Chapter 48: In My Eyes, Lawyer Wen Is Truly a Paragon of Virtue

Song Mi never expected that this call would come from Butler Zhou himself.

He informed her that there would be an emergency meeting at nine o’clock the next morning regarding a change in the board members’ shareholding. “Miss Song, you must attend punctually.”

Song Mi probed, “The chairman holds veto power.”

“That’s correct.” There was not the slightest hint to be gleaned from Butler Zhou’s voice, but perhaps that was a signal in itself. “You only have one chance.”

“I’ll use it.”

“Then please be sure to attend the meeting tomorrow at two in the afternoon, Miss Song.”

Song Mi arched an eyebrow. “What’s the agenda?”

“A vote on your removal from the position of chairman.”

Excellent.

So this was where they’d been waiting for her!

That meant the application to amend the shareholding of the Shen family’s eleven siblings had already been approved.

Such speed could only have been achieved through unconventional channels.

Song Mi responded swiftly, “Understood.”

She could not interfere with actions in line with the company charter, at least not openly—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t act behind the scenes.

It seemed the opening gambit she’d played earlier had been too mild.

Those three old foxes not only recovered quickly but were determined to depose her at any cost.

Everything has two sides. The scandals she provided had intimidated them for a while, but they’d become the very reason they’d united to eliminate her.

Now, they must all believe this to be the perfect opportunity to cast her out for good!

But how could she not have a backup plan?

She only had tonight and tomorrow morning left—the time was indeed tight.

Fortunately, her preparations had been thorough, and with the late Old Master Shen’s foresight, she wouldn’t be fighting an uphill battle.

—Remove her?

Had they consulted Old Master Shen’s spirit before making such a move?

With a soft snort, Song Mi reached for her laptop on the bedside table. As soon as she lifted the screen, she felt a gaze resting intently on her.

She looked up and saw him standing there, watching her.

Even separated by two or three meters, she could sense the worry hidden deep within his bottomless eyes.

He was concerned about her predicament.

But this was just the beginning; the real ordeal hadn’t even started.

For some reason, a part of her heart seemed to suddenly grow damp and heavy.

Meeting her gaze, the man quickly regained his composure.

Song Mi suddenly smiled. “No matter how pretty I am, Attorney Wen, it’s no excuse to torment a patient, right? I’m hungry!”

At that, Wen Yanli immediately concealed every trace of emotion in his eyes. “Give me half an hour.”

Watching him turn and leave, the smile froze on Song Mi’s lips.

She realized, unexpectedly, that her heart ached for him.

Ached for his concern for her.

She couldn’t help but imagine: when the day came that he saw her trapped, utterly ruined, what would he do?

It was not a good omen.

But she had neither the time nor the energy to dwell on this. She had to act—swiftly—to claw her way out of this crisis.

He’d said half an hour, and it was exactly half an hour.

Wen Yanli’s homemade dinner was simple: fried rice and soup.

Song Mi was in a hurry, barely tasting the food, but the fried rice was seasoned and cooked to perfection.

She had half a bowl of soup left when her phone buzzed again.

A showdown was coming.

But it wasn’t Shen Yanye who called—it was his second brother, Shen Yanan. “Song Mi, stop sending people all over the world looking. I’ll be straight with you—both women are with me.”

First, Shen Ruming had led the charge, and now Shen Yanan was playing cover. She truly despised Shen Yanye’s cowardly, shadowy tactics.

Then again, considering the dirty things Shen Yanye had done, she’d overestimated him.

“Second Young Master, you’re bold. Aren’t you afraid I’ll record this call and charge you with kidnapping and extortion?” As she spoke, Song Mi glanced at the man watching her and put the phone on speaker. “Kidnapping and extortion are both serious crimes these days!”

“Cut the crap. Me, extort you?” Shen Yanan cursed without warning. “If you want to see them, hand over the old man’s other will. Don’t give me any nonsense about three years!”

“You’re just some nobody, colluding with a lawyer and a worthless piece of paper, and you think you’ll take over the Shen family’s thirty years of legacy?!”

“Song, do you think we’re all dead?!”

Song Mi put the phone down on the table, waiting for Shen Yanan’s tirade to end before speaking. “I don’t have the will. But I doubt you’ll believe that.”

“I’ve recorded what you just said. I’m hanging up to call the police—”

Shen Yanan hurriedly interrupted, “Song Mi, don’t push your luck. If you dare call the police, you and that Wen guy will both end up on the trending searches!”

“Don’t forget, he’s a well-known attorney. If his clients see this kind of scandal, do you think he’ll ever work in this field again?”

