HGG - 10

If Jenny wanted to play a prank on her, most of Song Yi’s defenses would have been as futile as a mantis trying to stop a carriage.

The gap between them was obvious. However, Song Yi had no intention of surrendering without a fight.

When Jenny stood still in the hidden stairwell wearing that old dress, Song Yi had already guessed her intentions.

The plan failed, and Jenny, humiliated and enraged, furiously tried to shake off Song Yi’s hand.

However, blinded by anger, she overlooked one crucial detail.

At that moment, Song Yi had just pulled her up with great force, and her center of gravity was still unstable.

Before Song Yi could regain her footing, Jenny shook her off. Wearing high heels, Song Yi stumbled backward and stepped awkwardly onto the next stair.

She desperately sought something to hold onto, retreating a few steps with all her might, but her tilting body uncontrollably continued to fall backward.

By this time, they had unknowingly left the stairwell, and everything was exposed to the public eye.

Song Yi thought she would fall, but just as she was about to hit the ground, she landed in someone’s arms.

She smelled the scent of hyacinths—the fragrance of the fabric freshener Chi Zhao liked.

Chi Zhao’s breathing was slightly labored, clearly from having just run over. While it would have seemed odd for anyone else to be running in a suit in the hall, when it came to Chi Zhao, it carried a certain youthful charm.

Song Yi’s thoughts scattered, and just then, she heard a voice behind her. She turned to look.

“Zhan Xiaohong,” Chi Zhao tilted his head up, his face as cold as a dagger bathed in moonlight, “Why did you push my secretary?”

With one hand around her waist, he steadied her and helped her stand upright.

As her center of gravity returned to her body, her heartbeat pounded against her temples. Song Yi wasn’t sure if she was shaken by the near fall or flustered by the close contact with her boss.

Swallowing hard, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen, she quietly leaned in and whispered, “She didn’t push me, and I’m not hurt.”

The next second, Chi Zhao firmly pressed her shoulder against him. Stiff and dazed, she leaned on his shoulder and saw him lower his head to make a funny face at her.

“I told you Alien was scary,” he avoided others’ gazes, lowering his voice and giving her a bright, refreshing smile, “Can we leave now?”

Song Yi froze for a moment, then responded in a tone befitting a secretary approving her boss’s decision: “Yes.”

To outsiders, it merely appeared as though the third son of the Chi family was helping his companion up. No one knew they had exchanged such a private conversation.

Jenny’s face flushed red. She hadn’t pushed Song Yi—at most, she had only shaken off her hand.

Besides, she was supposed to be the victim, not Song Yi!

But the moment Chi Zhao appeared, he pinned the blame on her.

“I didn’t!” Jenny frantically denied, flustered. “You can ask Song Yi! I really didn’t push her!”

Her carefully planned scheme to frame herself as the victim had backfired, turning her into the perpetrator instead.

The socialite friends who usually surrounded Jenny wanted to help, but upon seeing Chi Zhao, they hesitated.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Chi Zhao’s acting rivaled that of a Berlin Film Festival winner, displaying both fury and heartbreak. “Song Yi, tell me what happened.”

Song Yi wanted to say something, but Chi Zhao lowered his head. They locked eyes briefly, and Song Yi emotionlessly understood her boss’s intent.

She bowed her head. “Miss Zhan didn’t mean to…”

In her heart, Song Yi was relieved. Fortunately, she had searched online for “what to do if framed by a rival” and ended up reading numerous cases of rivals being framed.

This line was the most frequently used phrase in those cases.

It neither blatantly accused the other party nor left room for doubt, subtly guiding everyone to understand who should be blamed.

“You plotted together! You conspired! You’re ganging up on me!” Jenny fearfully backed away, trying to retreat into the shadows.

Chi Zhao stood firm, beams of light filtering through the chandelier scattering like fragments of starlight, falling sparsely on him.

“Secretary Song is very important to me. So, please, Miss Zhan, don’t bother her again in the future,” he said.

