose to divorce, I’ve never once considered getting back together with him, let alone having his child.”
Hearing her say this, the fire in Li Huaidong’s chest was instantly extinguished. His gaze softened considerably.
“Qingqing.” He lifted her onto the dressing table, pried her legs apart, and stepped in between, his large hands gripping her slender waist. His voice was deep and seductive.
“Then… how about giving me a child?”
Song Qingyu, entirely focused on building her career, instinctively rejected the idea the moment she heard it.
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Our marriage isn’t built on love. A marriage without love isn’t suitable for having children,” Song Qingyu said calmly.
“If the father doesn’t love the mother enough, and the mother doesn’t love the father enough, then the child born into such a family wouldn’t be happy either. We already married impulsively—we can’t be just as reckless about having a child. That wouldn’t be fair to them.”
Li Huaidong fell silent. Something flickered in his eyes—pain, perhaps.
Then, without a word, he lowered his head and buried it in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, as if drawing strength from her.
His body burned hot, and so did hers. A thin layer of sweat formed on Song Qingyu’s back, but she didn’t dare push him away. Trapped in his arms, she could only stare blankly at the shadowy outlines of the trees outside the window, like a caged animal with nowhere to escape.
A long minute passed.
Finally, Li Huaidong released her. Pressing his forehead against her damp one, he let out a soft sigh.
“Forget I said anything. Get some rest.”
With that, Li Huaidong turned and walked away.
Song Qingyu remained seated on the dressing table, watching his retreating figure—lonelier than the moonlight itself. Before she could stop herself, she called out, “Aren’t you sleeping in the room?”
Ever since she had rejected him last time, he had rarely spent the night in the bedroom.
Li Huaidong paused at her words, then turned his head to look at her. “Why? Are you finally willing to sleep with me?”
“I never said you couldn’t sleep in the bedroom,” Song Qingyu murmured.
“You know the kind of ‘sleep’ I’m talking about isn’t the kind you mean.”
Song Qingyu fell silent, avoiding his gaze.
Li Huaidong didn’t stop this time—he walked out of the room.
Even though nothing had actually happened, Song Qingyu felt as if she had just been through a fierce battle, utterly drained. When she jumped down from the dressing table, her legs were still weak.
She took a shower. Normally, she had no trouble falling asleep, but tonight, she tossed and turned restlessly. Her mind kept replaying the moment when Li Huaidong had buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but for a brief second, she thought she had sensed a hint of vulnerability in this otherwise unshakable man.
Minute by minute, the night dragged on, yet sleep refused to come.
Giving up, she got out of bed, thinking some fresh air in the courtyard might help. But the moment she opened the door, she noticed the soft glow of a light coming from downstairs.
Li Huaidong was still in the living room.
He hadn’t showered yet—his suit jacket was off, his tie loosened. The collar of his white dress shirt was slightly open, revealing the line of his throat. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, exuding a mix of restraint and quiet exhaustion.
Uncle Kang stood beside him. “Young Master, have you taken your medicine?”
Li Huaidong didn’t respond.
“Young Master, you should drink less. Should I call Dr. Bai to come over?”
“No need.”
Uncle Kang tried persuading him a couple more times but was eventually dismissed for the night.
Song Qingyu hesitated for a few seconds before finally walking toward Li Huaidong.
Thinking Uncle Kang had returned, Li Huaidong didn’t bother looking up—until a pair of fair, delicate feet entered his line of sight. Only then did he lift his gaze.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Li Huaidong asked.
“Can’t sleep,” Song Qingyu sat down across from him. “What about you? Can’t sleep either?”
“Mm.”
“I heard Uncle Kang telling you to take your medicine earlier. Are you… not feeling well?”
“It’s nothing. Just insomnia.”
Li Huaidong brushed it off lightly, and Song Qingyu didn’t press further.
Silence settled between them. Outside, the courtyard lights automatically shut off as their timer ran out, plunging the night into deeper darkness.
Remembering that she had to return to the film set tomorrow, Song Qingyu was about to say goodnight and head upstairs when Li Huaidong suddenly reached out—pulling her into his arms.
He was sitting, she was standing—his gaze landed directly at her chest.
After showering, Song Qingyu had been wearing only her nightgown. Since she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, she had thrown on a coat before coming downstairs to avoid any awkwardness. But under his intense stare, she still felt exposed, a distinct lack of security creeping over her.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asked.
Li Huaidong didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms.
Forced to bend forward, she felt his hand pressing against the back of her head. With a slight exertion of strength, he guided her downward—and just like that, he kissed her again.
But this kiss was different from the fierce, overwhelming one before. This time, he kissed her with slow, lingering tenderness, as if savoring a piece of candy that melted sweetly against his tongue.
