Chapter 02

The memorial hall was a solemn place.

Here, there might be sighs, wails, and heart-wrenching cries.

But rarely were there such awkward and frozen scenes.

Especially when all present were respectable people, who had specially come to attend the funeral of the Song family’s patriarch. Who would have thought they would witness such a moment—

Ruan Zhen’s arms hung loosely, his body trembling slightly as if he were struggling to control his emotions.

And in front of him, Song Chunfeng stood as stiff as a wooden statue, the marks of two slaps gradually appearing on his cheeks.

Strangely enough, they were quite symmetrical.

The next second, Ruan Zhen seemed unable to bear his grief any longer. He covered his mouth and turned to leave.

The crowd parted involuntarily, staring in shock as he walked through a sea of white chrysanthemums and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

It was as if a black butterfly had fluttered through the flowers.

Song Chunfeng finally snapped out of his daze, his lips twitching stiffly as he stared intently at Ruan Zhen’s retreating back.

Just a toy of Father’s!

How dare he slap him in front of everyone!

An elder from the family stepped in to smooth things over. “Alright, don’t take it to heart. After all, a person like that—”

He glanced around, noticing that everyone was avoiding eye contact, pretending nothing had happened, and then lowered his voice. “What’s going on with that Ruan fellow?”

“Who knows!”

Song Chunfeng angrily tugged at his tie. “We had agreed not to let him appear at such an occasion, but he insisted on coming—”

And he even came early in the morning, kneeling at the front of the memorial hall.

Wasn’t he just announcing to the world that he was the Song family’s ‘Little Madam’?

Did he even deserve it?

Song Chunfeng suppressed the coldness in his eyes and forced a smile. “Father wouldn’t want to see this. We’ll talk about it after the funeral.”

He had already done his homework.

Ruan Zhen was an orphan, picked up by a scavenger and raised in a dilapidated alley on the outskirts of the city. He grew up like a wild child, with no manners to speak of, except for his face, he had nothing.

And he had just been accepted into a graduate program this year. So what?

Song Chunfeng had personally torn up the acceptance letter.

He enjoyed the feeling of watching someone’s hopes shatter right before their eyes.

Crushing him was like crushing a tiny ant.

But Father must have eaten something strange, insisting on bringing Ruan Zhen home. It was said that during a banquet, he saw Ruan Zhen working part-time and was immediately captivated, unable to eat or sleep until he got what he wanted.

Song Chunfeng and the others had no objections.

After all, Father hadn’t remarried in years and was known for his womanizing.

The seven sons weren’t all from the same mother.

But who would have thought Father would actually get married!

This was legally binding!

They thought Ruan Zhen would try to drive up the price, act coy, but he signed the agreement right away and eagerly moved into the Song family.

On their first meeting, Song Chunfeng, to undermine him, deliberately held up the thin acceptance letter when Father wasn’t paying attention. “Step Mother, do you want this?”

He taunted, “If you want it, come to bed with me—”

At the time, Ruan Zhen was at a loss, completely flustered.

He never expected Ruan Zhen to do something like this today.

Song Chunfeng clenched his teeth. Could it be that he actually had feelings for the old man?

—

In the bathroom, soft music played, and the water flowed gently. Ruan Zhen carefully wiped his hands.

“Come to bed,”

He chuckled softly. “More like come to your grave.”

Tearing up the acceptance letter—what kind of brilliant move was that?

It wouldn’t affect his studies at all.

At most, it would just be a bit more trouble to go through the procedures again.

Song Chunfeng was too full of himself, or rather, the entire Song family was rotten to the core, so out of touch with reality that they didn’t even understand basic common sense.

Ruan Zhen looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

The book was truly mind-boggling. He couldn’t piece together all the details, only vaguely remembering the general plot.

Whether it was the author’s lack of skill or the inability to tie everything together, in the end, the seven sons had completely ruined the Song family.

The once extravagant and extravagant family, now reduced to ruins.

“What about the seven young masters?”

“They’re all gone!”

The Ruan Zhen in the mirror showed no expression, his lashes lowering to hide his eyes.

He remembered this conversation and a vague scene from the epilogue.

On a bleak winter day, a man in a black coat stepped through the snow, shaking off the white from his shoulders, standing silently before a grave for a long time.

“Eldest Brother,”

The man’s voice was slightly hoarse. “The Song family is completely finished.”

Ruan Zhen frowned slightly.

The book didn’t elaborate much, but based on his deductions, that man must be the one the young masters revered and feared, the one who never dared to breathe a word against—

Song Shuling.

[He was the youngest and most beloved child of the old lady, twenty-two years younger than his eldest brother, Song Qinwen. He was unruly from a young age, and after growing up, he stayed far away from the family, rarely returning.]

