Song Qian: "…"
No, he hadn't given the money to Ye Qianqian. An Ting had run off with all of it—his money, his house, and his car.
An Ting stared at the ceiling. The five million had already been pocketed by PS, and she couldn't come up with it now.
But Song Qian was still a gentleman toward his ex. He didn't bring up the five million again, just touched his nose guiltily and said, "Dad, don't listen to Grandma's nonsense. I was just eyeing a car, but didn't have enough money, so I asked her for some."
"Okay, whatever car you like, just pay what you have, and I'll cover the rest!"
Song Qian was speechless.
Exasperated, Mr. Song said, "Tell me what you're after! Is your brain only a hundred yuan thick?"
"Dad, Qianqian is a good girl!"
Mr. Song: "That's what I told your grandfather back then too."
"So you married such a wonderful wife as my mother, didn't you?"
"No… I got beaten by your grandfather and dragged to a blind date with your mother."
Song Qian: "…"
Mr. Song sighed and looked at An Ting, who hadn't spoken yet. "Although A-Qian has a bad temper, you are the only girl he's ever mentioned to me. I've met you a few times, and you're a very good girl."
His sincerity caught An Ting off guard for a moment.
The original owner's memories did include Song's father. Because she had been Song Qian's first girlfriend, his family had always valued her. When she won first prize for singing on stage, it was Song's father who presented the award.
All along, he had been kind and appreciative toward the original owner of this body, and he approved of Song Qian being with her.
So when he learned of their breakup, he rushed over, thinking it was just a small argument. But after seeing the adoring look in Song Qian's eyes when he talked about Ye Qianqian, Mr. Song realized he might have been wrong.
He himself didn't care much about social status and didn't need a "business marriage" at the moment. He genuinely liked An Ting—the girl he'd met a few times—while he didn't think much of Ye Qianqian.
However, his son's heart was now entirely focused on Ye Qianqian; it was no longer the situation when he first arrived, thinking only of conflicts with An Ting.
"Song Qian was in the wrong in this matter."
Looking at Song's father's apologetic gaze, An Ting felt complicated. She wasn't the original owner of the body he admired; that little girl he had admired was long gone.
Thinking of this, she opened the bag she had brought and took out two keys—the same two Song Qian had given her before.
"Uncle Song, Song Qian did nothing wrong to me. We broke up normally, so please don't blame him. Besides, when he broke up with me, he was worried I'd have financial difficulties, so he insisted on giving me a house and a car. Now I'm returning them to you."
It wasn't generosity—she couldn't afford the car or maintain the house, and it wasn't even registered in her name. She hadn't returned it earlier, fearing Song Qian would just pass it on to Ye Qianqian. But now, meeting Mr. Song, she had a way to give it back safely.
Song Qian's eyes went wide at the two keys. When did she…!? Didn't she just stuff them all shamelessly into her bag?!
If his father hadn't been there, Song Qian would've grabbed her shoulder immediately. This was his private property—something his father didn't even know about. Returning it now felt like throwing a wolf into the tiger's den. He'd rather she keep it herself.
Mr. Song looked at the keys and then at Song Qian meaningfully.
Song Qian looked out the window in despair.
"Since he gave it to you, just take it. Our family doesn't need these things."
An Ting was tempted by Mr. Song's wealth and power, but she firmly pushed the keys back: "No, Uncle Song, I can't take it."
Mr. Song was deeply moved. He had been right about An Ting. She wasn't swayed by money and, even dating his son, wasn't like other women who only wanted his family's wealth.
"Alright, since you're determined, I'll take these back for now." He put the keys away.
An Ting smiled, but her heart ached. Keeping the house wasn't safe—it was still under Song Qian's name. If he got obsessed with Ye Qianqian, he could sell it at any time. She also couldn't afford the car; maintenance and fuel would bankrupt her.
Even so, seeing the money leave her hands hurt more than being under a literal spotlight and nearly dying.
Then, unexpectedly, Mr. Song took out a card from his pocket, placed it in An Ting's hand, and looked at her sincerely:
"Tingting, you're a good girl. Take this card; consider it an early birthday gift. You need this money now, but don't feel guilty. Focus on your studies."
An Ting: "!!!"
Her hands trembled. "Uncle Song… this… this won't do…"
"What's wrong? There's only five million in there. I haven't given you anything in the past year or two, so consider this a belated birthday gift."
Mr. Song really liked this girl. Back then, he had admired strong, hardworking girls—but had ended up choosing Song Qian's mother through a blind date. That little brat didn't know how to cherish things!
