He Lost Control with Jealousy — What Happened to Being Untouchable? - Chapter 82

Qi Qi didn’t dare ask where exactly they were going, but if Sang Wan wanted to go, there must be a reason.

“Alright, we’ll leave after we eat.”

Xue Min got up and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll pack some food for you in a thermal container. You can eat on the road if you get hungry.”

“Thank you, Aunt Xue.”

“No need for formalities with me. I wish I could stick a few pounds of meat on you, you’re so thin.”

Sang Wan forced a lighthearted tone. “No way, that’d be so ugly.”

Xue Min chuckled. “Even ten more pounds wouldn’t make you look fat.”

After the meal, Sang Wan and Qi Qi set off without telling anyone their destination.

…

Meanwhile, Song Xinran and Song Zixi were in the courtyard watching Kaikai play.

Song Xinran clutched her phone tightly, her delicate makeup slightly distorted.

Lu Tingzhou used to visit Kaikai whenever he had time, but lately, those visits had noticeably dwindled.

“Mom, when is Uncle Lu coming to see me?”

Kaikai had been asking this question for days. It had been nearly two weeks since Lu Tingzhou last visited.

“Sweetheart, go play for now. Uncle Lu is busy. I’ll take you to see him in a couple of days.”

Her heart ached for her son. The boy had always adored Lu Tingzhou, but because of her own mistakes, Lu Tingzhou had distanced himself from her, and by extension, from Kaikai as well.

“It’s all because of that bitch Sang Wan. If it weren’t for her, Lu Tingzhou wouldn’t have stayed away from Kaikai for so long.”

Song Zixi gritted her teeth, her face twisting with hatred at the mention of Sang Wan.

“I suspect Sang Wan is pregnant!”

Song Xinran pressed her lips together, her resentment mingled with bitterness.

Lu Tingzhou, a man so aloof and untouchable, had actually fallen for a woman. It was something she had never dared to imagine, even in her wildest dreams.

Song Zixi shot to her feet. “Pregnant?”

Song Xinran sighed. “Sun Meixi and I both suspect it. Judging by her reaction, she probably doesn’t know yet.”

Song Zixi sneered coldly. “So, what if she is?”

“She’ll need more than luck to carry it to term.”

A ruthless glint flashed in Song Xinran’s eyes. “You’re right.”

“Let’s have someone keep a close eye on her. If she really is pregnant, we have plenty of ways to ensure an ‘accidental miscarriage.’”

As the sisters plotted how to snuff out an unborn life, a black van sped down the highway toward the neighboring province.

…

Outside the car window, the trees stood bare, as if bracing for rain.

The interior of the car was silent.

Qi Qi gripped the steering wheel, her palms slightly damp with sweat, stealing occasional glances at Sang Wan’s condition.

In the rearview mirror, she could only see Sang Wan’s pale profile as she leaned against the window, gazing outside.

Sang Wan’s phone had rung at least ten times during the trip, but she hadn’t answered any of the calls.

They were all from the same person.

Sang Wan didn’t know how to face him. Until she could confirm the truth, she wasn’t sure how to even look at him.

The eight-hour drive felt endless to Sang Wan.

She had wanted to take the wheel, but Qi Qi adamantly refused.

As a result, the journey took ten hours, and by the time they reached the foot of Qingfeng Mountain, it was already 10 p.m.

The night was pitch-black, the towering silhouette of the mountain looming like a silent beast crouched on the horizon, oppressive and suffocating.

The scattered lights halfway up the slope seemed like divine guidance in the darkness.

The temple didn’t accommodate overnight guests, so the two found a clean hotel at the base of the mountain to stay for the night.

The room had just been lit when Sang Wan’s phone began vibrating frantically once more. The name “Lu Tingzhou” flashed on the screen, as if burning with scorching intensity.

She stared at the name, motionless for a long while.

The call rang tirelessly, once, then again.

Finally, in the last second before it would have disconnected automatically, Sang Wan swiped to answer.

“Sang Wan.”

The man’s voice came through the receiver: deep, hoarse, laced with suppressed anger and an overwhelming concern.

“Where are you?”

Sang Wan’s throat tightened, rendering her unable to utter a single word.

“I’m asking you, where the hell are you?” His voice suddenly rose, a rare loss of control.

“I’ve already asked Bai Wei. There’s no emergency promotional shoot at the company.”

Sang Wan closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and replied softly, “Qi Qi and I went on a trip. She said the snowscapes in the mountains are the most beautiful this time of year.”

“I’m sorry, Tingzhou. I was afraid you wouldn’t allow it, so… I lied.”

On the other end of the line, there was a long silence.

So long that Sang Wan thought he had already hung up.

After what felt like an eternity, Lu Tingzhou’s voice finally returned, the anger somewhat dissipated, leaving only exhaustion and helplessness so thick it was almost tangible.

“Send me the address.”

“No need. We’re just relaxing for a bit. We’ll be back in a couple of days,” Sang Wan hurriedly refused.

“Sang Wan,” he called her name, each syllable deliberate, “don’t make me worry about you again.”

“I’m perfectly fine. Besides, I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to worry.”

“We’re about to head to a bonfire party, so I won’t talk anymore. Take care of yourself, and don’t worry about me.”

After hanging up, Sang Wan collapsed onto the bed as if drained of strength, burying her face deep into the pillow.

