Song Yue barely managed to get out the word Uncle before Nie Rougang cut her off with a cold, slicing tone. "Go do your homework with Weisha. If you fail the monthly exam again, I will personally teach you a lesson."
His eyes warned her not to test him again.
Before she could protest, Song Yuxuan hooked her arm around Nie Rougang's and tugged gently, her voice warm and sugary. "Third brother, we should go. We'll be late."
She practically dragged him out of the living room, refusing to glance back at Song Yue even once.
The message was clear—she didn't want them to exchange another word.
And she certainly didn't want Song Yue anywhere near him.
Song Yue stomped her foot. That damned man!
He said her aunt didn't have feelings for him—yet here she was, dressing in her best, hovering like perfume, and insisting on being his secretary. Why hadn't she joined the Song Corporation after university? Why this job? Why his office?
The answer was obvious.
Sickeningly obvious.
"Why are you still staring after him?" Song Weisha sneered, walking over. "Are you going to study or not? If not, I'll call your Uncle and tell him."
Song Yue rolled her eyes hard enough that they almost fell out. "Go ahead. Even if you did call him, I wouldn't be scared. You're scared of him, though. I can tell."
She slung her backpack over her shoulder and marched into the study room.
The moment she entered, she tossed the bag onto the desk with a satisfying thud, then plopped herself onto the swivel chair, crossing her legs on top of the polished wood.
Weisha's face, meanwhile, crumpled in disgust. She eyed Song Yue's t-shirt and jeans like they were diseases. "Don't you dare tell people you're my cousin when you go out. It's embarrassing. Look at your clothes for god's sake!"
Song Yue didn't move. Didn't even blink as she replied plainly. "Then don't help me with my homework. Get lost!"
Weisha's nostrils flared. "Who are you telling to get lost?! You think I want to help you? Your grades are a disgrace! Grandfather said the Song family has never had someone so stupid. You inherited the IQ of your mother—Only your mother was—"
She didn't get to finish.
Song Yue shot up from her chair, snatched a heavy paperweight from the table, and swung it toward Weisha's head with a force that made the air whistle.
"I dare you to f*cking say that again!" Song Yue warned her, almost growling at her cousin.
Song Weisha shrieked and stumbled back. She knew Song Yue would do it—this cousin had always been fearless, reckless, terrifyingly bold.
"I didn't mean that!" Weisha babbled. "I just meant—statistics! IQ tests! You can look it up online—science… Yes... science!"
Song Yue lowered the paperweight slowly and placed it back on the desk with a cold click.
She didn't care about exams before. Not when her uncle had left for a year. Not when failing brought him home sooner. She had enjoyed the attention—his scolding, his tutoring, his warmth. Good grades never gave her anything she wanted.
But Song Weisha didn't know any of that.
"What are we studying? Hurry up," Song Yue snapped.
Song Weisha's chest rose and fell rapidly. She wanted to slap Song Yue so badly. "We're reviewing extracts. Making notes and writing things down."
She yanked open the drawer and slammed several notebooks on the table. "Copy these. Do the English essays. Then the math exercises. I have something to do. I'll check everything when I get back."
Then, with a self-satisfied tilt of her chin, she walked out and quietly locked the door behind her.
The click of the lock rang like mockery.
Song Yue stared at the doorknob, her fingers drumming on the desk.
So that's how her cousin wanted to play?
Her heartbeat steadied.
Her eyes gleamed.
Fine.
She opened Song Weisha's notebook and copied every line—including the poem "Autumn thoughts in a clear sky."
"Withered vines, old trees, faint cawing of crows…"
The teacher would be confused tomorrow—deliciously confused.
Time slipped past like ink bleeding across a page.
Eventually, Song Yue stood, stomach growling loudly. She walked to the door—
locked.
Of course. Why wouldn't it be...
No use yelling. In this house, a servant might as well yell into a wall. They'd rather pretend she didn't exist.
Her stomach rumbled again.
She scanned the room.
Then smirked.
She went to the cabinet under the table and pulled it open.
"Glorious treasure."
Rows of them filled with snacks.
All hidden by the ever-elegant, always-dieting Song Weisha.
Song Yue stretched out on the sofa like a queen reclaiming a stolen throne. She popped open a bag of chips, bit into a chocolate cake, licked the cream, and drank straight from a juice box.
Oh, Song Weisha would scream when she found out.
Absolutely scream.
She hummed contentedly—
Until voices drifted down the corridor outside.
Grandfather and grandmother.
"Why were you so late? Rougang brought Song Yue back today," He Fen said.
Song Yue stopped chewing.
She could picture Song Ze's face—the cold eyes of a man who believed her birth was a curse. Her father had died the day she was born, and Grandfather never forgave her for that. He wouldn't even let her use her full name.
"That little girl is back," Song Ze sighed.
He sounded like someone discussing an unwanted piece of furniture.
Song Yue swallowed a mouthful of cake, the sweetness suddenly bitter.
"Raising her a few more years is nothing," He Fen continued calmly. "But Rougang is not young anymore. He needs to marry. Since his company is now so successful and we raised him, the Song family should not let outsiders benefit. So we should tell Rougang to marry Yuxuan."
Song Yue froze at those words.
Her fingers tightened around the cake.
Her aunt.
Her damn fuc*ing aunt.
Her grandfather actually wanted to marry her aunt to her uncle.
"What do you think?" He Fen asked.
Song Yue pressed her ear harder to the door, desperate.
"Yes… it seems best…" Song Ze murmured.
She didn't hear the rest. The door muffled it.
But she'd heard enough.
In fact, too much.
She kicked the door. "Damn it—!"
A sharp voice cut in. "What was that sound?"
Song Yue shot away from the door like lightning, brushed crumbs off her clothes, and shoved empty wrappers between couch cushions.
"It's me!" she yelled. "Cousin Weisha locked me in! She was being mean!"
She wasn't lying this time.
Footsteps approached.
The door rattled.
Song Yue straightened her hair, her clothes, her expression. She looked furious, wronged, and ready to explode.
Inside her chest, her heart beat like a war drum.
Her aunt wanted to steal her dear Uncle?
Her man?
And her grandfather approved it?
Over her dead body.
Her eyes burned with fire.
Nie Rougang was hers—even if he didn't realize it yet.