Chapter Twenty-One: Where Is This Place?

All the residences in this neighborhood were standalone, luxury homes—anyone living here was either wealthy or influential. Song Yiming took out his keys and opened the door. Yang Le lingered outside, hesitant and somewhat timid, not daring to step in.

“Come in! We’ll be family from now on. There’s nothing to be shy about,” Song Yiming called out with his usual hearty candor, having noticed Yang Le’s unease.

Summoning his courage, Yang Le finally crossed the threshold, though it felt as if his feet were weighed down. The moment he entered, the aroma of food struck him. Having only eaten a bowl of rice earlier, Yang Le now felt a wave of hunger.

“Fei’er, look who’s here! Come out quickly,” Song Yiming called to his daughter as soon as he saw Yang Le enter.

“Dad, you’re making such a big deal out of this. Of course I know who’s here. Do you think I’m stupid?” Song Fei’er’s voice floated down from the second floor.

“Yang Le, this is your home too from now on. Make yourself comfortable—have a seat!” Song Yiming’s mouth hadn’t stopped since Yang Le walked in, calling to both Yang Le and Song Fei’er in turn.

“Wife, Yang Le is here. How’s the cooking coming along?” Now Song Yiming called out to his wife.

“It’s just about ready. Time to eat!” Qin Guifang replied from the kitchen.

“Yang Le, let’s go to the dining room. And Fei’er, hurry up! Why are you dawdling?” Hearing that dinner was ready, Song Yiming immediately beckoned Yang Le to the table and urged his daughter along as well.

Song Fei’er muttered her discontent under her breath, “You’re making it look like I’m the one who was picked up off the street. Yang Le must be your real son.” Still, she obediently came downstairs.

Yang Le had no choice but to head to the dining room. The two of them arrived at the same time and went in together.

“What a lovely couple they make,” Song Yiming said boisterously, then turned to his wife, “Wife, don’t you think so?”

“They really do suit each other,” Qin Guifang replied, playing along perfectly.

Yang Le and Song Fei’er both blushed furiously.

“Sit down, both of you! Why are you just standing there?” Song Yiming said when he saw them hesitating.

“That’s right, Yang, don’t be shy. Treat this as your own home,” Qin Guifang added warmly.

With the couple echoing each other so enthusiastically, Yang Le felt distinctly awkward. He thought to himself that he’d never come again if he could help it.

Yang Le found a seat, while Song Fei’er deliberately chose one far from him, not daring to sit too close.

“Fei’er, what’s wrong with you? Sit next to Yang Le!” Song Yiming pretended to be annoyed when he saw his daughter sitting so far away.

“Be a good girl, sit with Yang Le,” Qin Guifang coaxed gently.

Yang Le was baffled. Aside from being a little handsome and a bit wealthy, what else did he have going for him? Well, he could cook. That was all he could think of. He really didn't understand what Song Yiming and Qin Guifang saw in him.

Song Fei’er wanted to refuse, but worried that it might embarrass Yang Le, so she reluctantly changed seats and sat beside him.

At last, Song Yiming happily went to the kitchen to fetch bowls and chopsticks for Yang Le and Song Fei’er.

“Wife, bring the wine. Tonight I want to have a drink with my... Yang,” he called out.

He had almost said “son-in-law,” but thought better of it—he didn’t want to push too hard and risk backfiring.

“Yang Le, you must drink with me tonight, or you’ll embarrass me,” Song Yiming insisted when Yang Le hesitated.

“Uncle Song, I drove here and will have to drive back later,” Yang Le tried to explain. In truth, he couldn’t handle much alcohol and didn’t enjoy drinking.

“That’s all right, we have plenty of room for you to stay over,” Song Yiming replied, making it clear he wanted Yang Le to spend the night.

Realizing he couldn’t win, Yang Le agreed.

“Fei’er, you should have a little drink too,” Song Yiming said to his daughter, who looked suspiciously at her father.

“Didn’t you always forbid me from drinking?” she asked, puzzled.

“That was then, this is now. Tonight is different, so I’m allowing it,” Song Yiming replied breezily.

“It’s not like I love drinking. You ‘allow’ me—well, I’m not drinking,” Song Fei’er retorted. Unlike Yang Le, she didn’t give in just because Song Yiming pressed her.

“My good girl, Yang Le is here tonight. Even if you don’t drink with your dad, at least keep your classmate company?” Song Yiming, unable to persuade her, gave way for Qin Guifang to step in.

Song Fei’er had no choice but to agree.

Song Yiming poured a full glass of liquor for Yang Le and half a glass for Fei’er. This wasn’t beer, but strong white spirits, and not low in alcohol content either.

“Yang Le, help yourself to some food!” Song Yiming said after taking his own bite, inviting Yang Le to do the same—he knew that unless the host started eating, the guest wouldn’t dare touch the food, a rule passed down through the generations.

