He Lost Control with Jealousy — What Happened to Being Untouchable? - Chapter 62

Though the man was dressed in a dark gray casual outfit, the cold, unyielding aura around him remained undiminished.

“Dad.”

His voice was indifferent as he spoke, and when his gaze landed on Song Xinran, there was not a trace of warmth in it.

Lu Qishan gestured to the sofa beside him. “Sit.”

Kaikai, upon seeing him, trotted over. “Uncle Lu.”

Lu Tingzhou looked at the child, whose features bore a striking resemblance to Sheng An, and the sternness on his face softened slightly.

He bent down, picked up the child, and settled him directly onto his lap.

Though the old man didn’t force him to marry Song Xinran, he genuinely adored Kaikai. The child had a hard life, born without a father and afflicted with a serious illness.

“I’ve decided,” the old man said, glancing at Lu Tingzhou’s stoic expression, “to have Kaikai move back to the old house.”

“This will give the child some stability. It’s also a way to honor Sheng An’s memory.”

Song Xinran nervously clenched the hem of her clothes, unable to hide the anticipation in her eyes.

She watched Lu Tingzhou, waiting for his nod.

However.

Lu Tingzhou merely pinched Kaikai’s cheek playfully, his voice calm and detached.

“No need.”

Two simple words, spoken lightly, yet they instantly froze the air in the living room.

“The apartment where they’re living now has already been transferred to Xinran’s name. A nanny and driver have also been arranged.”

He set Kaikai down, motioning for him to go to his mother. “All expenses will be regularly deposited into Xinran’s account.”

“As for Kaikai’s education fund, I’ve set up a dedicated account, enough to support him comfortably until he turns eighteen.”

Every word he spoke was clear, cold, and brooked no argument.

Though Lu Qishan felt reluctant to part with the child, he couldn’t force the issue, after all, Kaikai wasn’t of their blood.

He was satisfied with the arrangement.

Song Xinran, however, was stunned. This was far from what she had wanted.

What she desired was the title of Mrs. Lu. With that, the man would be hers, and so would his wealth.

Lu Tingzhou stood up, his gaze steady as he looked at Kaikai.

“This is the last thing I can do for Sheng An.”

“And the best way I can honor his memory.”

“I believe his spirit would approve of this arrangement.”

Song Xinran’s mind went blank.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand.

She had schemed tirelessly to drive him and Sang Wan apart, only to end up pushing him further away.

She had thought that without Sang Wan, and with the old man’s support, she stood a chance at becoming Lu Tingzhou’s wife.

But now, he had severed all her hopes in the coldest way possible.

He wasn’t even willing to leave her the slightest possibility.

As she watched his resolute retreating figure, her nails dug deep into her palms, her eyes filled with resentment.

Lu Tingzhou, you’re ruthless.

Sun Meixi, who had been sitting silently all this while, gritted her teeth in frustration. This Song Xinran was truly useless. Three years, and she still hadn’t managed to win over Lu Tingzhou’s heart.

For her sake, Sun Meixi had been caught in the middle, even landing Xu Mingyue in jail for over half a month. Wang Sheng had blamed her, and she’d had to pacify him with a hefty sum of money.

Only then had the two families maintained an uneasy peace.

But now, Lu Jinxuan couldn’t stand the mention of Xu Mingyue and refused to see her no matter what.

Still, if Lu Tingzhou remained fixated on that Sang Wan, then she couldn’t be blamed for what came next.

…

A month can bring about many changes.

Or nothing at all.

For Lu Tingzhou, this past month felt like a descent into purgatory.

His world had split in two.

One half was consumed by towering stacks of documents during the day, along with lingering doubts about the car accident three years ago.

The other half was filled with the intermittent videos of her, sent by Lin Hao and Xiao Yan late at night.

In the footage, Sang Wan wore costumes, portraying the joys and sorrows of fictional lives on camera.

She sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Xiao Yan on the steps of the film set, cradling a cup of hot milk tea in her hands, a faint spark of vitality flickering in her eyes.

She even offered Xiao Yan’s camera a small, fragile smile.

