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Song Qingyu had no scenes to film that afternoon.
She followed Li Huaidong back to Taoyuan. The moment she stepped out of the car, a wave of dizziness washed over her, and her heart began to race.
“What’s wrong?”
Li Huaidong quickly walked around the car to support her.
“I’m a little dizzy.”
Her body was burning up, and her eyes shimmered with moisture—it was obvious she had a fever again.
Li Huaidong scooped her up in his arms and carried her straight into the living room.
“Uncle Kang, call the doctor.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
The doctor arrived quickly, and after taking her temperature, he frowned. “It’s already 39 degrees.”
Uncle Kang paced anxiously beside them.
“Didn’t her fever go down last night? How did it suddenly spike again after a morning of filming?”
Li Huaidong glanced at Song Qingyu. She immediately shot him a look, signaling him not to mention the incident in the water. Her expression was identical to that of a child who had done something wrong outside and was now trying to hide it from their parents, afraid of being scolded.
“Did she catch a chill again while she was out?” Uncle Kang pressed.
“Uncle Kang, go prepare a pot of hot water for her,” Li Huaidong spoke up, diverting the topic.
“Oh, right!”
Uncle Kang hurried off to the kitchen, completely forgetting to press further.
Song Qingyu let out a small breath of relief.
“You actually know to hide things?” Li Huaidong said irritably.
“I support you having your own career, but that doesn’t mean I support you risking your life for it.”
“The crew is changing locations this afternoon. If we didn’t film that water scene, the entire schedule would have been disrupted. I just didn’t want to be the reason everyone was delayed,” she explained.
“I understand, but next time, you’re not allowed to do this.”
His tone was firm, domineering yet tinged with warmth.
Song Qingyu felt her heart grow lighter, and in her dazed state, she nodded.
The doctor set up an IV drip for her.
“Get some sleep,” Li Huaidong said.
“Mm.”
She quickly drifted off into a deep and restful sleep. The exhaustion that had drained her the night before seemed to have been replenished. She had no idea how long she slept, but when she opened her eyes again, the needle in the back of her hand had already been removed, and outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the sky was completely dark.
The courtyard, which was usually brightly lit at night, was uncharacteristically dim—all the landscape lights had been turned off. In the living room, only a single lamp remained on.
Li Huaidong sat in a single-seater sofa across from her, head lowered as he worked on his laptop. The glow from the screen cast a soft light on his face, accentuating his sharp and well-defined features.
“What time is it now?” Song Qingyu asked.
Hearing her voice, Li Huaidong set his laptop aside and walked over. “Two in the morning.”
“I slept that long?”
“How do you feel?”
“I’m okay.”
She sat up on the sofa. Her fever had subsided, but her limbs still felt weak, and she lacked strength.
“Have you been here the whole time?” she asked.
“Mm.”
“You could’ve gone to sleep, you know.”
“Wouldn’t have slept anyway.”
Song Qingyu glanced at him. “Is your insomnia really that bad?”
“It’s nothing.”
Li Huaidong seemed unwilling to talk about it. Instead, he sat down beside her and reached out to feel her forehead. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
She hadn’t eaten much all day. When she had a fever, she had no appetite, but now that it had subsided, the emptiness in her stomach became apparent.
“There’s porridge in the kitchen.”
Li Huaidong stood up and headed toward the kitchen.
As he walked, the lights in the living room turned on one by one with his movement, casting a warm glow over his retreating figure.
The clay pot in the kitchen was still bubbling, steam rising from within. Inside was a vegetable and seafood porridge, filled with abalone, clams, and shrimp.
Li Huaidong picked out the shrimp and carefully peeled off the shells for her.
From childhood until now, aside from her father, no man had ever treated her with such patience and tenderness. Song Qingyu couldn’t help but feel her heart waver again.
“Eat.”
He placed the bowl in front of her, turning the spoon so the handle faced her.
“Thank you.”
She had little appetite, and everything tasted bland, yet she felt this was the best porridge she had ever had.
—
Because of her fever, Song Qingyu rested at home for two days.