In this kiss, Song Qingyu could sense something else—an inexplicable reliance, as if Li Huaidong was seeking solace in her.
Maybe it was the intoxicating pull of the night. Maybe it was the way their breaths tangled, their heartbeats syncing in the quiet darkness. Whatever the reason, Song Qingyu found herself leaning into him, her breaths uneven as she slowly, instinctively, began to respond to his kiss…
“Young Master!”
Uncle Kang’s voice rang out from outside the room.
Like a startled rabbit, Song Qingyu instantly sprang out of Li Huaidong’s embrace. She didn’t even have time to fix her rumpled coat before dashing up the stairs in a flustered panic.
Li Huaidong pressed his fingers against his temple, sighing as he turned to face the old butler, who had just walked back in, looking completely unaware of what he had interrupted.
“Uncle Kang, didn’t I tell you to go to bed?”
Oblivious to the situation, Uncle Kang cheerfully held up a jar of wild honey.
“My wife’s family sent over some fresh honey. I remember Dr. Bai mentioning that if you really can’t sleep, drinking a bit of honey water might help. I’ll make some for you right now.”
“I don’t need honey water,” Li Huaidong said dryly.
“Then what does Young Master need? I’ll prepare it for you.”
Li Huaidong exhaled sharply. “I need a glass of ice water.”
Uncle Kang: “…”
Ice Water??
Drinking ice water in the middle of the night??
**
Song Qingyu couldn’t sleep.
The next morning, she arrived back on set with dark circles under her eyes.
While doing her makeup, the makeup artist glanced at her tired face and jokingly asked.
“Did you go out stealing last night?”
In an instant, Song Qingyu’s mind flashed back to Li Huaidong’s gentle kiss.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine—if Uncle Kang hadn’t appeared out of nowhere last night, just how far would things have gone between her and Li Huaidong?
Maybe…
No, no, no. There was no maybe.
Song Qingyu stayed on set for the next few days, even though her scenes were scattered. Since most of the filming revolved around the male and female leads, she took the opportunity to observe and learn.
On Saturday, she received a call from her close friend, Sheng Xingnai.
“Qingqing, the world has officially gone mad!” Sheng Xingnai shouted the moment the call connected.
“What happened?” Song Qingyu asked, startled.
“My dad and my stepmother set me up on a blind date. Guess who it is?”
“Who? Andy Lau or Daniel Wu?”
“Girl, you’re something else. You actually got one character right!”
Song Qingyu was completely lost. “Who is it? Stop keeping me in suspense!”
“Lu Yanchuan!”
“What?” Song Qingyu could hardly believe her ears. “Are they insane?”
“Insane is an understatement! I’m telling you, this is one hundred percent my stepmother’s idea!”
Sheng Xingnai was the eldest daughter of Shengshi Group, a family with assets worth tens of billions. However, after completing her graduate studies and joining a law firm, she cut ties with the Sheng family because she and her stepmother, Hu Feng, were completely at odds.
Sheng Xingnai’s biological mother passed away shortly after giving birth to her. When she was three years old, her father brought home Hu Feng, who became her stepmother. The following year, Hu Feng gave birth to a daughter—Sheng Xingnai’s half-sister. From that moment on, her life was plunged into darkness.
“Hu Feng is the textbook definition of a two-faced wicked stepmother,” Sheng Xingnai scoffed.
“She acts one way in front of me and completely different in front of my dad. I’ve put up with her and my stepsister’s nonsense for over twenty years. The moment I had the financial means, I moved out. But who would’ve thought that even after leaving the Sheng family, she’d still try to mess with me? Now she wants to set me up with some twice-divorced scumbag!”
“You absolutely cannot go!” Song Qingyu warned.
“Lu Yanchuan is being suppressed by Lu Shiyuan at every turn in the Lu family. Li Xianglan probably wants to arrange this match because she’s eyeing the Sheng Group’s influence. As for your stepmother, it’s obvious she’s just trying to push you into the fire pit!”
“I thought the same thing,” Sheng Xingnai said.
“So when I got the call yesterday, I blew up on them. But after thinking about it all night, I realized something—Qingqing, Lu Yanchuan wronged you, and I’ve always wanted to teach him a lesson. This blind date might actually be a good opportunity.”
“Are you crazy?” Song Qingyu objected.
“I don’t want you getting tangled up with that scumbag because of me!”
The restaurant doors swung open, and someone stepped inside.
From behind the screen, Song Qingyu and Sheng Xingnai held their breath, ready to watch Lu Yanchuan’s embarrassing moment unfold.
However, just as planned, the moment he stepped in, all the lights in the restaurant went out. Darkness swallowed the space, and the ghost actors lurking in the corners let out eerie wails.
A cold wind effect swept through the room, and the sound of chains dragging across the floor echoed ominously.