“Or are you planning to support him outright…”

The words grew uglier, but the man sitting across from her remained calm, as if uninvolved.

Song Mi’s expression turned icy. She was tired of this pointless exchange. “Believe it or not, the will isn’t with me!”

“If you insist on exchanging something I don’t have, are you really here to negotiate?” Her tone was severe. “Then don’t waste my time—I’m calling the police.”

With that, Song Mi hung up.

—

On the other end, Shen Yanan stared at his phone in disbelief, then leapt from his chair. “Is this woman even human?!”

She was the one at a disadvantage, yet she dared hang up on him?!

He’d always thought Song Mi was just a rootless orphan, with her parents long dead—a heartless nobody. Would she really be cowed by someone like Xia Yuan or a club owner?

And the result?

No, he needed to call Third Brother—ask what to do. Was he really supposed to swallow his pride and call Song Mi back?

What the hell was this!

As he thought it, he acted on it, never realizing he was just a pawn, sent to test the waters.

The phone was quickly answered. He took a deep breath and began, “Hey, Third Brother—”

—

Meanwhile, at Shen Yanye’s residence.

After hanging up on his explosive second brother, Shen Yanye found a rare moment of peace.

He’d sent Shen Yanan in circles for one reason alone: to find out if the so-called will—set to be revealed three years from now—even existed.

All their connections had been used, searching every law firm and safe deposit box in Jinzhou, but no trace of the will could be found.

Either Song Mi had it herself, or it simply didn’t exist.

The old man had to know how essential a will’s credibility was. With twelve children—one dead, leaving eleven and a widowed sister-in-law—everyone had a claim.

If the will wasn’t notarized by a third party, the heir’s position would be even more precarious.

If not for the threat of the will, he wouldn’t hesitate to pay someone to get rid of Song Mi.

But now Song Mi insisted she didn’t have it. Was she telling the truth, or did she know they wouldn’t dare harm the two women?

He’d show her exactly what he was willing to do.

Such matters couldn’t be left to Shen Yanan alone; that’s why his own trusted man was leading the group watching Qiao Weiwei at the villa.

He dialed his confidant directly. “Have the maid strip that woman and take some compromising photos…”

“Got it, Boss!”

“And don’t you dare do it yourself—I know you, you might not be able to control yourself. We’re professionals. If you break the rules, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

“Heh, don’t worry, Boss. I won’t, I won’t!”

—

In her apartment, though Song Mi threatened to call the police, she didn’t actually do it.

Once things escalated, they’d only spiral out of control.

The Shen family’s endgame was to oust her from Four Seas Group, to send her back to wherever she came from.

Qiao Weiwei was her closest associate at work, dragged into this solely because of her.

Xia Yuan was different—she’d entered the Shen family’s sights because of Ming Hao.

If Song Mi’s guess was right, Shen Yanye had already uncovered Ming Hao’s identity and made it public within the family.

Otherwise, their joint move to change the share distribution couldn’t have proceeded so smoothly.

These plans had likely been hatched when Old Master Shen’s health first declined.

Shen Yanan and the others were all born to concubines, which explained their lifelong rivalry.

But Ming Hao was different; he was the son of Shen Yanye’s elder brother, born to the Old Master’s first wife. Even as an illegitimate child, he was the legitimate eldest grandson—and the only adult of the third generation.

Since none of the others could accept each other, they’d chosen the son of their prematurely deceased eldest brother—a choice both proper and easy to control.

Moreover, Shen Yanye’s elder brother had managed Four Seas Group for years, earning respect both within the company and the business world.

Otherwise, Song Mi couldn’t fathom why Butler Zhou would stand against her.

After all, in that infamous kidnapping years ago, Butler Zhou’s only son had been lost as well—burned to bones alongside Shen Yanye’s brother.

If Butler Zhou harbored special feelings for the son of Shen Yanye’s brother, it was understandable. He was likely being threatened as well.

But Song Mi didn’t care.

Everyone faces their own karma. If you let others have you by the throat, forcing you to betray your heart, you’re not entirely blameless.

She was no different.

She had never been innocent.

If, from the start, she’d refused Qiao Weiwei’s friendship, she wouldn’t now be constrained by her dilemma.

If she’d never provoked this man, nor continued to draw him in, she wouldn’t now be worried about the ruin that could end his career overnight.

Everything has a price.

She understood this well. But one misstep leads to another, and now she had no choice but to keep violating her own principles.

Night deepened outside.

Song Mi’s mind churned through the tangled web of events, her hands never ceasing their work at the keyboard.

Digging up dirt and scandals could only buy time, make people wary, but it wouldn’t solve the root problem.

