Chapter 28

Ruan Zhen learned a fundamental truth at a young age: human beings come in all sorts.

There are the kind, the wicked, the jealous, and those whose minds might be a bit off.

Take him and Song Shuling, for instance.

This early morning, they stood in the kitchen watching someone chop a duck.

Ruan Zhen had just finished his shower, changed into a light beige fleece hoodie and gray sweatpants. The drawstrings peeked out slightly, swaying with his movements.

Song Shuling averted his gaze and applied more force to his chopping.

Bones splintered and flew, nearly grazing Ruan Zhen’s nose.

Song Shuling: “…Sorry.”

Ruan Zhen: “It’s fine, keep going.”

Yesterday, Ruan Zhen had instructed the butler to bring his luggage from the Song family residence, so now he was wearing his own clothes—comfortable and relaxed. Without the accompaniment of suits or mourning attire, he looked fresh and even had a hint of youthful innocence around his eyes.

Song Shuling lowered his head and continued chopping.

Since this was the second duck, he had gained some experience. He knew to chop along the joints and to ensure the pieces were uniform. When he finished the duck neck, he looked up, his eyes filled with a hint of anticipation.

Ruan Zhen: “Wow.”

He thought for a moment, then gave a thumbs-up: “You’ve got real style.”

Encouraged by this, Song Shuling prepared the beer duck according to the same method.

The other servants had retreated, leaving only him and Ruan Zhen at the dining table. A drowsy bird and some quietly swimming tropical fish completed the scene. Ruan Zhen chewed slowly, his face expressionless.

“How does it taste?”

“Pretty good.”

Song Shuling nodded calmly: “Mm, then eat more.”

Although he felt the meal was a bit meager—just a tomato and egg stir-fry with sugar and the beer duck—Ruan Zhen said it was enough. The two of them couldn’t eat much anyway.

Song Shuling finally gave up.

After the meal, Ruan Zhen obediently took the dishes to the kitchen to clean up. He didn’t use the dishwasher or any help from the servants, just turned on the tap and started washing. Song Shuling stood by, taking the dishes and wiping them dry with a clean cloth.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence was eerily quiet.

Strangely, they worked in perfect harmony.

Ruan Zhen finished washing his hands and turned around. Song Shuling subtly took a step back, maintaining a social distance between them.

“I’ve rested enough and am ready to go back.”

He kept his hands behind his back, his fingertips resting on the edge of the sink: “Thank you for your care.”

Song Shuling looked at him for a few seconds.

Then he nodded calmly: “Mm, I’ll handle the rest.”

Ruan Zhen’s eyelashes fluttered.

The words were subtle, but the meaning was clear: Song Shuling wasn’t just going to “interfere” with those troublemaking young masters; he was going to take personal action to clean up the mess.

Song Shuling’s voice was steady: “Your school is about to start, right? Is there anything you need help with?”

They both knew that Song Chunfeng had torn up Ruan Zhen’s acceptance letter, forged his signature, and arranged for him to take a leave of absence.

“It’s fine,” Ruan Zhen thought for a moment, “There will be some complicated procedures, but I can handle them.”

The school wasn’t far, considering his grandfather and the yellow dog. He had chosen a university within the province, in the same city. For his postgraduate studies, he had gone to a neighboring institution with a higher ranking in his field.

The large kitchen was filled with a faint sense of awkwardness.

Song Shuling remained silent, not responding.

What else could he say?

He hadn’t been there when his Eldest Brother bullied others, and when his nephews acted out, he had planned to use Ruan Zhen’s hands to control them. His family ties were too distant, and in front of Ruan Zhen, he had always been aloof and detached. Now, trying to lower his head and understand, he realized the gap between them.

In the end, he only smiled.

“Alright, best of luck.”

“Thank you.”

Song Shuling spent a long summer.

Only when he started to handle things did he realize how deeply the Song family’s problems had festered.

It was like a pile of old, worm-eaten books, stacked and moldy, long out of the sunlight, teetering on the brink of collapse, ready to crumble or be consumed by a single fire.

Song Qinwen’s death was the spark.

And Ruan Zhen’s appearance was the wind.

It spread quickly.

He took charge of everything, starting with the most basic accounts. He investigated the numerous heinous deeds of his four adult nephews, even digging up a car accident from six years ago. For over half a month, Song Shuling was busy from morning till night, sleeping only four or five hours a day.

Finally, he had a complete picture.

The result was simple: they all deserved to go to jail.

He rejected all pleas and hints, even when Song Xiaoyu, still in the hospital, struggled to his knees, saying, “Third Uncle, I won’t do it again, I promise—”

But why didn’t he say that when he was basking in the sweet taste of power?

He had been seduced by it, step by step.

From top to bottom, they were all rotten.

During the summer, Aunt Lin Sulan, who was leading a research project with her students, flew back to meet Song Shuling in the study.

The room was dimly lit, the ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Fortunately, the ventilation system worked tirelessly, preventing the room from being overwhelmed by the smell of smoke.

But she still frowned.

The old lady had silver hair, tied in a small bun at the back of her head. She wore a simple, elegant cheongsam and a linen shawl, sitting with the dignity of an academic.

Song Shuling stood before her, listening to her lecture.

From a young age, Lin Sulan had taught him to be proper, dignified, and to do his best. She insisted he always look presentable, with his hair combed and face clean, and his back straight.