Though the warmth never reached the depths of her gaze, like a brittle sheet of ice that would shatter at the slightest touch, it was enough.

Enough for Lu Tingzhou to replay those clips over and over on countless sleepless nights, clinging to them like a lifeline.

That day, Lin Hao knocked and entered.

“President Lu.”

His expression was as respectful as ever, yet tinged with gravity.

“Regarding the accident three years ago, there’s still no concrete progress. The car was scrapped long ago, and the braking system is gone. It’s nearly impossible to determine whether it was an accident or deliberate.”

Lu Tingzhou leaned back in his office chair, an unlit cigarette pinched between his fingers, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“But,” Lin Hao continued, shifting the topic, “I found out that just a week before the accident, Madam Sun transferred one million yuan to Song Xinran.”

The air instantly stilled.

Lu Tingzhou’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around the cigarette.

A frigid, dangerous aura gathered swiftly in the depths of his eyes.

What connection did Sun Meixi have with Song Xinran? What kind of transaction had taken place between them? Why had she given Song Xinran money?

“Additionally,” Lin Hao went on, a barely detectable note of excitement in his voice, “the acquisition of Sang Corporation’s shares is complete. They’ve all been transferred under Miss Sang’s name.”

Lu Tingzhou slowly lifted his gaze and set the cigarette down in the ashtray.

“Investigate all interactions between Sun Meixi and Song Xinran.”

He stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the ceaseless flow of the city below.

A month had passed.

His little fox should have cooled off by now.

“Let’s go to the film studio.”

His voice was low, yet threaded with restrained anticipation.

…

Inside the film studio, shooting was proceeding smoothly.

Sang Wan seemed like a different person.

She had shed all traces of softness and languor, standing tall and unyielding like a poplar braving the winter wind, yet also exuding an icy detachment that kept others at arm’s length.

The moment the director called “Cut!”, she stepped out of character immediately, retreating to a corner with her script in hand, quiet and still as a delicate porcelain doll.

Until he appeared.

He didn’t announce his presence, simply standing at the edge of the set, cloaked in the shadows untouched by the lights.

His tailored black overcoat accentuated his tall, imposing figure, and an unmistakable air of solitude.

He stood there, his piercing gaze cutting through the bustling crowd, locking onto her with unerring precision.

The weight of his stare burned against her skin, sending waves of heat prickling across her body.

Her fingers clenched involuntarily around the script, crumpling the pages with deep creases.

She could feel it, the heartbeat she had just managed to steady now pounding wildly again, a frenzied drumbeat in her chest.

Resentment, bitterness, and a flicker of something else, something she refused to acknowledge, clashed violently inside her.

She lowered her eyes, pretending not to see him.

But that gaze followed her like a shadow, an invisible net enveloping her no matter where she went, leaving no room to breathe.

One day.

Two days.

Three days.

The man stood like a silent, unyielding statue, appearing on set without fail, as immovable as a rock.

He didn’t approach. He didn’t speak. He simply watched her with those fathomless eyes, silent, almost ravenous.

The atmosphere on set grew increasingly eerie because of it.

Finally, Xiao Yan couldn’t take it anymore.

During a break, he handed Sang Wan a cup of warm water and lowered his voice.

“Really not going to talk to him?” Xiao Yan asked gently. “I’ve already explained the car accident to you. He was in a hurry to see someone and changed lanes last minute, but he didn’t break any traffic rules. It really was just an accident.”

Sang Wan pressed her lips together and said nothing.

It was an accident, an accident that had taken away the person who loved her most.

“Look at him,” Xiao Yan tilted his chin toward the shadows. “He’s lost so much weight, standing there like a guardian statue. The whole crew’s morale has sunk to the earth’s core. Even the director doesn’t dare raise his voice.”

Sang Wan’s eyelashes trembled faintly.

“Sang Wan,” Xiao Yan sighed, his tone softening. “I know you’re struggling, but avoiding it won’t solve anything.”

“Go talk to him.”

“Say what you need to say. Vent what you need to vent. Settle it once and for all.”