"No, Uncle Song, I can't take your money!" An Ting firmly returned the card. "Though I'm poor now, I won't lose my spirit, no matter how poor I am!"
Mr. Song pushed it back: "It's just a little money, like a red envelope from an elder…"
The two of them pushed it back and forth. Song Qian, watching, was nearly numb: "If my dad gives it to you, just take it. Your family is struggling, so take it and study in peace."
Hearing this, Mr. Song insisted and shoved the card into An Ting's hand: "Don't return what's given. Keep it safe!"
An Ting reluctantly accepted it, satisfying Mr. Song. He said a few more words, then left, leaving only her and Song Qian in the private room.
Song Qian looked at her, expression complicated: "Are you happy?"
An Ting slowly sipped her tea. "What did you say? I don't understand."
"Even my dad wouldn't give me five million so easily," Song Qian grumbled. "He said you have ambition and perseverance, while Qianqian isn't as two-faced as you."
An Ting glanced at him. "Are you putting down your ex to praise your current girlfriend?"
"Did I step on you? Did I say anything wrong?" Song Qian was furious thinking about how An Ting had handed over her hard-earned house and car—and now gotten a five-million-yuan card.
"I gave you another five million! That makes ten million total. You're richer than me now!" Song Qian fumed, standing and walking out. "Go back yourself, I don't want to see you anymore."
"Hey! Don't rush me." An Ting pulled him back, patting his face with the card. "I'm the one who wronged you. 20/80 split?"
Caught off guard, Song Qian nearly fell into her arms. Angrily he yelled, "Can't you be a little more composed?!"
After shouting, his gaze lingered on the card. "Fifty-fifty split!"
"Never mind then." An Ting let go immediately. "You can go now. Don't see me again. I'll go back myself."
Song Qian almost blew his top again. "Do you think I care about a mere million?"
An Ting raised an eyebrow.
Song Qian: "…"
He thought about his situation: his father wouldn't give him money and might even tell everyone not to sponsor him.
"Alright then." Song Qian forced a smile. "Two-eight it is. Just remember to transfer the money to me."
An Ting smiled: "Then take me back to school. Taxis are expensive."
Song Qian gritted his teeth and drove her back. He stopped a block away: "You can get off here. Otherwise, people will think I'm still seeing my ex. If Qianqian finds out, she'll be even less likely to accept me."
An Ting gave a half-smile: "Alright, I wish you happiness. I hope my head won't turn so green it can photosynthesize."
Song Qian flicked his newly styled hair in the rearview mirror—the trendy "granny gray puppy" cut, combined with his youthful face, looked extremely deceptive. He tossed his hair, scoffed: "If I'm not happy, who is?"
An Ting shrugged, opened the car door, and got out. Before she could stand properly, she bumped into someone.
"I'm sorry, are you alright?"
An Ting knew who it was without looking up.
Song Qian, still in the car, looked up happily: "Qianqian, what are you doing here?"
Ye Qianqian was also surprised: "I came out to buy some medicine… did I disturb you?"
Song Qian glanced at An Ting and shook his head: "Qianqian, don't misunderstand. I have no relationship with her. I just gave her a ride back on the way."
Ye Qianqian forced a smile: "Really? You two are still on good terms after the breakup?"
"No, how could we? We just happened to run into each other."
"When I saw her in your car, I thought you two got back together." Ye Qianqian sighed in relief and smiled shyly. "I guess I was prejudiced. I thought An Ting would hate you, but I didn't expect her to ride with you voluntarily."
Huh?
An Ting, about to leave, paused and glanced back.
Song Qian, confused: "Why would she hate me? I didn't cheat on her."
Ye Qianqian: "…I meant I was worried she might resent you for the breakup. I overthought it."
"That makes sense," Song Qian nodded. Since breaking up with An Ting, she seemed completely changed—maybe even hated him.
An Ting, listening from the side, gritted her teeth. Fine. She didn't know if the original owner hated Song Qian, but she now resented this little brat.
An Ting never intended to exterminate them, really.
But society is treacherous.
She opened Photoshop, found the dog head from before, and slapped it over Ye Qianqian's face.
Song Qian, who had just been staring at Ye Qianqian in fascination, froze and stared at her altered face for a long time.
Ye Qianqian smiled slightly: "What's wrong? Something on my face?"
Song Qian hesitated: "Qianqian… why do you look like a dog's head?"