After a Real Person Plays the Protagonist of an Anguish Novel [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Canary 02

Tang Yiqing had fallen asleep on the fourth floor, clutching the orange cat. He was still wearing that bright yellow long dress. Song Shuyi was a man with an intense need for control; over three years of mutual torment, Tang Yiqing had gradually figured out his temperament—he demanded absolute obedience.

Since Song Shuyi had chosen this dress, Tang Yiqing had to keep wearing it until Song Shuyi ordered a change. He knew that the moment he put this dress on, many identical ones had appeared in his wardrobe.

The night was deep. The crabapple flowers in the courtyard swayed in the wind. The windows inside were open, allowing the scent of the flowers to drift in.

On the lonely, oversized bed, one person and one cat slept soundly. It was actually still early; typically, young people wouldn’t be sleeping at this hour.

In the most bustling bar in the city center, young men and women swayed their bodies on the dance floor to restless music that made one’s eardrums ache.

In a private booth, Song Shuyi sat in the center. He was smoking, the smoke blurring his superior features. His gaze was somber, his thoughts unreadable.

At that moment, an arm draped over his shoulder. “What are you thinking about? Look at the people around us—if you don’t move, they don’t even dare to speak loudly.”

Song Shuyi glanced at Zhou Zhihe and crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. “Tell them to play as they please. Leave me alone.”

Zhou Zhihe leaned in closer, a knowing smile appearing on his handsome face. “Worrying about your canary again?”

Song Shuyi poured a large gulp of alcohol down his throat. “Who else could it be but him?”

Zhou Zhihe’s handsome eyes lowered slightly, his long lashes veiling his gaze. He chuckled. “Sigh, I really don’t know what you’re after. It’s been three years, right? If it’s really not working, just swap him out. It’s not hard for you to find someone beautiful and obedient.”

Song Shuyi’s brow furrowed slightly. “He is different.”

“Tsk,” Zhou Zhihe clicked his tongue. “So devoted, President Song.” As he spoke, he looked into Song Shuyi’s eyes with a hint of scrutiny. “What did he do to upset you this time?”

Song Shuyi shot him a glance. “You’re quite curious.”

Zhou Zhihe paused, then his smile widened. “I am indeed curious. He seems to make you unhappy every single time, yet you’ve managed to persist for three years.”

Song Shuyi said, “You’ve never loved someone, so of course you wouldn’t know.”

Zhou Zhihe raised an eyebrow. Just then, a group of young men and women entered, standing in a neat row before them. Zhao Yiran, sitting on the other side, moved closer. “I heard a lot of newcomers arrived. Song-ge, aren’t you going to take a look?”

The booth suddenly became lively. Those sent to this specific room were undoubtedly top-tier in terms of looks and physique. Unless Song Shuyi or Zhou Zhihe spoke first, no one else dared to make a choice.

Song Shuyi withdrew his gaze. “You guys play.”

Zhao Yiran beckoned a pure-looking boy to sit beside him and pulled him into his arms. “Song-ge, when are you going to bring that canary of yours out for us to see? Hiding him at home all the time makes us wonder if you’re afraid we’ll covet him.”

Before Zhao Yiran could finish his sentence, Song Shuyi swept a cold gaze over him, causing him to stop instantly.

Who in their circle didn’t know that Song Shuyi kept a canary for three years? He treasured the person immensely, never showing them in public. Everyone was curious about what kind of person could captivate the notoriously cold Song Shuyi so completely.

Zhao Yiran raised his hand and slapped his own mouth. “My mouth is trash. Don’t take me seriously, haha.”

Song Shuyi coldly retracted his gaze. The topic of the canary was dropped; no one dared mention it again. Yet, the more it was forbidden and the less the person was seen, the more it piqued people’s curiosity.

What kind of person could they be…

Zhao Yiran looked at Zhou Zhihe, who was leisurely watching the drama. His heart was itching. It was just a lover; was there really a need to hide them so secretively? What kind of men or women hadn’t they seen? Could this person really be some kind of celestial being?

After a while, Zhao Yiran stepped over Song Shuyi to sit next to Zhou Zhihe. “What’s up? Are you playing the ‘ascetic’ routine too?”

Zhou Zhihe was alone. He wasn’t being ascetic on purpose; he simply had high standards. No one could catch his eye, and he looked down on people who fooled around in such settings.

“Me? I’m waiting for someone,” Zhou Zhihe said cryptically.

Zhao Yiran nudged him curiously with his elbow. “Who? To make Young Master Zhou wait?”

The corners of Zhou Zhihe’s mouth curled up slowly as he looked at Song Shuyi. “Shuyi, when the person arrives later, take a look first. You might like them.”

Song Shuyi gave a disdainful pout. Zhou Zhihe said, “A new artist at my company. Young, innocent, yet quite ambitious. Interesting. And most importantly… they look good.”

