Chapter Seventy: I Am Not Shen Huaijin

Yu Yunxi was highly efficient; by the afternoon, she had already sent Song Hui photos and basic information about the apartment. A well-furnished one-bedroom apartment in the city center, its decor was simple and understated. Though the price was a bit steep, she was eager to move out and could no longer afford to be picky.

Yu Yunxi sent a voice message: “Huaiqing, the earliest you could move into this place is tomorrow.”

Song Hui felt a ripple in her heart upon hearing someone call her Shen Huaiqing again; it seemed she had grown accustomed to this identity over the past months.

“That’s fine. I’ll figure something out for the next couple of days. I’ll also need to find someone to clean up the place.”

Yu Yunxi hesitated before suggesting, “Huaiqing, why don’t you come stay with me for a couple of days? I live alone, and there’s a spare room.” In her heart, Yu Yunxi had already sensed that something must have happened at Song Hui’s home—otherwise, she wouldn’t be in such a rush to move out. Coupled with Lin Yiqing’s situation, could it be that she had gotten divorced?

Yu Yunxi dared not let her thoughts wander further.

Song Hui looked at the words on her screen, her eyes growing warm. At least there was someone who genuinely cared for her.

“All right, send me the address. I’ll come over soon.”

Song Hui turned off her phone. It was time to head upstairs and pack her luggage. Because of her previous fake pregnancy, she had already moved back to the master bedroom. Fortunately, Fu Chen was usually at the office in the afternoons, so she went upstairs without hesitation.

She opened the door only to find Fu Chen lying on the bed, resting with his eyes closed. She didn’t wish to wake him; all she wanted was to pack quickly and leave.

Fu Chen’s closed eyes, framed by thick lashes casting shadows on his lids, betrayed nothing. His tone was light as he spoke: “Song Hui, did you find a place to stay?”

Song Hui, startled by the unexpected voice, was sorting clothes in the walk-in closet.

“Yes,” she replied calmly, expressionless.

Fu Chen slowly opened his eyes, his thin lips twisting into a mocking smile. “So eager to leave, are you?”

Song Hui paused, glancing at the clothes in her hands—most of them were gifts from Fu Chen. Without hesitation, she folded them neatly and set them aside, taking only a few simple items.

Without so much as a glance at Fu Chen on the bed, she left the closet and gave a bitter smile.

“The sooner I leave, the sooner I stop being an eyesore to you.” She gathered a few things from the vanity, packing everything into a small suitcase.

Some things were better left behind; taking them would only add to her sorrow. Let them remain in those cherished memories.

As Song Hui pulled her suitcase out the door, she deliberately slowed her steps. Deep down, she hoped Fu Chen might say something to her—not necessarily to ask her to stay, but at least a simple, Take care.

But Fu Chen said nothing.

As she descended the stairs, Aunt Feng was waiting for her at the landing. Aunt Feng’s eyes were red, her face sagging as if she hadn’t rested well these past few days.

“Miss, have you found a place to stay?” she asked, reaching for Song Hui’s suitcase.

“I’ll take it myself, Aunt Feng.” Song Hui insisted, gripping the suitcase. “Don’t call me Miss anymore. Just call me Song Hui from now on.”

“Well, there won’t be a next time. Aunt Feng, take good care of yourself.” A trace of melancholy flitted across Song Hui’s face; she had grown attached to Aunt Feng in these past months.

Aunt Feng’s brows furrowed, her eyes darting nervously. Suddenly, as if making up her mind, she spoke loudly, “Actually, Young Master—”

“Aunt Feng!” Fu Chen’s low, cold reprimand echoed behind them, freezing the air in the hall.

Aunt Feng trembled, silenced by fear.

Song Hui, too, was startled. Fu Chen rarely lost his temper with Aunt Feng or Uncle Liu. She had no idea what Aunt Feng had been about to say that provoked such anger from Fu Chen.

But she no longer cared. None of it mattered to her now.

As long as Fu Chen didn’t immediately make her situation public, as long as the Shen family didn’t find out her identity had been exposed, that was enough.

Resolutely, Song Hui gripped her suitcase and walked quickly out of the Fu family villa. As the door closed behind her, she caught Aunt Feng’s worried gaze and, faintly, saw Fu Chen’s dark eyes in the shadows—eyes that seemed to flicker with some unusual emotion.

Outside, the weather was gloomy. The biting north wind cut to the bone. Song Hui stood by the roadside, waiting for her ride, her nose reddened from the cold. She breathed into her palms to warm them, rubbing her hands together, her breath forming white clouds in the air.

Fu Chen walked into the master bedroom. Everywhere he looked, there were traces of Song Hui’s presence: the unfinished book on the nightstand, with a fallen leaf from the garden as a bookmark; perfumes on the vanity she hadn’t finished, his favorite scent that Song Hui used to wear; in the closet, many clothes he’d bought for her, and the butterfly diamond necklace she didn’t take with her.

Standing on the balcony, Fu Chen took out the cigarette Song Hui used to hide under the flowerpot, lit it skillfully, and leaned against the railing, gazing down at her by the roadside.

His eyes, once cold and indifferent, softened as his lashes lowered, and his jet-black eyes watched the solitary woman in the winter wind. A calm gaze now stirred with emotion.

Soon, he was surrounded by the scent of tobacco, speaking as if to himself.

“It’s good. The farther she goes, the better.”

—

When Song Hui arrived at Yu Yunxi’s door with her suitcase, she was stunned. She hadn’t expected Song Hui to have so few belongings.

“Did you argue with President Fu?” Yu Yunxi had assumed Song Hui was divorced, but seeing her luggage, she wondered if it was just a fight.

Song Hui glanced around Yu Yunxi’s home—warm and comfortable, clearly lived-in for some time.

“We’re divorced.”

Yu Yunxi nearly dropped her water cup, quickly setting it down, afraid Song Hui might drop some shocking news.

“Is it because of Lin Yiqing?” Yu Yunxi’s brows knitted.

“No.”

“Then why?” Yu Yunxi couldn’t think of another reason. Their relationship had seemed fine before—how could they suddenly divorce?

Song Hui held her cup, gazing at the ripples in the water, and spoke calmly.

“Actually, I’m not Shen Huaiqing.”

This statement left Yu Yunxi utterly bewildered—the person before her was clearly Shen Huaiqing.

“Huaiqing, are you… are you just upset?” Yu Yunxi asked, worried by Song Hui’s blank expression.

“Yunxi, I trust you. You’re my only true friend in South City, so I’ll tell you everything.”

Yu Yunxi looked into Song Hui’s earnest eyes and nodded gravely.