[In Song Shuling’s dictionary, there were no words like ‘following the rules.’ He was ruthless and unfeeling, always teetering on the edge of the law. He would casually light a cigarette, step on his enemy’s head in a suit, straighten his wrinkled shirt, and his elegance was just a shell, hiding strong muscles and a wolf’s ambition.]

The book seemed to hint that the Song family’s downfall was closely tied to Song Shuling.

That was excellent.

A madman.

Whatever grudge he had, he was the one who pushed the already crumbling family over the edge.

But Ruan Zhen couldn’t be sure of the epilogue’s authenticity, given the many convoluted plots in between. Just thinking about it made him want to vomit.

The only thing he was certain of was that the story was just beginning.

Ruan Zhen looked at his reflection calmly.

After all, the old man he had ‘married’ was dead, and currently, the most powerful and influential person in the Song family was Song Shuling.

He was waiting for the madman to appear.

But even as the funeral was about to end, there was still no sign of Song Shuling.

Ruan Zhen’s heart was beating fast.

The Song family had a ridiculous tradition passed down through the generations: the funeral was held in the morning, no waste, no extravagance, kept low-key, and only close relatives and close friends were invited—of course, with such a tradition, hundreds of people still came to the memorial hall, and by the afternoon, only the closest family remained.

They would stay until midnight and then, under the moonlight, perform the cremation, ending the funeral.

Ruan Zhen thought it was absurd.

In the middle of the night, a group of people would go to the cemetery in the dark to start the burial.

He muttered to himself, probably because they had done too many evil deeds and were afraid of retribution.

Fortunately, the aftereffects of the slaps were still lingering, and the remaining young masters didn’t harass Ruan Zhen too much when they arrived.

They just stared at him intently.

It made Ruan Zhen feel sick.

To be aroused at a father’s funeral—what kind of disgusting animals were they?

Of course, in this book, it wasn’t surprising.

Because every character was more disgusting than the last.

No wonder Song Shuling had left the family, probably because he couldn’t stand his eldest brother’s behavior.

Ruan Zhen hadn’t eaten much, barely kneeling on the cushion, listening to the faint chanting, his stomach beginning to cramp.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

He was really struggling to hold on.

The young masters’ lack of limits was a given, and he needed Song Shuling’s power to have any chance of survival.

He had to use every means possible to ensure he could live—

But it was getting dark, and the more distant relatives were leaving one by one.

“Take care.”

“We’ll come to pay respects to Eldest Brother during the first seven days after his death.”

“Chunfeng, Qiuguang, take good care of the… Little Madam, don’t let him be too sad.”

Ruan Zhen’s face turned pale as he listened to the conversation behind him.

“Alright,”

Song Chunfeng’s tone was solemn. “Father’s passing was sudden, and we brothers will cherish his legacy.”

The last two words were spoken with a slight bite.

Ha.

Ruan Zhen’s eyes turned cold.

Just in time to see Song Chunfeng smiling at him.

Too bad, the slap marks were almost gone.

No wonder this guy’s face was so disgusting. Ruan Zhen had seen through the melodramatic novel’s stepmother trope.

As everyone knew, stepmother literature had several key elements.

First, the story often began with a new young wife or an old man on his deathbed.

Second, there would be a group of sons eyeing the situation, the eldest being powerful and calculating, the second son handsome and charming, the youngest son just back from abroad with modern ideas…

And this author was shameless, setting up seven sons!

Did the parents not watch TV at night?

Finally, in most settings, the stepmother was also bisexual.

This was the only thing Ruan Zhen was grateful for. At least this book wasn’t published on Huayu, where there would be all sorts of strange scenarios. The author just used the stepmother as a sacrificial pawn, making the plot as melodramatic as possible.

No problem.

Ruan Zhen wasn’t afraid.

He just felt nauseous.

The chanting music had quietly stopped.

The main door was closed from the inside.

Ruan Zhen lowered his face, his right hand resting on his left wrist, his expression unreadable.

A pair of leather shoes stopped in front of him.

“Come over, let’s meet our Little Madam.”

Song Chunfeng bent down, a mocking smile on his face. “You’ve only met me, haven’t you? Let me introduce you to my brothers?”

Footsteps of varying depths came from behind.

“Too bad, Father didn’t have time to host a family banquet, otherwise, you would have—”

“Shut up.”

Ruan Zhen lifted his face. “Your father is in the crematorium behind us. Is this the time for pleasantries?”

“You don’t deserve to mention my father.”

Before Song Chunfeng could speak, a cold voice came from behind.

“Letting you stay here is already more than the Song family owes you. Don’t push your luck!”

Excellent.

Ruan Zhen’s hand pressed on the ground, slowly standing up.

It was too quiet.

Outside, the insects chirped, their sounds stretching the night into a desolate silence.

In front of him stood four tall men, their expressions varied, each with a hint of amusement.