There were too many people who “looked good.” Even Zhao Yiran didn’t think much of it. He leaned in and whispered to Zhou Zhihe, “Hey, haven’t you seen Song Shuyi’s canary? What do they actually look like? Are they prettier than a celebrity?”

Zhou Zhihe glanced at Zhao Yiran. “Him…”

He dragged out the word, then said, “Average.”

Zhao Yiran: “Psh.”

Just then, the door opened. Zhou Zhihe waved at the person peeking in from the doorway. “Xiaobai, over here.”

Many in the booth looked over. The person indeed looked very good, with a pure aura that attracted many gazes. However, Song Shuyi, sitting in the primary seat, didn’t even look.

Zhou Zhihe pushed Zhao Yiran to move over, moving himself along with him, leaving an empty space next to Song Shuyi.

He patted the seat, telling Su Xiaobai to sit, and asked, “Is there anything you want to drink?”

Su Xiaobai was a bit restrained and shook his head. Zhou Zhihe decided for him, handing him a brightly colored cocktail. “The person next to you is President Song Shuyi. Quick, offer him a toast.”

In the top circles of City A, there was likely no one who didn’t know who Song Shuyi was. Anyone in the vanity fair with an ambition to climb would know a thing or two about these powerful figures.

The film and television company under Song Shuyi’s name was also very famous, though it was just a small part of his industrial chain. A tiny bit leaking from his fingertips would be enough for these artists to make a fortune.

“President Song, hello.” Su Xiaobai extended his glass. After waiting a moment, there was no response.

Song Shuyi didn’t even look at him, focused on pouring alcohol down his own throat. Su Xiaobai’s arm grew sore from holding the glass, his face full of embarrassment. Right then, Zhou Zhihe patted Song Shuyi’s shoulder. “Shuyi, Xiaobai is toasting you.”

Song Shuyi swept a glance over. Just as he was about to look away, he paused. He turned his head, his brow furrowing as he stared intently at the youth before him—from his brow to the tip of his nose to his lips—making Su Xiaobai grow nervous.

A smile curled on Zhou Zhihe’s lips. “What is it, Shuyi? Why the daze?”

Song Shuyi stared at Su Xiaobai for a while, then shifted his gaze to Zhou Zhihe. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Zhou Zhihe shrugged. ” I just thought it was too hard for you to stay bitter for one person. When it comes to love, don’t be too honest. You should give your canary a sense of crisis, shouldn’t you? We’re good brothers; otherwise, I wouldn’t worry about your affairs.”

Song Shuyi’s expression was complex. He turned back, put many ice cubes into his glass, and drank the icy liquid all at once.

Zhou Zhihe “tsked,” expressing regret. He took Su Xiaobai’s hand and pulled him up. “It seems President Song is truly determined to remain chaste for his lover. Xiaobai, come here. Just follow me from now on.”

But as Su Xiaobai stood up, his hand was suddenly grabbed. The phrase “remain chaste for his lover” kept repeating in Song Shuyi’s mind, making him feel self-mocking. He remained chaste for Tang Yiqing, exhausted every scheme and used every unscrupulous means for him, yet had Tang Yiqing ever shown him a shred of affection?

Su Xiaobai was pulled back. He stumbled and sat down again. Song Shuyi pinched his chin, examining him closely. The features were somewhat similar—about fifty percent alike. With a face like this, how could he let the person go to someone else?

His mind recalled Tang Yiqing’s soft face. It clearly didn’t look aggressive, yet he was more stubborn than anyone, with a cold and proud nature. Yet he happened to love him exactly like that.

His innocence, his detachment from the world, the sacred sense that he could not be defiled… he didn’t know what the old Tang Yiqing was like. In the past, he could only watch from afar. After bringing him to the manor, he had become like this—always wearing a cold face, never laughing unrestrainedly in front of him.

Thinking of this, his heart couldn’t help but sting. Looking at the person before him now, a sudden impulse for revenge rose in his heart.

Late at night, the eyelashes of the sleeping Tang Yiqing fluttered. The orange cat on the bed ran off, and then he opened his eyes.

He was a light sleeper now; the slightest unusual noise would wake him. The bedside lamp was on. He wasn’t adjusted to it when he opened his eyes, but then a hand covered his eyes, blocking the light for him. In that moment, Tang Yiqing became completely awake. He immediately sat up, nervously clutching the quilt, looking at Song Shuyi by the bed with a look of extreme alertness.

Seeing him looking as if facing a great enemy, Song Shuyi gnashed his teeth. “What are you doing? Afraid I’ll rape you?”

Tang Yiqing’s body stiffened, his face pale. In truth, it wasn’t that Song Shuyi hadn’t forced him before. After all, the person he dreamed of day and night was right there, unable to escape, making it hard to resist.