If she’d had years, she’d never have chosen this route. She’d have preferred to slowly, painstakingly win hearts, inch by inch.

But time was not her ally.

She was nothing more than a tool, with an expiration date of at most three years.

Once everything was in order, Song Mi shut down her laptop, closed it, and tossed it onto the bedside table.

She had just picked up her phone to make a call when she heard movement at the door. The man entered, carrying a glass of milk and a cup of brown sugar water.

On a whim, Song Mi decided to play coy. “Attorney Wen, do you know I don’t like sweets?”

“Milk and brown sugar, both—I’ll get cavities!”

He replied succinctly, “To replenish blood. For a good night’s sleep.”

Song Mi pouted, refusing, “I’m sick of it.”

He stood there, holding both cups, gazing down at her for a while. “I’ll feed you.”

“Even if you feed me with your mouth, it’s still sweet!” Song Mi retorted seriously, “I don’t want to drink it.”

She even added, with a deadly sweetness, “Can’t I skip it?”

Wen Yanli frowned, not used to coaxing anyone, and puzzled by her sudden childishness. Though she was truly adorable.

He’d heard of people disliking medicine, but never of someone afraid of milk or sugar.

She’d lost so much blood—eight meals a day wouldn’t be enough. He remained impassive. “No.”

Song Mi pleaded, “I really don’t want to.”

He remained unmoved, pushing the glass of milk towards her. “Half.”

She kept shaking her head.

He simply handed her the brown sugar water. “Your choice. One or the other.”

Song Mi shook her head like a rattle.

After half a minute’s standoff, seeing his brow nearly knit together, Song Mi decided it was time to give in. She surrendered, “Only if you promise me one thing.”

Wen Yanli didn’t hesitate. “I promise.”

That was exactly what Song Mi had been waiting for. “A gentleman’s word is his bond.”

She took the milk and downed it in one go, making Wen Yanli almost laugh.

She truly didn’t like sweets; even milk made her grimace.

Drinking the sugar water was even worse, as if she were holding her nose.

He’d been working through case files in the living room and was already dizzy from the backlog—he’d be up half the night to catch up.

Yet her antics were unexpectedly refreshing.

Taking the empty cups, his eyes lingered on her pale, snow-like face before he spoke, “You want me to promise not to stop you from leaving tomorrow, right?”

Song Mi felt as if a feather had brushed her heart.

So he’d just been humoring her.

This man truly was… not easy to fool.

And he must know that, once she’d made up her mind, no one could stop her.

Since he was playing along, she wouldn’t spoil the mood. Her eyes curved with a smile. “Attorney Wen, you’re the most honorable man I know.”

Wen Yanli stepped forward, put the cups on the table, and then leaned down over her.

Song Mi saw his features looming closer, until his breath was warm on her face.

His thick lashes lowered, shadowing most of his eyes, but the intense gaze was fixed on her lips.

Hovering, lingering.

Predatory, poised to strike.

They’d kissed before, and more—but now, Song Mi could hear her own heartbeat, loud as a drum.

“President Song, do you want to take a closer look?” He stopped less than two centimeters from her nose, his seductive lips parting, Adam’s apple rising and falling. “I’m no gentleman.”

She’d always been the one to take the initiative in their relationship, whether teasing or testing him, always in control.

Her heart could be in turmoil, but she’d never lose her composure.

But every time she advanced, he’d retreat faster—so her lips missed, and she was left with a threat instead. “If you want me to keep my word, you’ll have to let me come with you.”

“If necessary,” he paused, straightening to look down at her, “I don’t mind… being your wheelchair.”

Song Mi: “…”

Headache.

—

The night was anything but ordinary.

Some, beset on all sides, could only nurse their bittersweet worries.

Some, innocent victims, survived a harrowing escape after believing their fate was sealed—now panting and sprinting for their lives.

“Pei… Qiu Yang, I… can’t… run anymore…” Qiao Weiwei felt she’d die of a heart attack before their pursuers caught her.

She’d never run so hard in her life.

“Just a bit more, up ahead—” Suddenly, Qiao Weiwei’s hand slipped from his and she fell heavily to the ground, face first.

“Ow…” Qiao Weiwei was dazed, her face throbbing with pain, her kneecaps numb. “It hurts…”

Pei Qiu Yang, carried by momentum, had rushed ahead. When she didn’t get up, he came back to help.

But she was still melodramatic. “Ouch, it hurts—don’t pull me…”

“Sister, can you get a grip? We’re escaping for our lives…” He broke off as headlights swept over them—the pursuers were close!

Qiao was still gasping and crying. In desperation, he clamped a hand over her mouth. “Shh…”