During these two days, the biggest news in the entertainment industry was Shen Mengli being investigated for tax evasion.
She had just joined a production recently, but as soon as the news broke, the project’s investors swiftly announced her replacement, cutting all ties with her.
The endorsements she held and several of her upcoming dramas were completely scrapped.
When Song Qingyu saw the news, she couldn’t help but find it too much of a coincidence.
Just days ago, Shen Mengli had used Li Huaidong to stir up trouble in front of her, and now, she had been taken down so thoroughly. Could it be that Li Huaidong was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes?
As she sat on the sofa, lost in thought, she saw Li Huaidong coming down from the second floor.
He seemed to be attending an important event today—his black suit was meticulously tailored, and his Windsor knot was perfectly tied, making him look even more formal than usual.
“Do you have time to go out for dinner tonight?” Li Huaidong walked straight toward her after descending the stairs.
Song Qingyu’s heart skipped a beat. What was this supposed to be—a date?
“Sure, I’m just resting at home anyway,” she replied, trying to sound casual.
“Mm, I’ll have Chu Yu pick you up later.”
“Alright.”
With that, Li Huaidong left.
Uncle Kang walked in from the garden, glancing at Li Huaidong’s retreating figure before turning to Song Qingyu. “Young Mistress, do you know what day it is today?”
“What day is it, Uncle Kang?”
“It’s the Young Master’s birthday.”
So today was Li Huaidong’s birthday!
This wasn’t just a casual dinner—she needed to prepare a birthday gift!
But it was too sudden!
Song Qingyu’s mind went completely blank. She had no idea what to give him.
“Uncle Kang, what does he like?”
Uncle Kang chuckled. “Young Mistress, are you planning to prepare a birthday gift for the Young Master?”
“Yes, it’s his birthday today. Now that I know, I can’t just show up empty-handed.”
“To be honest, the Young Master lacks nothing. What matters most is your sincerity. No matter what you give, I’m sure he’ll like it.”
Uncle Kang spoke at length but didn’t reveal anything particularly useful. Still, he had a point—Li Huaidong truly had everything he could possibly need.
Song Qingyu felt a headache coming on. What on earth should she give him?
“Uncle Kang, I won’t be home for lunch today.”
“You’re going out?”
“Mm, I’ll go out and see if I can find the perfect gift.”
With that, Song Qingyu went upstairs to wash her hair, put on some makeup, and get ready to head out.
“Young Mistress, let Xiao Liu drive you.” Uncle Kang arranged a driver for Song Qingyu.
“Alright.”
On the way to the mall, Song Qingyu kept searching online for “the best gifts for wealthy people.”
The answers were all over the place—things like “give them your feelings,” “organic food,” and “a uniquely meaningful book.”
None of them seemed right, especially the first one. Give feelings? How exactly was she supposed to do that?
When they arrived at the underground parking lot of the mall, Xiao Liu quickly got out and opened the car door for her.
“Young Mistress, would you like me to accompany you or wait here?”
“Just wait here for me.”
She wasn’t on a major shopping spree, so she didn’t need anyone to carry things for her.
“Understood.”
Song Qingyu took the elevator up to the mall. Since it was a weekday, there weren’t many people around, and the luxury boutiques were especially quiet.
She wandered through several stores but still couldn’t find a gift she was satisfied with.
Finally, she stopped in front of a S.T. Dupont boutique.
Yesterday evening, she had seen Li Huaidong smoking in the courtyard when his lighter slipped from his fingers and cracked. If she remembered correctly, it was this brand.
She had no idea what he truly liked, but she did know one thing—when something breaks, it needs to be replaced. At the very least, this was a gift he could use.
Song Qingyu spent a long time browsing in the store before finally settling on a black and gold lighter.
Most of Li Huaidong’s wardrobe consisted of black, so she figured he must like the color. The gold detailing along the edges added a refined and luxurious touch, making the black feel even more sophisticated.
The price wasn’t outrageously high—just within what she could afford.
A staff member handed her a pen and a greeting card.
