8. Song Yu — A Very Handy Emergency Tool

“Excuse me, is this the reading room?” The woman’s voice was low and magnetic—exactly the kind of smoky voice Yu Dongxi liked.

Although calling it a “smoky voice” wasn’t quite accurate—her tone was gentle. She probably had a great singing voice.

“Yes,” Song Yu replied, pushing up his sunglasses.

The atmosphere between the two was a bit odd. Yu Dongxi looked at Song Yu, then at the woman. The two didn’t seem to know each other.

No—Song Yu probably did know her.

As for the woman…

Yu Dongxi subtly averted her gaze. Could this be what Song Yu meant when he said the plot would advance on its own?

There was only one couch in the room. Song Yu sat there confidently, and Yu Dongxi didn’t dare move carelessly—after all, she was just an NPC in this part of the scene. If she said too much, she’d steal the show.

The woman slowly walked into the room. The door creaked behind her. She wore a flowing light-blue robe, and the white hem of her dress swayed with each step. Her white high heels clicked crisply against the floor. Around her left ankle was an anklet adorned with a silver butterfly and a few blue diamonds.

Her long, slightly curled hair draped over her back. She had a high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, and features that resembled a foreigner’s, but her overall aura leaned more toward classical Chinese elegance.

She slowly walked past the book-covered wall, occasionally tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear. From Yu Dongxi’s angle, she could see the woman’s back—and sometimes half of her face.

Too beautiful. Such presence. Like someone who plays rock music, yet also like someone who plays classical piano.

People are always more drawn to beautiful things.

Phototropism—it’s instinctual in all living things.

Song Yu waved his hand in front of Yu Dongxi’s eyes. She frowned at him like a hissing kitten.

“Stare any longer, and your eyes will grow onto her body.”

“Get lost. Thanks.”

The door creaked again. Song Shu walked in from outside. He looked at Yu Dongxi first, then approached Song Yu and whispered a few words. Song Yu listened with a serious expression.

After hearing him out, Song Yu pushed his sunglasses up and said, “Xizi, wait here for me for a bit.”

Yu Dongxi turned her face toward his dark sunglasses and nodded.

Once Song Yu left, the woman also picked out a few books and left.

“I also grew up overseas. Don’t you think you’re really unlike a daughter from an aristocratic family?” Song Shu asked.

“What do you mean ‘unlike’?” Yu Dongxi picked up a piece of gum and started chewing.

“Rich girls raised abroad,” Song Shu lowered his voice and leaned in slightly, “most of them, when they speak, sound like they’re running Chinese through Machine Translate. Their Mandarin always has this ‘English-to-Chinese’ flavor. But you don’t. Which means—you’re an uneducated rich girl.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been hanging around Chinese circles for so long and haven’t mingled with other communities. That’s why your Mandarin’s still so good.”

Yu Dongxi blew a bubble with her gum. When it popped, she curled one corner of her lips into a smirk, looked at Song Shu, and said, half mockingly, half playfully, “So what? What circle are you from—the elite circle? Don’t talk to me with that holier-than-thou attitude.”

“It was just a joke…” Song Shu frowned. He couldn’t understand why Yu Dongxi was so angry.

“A joke? Something only counts as a joke when both sides find it funny. All this talk about social circles and prestigious families—open your eyes and take a good look at the world. The Qing Dynasty’s long gone. You little brat better show me some respect, or I won’t mind tattling on you to your brother,” Yu Dongxi said, her smile vanishing as she stared at Song Shu expressionlessly.

Song Shu’s face turned red, then pale. Yu Dongxi kept a stern face and said nothing.

Just as the tension in the air was about to snap, Song Ke pushed open the door and broke the cold silence.

“Miss Yu, Fifth Brother, Brother Yu is calling us,” Song Ke said, her gaze shifting from Yu Dongxi to Song Shu. Were they just fighting?

Hearing that, Yu Dongxi stood up first and said, “Let’s go.”

Song Shu immediately stood up as well, glancing at Yu Dongxi with hesitation.

She wouldn’t really tell on him to Brother Yu… would she?

“You—”

“I don’t stoop to the level of childish brats like you,” Yu Dongxi cut him off and left without looking back.

Song Shu was left standing there in a daze. Song Ke had to call him several times before he snapped out of it.

The group arrived at the second-floor parlor. The architecture here had a style somewhat reminiscent of a Japanese restaurant. Each room had a nameplate with elegant names written on them:

Yingfeng Pavilion, Spring Garden, Prosperous Flowers… and many more.

They stopped in front of the room labeled “Where the Phoenix Arrives.” Song Ke knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came Song Yu’s voice from inside.

Song Ke pushed the door open. The first thing they saw was Song Yu, sitting there in a casual, almost lazy posture. Sitting across from him was the woman they had seen earlier in the reading room.

Next to the woman was a man, about the same age as Song Yu—also handsome and well-presented.

There was an empty seat beside Song Yu, and two more seats across from the door—meaning the main seat was still unoccupied.

Yu Dongxi began wondering where she should sit.

Taking the main seat would be presumptuous. But letting two younger people sit in the main seat didn’t seem appropriate either.

“Uncle, take the seat with Auntie. Otherwise, us juniors won’t dare sit down,” said Song Yu. But despite his words, there was no sign at all that he felt hesitant about sitting.

Uncle? Could this be the one Yu Dongxi was looking for?

“This is Song Daquan,” came Brother Du’s timely voice in her mind, “the one who was stolen away from our department.”

Brother Du, your word choice is spot on. ‘Stolen’ is the perfect word, Yu Dongxi praised silently.

