Upon returning home, Song Yu skipped over to greet them. "Aunt Qiaoqiao, Uncle, you're back!"
The little bundle of pink was exceptionally lively. She hugged Lin Anqiao around the waist and nuzzled against her affectionately, saying, "Aunt Qiaoqiao, I like you so much! You look as beautiful as an angel in a fairy tale."
Her large eyes gazed up at her, looking incredibly sincere and adorable.
Lin Anqiao couldn't help but pinch her rosy, porcelain-like cheeks. "Aunt Qiaoqiao loves Xiaoyu too. You’re the little angel."
Song Yu’s eyes darted around mischievously. "Since we both love each other, how about you become my little aunt and stay with me forever?"
Hearing this, Song Hanjiang looked at her with a cryptic smile.
Lin Anqiao’s heart trembled, but a faint, uncomfortable sensation stirred in her stomach. She bit her lower lip, her gaze dimming as she said with a touch of self-mockery, "Be good, Xiaoyu. Your uncle deserves someone better."
Song Hanjiang interjected from the side, "Qiaoqiao, to me, you are the best."
His voice was languid and clear, with an upward lilt that sounded almost hypnotic. Lin Anqiao could feel his intense gaze, filled with both inquiry and aggression. The discomfort in her stomach made her afraid to meet his eyes; she only wanted to escape.
Clutching the divorce agreement, Lin Anqiao lifted her eyelids and said, "I'm going back to my room."
Song Hanjiang frowned, his sharp gaze fixed on her back as she feigned composure. His eyes darkened, lost in thought.
Song Yu couldn't resist sticking her tongue out playfully at Song Hanjiang, her childish voice piping up, "Uncle, you don't have enough charm."
Song Hanjiang flicked her soft, fair cheek and raised an eyebrow. "For this matter, I'll still have to rely on you."
...
Back in her room, Lin Anqiao sat at her desk and spread out the divorce agreement. Her eyes scanned every word on the page; the handwriting seemed to carry all the grievances and helplessness of the past seven years.
It also symbolized the coming of her liberation.
Regrettably, she had less than three months left.
She pressed her hand gently against her stomach. Every wave of pain felt like a dull knife churning within, cutting deep. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the pen.
After signing her name, she let out a soft breath and smiled bitterly. "These seven years are finally over."
Unfortunately, there was still a cooling-off period for the divorce. During this time, she just needed to wait patiently for the period to end before she could go to the Civil Affairs Bureau with Fu Jingzhou to finalize the paperwork.
Lin Anqiao bit her lip and took out her paintbrushes, her eyes resolute. "From now on, I will find myself again."
To live for herself, to pick up her brushes again, and to pursue the dreams she had long set aside.
The next day, Lin Anqiao took the bags and jewelry Fu Jingzhou had given her during their time together to a luxury resale shop. As she watched the funds appear in her mobile banking app, hope ignited in her heart. She would use this money to fulfill her dreams in the remaining three months and pursue the life she truly loved.
When Song Hanjiang learned that she had sold her private property, he guessed her intentions. However, he had already returned to the office to handle business.
He called Lin Anqiao. It was answered almost immediately.
Song Hanjiang’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed. His voice held a hint of seduction and allure as he asked, "Qiaoqiao, is there anything I can help you with? If you want to open your own studio, I can assist with the startup capital."
Lin Anqiao’s expression darkened. He could always guess her thoughts, just as he had when they were children.
"No, thank you. I can manage on my own," Lin Anqiao refused. After a moment, she added, "Brother, you’ve already helped me a lot. Thank you."
On the other end of the line, Song Hanjiang remained silent for a long time, his eyes flickering. He finally spoke, his voice low and cool. "Qiaoqiao, you really don't need to draw such clear lines between us."
Nearby, his assistant, who was pouring tea, observed the situation and sighed inwardly. Who exactly was on the other end of the line to make the CEO speak like this? It had to be the future CEO’s wife. In the assistant’s mind, a drama of "he chases, she runs, she can't escape" was already unfolding.
After hanging up, Song Hanjiang glanced at the assistant, who was still standing there blankly, caught in his own imagination. He said coldly, "Aren't you leaving?"
"Understood, Mr. Song."
The assistant jumped in fright and hurried out, bursting with gossip.
...
With capital in hand, Lin Anqiao began looking for a suitable studio. She had high standards: the lighting had to be perfect, and the space had to be large enough to both create freely and display her work.
It wasn't easy to find. Either the location was too remote, or the rent was too high. After seeing several that didn't fit, she had no choice but to head home.
As soon as she opened the door, little Song Yu rushed up to her and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Aunt Qiaoqiao, you’re home so late today! I missed you!"
Back at the Fu Family, Fu Xiaochuan had never acted like this toward her.
Lin Anqiao smiled, her heart softening as she touched the girl's head. "I'll be back earlier next time."
Song Yu pulled on Lin Anqiao’s hand, her voice milky. "Aunt Qiaoqiao, I drew so many pictures today. Do you want to see them?"
The little girl couldn't wait to lead Lin Anqiao to the table, carefully lifting the drawings she had made. She tilted her head up, her eyes bright and filled with anticipation as she looked at Lin Anqiao.
Seeing the drawings, Lin Anqiao’s eyes trembled. On the paper were three people: two adults and one child.
Song Yu pointed at the drawing and said, "That’s me, that’s Uncle, and that’s you!"
Lin Anqiao’s eyes felt sore. A few years ago, Fu Xiaochuan had learned to draw on a whim, but his pictures only ever included himself and Fu Jingzhou. When Fu Jingzhou asked him why, he had said, "I think Mom looks a bit unkempt, so I don't want to draw her."
Lin Anqiao lowered her eyes and touched Song Yu’s drawing. The little girl had drawn her looking exceptionally beautiful, complete with two small wings on her back.
The affection she had failed to receive from Fu Jingzhou and Fu Xiaochuan, Song Yu had provided effortlessly.
She pulled Song Yu into a sudden embrace. "Your drawing is wonderful."
Song Yu’s face bloomed into a smile, her eyes curving into crescents. She asked expectantly, "Then, can Aunt Qiaoqiao teach me to draw in the future? I heard Uncle say that you’re an amazing artist."
Lin Anqiao felt a warmth in her heart. She reached out and gently stroked Song Yu’s hair. "Of course. As long as you want to learn, Aunt Qiaoqiao will give everything she has to teach you."
Song Yu jumped with excitement, clapping her small hands. "That’s great! With Aunt Qiaoqiao teaching me, I’ll definitely be able to draw even better!"
Lin Anqiao’s gaze suddenly darkened. It was a pity she only had three months left. Otherwise, she would have loved to watch Xiaoyu grow into an independent artist herself.