Although Song Shuling had lost his mother at a young age and was raised by her, she didn’t act like a traditional, gentle elder. In the old villa, she wrote lesson plans while the young Song Shuling read across from her. The incense burned slowly, and occasionally, she would lift her gaze and say, “You can go play with your friends.”

“No, I want to stay with you.”

Song Shuling always answered her this way.

She believed she had raised him well.

Until his rebellious phase came late, and his rebellion wasn’t about defying her or picking up bad habits. It was about taking a path she hadn’t expected.

Lin Sulan had planned everything for him.

Enter the academic world, far from the corrupt and cutthroat Song family. After graduation, stay in the research institute or become a refined professor. Wasn’t that a good life?

The first time she learned that Song Shuling was practicing combat, she was shocked.

The young man paused at the door, silently placing the bloodstained bandages back in his backpack, and said goodnight with a smile.

In Lin Sulan’s view, combat and boxing were barbaric, dangerous, and vulgar, with no real purpose. She wanted her adopted child to be clean and tidy, always well-dressed, in suits and ties, respected by others.

But Song Shuling didn’t grow up to be the person she wanted.

“…Sigh.”

She put down her teacup: “What exactly happened?”

Song Shuling stood properly: “There are too many dirty things here, and I want to clear them up one by one.”

Too many dirty things?

Lin Sulan frowned slightly. Wasn’t this something she already knew?

Back then, her sister had been blinded by love, becoming pregnant while still in school, and even giving up her studies to become a kept woman in a wealthy family. Her life after marriage could be glimpsed in the dim light, from the once vibrant and lively woman who had become lifeless.

“Is this something you need to deal with?”

The old intellectual’s voice was calm: “This isn’t your responsibility, nor is it something you can change. I don’t think it’s necessary to put yourself in such a difficult position.”

After all, they were family.

Just like when she learned her sister had dropped out of school, she had been so angry that she had grabbed her schoolbag and thrown it at the man’s head, her lips trembling as she shouted.

“My sister is only twenty! Why did you ruin her?”

A bright and promising future, the best years of her life, working on the most prestigious project with her teacher. If successful, she would have received countless offers from top laboratories—

But her pregnant sister pushed her away.

“I made my own decision, Little Sister. Thank you, but…”

The rest of her words were never spoken.

In the years that followed, Lin Sulan learned a lesson: never try to convince your family.

Blood ties are not as strong as they seem.

She followed her sister’s path, and many nights, the two girls had lain in bed, chatting excitedly about their future plans.

“I want to go to Africa to see the wildebeest migration, it’s so magnificent!”

“Okay, then I’ll solve all the world’s diseases and develop the perfect medicine!”

Their laughter still echoed in her ears. What her sister couldn’t achieve, Lin Sulan did. She spent many years, happily waving her headscarf in a speeding pickup truck, whistling at the lion prides—

Song Shuling probably never imagined that his strict and serious aunt would have such a side.

She really had spent a long time.

Then she saw a baby in a cradle.

A wrinkled little face, a loud cry, and red fists.

At that age, her sister was already quite old, almost sacrificing half her life to give birth to this child.

And a few years later, she passed away.

It rained heavily at the funeral. Lin Sulan and the child looked at each other.

A pale, small face, large eyes, the same amber color as her sister’s.

“Aunt.”

He greeted her.

Lin Sulan only tilted her umbrella, her expression cold: “Go away.”

But that look, she never forgot. Later, when she decided to take Song Shuling away, she felt she was going mad, the sound of the rain still ringing in her ears. She looked at the boy in the backseat of the car.

His hands rested on his knees, perfectly still, obedient.

“Never go back,” she couldn’t help but say, “Listen to me, take a different path, understand?”

Song Shuling nodded: “Okay.”

The tea in the cup had gone cold.

“…So, I don’t think you have any responsibility to those nephews.”

Lin Sulan lifted her face. She maintained her figure and demeanor well, like a distant, ethereal cloud, cold and detached, ready to leave at any moment: “Stay away, and don’t get involved in others’ affairs.”

Song Shuling remained silent.

He had been taught from a young age to keep his distance, to watch from afar, because he was powerless and it would only bring him trouble.

Lin Sulan picked up her teacup and put it down again: “What are you suffering from?”

If Song Shuling really intended to clean things up, even if it meant cutting ties with his family, she wouldn’t have anything to say. She knew his temperament too well, his inner struggles and conflicts, and his inexplicable confusion.

Song Shuling shook his head: “I don’t know.”

His voice was soft, as if he had shed a layer of his usual guardedness in front of his aunt.

Lin Sulan was puzzled.

They say the older you get, the more you remember your youth. Song Shuling’s expression reminded her of her sister.

When she first learned she was pregnant, the anxiety, the restlessness, the tension, and the tiny, hidden joy, even the nausea she tried to hide by covering her mouth.

It was the same as Song Shuling’s expression now.

Lin Sulan opened her mouth, then closed it again.

That’s not right, her nephew is a boy, he can’t be pregnant!

She really had a psychological scar, to think of that first.

But in that moment, Song Shuling suddenly frowned, as if uncomfortable, and covered his mouth.

Lin Sulan was taken aback, her eyes, which had spent a lifetime reading, widened in clear confusion.

“Huh?”