Chapter 84: I Love You, and You Love Me—That Is Enough!

A flicker of emotion crossed Song Mi’s heart, yet her voice was all business as she spoke: “You have ten minutes.”

On the other end, Wen Yanli’s brows drew into a fine crease, fleeting and subtle, yet the tension burrowed deep, lingering long within him. He had originally intended to speak of the IOU. Before penning it last night, he’d recorded a video, explaining the circumstances that forced his hand—preparing for the reckoning Shen Yanye would surely demand afterward.

To spend fifty million to safeguard Song Mi’s well-being was a price he’d pay without hesitation. But as a professional lawyer, he would never bend to blackmail or extortion. The video was his evidence; even if things escalated to a courtroom battle, his chances of winning were substantial.

Yet involving Song Mi, and even the events of last night at Tang Lishi’s villa, was something he wished to avoid. That was why he wanted to reach an understanding with her first.

But her crisp “You have ten minutes” exposed her deliberate distance, as if he were a stranger entirely irrelevant to her. The corners of his mouth tightened, then fell. Before he could speak, her voice came again, impatient, “Mr. Wen, it’s almost been a minute!”

Something seemed lodged in his throat. With effort, he changed the topic. “Mi’er, fly with me to the capital tonight. Let’s visit my mother together.”

“I’ll arrange a helicopter.”

Perhaps he was being too hasty. But he didn’t want to wait any longer, nor give her a chance to escape.

The chill in the air didn’t start with his presumption; it was present from the moment she spoke—her intent to keep him at arm’s length clear. He’d anticipated this stalemate.

Song Mi was certainly not oblivious. She knew—he wanted to bring her home to meet his family.

She would not go.

From this moment, she would have to break his heart.

It wasn’t that she didn’t feel pain, but it was an unavoidable necessity. So, when she spoke again, her tone was tinged with an easily discerned mockery. “Mr. Wen, have you misunderstood something?”

“Meeting the family? Hm? Isn’t that a little too soon for… whatever it is we have?”

Wen Yanli unconsciously gripped his phone tighter. His right upper arm, just below the shoulder, was wounded—not deep, and with a little endurance, he could still hold the phone. The pain served as a vivid reminder of last night, when Tang Lishi stabbed him and Song Mi, in her fury, retaliated.

How could a woman who reacted so violently not care for him? How could she be merely toying with him?

“Mi’er, whatever you once believed about us, it doesn’t matter now.” In that instant, calm settled in his heart, as unwavering as his conviction. “I love you—and you love me. That’s enough.”

Song Mi’s tightly knitted brows twitched involuntarily at his sudden confession. She actually forgot to retort.

Soon, the man’s voice came again. “Some things, though begun by you, may not end at your whim.”

“Go to bed early. I’ll return as soon as I’ve seen my mother.”

Song Mi remained silent.

After a while, he said, “Goodbye,” and hung up.

By this time, the car was already on the main road outside the hospital. After sitting a moment, her other phone rang. It was Assistant Lin. “Chairwoman, we’ve just received word—Madam Lin was admitted to the hospital last night, and her condition is reportedly not optimistic.”

“Her son is now negotiating directly with Fourth Young Master Shen about the transfer of shares.”

Song Mi was unsurprised. Shen Yanfeng had been maneuvering for Madam Lin’s shares for over two months.

Lin Shuxiang was over sixty. Her third husband had run off with a young mistress years ago, and she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. None of the three children from her previous marriages were business-minded.

So, in recent years, she’d rarely intervened in Sihai Group’s management. Her selling of shares was expected.

Old Master Shen had once considered buying back her shares but, out of old friendship, never followed through.

Now, with Lin Shuxiang’s son intent on selling to Shen Yanfeng, Song Mi could not simply watch from the sidelines. “What about Elder Guo and Elder Cheng?”

“No movement so far.”

“Arrange a visit for me to see Madam Lin, and set up a meeting with her son.”

“Yes, Chairwoman.”

None of Lin Shuxiang’s ex-husbands bore the surname Lin; she’d kept her maiden name out of respect.

Song Mi vaguely recalled that Madam Lin’s eldest son was called Fang Chengyan, a law lecturer at Jinzhou University.

After hanging up, she closed her eyes, resting until the car stopped before Sihai Tower. Ye Zhao’s voice called her back. “Miss Song, we’ve arrived.”

Just as she stepped out, a voice called to her from a distance, “Song Mi.”

It was Ming Hao.

She glanced back, eyes narrowing out of habit. Ye Zhao hurried forward but was stopped by her, “Let him be.”

Ye Zhao stepped back.

Soon, Ming Hao swaggered over. “Miss, how long has it been since you last saw me?”

“Busy with your lawyer romance, so sweet you’ve forgotten all about my serious business, haven’t you?”

Song Mi scoffed lightly. “As I recall, you’re not exactly lacking for visitors.”