Upon hearing these words, Song Yi involuntarily raised her head. Standing beside Chi Zhao, she looked at his profile—pale and clear, a blend of arrogance and warmth.

Suddenly, she felt as if something inside her chest was gnawing at her.

However, Chi Zhao was completely unaware. He grabbed Song Yi’s hand, supporting her as he whispered, “Let’s go, quickly, don’t look back,” heading toward the exit, showing just how disinterested he was in this banquet.

Unfortunately, after taking only a few steps, a voice suddenly called out from upstairs.

“Chi Zhao.”

They both turned their heads simultaneously and saw Zhan Heqing standing on the stairs.

“The directors want to see you,” he pointed behind him, adding, “It’s something important.”

After sending Chi Zhao off, Song Yi sat alone in the corridor on the second floor, resting. She recalled an old memory.

During a university sports meet, as a freshman, she had been assigned to participate in the long-distance race—a project everyone else avoided.

She liked to give her all and trained diligently for some time. During the race, she ran behind the department’s beauty queen.

Song Yi was absolutely certain she hadn’t touched her, but after the beauty queen fell, she pointed at Song Yi and cried hysterically, “She pushed me!”

At that moment, Song Yi didn’t panic like Jenny had. She said, “We can check the race footage…”

However, several classmates suddenly grabbed her hands from behind and shook their heads. “Song Yi, just apologize.”

“There’s no point arguing with her. It’s fine. Just bear with it.”

“She’s the department’s beauty queen, and she’s our senior. Take a step back, and the world will be wider.”

“It’s not worth fighting. Just apologize and go back.”

In the end, she never apologized, which caused her no small amount of trouble during her college years.

Back then, Song Yi was confused by her classmates’ behavior, much like a computer unable to comprehend human emotions.

But at this moment, she suddenly understood everything.

Their desire to resolve the matter quickly stemmed from the fact that they didn’t care about her feelings.

It didn’t matter to them what happened to Song Yi.

She wasn’t an important person to them.

Song Yi sat there in a daze when the sofa beside her suddenly sank. Zhan Heqing had sat down next to her.

“You two,” he crossed his arms, abruptly blurting out four words, “are shameless accomplices.”

Others might think the unruly Miss Zhan had injured someone and refused to admit it, but as Jenny’s brother, how could he not know his sister’s true nature?

Combined with his understanding of Chi Zhao, the truth of the incident was crystal clear.

Song Yi asked, “Is there no better phrase than that?”

Zhan Heqing paused briefly, thought for a moment, and said, “A match made in heaven.”

Hearing this phrase, Song Yi felt a slight sense of unreality. But Zhan Heqing quickly followed up, “Can you still walk? If you’re fine, go inside and take a look. My dad kicked me out. Since you’re Chi Zhao’s person, you should be fine.”

Song Yi rose professionally, loosened her ankle, and then casually knocked and entered the room.

Around the round table in the room sat a group of people, the directors smoking cigars, filling the entire room with clouds of smoke.

Song Yi stood silently beside Chi Zhao. As usual, he played a candy-crushing game on his phone, only responding when his name was mentioned.

It wasn’t difficult to notice that, amidst the subtly tense atmosphere, Chi Zhao was the center of everyone’s attention.

Seated across from him was Zhan Luo, the Chief Financial Officer of Chongming Headquarters. He was also the father of Zhan Heqing, Chongyou’s vice president, and Miss Jenny, the opera singer.

Zhan Luo smoked his cigar, just as Chi Zhao remained uninvolved in the surrounding conversations. However, throughout, he observed Chi Zhao and the secretary beside him.

Chi Zhao hadn’t changed much; he was currently staring at his phone with a serious expression. Anyone unaware might think he had just read negative news about his own company.

Song Yi pointed to the screen, and a few overlooked candies were eliminated with a sound. Chi Zhao sincerely thanked her, and Song Yi politely replied, “You’re welcome.”