But back then, Tang Yiqing had struggled desperately, looking as if he would rather die, even attempting suicide. His fierce resistance had deeply wounded Song Shuyi’s pride. During that period, they tortured each other until they almost went mad. Since then, however, Song Shuyi had never forced him again.

Song Shuyi looked like he wanted to devour someone. Tang Yiqing regained his composure. “No…”

Song Shuyi couldn’t help but sneer. “What? Am I, Song Shuyi, so unworthy of you? Do you loathe me that much?”

Tang Yiqing’s mind stabilized. Fearing he would provoke the other, he shook his head repeatedly. “No, I just got a fright.”

Song Shuyi stared at him intently. Tang Yiqing lowered his head slightly and pursed his lips. It was then that he noticed the smell of alcohol on Song Shuyi, as well as a faint, lingering scent of perfume.

“Did you drink?” Tang Yiqing asked.

“I did,” Song Shuyi said, his face frosty before breaking into a cold smile. “A little starlet fed me.”

Hearing this, Tang Yiqing’s expression froze, then he lowered his eyes to hide his gaze.

Song Shuyi felt a tightness in his chest seeing this indifferent reaction. His tone became vicious. “You really are quite boring. You’re far worse than those people outside.”

Tang Yiqing’s eyes reddened. He said softly, “Then go find them. Let me go.”

Song Shuyi suddenly lunged forward like a rabid dog. He was only inches from Tang Yiqing’s face, his scorching breath hitting his skin. “Let you go? Don’t even think about it. You stay here as a boring and useless vase. When you’re old and withered and no longer good to look at, I’ll kick you out and let you starve in the streets.”

Tang Yiqing cringed for a second, pulling his shoulders in. His gaze trembled as he looked up into Song Shuyi’s eyes. The other man’s eyes were pitch black and deep, swirling with intense emotions.

The moment their eyes met, Song Shuyi’s pupils constricted. He then stood up abruptly and strode out.

With a “bang,” the door slammed shut. The room fell silent. Tang Yiqing lay back on the bed, then propped himself up to look for the orange cat.

After a while, the cat jumped onto the bed, and only then did Tang Yiqing fall back into a peaceful sleep.

When Song Yuanzhao entered the manor with his luggage, he was full of resentment. He complained as he walked inside, “What kind of dump is this? It’s remote and feels haunted.”

The driver beside him looked at the place that looked like an oil painting—something ordinary people likely only saw in dreams. He didn’t know how his young master saw it as “haunted.” “Master, you’ve watched too many horror movies.”

Song Yuanzhao glared at him. “I really don’t know what Mom and Dad were thinking, insisting I learn more from my stepbrother.” As he spoke, a malicious smile curled on his lips. “What? Let me learn how to be an ungrateful wolf from him? Aren’t Mom and Dad afraid I won’t be filial in the future?”

The driver broke into a cold sweat. He looked around; luckily no one was there. He said, “Master, how can you say that? In the business world, interests come first. You’ll understand once you take over the company. Master Shuyi is quite impressive; he succeeded in starting his business at a young age and expanded it so much. He is definitely outstanding among the younger generation…”

“Uncle Zhang, stop. My ears are growing calluses,” Song Yuanzhao said dismissively. “The reason he could rise was only because of the investments from the Song and Tang families. Otherwise, would he have the career he has today? Hmph, in the end, it’s all thanks to the resources around him. If it weren’t for our family, who knows where he’d be wandering right now.”

There was truth in this, so Uncle Zhang didn’t argue, fearing he would trigger more rebellion in the young master.

When the two reached the door, they saw Song Shuyi waiting for him. “Yuanzhao, did you come from home?”

“Brother,” Song Yuanzhao called out. He would still maintain basic politeness in person. “Yes, I came from home.”

Song Shuyi smiled briefly and led him inside. “You’ll be here for the whole summer break. Don’t complain about being bored.”

“I won’t. Mom and Dad wanted me to learn more from you,” Song Yuanzhao said. He had only come because his parents had forced him.

This year he turned eighteen and had to start getting involved with company affairs. Since their Song family already had the success story of Song Shuyi, they wanted him to spend more time with his stepbrother.

In truth, they weren’t very familiar with each other, treating each other with mere civil politeness.

Song Shuyi arranged a room for him on the second floor. Thus, he would likely spend the summer in this manor.

Normally he would follow Song Shuyi to the company, but if he didn’t want to go, Song Shuyi wouldn’t say much.

This day, he woke up late. Song Shuyi had already left, so he simply decided not to go and stayed at the manor.

This place was in the suburbs, making it inconvenient to do anything. It was boring. He wandered around the courtyard and had to admit it was well-maintained. Many varieties of flowers were planted, exuding a romantic atmosphere.