“What’s wrong? Now that your uncles are all public pariahs, you’re afraid you’ll never reclaim your roots, can’t protect your comatose girlfriend, and you’re panicking?”

Ming Hao’s expression soured. “Song Mi, you still don’t trust me, do you? I did meet Shen Yanye and Xia Yuan, but I did nothing to harm you!” He hastened to add, “I’ve never done anything against you.”

Song Mi’s mockery was direct. “None of your uncles can match me together, and you think you could do me harm?”

Her gaze swept him from head to toe, scorn sharp and palpable. “Do you have any idea of your own worth?”

“Tall and long-limbed—does that count for anything?”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Ming Hao stood there, bemused, feeling as if he’d thrown himself into a lion’s den for nothing.

What was wrong with this woman?

He hadn’t seen her in a month, and she’d ignored him; now, after he made the effort to come, she greeted him with such cutting words that he wished the earth would swallow him.

He had nothing.

He really was insignificant.

But he’d never thought to oppose her, never intended betrayal.

Watching Song Mi walk away, Ye Zhao quickly followed. After a few steps, he glanced back at the stunned Ming Hao—a warning in his eyes.

He then texted Security, instructing them to send Ming Hao home and ensure he was handed over to his own bodyguards.

Song Mi strode ahead, Ye Zhao trailing behind, but even as she entered the conference room, the dark mood clinging to her would not dissipate.

It was because of Wen Yanli.

Because of his words: Some things, though begun by you, may not end at your whim.

He refused to end things.

She’d expected this, but not that it would be so hard from the very start.

Hard, because she was reluctant.

Hard, because just hearing his “I love you” made her ache for him.

This was not good.

She was too emotional, too easily swayed by him.

Everyone in the meeting room noticed her altered demeanor. Usually, she was cold, decisive, unyielding—her scarlet lips and penetrating gaze exerted an almost tangible pressure.

An innate authority.

But today, there was a sharpened edge to her presence—a silent aggression that made the air thick with tension.

Under this invisible pressure, the meeting proceeded nervously; every speaker broke into a cold sweat before uttering a word.

Halfway through, Song Mi could no longer sit still. She stood abruptly. “Meeting adjourned.”

Her heels struck the plush carpet softly, yet to those present, the sound was clear as a bell—the end of an ordeal.

…

In the elevator, she glanced at her watch—not yet four.

Ye Zhao entered, pressed for the first floor, and quickly asked, “Where to?”

Song Mi didn’t know.

She had no home, no family, no friends. The city was hardly familiar or welcoming.

It had only been three months since she first set foot in Jinzhou.

Before appearing at the Shen family’s memorial, she’d already been here over half a month, though not living in her current apartment.

The elevator chimed for the first floor. As the doors opened, Song Mi said, “I’ll drive myself. If you’re worried, follow behind.”

Ye Zhao frowned but agreed.

Song Mi’s car was a dark green Range Rover. She hadn’t driven herself in some time, but after a brief adjustment, she pressed the accelerator hard, the vehicle leaping forward.

Ye Zhao followed in an SUV, tailing her closely.

Once clear of the city, Song Mi sped up Mount Yu.

She’d thoroughly studied Jinzhou’s layout. Although she hadn’t visited many spots, she knew all the main roads, traffic hubs, landmarks, scenic sites, and even the topography.

She was aware of a mountain road on Mount Yu favored by professional racers.

The restlessness in her chest needed an outlet, and today, she craved speed and adrenaline.

She’d once considered getting a pilot’s license during her years at Wharton, but she’d been too busy—never enough time, too many things to learn.

So she’d let the idea go.

But driving fast was a fair substitute; with her attention wholly focused, there was no room for other thoughts.

The speedometer reached its limit.

In the rearview mirror, Ye Zhao’s car followed steadily.

At some point, her bag, tossed onto the passenger seat, slid to the floor. Her phone rang persistently inside.

When the two cars finally stopped atop the mountain, dusk had already fallen.

Song Mi climbed out, stretching arms and legs. Her back still ached, but her mind felt considerably lighter.

She walked to the cliff’s edge, gazing into the distance—verdant mountains beneath a hazy sky, forests tumbling into a real, bottomless abyss.

She stood a while before Ye Zhao approached, carrying a bottle of water.

He twisted it open, handing it to her. “Did it help?”

Song Mi took a few gulps, then glanced at him. “Yes.”

—All her worries were left behind.

Ye Zhao nodded.

No more words were needed.

They stood side by side, quietly taking in the view. Before long, Song Mi lowered her gaze. “Let’s go.”

“Mm.”

Back in the car, she retrieved her bag from under the seat. As she did, her phone rang again.

It was Qiao Weiwei.

Song Mi answered, and Qiao’s voice burst forth, “Mi’er, you finally picked up!”

Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “Mi’er, I’m doomed!”

“I’m finished, Mi’er!”

