The WeChat message glared from the screen, a brutal intrusion from Song Qi Nian's mother, Liu Xiaohan:
"Qi Nian, what's happening with Shen Chi Yan? Has he not touched you yet?"
"If nothing else works, try getting him drunk and climbing into his bed. Your only asset is your looks. You need to get pregnant, so he won't divorce you."
"Even if you split up later, you'll secure substantial child support."
Song Qi Nian couldn't bring herself to meet Shen Chi Yan's gaze, her body trembling. He must have read the message by now. Her mother's words hung like damning evidence, exposing last night's calculated manipulation. Liu Xiaohan might have been lacking in many skills, but betraying her own daughter? That, she had mastered.
"Do you even qualify to bear my child?"
The box sailed through the air, and Song Qi Nian caught it instinctively. Birth control pills. Her heart shattered.
Shen Chi Yan was more than just a man—he was a legend. At twenty-one, he'd transformed Dingsheng Group into a billion-dollar empire, specializing in game company investments.
Beyond business, he was a senior race car driver, an eighth-level archer, a pilot, a deep-sea diver—an almost superhuman figure people could only dream of admiring from a distance.
And she? Song Qi Nian was nothing. Utterly insignificant. Her sole offering was an unwavering, unconditional love that meant absolutely nothing to him.
"You'll never get pregnant with my child. Ever. Your entire family can forget that dream," Shen Chi Yan's glacial voice drained all color from her face.
She had fantasized countless times about their child—a miniature version of Shen Chi Yan, inheriting his perfection. Those dreams now felt like cruel jokes. He despised her so thoroughly that the mere thought of sharing a child was inconceivable.
The pill box felt impossibly heavy in her hand. One tiny pill capable of erasing any possibility of a future together.
Under Shen Chi Yan's frigid stare, Song Qi Nian swallowed the pill. Bitter. So incredibly bitter.
Her throat constricted, tears threatening but never falling. She dropped her gaze, unable to bear his contempt.
"We're going to the hospital," Shen Chi Yan commanded. "You have no choice but to obey."
Her fists clenched, each heartbeat a fresh wound.
At the private hospital—pristine, sterile, oppressive—Shen Chi Yan went directly to Lin Qiu Tong's ward. A doctor approached Song Qi Nian, prepared to draw her blood.
She had always been terrified of needles. Her delicate veins made even routine blood draws a nightmare. Today was no different. As the doctor searched for a viable vein, Song Qi Nian broke into a cold sweat, silently enduring yet another humiliation.
The doctor's eyes flickered with contempt as she spoke sarcastically, "My, my! Miss Song is so delicate! Crying over a simple blood draw. Think about how Miss Lin became a vegetable because of that monster of a father of yours!"
The private hospital staff were notorious for their casual cruelty. They knew Lin Qiu Tong's tragic story and understood that Shen Chi Yan couldn't care less about his wife. They would often deliberately make Song Qi Nian's blood draws more painful, finding perverse pleasure in her vulnerability.
Faced with their mockery, Song Qi Nian remained silent. She knew Shen Chi Yan would never defend her, so she endured—quietly, painfully.
After the blood draw, she made her way to Lin Qiutong's ward. Shen Chi Yan had always forbidden her from entering, but today she caught a glimpse through the partially open door. He sat beside the bed, his gaze filled with an intensity of love she had never experienced.
In their three years of marriage, Shen Chi Yan had spent more time in this hospital room than he had ever spent with her. The only reason he ever came home was because of Song Qi Nian's blood donations to Lin Qiu Tong. To him, she seemed to exist solely for this purpose—a living blood bank, nothing more.
A sharp pain stabbed through her chest. She was jealous of Lin Qiu Tong, desperately envious of the love Shen Chi Yan so clearly felt.
The ward was silent, interrupted only by the steady beeping of medical equipment. Lin Qiu Tong lay pale and still, a stark contrast to her former self. Once a vibrant, energetic young woman who brought joy wherever she went, she had been confined to this bed for three months—a victim of Song Guanliang's actions.
Shen Chi Yan's hatred for Song Guanliang and Song Qi Nian was matched only by his own self-blame. If not for some twist of fate, Lin Qiu Tong might never have been injured.
In his hand, he held a pure gold whistle. Engraved on it were the letters "Y&Q"—representing Shen Chi Yan and Lin Qiu Tong. He remembered the day of the accident. He had been in a car crash too, and when he awoke, this whistle was clutched in his hand.
The details were frustratingly blurry. He recalled feeling he needed to find someone important, do something crucial. Everyone around him confirmed there was no other woman—only Lin Qiu Tong, his childhood companion whom he had planned to confess his feelings to that day.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. A doctor entered, her professional demeanor quickly melting into admiration as she looked at Shen Chi Yan.
"Mr. Shen, the blood has been drawn. Miss Song is quite weak, anemic. She should focus on her health and exercise more."
Shen Chi Yan's response was curt. "Where is she?"
"She left. And this time, she made quite a scene during the blood draw."
His brow furrowed. Then, gazing at Lin Qiu Tong, he whispered, "When will you finally wake up, Qiuqiu?"
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