Brother System: “…”

“Ah Yu, go ahead and sit,” Song Daquan said with a shy smile. No matter how you looked at him, he didn’t seem like the kind of scumbag Song Yu had described.

“Daquan, hurry up. Otherwise, how’s anyone else supposed to sit?” Song Yu rested one arm on the chair and used his foot to hook out the seat next to him. “Xizi, come sit.”

Yu Dongxi sat beside Song Yu, while Song Shu and Song Ke took the seats on the side where Song Daquan had been sitting earlier.

“Is this your fiancée?” Song Daquan looked at Yu Dongxi, nervously wringing his hands together as he asked uncertainly.

“She’s not!” Song Shu suddenly burst out. The outburst startled Song Ke so much she flinched. She pinched Song Shu and quickly explained, “He… uh, he’s been swamped with schoolwork lately. It’s scrambled his brain a bit—he’s not thinking straight.”

Having realized his slip-up, Song Shu didn’t dare say another word. He snuck a glance at Yu Dongxi—only to find she hadn’t even spared him the slightest glance.

A wave of disappointment swept over Song Shu.

“No, she isn’t,” Song Yu replied calmly.

Yu Dongxi nodded and added, “Mm, Ah Yu and I are just friends.”

At that name, Song Yu raised an eyebrow slightly.

The woman sitting next to Song Daquan smiled gently and said, “Earlier I heard from Old Zhong that you were in the reading room. I was planning to stop by and say hello, but the moment I opened the door, I got a bit nervous—worried I might scare you all.”

The books sitting in front of her were the very ones she had taken from the reading room earlier.

Song Yu smiled, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on them. “Did you take her home yet?”

Song Daquan looked a little awkward. Not only had he not brought his girlfriend home first, he’d brought her to meet the younger generation before even introducing her to the elders.

Nowadays, that might not be such a big deal. But back then—especially in a traditional family like theirs—Song Daquan’s actions were definitely out of line.

It was clear that the woman he brought home hadn’t grown up with traditional Chinese etiquette, so she didn’t see anything wrong with it.

Song Yu’s simple question landed like a heavy blow on Song Daquan.

Although technically a senior, Song Daquan was actually younger than Song Yu—and seemed a little afraid of him.

“Not… not yet.”

“Oh?” Song Yu pushed up his sunglasses. “Then when do you plan on taking her home to meet the elders?”

“Ah Yu, it’s not that I don’t want to,” Song Daquan wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at the woman next to him. “You know… my reputation in the family isn’t great… I’m worried the family might make things hard for Xiao Chu.”

“Why? If you’re ready to settle down and start a family, why wouldn’t the family support that? It’s perfect. Once you’re married, I can arrange a job for you overseas. If you want to stay here, I’ve got some connections too—I can help you find something. What exactly are you worried about?”

“I… Xiao Chu’s background is a bit complicated. Of course, she’s from a good family, no doubt about that. I’m just afraid the elders—especially Grandpa and the uncles—might not accept it.”

Song Yu fell silent for a moment, then sighed.

“What do you mean by complicated?”

Song Daquan swallowed hard.

“She works in the performing arts…”

Song Yu was so exasperated he almost laughed out of sheer anger.

“If you don’t just be straight with me, how the hell am I supposed to help you?”

“She’s a dance instructor,” Song Daquan said, shielding his mouth with one hand and leaning in close to whisper in Song Yu’s ear, as if terrified someone else might overhear.

Even the woman beside him, no matter how slow she might be, could tell what Song Daquan was getting at. She frowned in displeasure but ultimately said nothing.

Song Yu finally turned his gaze on Song Daquan, expressionless and calm. “Oh? And what’s so shameful about that?”

Now Song Daquan was truly panicking. He had assumed Song Yu would understand what he really meant—because the words “nightclub hostess dancer” were just too hard for him to say out loud.

No matter how much of a playboy he had been, when it came down to it, the blood of a traditional family still ran in his veins.

With a guilty glance at the woman beside him, Song Daquan said, “Ah Yu… Xiao Chu’s teaching hours and location are a little… unusual…”

“Making a living with your own skills—whether it’s in a high-rise or on a nightclub stage—there’s no such thing as high or low, noble or shameful. Even if she’s a hostess dancer, it’s still honest work.”

Song Daquan’s face flushed bright red. He didn’t expect Song Yu to bluntly call it out, even if he had figured it out.

Yu Dongxi now understood. This woman named Xiao Chu was someone Song Daquan had met at a nightclub. The reason he’d come here was probably to introduce her to the family. But given her occupation—at least in Daquan’s eyes—he thought his family would never accept her.

So he came to seek help from this man who handled things “next door.”

It was clear that this “next-door manager” wasn’t just powerful in the underworld—he had also been someone with great authority in the family when he was alive.

That’s why the manager had said, “You don’t need to worry about anything. The story will move forward on its own.”

Since Daquan couldn’t bring Xiao Chu home directly, his first priority was to find this manager and ask him to mediate.

Sooner or later, the main characters would come looking for them.

Based on what the manager had said earlier, this fantasy realm was most likely built around Xiao Chu’s memories.

Every fantasy realm was shaped by the memories of its creator. That meant Daquan and Xiao Chu never ended up together—and Xiao Chu had probably passed away early.

So… what role did this “manager next door” play in all of this?

Yu Dongxi looked at Song Yu. He was still wearing that same indifferent, emotionless expression—like none of this concerned him at all.

But Yu Dongxi had a gut feeling that this had everything to do with Song Yu.