He Lost Control with Jealousy — What Happened to Being Untouchable? - Chapter 56

Xue Min was taken aback for a moment before replying, “The vast majority wouldn’t. A daughter is her parents’ little warm and comforting companion. They’d adore her too much to dislike her.”

Sang Wan lowered her eyelids, her voice tinged with grievance. “But I always felt like my dad didn’t really like me. Maybe he’s one of those rare exceptions.” She paused, then lifted her gaze to Xue Min, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Recently, he even tried to marry me off to a man old enough to be my father, just for the sake of his business.”

“What?!The chopsticks in Xue Min’s hand clattered onto the table with a sharp “bang.””

“That bastard Xu Shiming! How dare he? Is he even human?” Xue Min gritted her teeth, her chest heaving with anger. “If it weren’t for your mother back then, he wouldn’t be where he is today. How could he treat you like this?”

Qi Qi, startled by her mother’s outburst, quickly tried to calm her. “Mom, don’t get so worked up. Sister Wan is fine now, isn’t she?”

Sang Wan watched Xue Min’s furious reaction, her suspicions growing stronger. She gently grasped Xue Min’s hand. “Aunt Xue, I can’t help but feel like I’m not his biological daughter at all.”

At these words, Xue Min’s expression stiffened.

Sang Wan continued, her voice even more aggrieved. “What kind of father would scheme against his own child like this? He’s always cared a hundred times more about Xu Mingyue than me.”

Xue Min opened her mouth as if to say something but swallowed her words. Her eyes flickered away uneasily as she silently picked up Sang Wan’s bowl and added a few more dumplings. “Wanwan, don’t overthink it. Eat your dumplings before they get cold.”

Sang Wan studied her reaction, her conviction solidifying.

Aunt Xue knew the truth.

She set down her chopsticks and fixed Xue Min with a steady gaze. “Aunt Xue, tell me the truth. Is Xu Shiming really my biological father?”

“Don’t hide it from me. Even if you don’t tell me, I’ll find out on my own. Getting a paternity test these days isn’t difficult.”

Xue Min met Sang Wan’s resolute eyes and realized the truth could no longer be concealed.

Finally, she nodded, her voice strained. “Wanwan, you’re right. Xu Shiming… he isn’t your biological father.”

Though she had already suspected as much, hearing Xue Min confirm it aloud made Sang Wan’s heart sink heavily.

She took a deep breath and pressed further. “Then… who is my real father?”

Xue Min’s face filled with regret. “That… I truly don’t know. Your mother never mentioned a single word about it to me. Back then, she only said she didn’t want you to know, she just wanted to give you a complete family and watch you grow up happily.”

Sang Wan felt a pang of disappointment but knew Xue Min had no reason to lie.

Her heart ached for her mother. What must she have endured, living with Xu Shiming all those years, just to give her a semblance of a family?

No wonder she had never seen her mother share a single affectionate moment with her so-called father.

By the time they left Qi Qi’s home, it was already afternoon.

Qi Qi drove back to Jingyuan to pick up Aunt Liu and fetch their luggage.

The sunlight was still warm, but Sang Wan felt a chill creeping over her.

She struggled to maintain her composure, but her mind was anything but calm.

After a long silence in the car, Sang Wan finally spoke. “Qi Qi, find me a reliable private investigator.”

Qi Qi glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Sister Wan, what do you want to investigate?”

Sang Wan’s eyes were deep and carried a hint of coldness. “Investigate Xu Shiming and Xu Mingyue. I need to know if Xu Mingyue is his biological daughter. It would be best if we could obtain their paternity test.”

She wanted to confirm the suspicion in her heart, Xu Shiming’s excessive kindness toward Xu Mingyue was far too abnormal.

Xu Mingyue spent money like water. If she were merely a stepdaughter, how could Xu Shiming possibly indulge her to such an extent?

Even if it were a case of “love me, love my dog,” Xu Shiming’s personality wouldn’t allow it.

Qi Qi looked at Sang Wan’s composed profile, feeling waves of sorrow in her heart.

Over the years, the “Sister Wan” seen on screen was glamorous and radiant. Who could have imagined the hardships she endured in real life?

Such a delicate and gentle person, yet forced to shoulder so much alone.

“Alright, I’ll make the arrangements,” Qi Qi nodded firmly.

…

Meanwhile, in the top-floor office of Lu Corporation.

Lu Tingzhou finished reviewing the last document and glanced at his watch.

There was still over an hour left before the workday ended.

His sharp brows furrowed slightly, feeling as though time was passing too slowly. Never before had he found the workday so unbearable.

And yet, the little fox hadn’t sent him a single message or call.

The inexplicable restlessness in his heart made it impossible for him to stay focused in the office.

He decisively closed the file, grabbed his suit jacket, and left work early, heading straight back to Jingyuan.

His tall figure pushed open the door, but the living room was empty, devoid of the petite figure he had expected to see.

A pang of emptiness struck him, and he hurried toward the bedroom.

“Sang Wan?”

The bedroom door was open, but there was no response.

Lu Tingzhou scanned the vacant apartment, and his heart instantly turned cold.

He pulled out his phone, about to dial, when he noticed a WeChat message from Sang Wan sent twenty minutes ago. He had been too preoccupied with driving back in a hurry to notice it earlier.

Little Fox: [President Lu, this humble lady is off to work, on my way to the film studio.]

It was followed by a playful smiley face.

Lu Tingzhou stared at the message, his fingers brushing over the words on the screen.

Imagining the sly smile she might have worn while sending it, a trace of tenderness, unnoticed even by himself, flickered in his deep eyes.

But what followed was an even deeper sense of loss.

