Host, the villain's corruption level has exploded!

Chapter 793: Metamorphosis - The Transformed Form (35)

As for his name, Song Dynasty believed that Chang Qing was not qualified to know it at present, so he did not waste his time.

As expected, upon hearing Song Zhishu's name, the boy who had previously ignored him immediately looked up at him. His eyes, which were slightly swollen for various reasons, finally showed some life and were extremely anxious. He spoke, and each syllable he uttered was excruciatingly painful, as if a bloody ghost was about to crawl out.

"Where...where is she..."

The Song Dynasty was once again surprised by his reaction.

As an adult for quite some time, he could naturally see that the only bright spot in Chang Qingyin's dark eyes was because of his daughter. It was truly interesting; for the first time, after spending some time with Song Zhishu, upon hearing her name, someone didn't want her dead.

More than that, judging from his reaction, where does he place her?

After a moment of turmoil, Song Chao didn't reveal anything on his face. His expression was indifferent as he stepped aside and said, "On the other stretcher."

Through the gray air, Chang Qing could see the shocking white in the distance.

Song Zhishu was covered in mud, one leg outstretched and the other bent, yet her posture remained upright. The thin, fleece-lined dress was covered in unevenly deep and shallow wounds, the colors of the blood varying, which, combined with her slightly bowed head, made her appear so broken.

She was being carried onto the helicopter.

His pupils contracted sharply, and with a sudden burst of strength, he stretched out his hand. His pale, dull skin looked as if he were struggling to get out of the mud, but it was unclear whether he was trying to use it to get up or to pull someone else in.

Song Zhishu couldn't see it, of course she couldn't see it. She didn't want to look up, and she didn't look up, because if she saw Chang Qing, she couldn't help but soften her heart.

“I am very grateful for your care of my daughter during this time. We are now taking her for treatment, while you and your grandfather will be sent to your city center for treatment. Don’t worry, I will pay for all the expenses. You can contact me if needed.”

He didn't blame Chang Qing for dragging Song Zhishu into this mess, or perhaps he simply didn't know what had happened.

Song Chao took out his business card from his breast pocket, but the problem was, he didn't want to get his hands dirty with such filth, so he handed it to Chang Qing's outstretched hand, which was trying to grab Song Zhishu's non-existent shadow.

Chang Qing wouldn't accept it. He knew he didn't want it and shouldn't accept it. Song Zhishu had already done so much for them. How could they have the face to ask Song Zhishu's family for help?

The best outcome is to part ways amicably and wish each other well. Blindly pursuing and clinging to something is not a respectable character trait.

But then he suddenly clenched his fist, reached out and took the Song Dynasty name card, and said in a hoarse voice, "Thank you."

Song Chao didn't stand on ceremony. He straightened his clothes, nodded indifferently, and said, "Farewell."

As for whether we'll meet again?

Song Chao didn't want to think about it any further; he was just a kid he'd met once, and he didn't care.

As someone who had worked his way up in the business world, he knew all too well how difficult it was to leave such a backward little village, let alone meet Song Chao.

Song Zhishu left.

Chang Qing hadn't expected it to happen so suddenly. This matter that had haunted his dreams and made him lose his appetite had come to pass so abruptly, like waking up from a long dream so abruptly.

He spent two weeks in the hospital feeling uneasy. The smell of the big city always made him feel anxious. He didn't want to stay there for another second, nor did he want to owe Song Zhishu anything more.

Ironically, the only connection he had with Song Zhishu was a sense of indebtedness.

He stayed by his grandfather's side, trembling with fear. He used the tattered 20 yuan note in his pocket as a bargaining chip, his only defense against the impending doom.

Twenty was a considerable sum for him, and for his family as well. However, both were eventually discharged from the hospital unharmed, a rare period for Chang Qing when he encountered no unexpected incidents.

But when they got home, he saw that the medication they needed to change countless times cost hundreds of dollars, and the Song family was giving it to them as if it were free. And indeed, for them, it was free.

Chang Qing stood there, staring at the price of the medicine for a long time, until everyone thought he was a fool, before finally following his grandfather out.

His usually upright spine seemed to have bent a little after that day.

They disappeared into another round of drizzling autumn rain.

Upon hearing about this, Fu An finally employed some of the decisive and swift methods described in the original text to deal with those people. Not long after, he returned to the capital.

The family of the man who had been beaten half to death by Song Zhishu demanded an explanation, but the examination revealed that apart from minor skin injuries, there were no other medical conditions. Moreover, the lawyer sent by the Song Dynasty had already stated—

Miss Song has a mental illness.

Having money, being sick, and having power—this matter didn't even need to alarm a dog in Song Zhishu's house.

However, it is true that Song Zhishu suffers from mental illness.

At that time, Chang Qing silently fed her grandfather the medicine, and after a long time, she finally showed a very faint smile.

This was the first smile he had since returning.

No wonder.

Thinking of her captivating, cool eyes, as clear as the moon, a hint of ambiguity crept into his smile.

Four years have passed in the blink of an eye. Those moments of despair, joy, and sorrow have all turned into dust and smoke under the wash of time, and are sometimes used for ridicule.

The car swayed and rocked along the mountain road, but it was no longer difficult.

When Song Zhishu arrived at her destination and got off the car, it was already noon.

In the sweltering summer heat, the rampant greenery battles the sunlight, a fierce struggle. The cicadas' incessant, booming chirping seems to demand repayment for the pain of winter's relentless battle with time in the frozen earth. Much has changed here; it seems to have caught up with the times, bit by bit. In some places, country villas have sprung up, and a few decent cars are parked there, gleaming arrogantly in the sunlight.

At midday, there was hardly anyone strolling around the village. After four years and thousands of days and nights of grinding and consumption, Song Zhishu was still able to walk to Chang Qing's house with ease.

She took the suitcase from the bodyguard and told them to go back first.

They dared not question the young lady's orders. After respectfully telling her to be careful, they obediently returned home.

Song Zhishu's icy expression finally softened a little. She closed her eyes and felt a hot breeze blowing, which felt like a loving mother stroking her face.

Not much has changed in Chang Qing's home. The only thing to mention is that it looks older. On the road to happiness for other families, their home is like a stepping stone.