Chapter 77: Qu Wuyan Is Injured

“Mm.” Fan Xiaoyun nodded vigorously.

Qu Wuyan and Fan Xiaoyun both wore high heels, each pair taller than the other, yet they strode along briskly, undeterred by their footwear.

When they reached the door to the room, Qu Wuyan turned her handbag upside down, rummaging through it, but failed to find the keycard.

“Oh no, I think your father has the card,” Qu Wuyan slapped her forehead. “When we came in to drop off our things and were about to head down to the banquet hall, your father said he’d forgotten his phone, so I gave him the card.”

Closing her handbag, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock!

They waited a moment, but no one came to answer. Qu Wuyan knocked again, harder.

Knock, knock, knock!

Still, silence reigned on the other side.

“Mom, do you think Dad’s still in the banquet hall?” Fan Xiaoyun asked.

“I don’t know,” Qu Wuyan replied uncertainly. “Let’s go downstairs and have a look.”

Just as the two were about to turn away, a voice drifted from the room.

“Who is it?”

Both women’s eyes widened in sudden shock.

A woman’s voice!

Fan Xiaoyun lowered her voice, “Mom, is Dad with someone else again? But there are other guests on this floor tonight too!”

“I’d like to see exactly which little tramp dares run wild right under my nose,” Qu Wuyan growled, fixing her furious gaze on the door, ready to seize and tear apart the woman inside the moment it opened.

As soon as the door cracked open, Qu Wuyan shoved it wide in her impatience.

“You—!”

Her words were cut short as both she and Fan Xiaoyun found their eyes fixed on the woman’s face.

Fan Xiaoyun spoke first, “Are you Quan Qing’er? You look different somehow.”

Quan Qing’er stood before them, arms folded, wearing nothing but a man’s shirt that reached her thighs. Her long hair was still damp, and droplets of water had soaked the fabric on her shoulders and back, making it cling to her skin.

For a moment, Fan Xiaoyun forgot why she’d come, absorbed instead in scrutinizing Quan Qing’er’s looks.

Had she had plastic surgery?

It didn’t look like she’d had any work done, but still, she seemed much more attractive than before. No, not so much more beautiful as more pleasing—easier on the eyes.

Fan Chi emerged from the bedroom. He showed neither surprise nor guilt at Qu Wuyan’s arrival. Instead, he spoke with utter composure, “What are you doing here? Is the banquet over?”

He noticed Fan Xiaoyun’s smeared makeup and the wrinkled state of her gown. “Xiaoyun, what happened to you?”

“So you do care about your daughter!” Qu Wuyan screamed. “Your daughter was bullied, and here you are in bed with this tramp!”

With that, Qu Wuyan lunged at Quan Qing’er, the very picture of a shrew.

But her raised hand never landed on Quan Qing’er’s face; Quan Qing’er caught her wrist in a firm grip.

“Mrs. Fan, haven’t you made enough of a scene?” Quan Qing’er flung Qu Wuyan’s hand away. “Nothing happened between Director Fan and me. He was drunk, and I just brought him back. Is it really civilized to strike out at people the moment you see them?”

“I don’t need a vixen like you to judge whether I’m civilized!” Qu Wuyan spat, her voice thick with hate. “Last time I was too merciful, didn’t tear you apart. This time I swear I’ll rip that man-stealing fox face of yours to shreds!”

She grabbed Quan Qing’er by the hair and dragged her close; the two women fell into a wild, flailing fight.

Fan Chi stepped in, pried Qu Wuyan off, and shot a glance at Quan Qing’er before turning back to Qu Wuyan. “Have you had enough? Hasn’t Qing’er explained things clearly? Do you need me to actually sleep with a woman in front of you before you stop making trouble?”

Qu Wuyan refused to believe a word, pointing at the scantily clad Quan Qing’er. “Then what’s with her outfit?”

“I puked all over her. Should she have gone home covered in vomit?” Fan Chi retorted. “She was good enough to bring me back, but you just attack her without a word—shrewish as ever!”

Qu Wuyan, already furious at Fan Chi’s defense of Quan Qing’er, was driven to rage by being called a shrew. Her blood pressure soared.

“Say that again!” she shrieked in disbelief and fury. “How dare you insult me?”

“So what if I do? You curse me all day, don’t you?” Fan Chi, pushed past the limits of his patience, let out all the grievances he’d bottled up over the years. “If I’d known you were such a shrew, I’d never have married you! Before the wedding you pretended to be gentle and virtuous, but the moment we were married your true colors showed. Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life! You’re nothing compared to Xiaomeng, nothing compared to Qing’er!”

Qu Wuyan’s chest heaved violently. She pointed at Fan Chi, her voice cracking in a howl of despair. “Fan Chi! You heartless bastard! If it weren’t for my family, you’d have been finished long ago! You… you…”

Suddenly, a stabbing pain in her eye cut her tirade short.

“It hurts… why does my eye hurt so much…” Qu Wuyan clutched her left eye in agony, sinking to her knees.