However, Song Yuanzhao had very little romantic sensibility. In his eyes, this manor was just for show and not practical. It took nearly an hour to get to the city center; he didn’t know what Song Shuyi was thinking, choosing to live in such a place.

Walking aimlessly, he found himself back in front of the castle-like building. His gaze moved upward, finally landing on the fourth-floor windows. He had seen those windows lit up one night, which meant someone lived on the fourth floor.

On his first day here, Song Shuyi had told him: do not go to the fourth floor.

So, what exactly was on the fourth floor?

This piqued his curiosity. The legendary canary? The canary he treasured and never brought out, keeping hidden away?

Song Yuanzhao went inside and returned to his room, intending to sleep again. He had played games all night and felt completely drained.

Just as he lay down, he vaguely heard someone calling for something. He turned over, but the voice wouldn’t stop.

Song Yuanzhao sat up, his eyebrows knitting together. He got out of bed and went out. This building was very quiet; there weren’t many servants and they made no noise, which made that floating voice particularly obvious.

Once outside, the voice was even clearer. It wasn’t unpleasant—it was actually quite beautiful—but hearing it while trying to sleep was annoying. Since the place was quite empty, his ears couldn’t escape it once he stepped out.

Song Yuanzhao had the temper of a young master. He wouldn’t endure things that annoyed him. He went straight upstairs. After reaching the third floor, he searched around but couldn’t find the source of the sound. He stood at the junction of the third and fourth floors, looking toward the fourth floor. His gaze followed the steps upward; in truth, he didn’t want to go up.

Although he was curious about what was hidden on the fourth floor, Song Shuyi had specifically warned him. It wasn’t worth having a fallout over such a small matter, and his curiosity wasn’t enough to force him to investigate.

The voice rang out again. This time Song Yuanzhao heard it clearly: “Jumi”?

It sounded like a cat’s name. As he pondered, a ball of fur jumped past his feet. He looked over to see an orange cat leisurely licking its fur by his feet. That voice must be calling for it.

This made his expression turn sour. It’s just a cat; can’t it find its own way down? Calling like that is just noisy!

Song Yuanzhao grabbed the orange cat by the scruff and held it in his arms. The cat let out a “meow,” seemingly dissatisfied, but he ignored it and went straight up.

The voice on the fourth floor stopped; the person must have grown tired of calling. Just as he was about to reach the fourth floor, the cat struggled and jumped down from him. Song Yuanzhao’s temper flared; he immediately crouched down to catch it. The cat was caught by the scruff again and began to meow.

Song Yuanzhao sat on the steps, his head peeking over the wall toward the fourth floor. “What are you shouting for! Don’t you know you’re waking people up!”

As he finished speaking, Song Yuanzhao saw a bright yellow figure run past not far away. There was thick carpet on the floor, so there was no sound at all; the person was as light as a cat. Then he saw that yellow figure hide behind a pillar, only revealing a bit of the skirt.

Song Yuanzhao froze. For some reason, he slightly regretted his previous words. He looked toward the pillar. After a while, he saw the person hiding behind the pillar peek out half a face, as if secretly observing.

Like a game of hide-and-seek, Song Yuanzhao was drawn into acting secretively too. Realizing this, he couldn’t help but smile. He turned around, placed the orange cat on the floor, and looked toward the distance. “The cat is here. Come get it.”

He saw the person behind the pillar reveal their whole face, then look at the cat on the floor as if hesitating whether to come over.

Song Yuanzhao scooped the cat back into his arms. “If you don’t take it, I’m taking it away.”

He made a move to leave. Just then, that bright yellow figure finally emerged from behind the pillar. Song Yuanzhao froze, sitting on the steps and forgetting to stand up.

The yellow gauze dress danced nimbly with the person’s steps. The figure was thin, but from the bone structure, it wasn’t a woman. Long legs were faintly visible, and snow-white feet stepped on the carpet, looking incredibly beautiful.

When the person reached him, a fragrant breeze blew over Song Yuanzhao’s face. He sat on the steps, looking up at Tang Yiqing. Now he saw clearly what he looked like—he was very good-looking, very soft, and his whole being exuded gentleness.

The person crouched down, the hem of the dress brushing past his hand. Song Yuanzhao lowered his eyes to look at the other’s tense feet. The toes were rounded and cute, turning red at the tips as he crouched.

Song Yuanzhao couldn’t help but lower himself even further. How could there be such beautiful feet? And they smelled so good.

Tang Yiqing was a bit embarrassed. After all, he was wearing a dress and hadn’t seen a stranger in a long time.

“I’m sorry, I woke you up,” Tang Yiqing said apologetically. “It’s really boring up here. Can you give Jumi back to me?”

Song Yuanzhao maintained his original posture and didn’t move. His earlobes were bright red, and he was simultaneously very embarrassed—even becoming angry from shame.

He discovered that his own unpromising “thing” was currently propped up against the steps.

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