Xiao Yan’s words left a mark on Sang Wan’s heart. The accident investigation had been clear, his car had malfunctioned, and that truck had appeared at just the wrong moment.

She hated herself a little. She truly couldn’t bring herself to hate Lu Tingzhou.

She hated her own weakness, how her heart still ached when she saw him looking so haggard and desolate.

Hated how he could still so easily stir every emotion inside her.

If she entangled herself with him again, she’d be betraying her mother.

Though Xiao Yan’s words had shaken her resolve, taking that step forward was hard.

Luo Zheng, with all his years in the industry, had never encountered a situation like this.

He knew Lu Tingzhou well enough to understand he wouldn’t back down easily, but his presence was undeniably affecting the set.

Especially with that oppressive aura of his, the crew was walking on eggshells.

Seeing Sang Wan remain unmoved, Luo Zheng approached her with a smile. “Sang Wan, the atmosphere on set has been suffocating these past few days. Everyone’s on edge, and this can’t go on. I can tell Tingzhou won’t give up this time. Do it for me, talk to him properly. Clear the air. This stalemate is affecting progress. People might not say it out loud, but if this drags on, resentment will build.”

Sang Wan wavered. She couldn’t let her personal issues delay everyone’s work.

And the other actors had schedules to keep, too.

After a long silence, Sang Wan took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something.

She pulled out her phone and sent a message to her assistant, Qi Qi.

[Tell him to wait for me in the van.]

Twenty minutes later, Sang Wan wrapped up filming.

Her expression heavy, she walked toward the van parked in the distance, each step feeling like she was treading on knives.

The door slid open.

The man sat in the far back. The interior lights were off, his face shrouded in shadow, only his eyes glowed with startling intensity.

Sang Wan stepped inside, deliberately keeping her distance.

The door closed. She turned on the light, sealing them off from the outside world. The cramped space was thick with suffocating tension.

Lu Tingzhou watched her.

A month had passed since they last met, and she had grown alarmingly thin. Her face, already small enough to fit in the palm of a hand, now had an even sharper chin. The once well-fitted costume hung loosely on her frame, looking almost hollow.

Lu Tingzhou’s heart twisted with a pang of sour, aching pain.

“Spit it out if you have something to say.”

Sang Wan was the first to break the silence, her voice as cold as ice, devoid of any emotion.

“Then get lost.”

Lu Tingzhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached into the briefcase beside him and pulled out a document, handing it to her.

“What is this?” Sang Wan frowned, refusing to take it.

“Something your grandfather left for you.”

The man’s voice was hoarse, strained.

“Fifty-one percent of Sang Corporation’s shares, they’re all under your name now.”

Sang Wan stared at the document in her hand, her pupils contracting sharply as she looked up at him in disbelief.

Lu Tingzhou knew this would be hard for her to accept. After all, she had been deceived by Xu Shiming for so many years.

“On your twentieth birthday, your grandfather already transferred forty percent of his shares to you.”

“In other words, Sang Corporation has been yours, since four years ago.”

His gaze bore into her, a tempest of fury and heartache swirling in his eyes.

It felt as though something had exploded in Sang Wan’s mind.

Every drop of blood in her body rushed to her head at that moment.

All these years, Xu Shiming had claimed the company was struggling, urging her to be understanding.

She had worked herself to the bone filming, never asking him for a single cent.

Yet the women and children he kept outside flaunted designer clothes, limited-edition bags, lived in her family’s homes, parading as victors, indulging in everything that should have been hers!

“How dare he… how dare Xu Shiming!”

A suppressed roar tore from her throat as her entire body trembled violently. Anger and humiliation coiled around her like vines, choking her until she could barely breathe.

Just as she was on the verge of breaking down, a firm, warm embrace suddenly pulled her in.

The familiar, domineering scent of cedar, unmistakably Lu Tingzhou’s, enveloped her instantly.

Sang Wan sobbed against his chest, gasping for air between cries.

After a long while, when her emotions had settled slightly, she realized where she was and immediately began struggling.

“Let me go!”