Yang Le was indeed hungry. Now that the entire family had begun eating, he finally picked up his chopsticks. The food was delicious.

“Let’s all raise our glasses,” Song Yiming called out just as Yang Le had taken his first bite. Yang Le had no choice but to join the toast. The four of them took a sip. Song Yiming and Qin Guifang were fine, but Yang Le and Song Fei’er both coughed, the liquor burning their mouths.

Seeing Yang Le struggling, Qin Guifang added more food to his plate.

Every few bites, Song Yiming called for another drink. Gradually, Yang Le began to feel dizzy, his inhibitions loosening, his manner growing more relaxed. After downing a glass, his eyelids grew heavy. Song Fei’er, though only halfway through her half-glass, was also feeling lightheaded.

Song Yiming showed no sign of letting up, pressing them both to drink more. Song Fei’er was the first to succumb, and Yang Le followed soon after, completely inebriated.

Seeing both Yang Le and his daughter thoroughly drunk, Song Yiming and Qin Guifang exchanged a glance and smiled.

Song Yiming took out his phone and made a call.

“My good brother, it’s done. From now on, we’re family,” he declared.

The call was to Yang Jiayun—this whole arrangement had been concocted by the two of them. Yang Jiayun thought Song Fei’er would make a wonderful daughter-in-law, and Song Yiming felt the same about Yang Le as a son-in-law. So together, they hatched this plan.

At first, Qin Guifang neither agreed nor objected, but after meeting Yang Le, she approved. Her daughter and Yang Le were truly a perfect match, and after hearing Song Yiming’s account of Yang Le’s character, she came to believe he was a reliable young man.

If her daughter didn’t end up with Yang Le, she’d eventually find someone else, most likely within their social circle—one full of notorious playboys. Compared to them, Yang Le was at least dependable. Most importantly, her daughter was interested in him.

With everything settled, Song Yiming and Qin Guifang watched some television before going to bed.

In the middle of the night, Yang Le awoke with a pressing need to use the bathroom. His head throbbed as he tried to get up. Reaching out for support, his hand brushed against someone beside him.

Having slept alone for so long, Yang Le couldn’t imagine why anyone would be in bed with him.

He racked his brain to recall the events of the evening and remembered—he must be staying at the Song house. But even if so, who was lying next to him?

Yang Le tried to sit up to see who it was.

At that moment, Song Fei’er, accidentally nudged by his hand, awoke as well. Her head ached, her throat was parched, and she sat up, intending to get a drink.

As she sat up, she noticed a figure beside her.

“Who’s there…” Song Fei’er cried out.

“Ah…” Yang Le was so startled by her scream that he cried out himself.

With a thud, Song Fei’er punched Yang Le in the face, knocking him right off the bed.

Only then did Song Fei’er realize—the voice sounded an awful lot like Yang Le’s.

Luckily, the rooms were well soundproofed. Even if they weren’t, Song Yiming and Qin Guifang would have pretended not to hear. In fact, at this hour, they were fast asleep and the thick walls would have muffled any noise.

Song Fei’er quickly checked herself, then turned on the light. Both squinted against the sudden brightness, then stared at each other.

“Yang Le, why are you in my room?” Song Fei’er demanded.

A glance around confirmed this was indeed a young woman’s room.

“I don’t know!” Yang Le answered, bewildered.

“You’re in my room and you say you don’t know…” Song Fei’er began, then suddenly remembered.

She’d come for dinner, and both she and Yang Le had been plied with liquor. She hadn’t even finished half a glass before passing out. She vaguely recalled Yang Le getting tipsy as well, while her father kept insisting he drink. But she wasn’t sure if Yang Le had ended up as drunk as she was. One thing was certain—her parents wouldn’t have gotten drunk.

Now it all made sense—her father had been urging her to drink just to get her and Yang Le drunk together!

She wondered if these were really her own parents.

If they weren’t, she wouldn’t believe it herself. But if they were, why would they orchestrate things so that she, their precious daughter, would end up in Yang Le’s hands?

“I drank too much and passed out. When I woke up, I was here. I don’t know anything else,” Yang Le said earnestly.

Song Fei’er believed him.

“I need to use the bathroom. Where is it?” Yang Le asked. Having only spent a few minutes in the living room and the rest in the dining room, he had no idea where the bathroom was.

Following Song Fei’er’s directions, Yang Le finally found it.

After relieving himself, Yang Le sent Song Fei’er a message.

“I’m heading home now. Get some rest.”

He didn’t dare linger in the Song house any longer and texted Song Fei’er to say he was leaving.

He thought she might ask him to stay, but she simply replied, “Be safe on the way.”

After sending her response, Song Fei’er, still suffering from a headache, planned to lie down and sleep.

But just then, Yang Le came back again.