Fan Xiaoyun rushed over. “Mom, what’s wrong with your eye?”

Qu Wuyan’s brow was tightly furrowed. “I don’t know… the pain is killing me!”

“What should we do…” Fan Xiaoyun asked frantically, turning to Fan Chi. “Dad, call an ambulance!”

“Don’t panic, your mother’s faking. Only you would believe her. Your grandmother used to pull this trick all the time, and now your mother’s copying her,” Fan Chi said dismissively, not even bothering to look at Qu Wuyan. Instead, he turned to Quan Qing’er, his demeanor softening. “Qing’er, I’m really sorry for today. Let me drive you ho—”

He caught himself, remembering he’d already driven Quan Qing’er out of his house.

“I’ll go back myself,” Quan Qing’er replied coolly, her composure growing as the chaos behind her worsened. “You should stay and look after your ailing wife.”

She slipped into the coat Fan Chi had given her, pulled on her shoes, and left without looking back.

Fan Chi hurried after her, ignoring Fan Xiaoyun’s cries.

“Qing’er, how will you get home?” he called, catching up with her. “It’s so late—it's not safe for a woman to go alone. Let me drive you.”

Quan Qing’er laughed coldly to herself.

When he moved his new lover into her villa and drove her out into the night, did he care then whether it was safe for a woman to be alone?

“There’s no need for you to worry, Director Fan,” she said flatly.

Fan Chi was about to say more, but Fan Xiaoyun’s voice interrupted him.

“Dad, come quick! Mom’s fainted!”

“I told you, she’s faking…” Fan Chi replied carelessly, returning to crouch beside Qu Wuyan and poking her in the face. “Get up, stop pretending. She’s gone.”

Qu Wuyan didn’t respond.

Fan Chi realized, belatedly, that perhaps this time it wasn’t an act. He hastily scooped her up. “Let’s go! We’re taking your mother to the hospital!”

“Dad, we should call an ambulance first. If we delay on the road, we might miss the best window for treatment…”

“Silly girl, are you worried too few people will know?” Fan Chi shot her a glare. “Take the fire escape—don’t let anyone see us!”

He showed no hurry to save Qu Wuyan. In fact, deep down, he almost hoped that this shrew would breathe her last.

...

Snow melted, grass grew, and orioles flitted through budding branches. Everywhere, new life flourished, painting the world with hope and beauty.

Lian Youyou basked in the warm sunlight on the sofa, flipping through several scripts in her hand.

“Lulu, which film do you think I should audition for?” she called out to Lu Ming, who was gaming at his computer in the study.

Lu Ming wore a headset, face serious and fully focused. His right hand moved the mouse with dexterity, while his left hand flew across the mechanical keyboard, his actions too swift to even follow.

School had started and yet here he was, still gaming!

So irresponsible.

Lian Youyou took the scripts and walked into the study, poking Lu Ming in the back. “Aren’t you going to prepare your lessons?”

Unlike Lu Ming, who had to teach, she was in her final semester of university and on internship, so her days were much more relaxed.

Lu Ming took off his headset and hung it around his neck, pointing at his in-game character. “Youyou, don’t you think the swordsman class has too few ways to break out of crowd control? They should add another skill for that.”

“I don’t know,” Lian Youyou replied honestly—her DPS skills were abysmal, so she only played healer. “But what’s the use? No matter what you think, the developers at Vast will do as they please.”

She couldn’t say whether Lu Ming’s passion for the game “Rivers and Lakes Chronicle” was genuine or simply because his cousin’s company developed it, but he certainly cared about it more than any other game.

How much more? So much that she often caught him gaming on his desktop while simultaneously making PowerPoint slides on his laptop!

At first, she thought he was preparing class materials.

But soon she realized that all his slides were about “Rivers and Lakes Chronicle”!

She truly couldn’t understand why he bothered with all this.

Just then, a news alert popped up in the lower right corner of Lu Ming’s screen:

“Renowned actress Qu Wuyan suffers serious eye injury on set, rushed to hospital for emergency treatment!”

“Hm?”

How had Qu Wuyan gotten hurt?

“Lulu, let me see that news!” Lian Youyou placed her hand over Lu Ming’s, clicking the mouse herself.

She opened the article. In the photo, Qu Wuyan clasped her eye as staff surrounded her. Scrolling down, the next images showed an ambulance, white-coated medical staff, and Qu Wuyan being wheeled away on a stretcher.

Judging by her costume, Qu Wuyan was filming a modern drama.

The risk of injury on a modern set was much lower than on a period piece, and she’d heard Richard say that Qu Wuyan never took risks—she always used a stunt double.

Someone so protective of herself, injured, and seriously?

Lian Youyou picked up her phone and called Richard. “Richard, the news says Qu Wuyan’s hurt? What happened?”

“Yeah, I heard. What, feeling sorry for your stepmother?” Richard chuckled.

“Impossible. I’m just curious,” Lian Youyou replied.

She might have pity for everyone in the world, but never for Qu Wuyan.

Someone like Qu Wuyan was the last person in the world deserving of pity.