And the only one who could control these scoundrels, Song Shuling, still hadn’t appeared.

—

The night was as dark as ink.

But this corner of the city was unusually lively.

On one side were brightly lit bars of all kinds, on the other, a dilapidated alley overgrown with weeds, and in between, a not-so-wide street where a flattened can was crushed by a car wheel, splashing an unknown liquid.

A clear boundary.

The more such places existed, the more desires they bred.

Several men in black stood by the roadside, vigilantly scanning the surroundings. Soon, a sleek black luxury car slowly pulled up on the opposite side, immediately catching their attention.

“Is that the Song guy?”

“Yep, it’s his car.”

The two men, speaking in hushed tones, stopped their actions and casually looked up, their eyes fixed on the car door about to open—

The driver and doorman bent down, and a well-dressed man stepped out, adjusting his neatly combed hair as he got out of the car.

The leader of the black-clad men rolled up his sleeve, revealing a menacing tattoo. “It’s him!”

With his eldest brother’s death, Song Shuling, as a younger brother, would naturally attend the funeral, but everyone knew they didn’t get along, so he wouldn’t show any real grief.

Sure enough, he appeared on the bar street.

This “Third Master Song” had an air of authority, his hair slicked back, his every gesture drawing attention to his luxurious cufflinks and expensive watch. A large bodyguard followed closely behind, never leaving his side.

There was no mistake.

Although Song Shuling was very low-key and rarely appeared in public, making it difficult for his boss to find any leverage against this competitor, this was a rare opportunity, and they weren’t about to let it slip.

The man’s aristocratic aura was unmistakably Song Shuling.

The tattooed man signaled to his companion.

The timing was perfect. There were no passersby around, and although a coffee shop was still open on the side, only a man with wire-rimmed glasses sat in a wicker chair, reading a book under the lamplight.

No problem, scaring this bookworm would make him keep quiet.

“Bang!”

The loud noise startled the sleeping birds, which flew into the night sky.

A trash can was kicked over, spilling its contents, and the tattooed man and his companions surrounded the luxury car and Song Shuling, raising their steel pipes and swinging them down.

Everything happened too quickly, but fortunately, Song Shuling’s reflexes were sharp enough to dodge the blow aimed at his face.

“Who are you!”

He roared, engaging in a fierce struggle with the black-clad men. The colored lights at the bar entrance shattered, and the ground was littered with glass shards, reflecting fragmented light.

Outnumbered, the fight didn’t last long, and Song Shuling was soon pinned to the ground with his hands behind his back.

“Not bad for the famous Third Master Song,”

The tattooed man sneered, wiping his nose. “You managed to give me a few good hits. I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The pinned man struggled fiercely, managing to land a punch that sent the black-clad man staggering back.

“Damn!”

He clutched his nose. “You’re finished!”

As he spoke, the tattooed man quickly approached, ready to step on Song Shuling’s back—

But at that moment, a soft sigh echoed through the air.

“I’m very angry.”

The voice was low and slightly hoarse, with a magnetic quality.

The tattooed man froze, turning back in confusion.

The man reading the book had taken off his glasses and quietly closed the book.

“Blood got on the book.”

“Who the hell are you?”

The tattooed man cursed. “If you know what’s good for you, get lost—”

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Everything happened too quickly.

He couldn’t react in time to how the man had appeared in front of him.

The man delivered precise, bone-crushing blows to his face, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall with a loud thud, where he rolled to the ground like a broken bag, smashing a nearby flower pot.

The air was filled with a chilling fear.

He casually stretched his wrist. “Don’t swear.”

“Damn, who are you? Don’t meddle in things that don’t concern you!”

His companions finally reacted, roaring as they charged at him.

In the dim light, the man’s handsome face remained expressionless.

It seemed this was his final warning.

In the next two minutes, he swiftly and powerfully took down all the remaining opponents, using only a chair he had picked up.

Under the yellow streetlights, the street was silent.

Only the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground and shocked questions could be heard.

“Could it be that you’re the one who—”

Before he could finish, a scream of pain echoed.

In the end, the man put the chair back in place, and his bodyguard respectfully handed him a handkerchief. He took it and casually wiped his fingers. “Let’s go.”

The bodyguard immediately nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

He didn’t care about the cleanup.

It was as if nothing had happened, and he walked forward calmly, his shirt barely wrinkled.

A low-key business car was parked by the roadside, the door already open, and the driver stood with his head bowed—

But the man suddenly stopped.

The large bodyguards following him also stopped, trained to do so without question or expression, all watching the man’s well-dressed back.

The man bent down and picked up a dog bowl that had been knocked over at some point, setting it back in place.

The dog, tied to the roadside, was trembling in fear.

Song Shuling patted its head, his tone casual. “Don’t be afraid,”

“Good dog.”