Chapter 44: The Self-Cultivation of a Canary (9)

The man's very presence exuded a chill. His expression, cold and severe, looked as if he were on the verge of murder. It was truly terrifying.

“Who told you to eat breakfast?”

Ling Qiong lifted a finger and pointed upward, her tone innocent. “Food is the god of the people; heaven itself insists that I eat.”

Shen Handeng fell silent.

In the depths of his eyes, the reflection of the young girl appeared gentle and obedient. But was she truly so meek? The answer was a resounding no.

Abruptly, Shen Handeng spun the chair around and, without warning, hauled Ling Qiong up and carried her out, stuffing her into the waiting car outside.

Ling Qiong was bewildered. What sort of cruel capitalism was this, she thought, where even breakfast was forbidden?

Shen Handeng climbed into the car, shut his eyes, and made it clear he had no intention of speaking to her.

Ling Qiong, still clutching her spoon, gazed at him in confusion, then peered out the window.

…

It wasn’t until they reached their destination that Ling Qiong realized she was attending a funeral.

Shen Handeng had set her up!

He stood beside her, coolly provoking, “Didn’t you pick out your own outfit? Get out.”

“You never told me this was a funeral,” she protested. Wasn’t this just showing up to cause a scene? She’d be lucky not to be beaten to death!

“I’ve prepared clothes for you.”

The unspoken message: you chose your own, deal with the consequences.

“I’m not getting out.” If she had known it was a funeral, of course she would have dressed appropriately. She wasn’t stupid! Shen Handeng had clearly done this on purpose.

He closed the car door, circled around, and opened the door on the other side, only to see Ling Qiong had shrunk away from him.

Shen Handeng’s eyes narrowed.

Getting her out of the car was not going to be easy. She resembled an irate kitten, baring its teeth and claws at anyone who approached.

Unexpectedly, Shen Handeng let out a short laugh, quickly stifled. He returned to his seat and ordered the driver to head for the nearest shopping mall.

The driver glanced back, hesitating. “Young master…”

“Do I need your permission for even this little bit of freedom now?” Shen Handeng’s tone was icy.

The driver fell silent for a moment, then started the car.

…

As for shopping, Shen Handeng would never stoop to such a thing again. He handed Ling Qiong a credit card and instructed the driver to accompany her.

The driver was reluctant—his job was to watch over Shen Handeng. But Ling Qiong had already gotten out, and when he caught Shen Handeng’s chilling gaze, he involuntarily followed.

Ten minutes later, Shen Handeng’s phone began to vibrate incessantly. It finally stopped when Ling Qiong returned with the driver. Shen Handeng tucked the phone away.

The young girl had changed out of her bright dress, but she wasn’t in white either. Instead, she wore a black, slightly flared dress with a hint of courtly elegance—it was eye-catching even without any embellishments.

The driver trailed behind her, arms loaded with bags, sweating profusely.

So that was why his phone had been ringing nonstop.

Ling Qiong settled into the car, beaming as she handed Shen Handeng a box. “For you.”

He shot her a dangerously sidelong glance. “You’re using my money to buy me a gift?”

“So do you want it or not?”

He snatched the box and tossed it aside, face dark. “Did I give you permission to buy so many things?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” she retorted boldly.

Aren’t CEOs supposed to say, “Woman, spend as you like”? Right now he might have money, but in the future, he’d rely on her to top him up! He shouldn’t get too smug—better treat her, his ‘father,’ a little nicer!

Shen Handeng extended his hand toward her.

Ling Qiong placed hers obediently in his, even flashing a sweet smile. Her delicate, pale fingers were dwarfed by his palm, her fingertip soft and fine against his skin.

With a swift motion, Shen Handeng flipped his hand and struck the back of hers, uttering one cold word: “Card.”

Ling Qiong hesitated, reluctant to return the card to him—it had no spending limit, after all.

Seeing her scrunched-up expression, Shen Handeng maliciously snatched the card from her grasp.

She stared at him, looking like a child denied her candy.

Shen Handeng closed his eyes to avoid her gaze.

When the sound of rustling reached his ears, he opened his eyes again. The little girl was happily unwrapping the gift box, delighted beyond measure.

Shen Handeng massaged his stomach, the irritation making his gut ache.

The car returned to their previous location. Shen Handeng opened the door and got out.

This time, Ling Qiong obediently followed.

“Cousin, it’s been a long time,” she heard a voice greet as soon as she stepped out.

A young man, about Shen Handeng’s age, stepped from his car and strode over.

Shen Handeng bypassed the car and headed inside. “Come along,” he said to Ling Qiong.

The young man’s gaze briefly lingered on Ling Qiong, a glint of admiration in his eyes. But he quickly looked away, his attention fixed on Shen Handeng.

“Hey, cousin,” Pei Ziqing called after him, a half-smile on his lips. “I heard your condition has gotten worse?”

Shen Handeng ignored him, but Pei Ziqing persisted.

“Cousin, you really shouldn’t hide your illness. It’s best to seek proper treatment…”

Pei Ziqing’s words were cut off when the young girl squeezed in beside Shen Handeng, looping her arm through his.

Tilting her head, she smiled slyly at Pei Ziqing. “Talking too much is an illness too, sir. You shouldn’t avoid treatment either.”

If her “cub” was sick, only she had the right to say so. No little stray dog or cat was going to bully hers—what did they take her for?

Pei Ziqing’s eyes lingered on where their arms entwined. He smiled and asked, “And this young lady is…?”

“Your father,” Ling Qiong replied.

He was left speechless.

With a gentle tug, Ling Qiong led Shen Handeng inside. Surprisingly, he didn’t shake her off, but followed her all the way in.

Ling Qiong was rather worried he might fall ill suddenly—what a scene that would be. Fortunately, Shen Handeng behaved himself.

Once inside, Ling Qiong let go of his arm. “Who was that?”

Shen Handeng brushed his palm across the spot where her hand had been. “You dare speak to someone you don’t even know?”

“Why not?” she replied lazily. “Why shouldn’t I speak to a stranger?”

“Aren’t you afraid of offending someone?”

“What’s there to fear? He’s just—” just an NPC, she almost said.

“Just what?”

“Just someone I don’t know.” Ling Qiong puffed out her chest. “If I offend him, so be it. What can he do to me?”

He could make things very difficult for you, that’s what.

…

Pei Ziqing was Shen Handeng’s cousin, close in age. Back when Shen Handeng’s father was still alive, Shen Handeng had been the golden child. Naturally, among relatives and family friends, he was often the standard against which others were measured.

Shen Handeng was always the model “child from another family,” which made Pei Ziqing dislike him immensely. That resentment hadn’t faded in over a decade; in fact, Pei Ziqing’s devotion to his grudge was impressive.

Now, with Shen Handeng in a state like this, how could Pei Ziqing resist the urge to kick him while he was down?