If her memory served her right, her ID card was still in her room. As long as she could retrieve it, she would leave immediately.
Song Qingyi could feel it; returning to the Song family always left her heart throbbing with a dull pain caused by these people.
"Qingyi, why don't you stay in Yueyue's room for now? The servants haven't cleaned your room yet..."
Zhao Suihua spoke hesitantly, a look of uncertainty appearing on her face.
Before she could refuse, however, she heard Song Julan speak coldly.
"Make her stay in the guest room. Yueyue's room isn't for just anyone to occupy."
"It doesn't matter if my room isn't cleaned."
The place where Song Qingyi had lived in prison was worse than a public restroom.
She was long accustomed to it; even a room filled with dust would be better than her quarters in prison.
Zhao Suihua hesitated time and again, eventually telling the truth.
"Qingyi, you’ve been away from home for so long that your room is currently being used to store Yueyue's clothes..."
"I’ll have the servants clear that room out tomorrow. Qingyi, I’ve wronged you today, but I’ll have them work extra hard to restore your room to how it was as soon as possible..."
Before Zhao Suihua could finish, Song Qingyi had already risen and headed toward the room she once occupied.
She pushed the door open, and sure enough, as Zhao Suihua had said, it was packed with Song Yueyue's clothes.
It was called "temporary storage," but the layout of the room had been completely converted into a walk-in closet.
This was hardly temporary—it was clear they had assumed she would never return and had simply turned her room into Song Yueyue's wardrobe.
"Qingyi, I’ll have the servants clear out a room for you as soon as possible," Father Song said.
Zhao Suihua followed behind Song Qingyi, her eyes lowered, looking at her with a face full of guilt.
"No need." Song Qingyi’s expression was indifferent. Since this home had no place for her, she would simply take her ID and leave.
"Where are the things that were in my room?"
Zhao Suihua looked troubled. She stammered for a long while before Song Julan finally spoke up: "Thrown out."
"I'm sorry, Qingyi. The housekeeper saw that the things in your room were old, so she threw them away. But it doesn't matter; I’ll have your older brother take you to buy new ones tomorrow."
Song Qingyi ignored Zhao Suihua and looked at Song Julan.
"Was my ID card thrown out, too?"
"It's fine, it's fine, Qingyi. We’ll just have your brother take you to get a replacement tomorrow."
Receiving this confirmation, Song Qingyi finally shifted her gaze to Zhao Suihua.
The woman before her had fair, delicate skin and a graceful posture, looking nothing like someone over forty.
She looked even more radiant than she had three years ago.
Zhao Suihua had married Father Song three years after Song Qingyi’s biological mother passed away.
Yet, the child this woman had given birth to was the same age as Song Qingyi.
Even Song Yueyue’s birthday was on the exact same day as hers.
Song Qingyi lowered her eyes, refusing to look at Zhao Suihua any longer.
"Can I go get a replacement right now?" Song Qingyi couldn't stay for another second.
The stinging pain in her chest felt like ants gnawing at her.
"Song Qingyi, just how far do you plan to take this?" Song Julan strode over to stand before her, looking down at her with disdain.
"Knowing you don't like Yueyue, Yueyue has already moved out."
"You’re clearly starving yourself, yet you insist on wasting Aunt Zhao's kindness just to be difficult."
"It’s just that your room was occupied, and now you want to go replace your ID? What is it? Do you feel like this house can no longer hold you?"
Song Julan’s questions rang out, and Zhao Suihua began to wipe away tears upon hearing them.
Watching this mother and son, Song Qingyi suddenly felt an urge to laugh.
How pathetic must her past have been that she had actually hoped these lunatics would love her?
Seeing that Song Qingyi offered no rebuttal, Zhao Suihua quickly wiped her tears and took her arm, leading her toward the dining table.
"That’s a good girl, Qingyi. Let’s eat first, and after dinner, I’ll have your brother take you to replace your ID."
Seeing that Song Julan didn't object this time, Song Qingyi followed Zhao Suihua's gesture and sat down at the table.
Since they wanted her to be obedient so badly, she would play along with their wishes.
As long as she could get her ID, she didn't mind performing a play for them.
Song Qingyi ate the braised fish under Zhao Suihua’s expectant gaze.
But after just a few bites, her stomach turned.
Her gut churned, and Song Julan, staring at her pale complexion, sneered.
"Song Qingyi, are you still going to pretend—"
Before he could finish, Song Qingyi vomited a mouthful of fresh blood.
"Ah! Qingyi!" Zhao Suihua cried out, her tears falling before her voice had even faded.
"Qingyi, don't scare your aunt like this. What’s wrong with you..."
Song Julan stared at the crimson stain on the off-white tablecloth, his ears ringing.
Before he could even process what was happening, his hand had already pulled out his phone, his actions bypassing his consciousness to dial Doctor Zhao’s number.
From the moment Song Qingyi vomited blood to the arrival of the doctor, only about five or six minutes had passed.
Yet, in Song Julan’s eyes, everything seemed to move in slow motion.
It was just like the day Wanwan had passed away...
He couldn't believe this had been done by his own sister, and he couldn't believe that the Song Qingyi before him was vomiting blood...
In his memory, although Song Qingyi was a liar who always framed and hated Yueyue, at least her health had been sound...
"It’s gastritis combined with a gastric ulcer. She needs to be careful with her diet and avoid anything too greasy. These medications must be taken on time."
After finishing the examination, Doctor Zhao prescribed some medicine for Song Qingyi.
Upon hearing it was just a stomach ailment, Song Julan finally caught his breath.
"It’s all Aunt’s fault, it’s all my fault." Zhao Suihua clutched Song Qingyi’s hand tightly, sobbing.
Song Qingyi continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. To Song Julan, this appearance was merely her throwing a temper tantrum.
"Song Qingyi, you knew you couldn't eat anything too greasy. Why didn't you say so from the start?"
Song Qingyi saw Song Julan’s lips moving, and she simply closed her eyes.
Song Julan no longer had a shred of affection left for her...
Then again, from the moment he decided she was a murderer, there had been no familial love left between them.
...
Following the incident with Song Qingyi vomiting blood, the Song house quieted down for a time.
As night fell, after finishing her IV drip, Song Qingyi went to find Song Julan to get her ID replaced, only to discover that the Song family had guests.
Song Qingyi walked out of her room and into the parlor, where she saw Xia Beiji.
"Qingyi."
Xia Beiji stood up the moment he saw her.
Father Song and Zhao Suihua turned their heads at the sound.
"Qingyi, you’ve come just in time. Beiji was just discussing buying you a house with us." Father Song greeted her with a smile, motioning for her to come over.
The scene before her felt strangely familiar.
In the back of her mind, she felt that whenever these people gathered, nothing good ever happened.
"Why are you buying me a house?"
Father Song and Zhao Suihua exchanged glances, and in the end, it was Xia Beiji who spoke.
"Half a month ago, Yueyue hit someone while driving under the influence. That person is refusing compensation and wants to sue Yueyue."
The familiar tone, the familiar prelude.
Xia Beiji paused for a moment, checking Song Qingyi’s expression. Finding no agitation, he continued: "Qingyi, could you take the blame for Yueyue?"