She had just returned, only to leave again.

So decisively, making Lu Tingzhou feel as though he held little importance in her heart.

His tall figure seemed somewhat desolate in the empty living room.

Irritated, he tugged at his tie and dialed Shen Yubai’s number.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Lu Tingzhou said in a low voice.

On the other end of the line, Shen Yubai was teasing a newly-signed model in his arms. Raising an eyebrow, he quipped, “Not cuddling with your superstar? You’re actually willing to come out?”

Lu Tingzhou wasn’t in the mood for banter, so he dialed Song Ze next.

“Imperial Club. The usual spot.”

…

In the car.

Sang Wan scrolled through her phone, only now seeing the statement posted on Lu Corporation’s official website the night before.

[After verification with Mr. Lu Tingzhou himself, the online rumors regarding the “young heir” of Lu Corporation are entirely fabricated. While it is true that Mr. Lu Qishan traveled to the capital to pick someone up, the child in question is not Mr. Lu Tingzhou’s illegitimate son but rather a newly-adopted godson. The child’s father was Mr. Lu Tingzhou’s former assistant, who passed away due to work-related circumstances. Mr. Lu Tingzhou has pledged to raise the child to adulthood, hence the elder Mr. Lu’s personal trip to retrieve him.]

After reading the statement, Sang Wan was momentarily dazed. It seemed Lu Tingzhou cared deeply about every reaction of hers, to the point where she now felt a twinge of guilt thinking about him.

Because my mind was in turmoil, it wasn’t until the car had driven far away that I realized I hadn’t said a word to him.

I felt a bit like a jerk, the kind who uses people and then tosses them aside.

…

Inside the private room at the Imperial Club.

Lu Tingzhou drank one glass after another, a desolate aura lingering around him.

Shen Yubai held his wine glass, his peach-blossom eyes flickering between Lu Tingzhou and the liquor bottle, a meaningful smirk on his lips.

“Song Ze, don’t you think it’s pathetic how some people used to act all high and mighty, refusing to take what was offered right in front of them? Now they’re left waiting like fools, and the other person might not even give them the time of day, just stringing them along. Isn’t that just sad?”

He shook his head, his tone dripping with schadenfreude.

Lu Tingzhou shot him a cold glance but said nothing, downing another glass.

Song Ze had just come off a hospital shift, exhaustion faintly visible between his brows. Instead of responding to Shen Yubai, he raised his glass and clinked it lightly against his.

Swirling the red wine in his glass, he turned to Lu Tingzhou and said gently, “Alright, enough. Can’t you see he’s already miserable enough?”

Then he chuckled.

Lu Tingzhou glared at Song Ze. “Who’s miserable?”

Shen Yubai smirked. “I totally get it. This guy rarely indulges, but the moment he finally does, he doesn’t even get his fill before the other person runs off. Now he’s left frustrated and itching for more.”

Song Ze smiled faintly and took a sip of his wine.

He understood Shen Yubai’s words, completely. He had once felt that same restlessness and resentment.

Patting Lu Tingzhou’s shoulder, he offered quiet comfort. “Hang in there for a couple of days. It’s the weekend soon, you’ll have a legitimate reason to visit the set.”

At that, Lu Tingzhou paused.

The weekend…

His deep eyes flickered slightly, the inexplicable sense of loss in his chest easing just a little at the thought.

But the idea of waiting two more days made that restlessness simmer again.

Shen Yubai perked up at the mention of visiting the set. “Hey, take me with you. I’ve never been to a filming location before, I wanna check it out.”

Lu Tingzhou shot him a glare. “So, you can go flirt? Have you no shame?”

Shen Yubai scoffed. “If it’s mutual, what’s there to feel guilty about? I’ve got principles, I never mistreat women.”

Song Ze added dryly, “You don’t mistreat them financially, but emotionally? Absolutely.”

A rare smirk tugged at Lu Tingzhou’s lips. “Someone like him, when he finally falls, it’ll be brutal.”

“Damn, I’m here to cheer you up, and you’re just making fun of me?”

“Fine, you can come. But while we’re there, check on the project in Tang County.”

Shen Yubai nodded. “Deal.”

…

Film Studio.

The first scene Sang Wan shot upon returning to the set was a crucial confrontation with Song Zixi.

In the drama, she played Luo Qiao, the legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Zhongyong, while Song Zixi played the beloved Princess Anning. Both women were in love with Pei Xuan, making them political and romantic rivals locked in a life-and-death struggle.

The scene being filmed was one where Princess Anning schemed to humiliate Luo Qiao at a palace banquet, leading to her being reprimanded by the empress.

Song Zixi glared at Sang Wan with genuine malice, her performance intense and gripping.

After the director called “Cut!”, he smiled approvingly. “Zixi, that was excellent today. You captured the character’s emotions perfectly.”

Sang Wan pressed her lips together. Of course she did, Song Zixi probably genuinely hated her right now.

In the dressing room, Sang Wan was on the phone with her mentor.

“Professor Chen, I’ve sent the manuscript to your email. Could you take a look? I’m quite satisfied with it myself.”

The call ended, and Song Zixi strode in with an air of arrogance.

“Sang wan,” she began, her tone sharp and unfriendly.

Sangwan set down her phone and lifted her gaze to meet hers, silent, waiting for what would come next.

Song Zixi hated this about her, that unshakable calm, as if nothing in the world could ruffle her.

“I’m warning you… stay away from Lu Tingzhou,” Song Zixi cut straight to the point, her voice low and thick with threat.

A faint smirk tugged at Sang Wan’s lips, half-amused. “And just what capacity are you speaking from, Miss Song, to warn me like this?”