Sheng Xingnai was just about to gloat when, instead of the expected screams, a deep and composed voice rang out from the darkness—calm, steady, and completely unfazed.
“Who did this?”
Sheng Xingnai and Song Qingyu’s smiles froze.
This voice…
It wasn’t Lu Yanchuan.
In an instant, all the lights went out.
The restaurant was plunged into darkness, and the actors playing “ghosts” seized the perfect moment to drift toward the newcomer.
“Ahhh!”
A sharp scream pierced the air.
Hiding behind the screen, Sheng Xingnai stifled a giggle and whispered to Song Qingyu, “Success.”
But Song Qingyu felt that something was off—that scream didn’t sound like Lu Yanchuan’s voice.
“Ahhh!”
“Ahhh!”
Two more screams rang out in succession, each distinct from the last.
Sheng Xingnai also sensed that something was wrong and quickly switched the lights back on.
The sudden brightness illuminated the figure standing at the entrance.
The man was tall and upright, exuding an air of refined elegance. Yet, when he turned slightly to glance over, his eyes carried an indifferent chill, laced with a sinister edge.
At his feet lay the three actors who had played the “ghosts,” all groaning in pain, clutching their arms and wailing, “Owww, owww…”
“Who is he?” Sheng Xingnai asked, unfamiliar with the man.
But Song Qingyu recognized him instantly.
“He’s Lu Shiyuan—Lu Yanchuan’s half-brother.”
“Huh? Weren’t we supposed to be meeting Lu Yanchuan for the blind date? Why did his brother show up instead?”
Song Qingyu felt a tingling sensation on her scalp. If Sheng Xingnai had no idea, then she certainly didn’t either.
“Miss Sheng.” Lu Shiyuan’s gaze lingered on Sheng Xingnai, his expression layered with meaning. “Isn’t this blind date a little too… unconventional?”
“Sorry, sorry! We weren’t trying to scare you.” Sheng Xingnai quickly stepped forward to apologize. “I thought Lu Yanchuan was coming—I was planning to prank him.”
A faint hint of amusement seemed to flicker across Lu Shiyuan’s otherwise impassive face.
“Unfortunately, he’s not coming.”
“Why not?” Sheng Xingnai asked.
“Did Xie Wan’ning, that vixen, lure him away?”
“No idea.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To go on a blind date with you.”
Sheng Xingnai froze for a few seconds, caught off guard. But she quickly regained her usual aura as the esteemed Miss Sheng.
“What’s that supposed to mean? The Sheng and Lu families arranged this blind date, and your family just decided to swap people without even informing me?”
“Apologies, but I wanted to meet Miss Sheng myself.”
The moment he said this, the atmosphere subtly shifted into something… ambiguous.
Sheng Xingnai scrutinized Lu Shiyuan. He was dressed in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and a Windsor-knotted tie—his attire was formal and deliberate, making it clear that he had taken this blind date seriously.
In contrast, she had dressed entirely in black, intending to blend into the darkness and join in on scaring Lu Yanchuan. Now, in hindsight, her outfit looked downright bizarre.
“Uh… let’s talk about this another day.”
Sheng Xingnai really didn’t want to go on a blind date dressed like this. She grabbed Song Qingyu, ready to leave, but Lu Shiyuan blocked her path with one swift motion.
“Miss Sheng, if you wait for another day, it might not be me anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tonight is a rare opportunity. Let’s talk.”
Song Qingyu could tell—Lu Shiyuan had come specifically for Sheng Xingnai. It seemed they had something important to discuss, and she was simply an unnecessary third wheel here.
“Uh… Xingnai, I’ll wait for you outside. You two talk.”
Without waiting for a response, Song Qingyu made a quick escape.
Seeing this, the actors dressed as ghosts also scurried out of the restaurant.
Sheng Xingnai turned back to Lu Shiyuan. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Sit down and let’s talk.”
Like a gentleman, Lu Shiyuan pulled out a chair for Sheng Xingnai.
She sat down, but the atmosphere around them was far from fitting for a serious conversation. The table was decorated with fake severed hands, a skull perched atop a vase, and the whole setting resembled a haunted house. It was the last place one would expect to discuss anything important—yet Lu Shiyuan remained perfectly composed.
“If you have something to say, say it quickly.”
“Miss Sheng, I’d like to ask you to marry me.”
Sheng Xingnai’s eyes widened. “Did you forget to take your meds before coming here? Are you crazy?”
She shot up from her seat, ready to leave, but Lu Shiyuan grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
The man’s palm was scorching hot, yet his gaze toward Sheng Xingnai was icy cold.
“The marriage between the Sheng and Lu families is inevitable. If you don’t marry me, you’ll have to marry Lu Yanchuan. Choosing him or choosing me—this is a question with no option to skip.”