“Miss, would you like us to write the card for you?”
“No need, I’ll write it myself.”
“Alright, here’s a pen.”
Song Qingyu thought for a moment, then wrote a simple message on the card:
“Mr. Li, may your happiness extend beyond just your birthday.”
With the gift in hand, she headed downstairs. While waiting for the elevator, a woman in a mall uniform approached her.
“Miss, I’m sorry, but the elevator is under maintenance. You’ll need to take the stairs.”
“Alright.”
It was just the third floor—walking down wasn’t a big deal.
Carrying the gift bag, she made her way toward the stairwell.
The moment she stepped inside, before the motion-sensor lights could even flicker on, a pair of strong hands suddenly reached out from behind the door—gripping her tightly.
“Mmph—!”
Song Qingyu instinctively tried to scream for help, but a white cloth was suddenly pressed over her nose and mouth. She struggled desperately, but within moments, her consciousness faded into darkness…
**
Today was the Baida Summit of the Li Group.
Li Huaidong had been presiding over the meeting all afternoon. As the session neared its conclusion, Chu Yu suddenly knocked on the door and entered the conference room.
Chu Yu was always mindful of propriety, and he had never interrupted a meeting like this before.
Li Huaidong cast a sharp glance at him.
Chu Yu walked straight to Li Huaidong’s side, leaned down, and whispered into his ear in a voice only he could hear, “Young Madam is missing.”
Li Huaidong’s brows knitted together. He shot a glance at his assistant, Gao Yang.
“You take over the rest of the meeting.”
“Yes, President Li.”
Li Huaidong stood up and strode out of the conference room without hesitation.
Chu Yu followed closely behind.
The two headed straight downstairs to the underground parking garage.
As they walked, Li Huaidong asked, “What happened?”
“It was Xiao Liu who called just now,” Chu Yu reported.
“He said that this afternoon, he drove Young Madam to the mall to buy you a birthday gift. But after she entered the mall, she never came back down. When Xiao Liu tried calling her, her phone was turned off. Worried, he contacted mall security to search for her. The surveillance footage showed that Young Madam entered the stairwell—but never came out.”
Li Huaidong froze for a moment upon hearing that Song Qingyu had gone out to buy him a birthday gift.
Chu Yu retrieved a gift box from the car.
“President Li, this was found in the stairwell by Xiao Liu. It’s the gift Young Madam bought for you.”
Li Huaidong opened the box. A small greeting card slipped out.
“Mr. Li, wishing you happiness—not just on your birthday!”
Song Qingyu’s handwriting was elegant yet strong, just like the person herself.
Li Huaidong’s fingertips brushed over the words on the card. His gaze, initially soft, darkened with an icy ruthlessness.
“Contact Python. No matter what means it takes, I want to see her immediately.”
“Yes, President Li.”
When Song Qingyu opened her eyes, she found herself stuffed into the trunk of a van.
Her hands and feet were bound, and her mouth was sealed with duct tape.
The van jolted and rumbled along the road, destination unknown.
“Mmm… Mmm… Mmm!”
She kicked at the back of the front seat with all her strength.
The man in the driver’s seat cursed, “F*ck,” then rolled down the window and spat outside before snapping at her in a gruff, hoarse voice, “Keep still, or I’ll kill you right now.”
His voice was rough, carrying a dangerous edge that sent chills down Song Qingyu’s spine.
She was terrified. She had no idea who this man was or why he had kidnapped her.
The van kept driving for what felt like an eternity before finally coming to a stop in front of an old, abandoned warehouse.
When the trunk was thrown open, she realized that night had fallen, and a light drizzle had begun to descend from the sky.
Two men emerged from the warehouse, hauling her out of the trunk and carrying her inside.
A damp, moldy stench filled the air, making her stomach churn with nausea.
“Mmm… Mmm…”
She struggled, twisting in their grip, but it was useless.
The two men glanced at her before letting go abruptly, dropping her onto the cold, hard ground. Song Qingyu landed on her back, a sharp pain radiating through her body.
“Song Qingyu, we meet again.”
