Chapter 89: A Different Song Qingtian

Ling Hanyu stepped out of the bath, only to find Song Qingtian already fast asleep, cradling their daughter.

Thinking back to today’s shootout at the Imperial Night Club, Ling Hanyu still felt a lingering sense of fear.

On TV, a woman was being carried away by men in black—she looked strikingly familiar, and that was precisely why he had returned so soon.

These days, Ling Hanyu has been staying at another private villa called Yunhai Pavilion.

Besides sorting out the inheritance dispute over Song Qingtian’s stolen assets, there’s another question on his mind:

What does he really want?

Song Qingtian or a divorce.

Clearly, what he wants is to break free from Song Qingtian and reclaim his freedom.

But he’s not sure what use such freedom would be.

Sitting down, Ling Hanyu gazed at Song Qingtian, his hand gently tracing her face.

When did this woman’s skin become so flawless?

In the past, all he’d ever seen was Song Qingtian heavily made-up and adorned with an overpowering fragrance that was almost suffocating.

Now…

Ling Hanyu furrowed his brow. To secure a divorce, she’d truly gone to great lengths!

Song Qingtian slept soundly, utterly exhausted both physically and mentally.

She didn’t even notice when someone moved her.

Ling Hanyu smirked: “Just because you want a divorce doesn’t mean I’ll give it to you!”

After all, who was the one refusing to divorce in the first place?

Ling Hanyu rose to his feet, a faint smile playing on his lips as he left—his gloomy mood of recent days had largely dissipated.

Even Aunt Chen downstairs couldn’t quite make sense of it.

Ever since Mister came home today, she hadn’t seen him happy; though he always remained gentle when speaking to Miss, that underlying cloudiness was unmistakable to Aunt Chen.

Song Qingtian didn’t wake until late at night.

It was the pain from the wound on her arm that jolted her awake. After checking it, she couldn’t fall back asleep, so she headed downstairs to grab a bite and pass the time.

There, she found Ling Hanyu on the phone, and the conversation clearly wasn’t going well.

His expression grew increasingly somber with each passing moment.

Song Qingtian wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but since she was heading downstairs anyway, she happened to spot Ling Hanyu just as she reached the middle of the staircase.

At that point, neither going up nor going down seemed appropriate.

The kitchen, by contrast, felt much more relaxed.

Yet as soon as Song Qingtian reached the kitchen door, she heard exactly who was on the other end of the line.

Song Yinyin—her voice, even if reduced to ashes, Song Qingtian would recognize.

So she turned around and walked back.

Ling Hanyu watched as Song Qingtian approached him, her face clouded with displeasure and a hint of irritation in her eyes.

Song Qingtian could plainly tell that Ling Hanyu didn’t want her to overhear the call.

But true to her habit of believing that bad things happen behind closed doors, she insisted on listening to what Song Yinyin was saying.

And so she stepped right up to Ling Hanyu, leaning in without the slightest bit of restraint.

Ling Hanyu froze for a moment, caught off guard by the little head that had boldly pressed itself against him—and when he caught a whiff of Song Qingtian’s delicate milky scent, a wave of heat shot straight to his groin.

His free hand instinctively reached out and pulled her closer.

Song Qingtian hadn’t yet realized how precarious her position was; her entire focus was on Ling Hanyu’s phone, trying to decipher what this hybrid of a “glorious white lotus” and a “super green tea” was talking about.

As Ling Hanyu drew nearer, his body practically enveloped hers, and Song Qingtian strained to listen.

On the other end of the line, Song Yinyin’s voice trembled with tears. “Jiefu, what am I supposed to do? I really don’t have any other choice now—otherwise I wouldn’t have told my family about this. My parents are in a terrible predicament too; otherwise they’d end up bearing the brunt of the blame.”

“…” Song Qingtian couldn’t make sense of what was going on.

She glanced up at Ling Hanyu, and his hand instinctively wrapped around her, making her nearly jump back in alarm. “No touching!”

At that moment, Ling Hanyu’s expression darkened, and he raised his hand in a gesture telling her to stop talking.

Only then did Song Qingtian reluctantly step back, instinctively creating some distance between them.

It was best not to interrupt their conversation.

Though curious, Song Qingtian eventually retreated to the kitchen.

Ling Hanyu wasn’t in the mood to listen to Song Yinyin’s call, so he said, “Let’s talk about this tomorrow—it’s too late!”

With that, he hung up.

Watching Song Qingtian’s silhouette in the kitchen, Ling Hanyu walked over.

Once inside, he took a look at the sushi rolls Song Qingtian was preparing. Grabbing whatever ingredients were handy, he whipped up four different kinds of sushi, refining the knife skills and arranging the plating to rival those of a top-tier professional chef.

Especially the sushi wrapped in salmon slices.

Ling Hanyu is someone who values life; every little detail of his daily routine exudes exquisite taste.

Skills like these—knife work and plating technique—he’d only encountered twice before, and both times were at the finest restaurants.

Although Song Qingtian has no shortage of money and has always lived a life of unparalleled refinement, this was the first time Ling Hanyu had seen such a side of her.

In Ling Hanyu’s eyes, Song Qingtian’s life was not only a complete mess, but her cooking skills were downright disastrous.

She didn’t even know how to properly slice salmon.

Yet just moments ago, as she handled the salmon, she was clearly checking its freshness and ensuring it met hygiene standards!

How could Song Qingtian possibly do all this?

End of Chapter 89: A Different Song Qingtian