What was she busy with?
Busy making sure his hand wouldn't hurt when he held a pen to write.
Busy making sure his hand could hold a teacup steadily, even for long periods.
Busy making sure his hand would return to its former beauty, dancing over piano keys with effortless agility.
She wanted so badly for his hand to heal.
So, so badly.
So badly that every night when she fell asleep, she dreamed of his hand being fully recovered.
Song Xinya: "I'm busy doing something that, even though it's exhausting, makes me feel very happy."
The happiness came from hope.
Hope that his hand would heal.
That was her motivation for getting up at six in the morning, not returning until nine at night, squatting outside the Sheng family's gate for fifteen hours a day—enduring the pointed fingers and gossip of others—for eight straight days, rain or shine, without giving up.
So what if people pointed at her and said cold, cynical things? They weren't as important as her husband.
At that moment, Qin Yuhe still didn't know what Song Xinya had done for him.
He looked at her face on the screen—still fair-skinned and beautiful, but exhausted, listless. Her usually spirited fox-like eyes drooped slightly, like a little fox worn out from overwork.
What was making her so tired?
What was worth exhausting herself like this?
Qin Yuhe: "Yaya, what are you busy with that's tiring but happy?"
It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him—Song Xinya just hadn't said it directly earlier because she wasn't sure she could successfully get in touch with Sheng Changpu, the burn specialist. She didn't want to give him hope only to dash it later.
She wanted to wait until everything was settled, until she'd contacted Sheng Changpu and gotten him to agree to treat Qin Yuhe's hands, before telling him.
What would telling him now accomplish? Showing off her effort? Parading her hardship?
He wouldn't feel good knowing that.
Song Xinya buried her face in the blanket, rolled around on the bed, then turned back to face the camera. "Sweetheart, I want to keep it a secret for now."
Qin Yuhe: "A surprise for me?"
Song Xinya: "If it works out, it'll be a surprise."
Qin Yuhe: "And if it doesn't?"
Song Xinya's droopy expression immediately flipped into one full of fighting spirit, like a stubborn little calf, head held high and full of vigor.
"I will definitely succeed!"
Right now, she didn't want to think about failure. She just wanted to charge ahead with all her might!
Overthinking is eating crap, anxiety is eating future crap early, depression is chewing on old crap repeatedly—she recited this to herself every day: I don't eat crap!
Song Xinya nodded firmly.
That's right—no eating crap!
Qin Yuhe watched her tightly pressed lips, her raised fist, her stubborn, unyielding expression, and smiled.
This was the first time he'd seen her so serious about something.
That something must be incredibly important to her.
He looked at her face on the screen and said, "Wishing Yaya all her wishes come true."
Song Xinya smiled sweetly at the camera. "They will. This one I'll definitely make come true."
Knowing she was tired, after a brief exchange, Qin Yuhe said, "Rest early. Sleep well."
Song Xinya waved at him. "Bye, sweetheart."
Qin Yuhe curled the corner of his mouth and exited the surveillance app.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
It was 10:30 at night. Zhao Yinian's phone on the nightstand started ringing.
She'd already been asleep, and being woken up by the phone put her in a bad mood—until she saw the caller ID read "Qin Yuhe," and the corners of her mouth immediately perked up.
She sat straight up in bed, smoothed the hair by her temple, and then realized—President Qin couldn't see her.
Zhao Yinian cleared her throat, composed her voice into something gentle and soft, and cooed, "President Qin, it's so late. What do you need?"
Qin Yuhe: "It's about Song Xinya."
Zhao Yinian's smile flattened into a thin line.
She was sleeping soundly, got woken up, and the first thing President Qin wanted to talk about was Song Xinya—for her, that was essentially a nightmare.
Zhao Yinian's mood instantly soured.
But since he was her boss, she didn't dare step out of line. She forced patience into her tone. "President Qin, what do you want to ask about Song Xinya?"
Qin Yuhe: "Have you been assigning her a lot of work lately?"
Zhao Yinian: "I'm innocent, President Qin! I haven't given her a lot of work. Someone like Teacher Song, at the A-level lecturer rank, doesn't even need to take regular classes. She mainly does private tutoring for high-end clients— rich families' kids. Her schedule is flexible, and she arranges it herself. Sometimes she's out all day, and I have no idea what she's doing out there."
Qin Yuhe caught the hidden barb in her words, and his voice turned cold and sharp. "Are you implying she's skipping work in the name of doing her job?"
Zhao Yinian: "President Qin, I didn't say that. Song Xinya has been going out a lot lately—maybe it's for work."
Qin Yuhe's tone grew even icier. "Zhao Yinian, I'm increasingly realizing you're unqualified to be a manager, a general manager. You keep badmouthing an employee to the group's president—don't you think that's low?"
Zhao Yinian's face stiffened.
She hadn't been like this in front of Qin Yuhe before.
In the past, she would conceal, pretend, be tactful and polished—no matter what she truly thought, she'd always say the right pleasantries, and she'd never harp on about an employee's faults in front of a group president.
But now, she'd lost her composure, her poise, her dignity.
Zhao Yinian actually knew why.
Qin Yuhe: "You're jealous of Song Xinya."
Zhao Yinian's face burned with humiliation at being seen through.
Qin Yuhe: "Honestly, I think you don't need to be jealous of Song Xinya at all..."
Zhao Yinian: "President Qin is right. I don't need to be jealous of Song Xinya. I have my own strengths and virtues. I'm definitely better than her in some areas."
Qin Yuhe: "That's not what I meant. I'm saying, you're inferior to Song Xinya in every single way, so don't be jealous of her—because no matter how jealous you get, you'll never measure up."
Zhao Yinian's heart froze into shards of ice.
Qin Yuhe: "You said Song Xinya has been going out a lot lately—which client is she visiting?"
Zhao Yinian: "Just the usual clients."
Qin Yuhe: "Names."
Zhao Yinian: "Zhao Zilong."
After hanging up, Qin Yuhe had his assistant look up Zhao Zilong's information.
Clean background, no negative records—indeed a legitimate client.
So Mrs. Qin had run into a legitimately difficult client?
On the ninth day, early in the morning, Song Xinya once again went to squat outside the Sheng family's gate.
A good man can't hold out against a persistent woman, and neither can a client hold out against persistence.
As it turned out, the tactic of relentless pestering worked not only in matters of romance—chasing someone—but also in professional matters like visiting clients.
The Sheng family's gate opened. The butler stood at the doorway and said to Song Xinya, "Miss Song, it's cold today. Would you like to come inside for a cup of hot tea?"