The sound of heels clicking against the concrete echoed through the warehouse. From behind a pile of tattered foam cushions, Shen Mengli emerged.
It was her!
So it was Shen Mengli who had orchestrated this!
Song Qingyu glared at her with seething anger. Shen Mengli crouched down and ripped the tape off her mouth in one swift motion.
“Shen Mengli, what the hell do you want?!” Song Qingyu demanded.
“What do you think?” Shen Mengli sneered. “I’m here to teach you a lesson! This is all your fault—you stole Li Huaidong from me! You ruined me! Now I have nothing!”
As she spoke, rage twisted her delicate features. Then, without warning, she raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap across Song Qingyu’s face.
“Tell me! How did you seduce Li Huaidong?!”
Song Qingyu’s cheek burned, but her voice remained steady. “Why should I tell you anything about us?”
“You two? Hah!” Shen Mengli let out a cold laugh. “Song Qingyu, do you really think Li Huaidong likes you?”
She crouched down and gripped Song Qingyu’s chin tightly, forcing her to look up. “You just got lucky. You happen to have the same face as his ‘white moonlight.’”
Song Qingyu froze.
The household staff had often gossiped that Shen Mengli was Li Huaidong’s “white moonlight”—the one unforgettable woman in his heart. But Li Huaidong had denied all the rumors, so she had assumed that this so-called “white moonlight” didn’t exist.
Yet now, Shen Mengli was saying that she looked like Li Huaidong’s white moonlight.
What was the truth?
Who exactly was Li Huaidong’s white moonlight?
Shen Mengli’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I used to be just as naive as you, thinking that every extra glance he gave me meant something. But in the end, it was never about me—just about the woman I happened to resemble.”
As Shen Mengli spoke, her eyes turned slightly red.
She thought back to two years ago—at a banquet in Victoria Harbour. That night, a wealthy businessman had harassed her, and it was Li Huaidong who had stepped in to rescue her.
That evening, he had seemed like a benevolent god, taking her for a drive to lift her spirits, showing her the breathtaking night views of Hong Kong.
Shen Mengli would never forget that night—the fireworks, the moonlight, and the mesmerizing silhouette of Li Huaidong.
She had fallen for him, madly and irreversibly.
And the next day, just as she had hoped, their rumored romance exploded on the trending searches.
Everyone believed she had successfully climbed the social ladder by attaching herself to the Li family. Even she had convinced herself that Li Huaidong letting her ride in his car that night was proof of his interest in her.
But she never expected that their connection would end that very night.
In the days that followed, she tried time and again to confess her feelings, only to be met with Li Huaidong’s unwavering rejection.
She had gone to great lengths to uncover the truth, even bribing the Li family’s servants, only to learn that Li Huaidong had a “white moonlight” in his heart—a woman who looked very much like her.
So that night, when he saved her, took her for a drive, and briefly gazed at her, it wasn’t because he had feelings for her. It was simply because she bore a resemblance to the woman he truly loved.
Even so, Shen Mengli couldn’t let him go.
Her love turned into an obsession. She swore that no matter what, she would have Li Huaidong.
She believed that her resemblance to his “white moonlight” was an opportunity—a chance to replace that woman in his heart.
But then, Song Qingyu appeared.
A woman who looked even more like Li Huaidong’s white moonlight than she did.
The moment she saw Li Huaidong holding Song Qingyu at the racecourse, it felt as if her entire world had collapsed.
What shattered her even more was Li Huaidong’s relentless favoritism toward Song Qingyu—again and again, he chose her.
She knew that the recent exposure of her studio’s tax evasion scandal was the consequence of her visit to the film set to confront Song Qingyu that day. Li Huaidong had only taken action against her because of Song Qingyu.
“In Li Huaidong’s study, there’s a portrait of a woman. I’ve seen it,” Shen Mengli sneered coldly. “The person in that painting—she looks fifty percent like me, but eighty percent like you.”
“The reason Li Huaidong favors you now is nothing more than your face. Tell me, if that face of yours were ruined, do you think he would still like you?”