Lu Tingzhou had sensed something was off since last night. Combined with her going off the grid again today, he couldn’t help but overthink.

Suppressing his emotions, he called Lin Hao.

“Any updates?”

“President Lu, we’ve confirmed Miss Sang’s car entered the highway heading to the neighboring province. But we haven’t pinpointed her exact location yet.”

Lu Tingzhou frowned. Why would Sang Wan suddenly go to the neighboring province?

The neighboring province, it couldn’t help but remind him of his elder brother at Qingfeng Temple.

Without another thought, he headed straight to Lu Jinxuan’s residence.

Lu Jinxuan was in the middle of playing a game when he arrived, startling so badly he immediately turned off the monitor.

“Uncle, I was just playing a little.”

It was nearly eleven at night, and he had been fully immersed in the game. Who would’ve thought the man who never visited would suddenly barge in?

The servants hadn’t even warned him.

Lu Jinxuan felt like a student caught by a teacher, his heart pounding nervously.

“Has Sang Wan contacted you?”

The moment the question left his lips, Lu Jinxuan licked his lips. Could he say it?

Sang Wan had explicitly told him not to.

But…

“Speak. Otherwise, you’re being transferred to the western branch tomorrow.”

“Come on, Uncle! You can’t take your anger out on me just because you can’t find your woman.”

Lu Tingzhou glared at him, his gaze icy. “How did you know my woman is missing?”

Lu Jinxuan: “…”

“Speak.”

The sharp command made Lu Jinxuan flinch.

“I… I was just guessing.”

He glanced up at Lu Tingzhou, whose frosty expression was genuinely terrifying.

Muttering under his breath, he added, “If Sister Wan were around, would you even be here?”

Lu Tingzhou kicked him squarely in the backside. “Tell me the truth.”

Faced with such overwhelming pressure, he caved. “She asked me where my dad was. She met my mom yesterday at noon, probably my mom said something unpleasant, and she wanted my dad to talk some sense into her.”

After speaking, he wore a bitter expression, thinking to himself: [Auntie, don’t blame me. You overestimated me, I can’t stand up to my uncle.]

…

The next day, at the break of dawn.

The distant, lingering chime of Qingfeng Temple’s bell washed over the mountain mist.

Sang Wan walked alone along the stone-paved path leading to the temple.

Once inside Qingfeng Temple, she inquired about Master “Chenyuan.”

Lu Jinxuan had told her that his father’s monastic name was “Chenyuan,” and that he had been practicing here for three years without ever stepping beyond the temple gates.

In a quiet corner of the ancient, solemn Great Buddha Hall, Sang Wan found him.

Dressed in the simplest of gray-blue monastic robes, his back was slender as he knelt on a cushion, holding a wooden mallet and striking a wooden fish.

His lips moved silently, reciting scriptures.

Dong, dong, dong.

Each hollow, mournful sound echoed through the empty hall.

Sang Wan stepped closer, stopping behind him.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, his rhythmic strikes slowed, and he turned his head.

The moment he saw Sang Wan’s face…

Clatter!

The mallet slipped from his hand, colliding with the wooden fish in a jarring, discordant noise that stood out starkly in the vast hall.

His pupils constricted, and the eyes that should have been serene rippled with shock, pain, disbelief…

Sang Wan knew, he recognized her.

Even if they had never met, her face, bearing a sixty percent resemblance to her mother, Sang Jingchu, was proof enough.

The next second, Lu Tingyuan staggered to his feet as if fleeing, stumbling toward the exit.

“Master Chenyuan, forgive my intrusion, may I have a moment?”

“Benefactor, you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” came his hoarse, flustered reply.

“No mistake. Jinxuan told me you were here, monastic name Chenyuan. It can’t be wrong.”

Lu Tingyuan quickened his pace toward the meditation quarters, Sang Wan following closely behind.

“If I really had the wrong person, why would you run?”

She sped up, spreading her arms to block his path.

Tilting her head, she met his panicked gaze, her voice firm. “I came here for you, Lu Tingyuan.”

“I… am a monk now.” He avoided her eyes, pressing his palms together. “Worldly affairs no longer concern me. Please leave, benefactor.”

“No concern?” Sang Wan let out a bitter laugh. “If you were truly free of attachments, why would you rush away at the sight of me?”

Lu Tingyuan stiffened, his face growing paler.

He sidestepped her, striding toward the rear courtyard’s meditation quarters.

Sang Wan kept pace.

The two moved in single file through the long corridor before finally stopping outside the courtyard.

“Benefactor, following me like this is improper,” Lu Tingyuan said helplessly, halting at last.

“I just have one question, it’s very important to me. I hope you’ll answer truthfully, Master.”

“I have severed all ties to the secular world the day I took monastic vows. Do not cling to the past.”

He tried to leave, but Sang Wan stood her ground, refusing to yield.

The wind rustled through the courtyard’s evergreen trees.

Looking at his resolute expression, Sang Wan finally voiced the question weighing on her heart.

“Tell me…”

Her voice trembled slightly, a stark contrast to her resolute demeanor, as if each word had drained every ounce of her strength.

“Are you… my biological father?”

The air froze in that instant.

Lu Tingyuan’s rigid posture relaxed almost imperceptibly upon hearing those words.

It was as if some heavy shackles had finally been lifted.