“I’m completely done for!”

Song Mi’s brows furrowed. “Has Mrs. Qiao found out about Young Master Qiao’s injury?”

“No.” In fact, it had already been over two hours since she’d received her results, but she still couldn’t process it.

How could this happen? How could it happen so quickly?

Such odds—almost fatal!

Hearing Qiao sighing endlessly, as though disaster had struck, Song Mi’s heart sank. “Don’t tell me it’s your stomach. Cancer?”

“Late-stage?”

At this, Qiao finally snapped out of it. “Ptooey! What are you saying? Can’t you wish me well, considering you’re my lifesaver?”

Song Mi exhaled in relief. “If it’s not life or death, why the panic? You had me worried.”

“It is life or death!” Qiao blurted out, unable to hide it any longer. “I’ve hit the jackpot! I’m pregnant!”

It took Song Mi a few seconds. “You’re pregnant? Pei Qiuyang’s?”

Qiao wailed, “What kind of luck is this? First time—just once—and I’m pregnant!”

“When I saw ‘early pregnancy’ on that test report this afternoon, my brain just froze!”

“Thank goodness I was quick enough not to let my sister-in-law see the results, or my parents would kill me!”

“Mi’er, what am I supposed to do?”

Song Mi was equally shaken, thinking of herself.

She and Wen Yanli had been the same—pregnant the very first time, even though she had taken precautions.

“…Mi’er! Help me, what should I do?”

“Should I keep the baby?”

“If not, should I schedule a procedure right away?”

Song Mi snapped back and asked, “How did it happen?”

Realizing the ambiguity, she rephrased, “Even if you were both drunk and took no precautions, you didn’t take anything afterward?”

Her instincts told her Qiao hadn’t.

After all, getting pregnant despite precautions was rare.

Sure enough, Qiao groaned, “I didn’t! I thought, no way would I be that unlucky! And… isn’t it said you can’t get pregnant the first time?”

“So… so…”

Song Mi was speechless. “Weiwei, you graduated from a top university. What does how many times have to do with conception rates?”

“You believe such nonsense?”

Qiao had replayed her mistake a thousand times since seeing the results—regretting not taking precautions.

Now, hearing Song Mi, she wished she could dig a hole and disappear forever.

But regret was pointless—the problem remained.

Now there was a little one growing inside her, and it couldn’t wait.

“…Oh, Mi’er, don’t scold me. If there was a pill for regret, I’d have swallowed ten bottles by now!”

Her voice dropped. “…What should I do?”

Song Mi fell silent, her heart pricked by something nameless.

Qiao’s predicament reminded her of herself. When she learned she was pregnant, her first thought was to schedule a procedure as soon as possible.

Though things had turned out differently, even if nothing unexpected had happened, she still would have sent the child away.

She’d never really hesitated.

But Qiao was not her.

Qiao hadn’t bargained away her freedom for the rest of her life. Her future was still open. Even if nothing ever happened with Pei Qiuyang, the child was not meaningless.

On the phone, Qiao called her again, “Mi’er!”

Her distress was evident.

Collecting her thoughts, Song Mi replied evenly, “The child is in your body. Whether you keep it or not is your decision alone. Others can only offer empty advice.”

She glanced at her watch. “Where are you? Let’s talk in person.”

…

Driving down the mountain, back into the city, her car was soon caught in the evening rush, and the exhaustion was both physical and mental.

With the thrill of speed gone, her mind was free to wander as she drove, even glancing at messages.

Wen Yanli texted her about boarding his flight.

A while later, another message: reminding her to eat dinner.

Five minutes after that: Mi’er, I miss you.

He was making it clear—between them, she didn’t have the final say. She couldn’t end things just because she wanted to.

Just before takeoff, he sent one last message, saying he would turn off his phone.

His words were gentle and persistent—a quiet plea for her to stay.

In each line, Song Mi felt her own ruthlessness, her softness, her ache.

She never replied.

…

While Song Mi went to see Qiao Weiwei, Rong Xin’an was also on her way—to visit Qiao Yudong in the hospital.

She never expected that, after a brief exchange, Qiao Yudong would tell her that Song Mi and Wen Yanli were merely indulging in a fleeting adult affair—together when compatible, apart when not. “You returned to the country to pursue Mr. Wen, didn’t you?”

A flush passed over Rong Xin’an’s face, but she quickly composed herself. “You’re mistaken, Senior. Mr. Wen and I were never really involved—there’s no past to rekindle.”

Leaning back in bed, Qiao Yudong studied the ripples in her eyes, a half-smile playing on his lips. “They say it’s easy for a woman to chase a man. You’re not going to give up without even trying, are you?”

Rong Xin’an, though not close to Qiao Yudong, had heard plenty of his notorious exploits at school. She teased, “Why the sudden interest in my love life? Or is it actually Miss Song you’re curious about?”