The two radiated harmony, their pleasant interaction infuriating Zhan Luo enough to extinguish his barely-smoked cigar.

“Chi Zhao, do you know why we’ve called you here today?” Zhan Luo cleared his throat.

Chi Zhao gave him a charming smile. “Because all of you uncles missed me?”

Before Zhan Luo could scowl, Chi Zhao quickly corrected himself: “I’m joking. It’s because Chongyou has started generating revenue, right?”

“…That’s one of the reasons,” Zhan Luo announced calmly. “Also, Chi Chong’s body has been found.”

Chi Zhao slightly reined in his expression but maintained his smile as he asked, “Where?”

“That’s not important for now,” Zhan Luo said. “What’s important is that his will can now be activated.”

A lawyer nearby handed over the documents—black ink on white paper. In Chi Chong’s will, he had decided to transfer his shares of Chongming to Chi Zhao.

Everyone present seemed unsurprised, except for Song Yi, who was slightly shocked. She tried to gauge Chi Zhao’s reaction but only caught a fleeting moment of emptiness in his eyes.

As soon as Chi Chong’s death had been confirmed, they were already preparing to divide the inheritance he had left for his younger brother.

What Zhan Luo said next froze the air: “We’ve called you here today to persuade you to renounce this inheritance.”

“Of course,” an assistant behind Zhan Luo added, “we won’t let Mr. Chi suffer a loss for nothing. In exchange, we will—”

“Where’s my father?” Chi Zhao interrupted nonchalantly. He exited the candy-filled game interface, put away his phone, and asked solemnly, “I brought him his favorite flowers today.”

Zhan Luo’s face grew increasingly somber. “Your father is on his way, but unfortunately, Chi Zhao, the request we’re making to you has his approval. He’ll be here in ten minutes.

“Just wait a moment—he’ll personally come to persuade you.”

Chi Zhao sat leisurely in his seat, resting his cheek on his hand, seemingly unconcerned.

Song Yi gripped her sleeve tightly, suppressing the turmoil inside her. Having dealt with matters related to Chongming Culture and given it some thought, she had already gained a sufficient understanding of the situation.

Of course Chi Zhao’s father would agree.

They weren’t a close-knit father and son.

If Chi Zhao’s influence in Chongming were to increase, no one could predict his future actions. He was a ticking time bomb planted by the board, a wolf shaking the foundation, a vulture with unclear loyalties.

If anyone could step forward to ensure Chi Zhao’s compliance, they could undoubtedly earn the favor of the entire board.

Chi Zhao’s biological father was undoubtedly the best candidate.

Even if others didn’t recommend him, whether for self-preservation or to consolidate his position, he would have volunteered himself 100%.

If Chi Zhao refused, he would immediately become the target of everyone at Chongming.

The room fell into an oppressive silence, broken only by the faint hissing of cigars burning slowly.

Zhan Luo waved his hand, and an assistant beside him took a coffee pot from a waiter’s tray.

The assistant circled around to Chi Zhao’s side and spoke softly: “Mr. Chi, the terms we’re offering are quite generous. Signing the contract won’t harm you in any way. With Chi Chong’s passing, we understand your feelings as the youngest son receiving this opportunity, but…”

He was using reverse psychology, subtly shifting the boundaries of his words.

“With your elder brother’s death,” his words felt like a screwdriver twisting painfully into flesh, “surely you wouldn’t feel glad about it?”

The coffee pot neared Chi Zhao’s cup, about to pour.

Chi Zhao’s expression remained unchanged, his gaze vacant, toying with a pen in his hand. At the mention of the word “glad,” he raised his eyes sharply—

But at that moment, someone intercepted his dangerous glare.

The coffee pot was pressed down by delicate hands. Song Yi squeezed between them, isolating the assistant from Chi Zhao.

Maintaining a polite and friendly demeanor, she gently moved the coffee pot away and spoke kindly: “I apologize, but your misunderstanding runs too deep.

“Our Mr. Chi never drinks coffee.” She enunciated each word clearly.