I Could Never Fall In Love With A Villain - Chapter 19

Chapter 19: When Are You Getting Married?

Mu Yin’s thoughts had already drifted to the mission at hand. If Song Jinxun were home, it wouldn’t be easy to find an excuse to brush him aside. Fortunately, luck was on her side today—he was out, giving her the perfect opening.

She turned to the butler and said, “I’m so worried about Madam Song. Could I go see her first?”

Usually, she projected an image of being aloof and difficult to approach. She had never shown such a soft, almost endearing expression before, and she even blinked her eyes pleadingly. The butler was instantly reminded of his own daughter and couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course, no problem at all.” After all, Mu Yin was Song Jinxun’s fiancée; there was no reason to stop her. However, he hesitated as a thought occurred to him. “But Madam Song’s state isn’t very good right now…”

He spoke tactfully, but Mu Yin understood: her condition was worsening. Her heart sank, but she maintained her smile. “It’s alright, I’m mentally prepared. Jinxun mentioned it to me.”

This, of course, was a lie. She and Song Jinxun barely communicated in private. But by saying this, the butler would assume Jinxun shared everything with her—that they were close—making it much easier for him to let her in.

Pei Che silently withdrew his gaze from her and rose from the sofa. “I came today specifically to do a detailed check-up on Madam Song. Why don’t we go together? In case she’s in a bad state, I can lend a hand.”

Mu Yin clasped her hands together in coordination. “That would be wonderful!”

I’m really not cut out for acting cute, she thought. The performance is too clumsy.

Pei Che, for some reason, found himself struggling to suppress a smile. Relieved, the butler led the way without further hesitation.

…

The Fortress of Silence

Madam Song’s quarters were in a separate building, accessible only after crossing the courtyard. Ding. The elevator stopped at the fifth floor.

The moment the doors opened, the heavy scent of disinfectant hit them, making one instinctively want to hold their breath. Then came the silence—a quiet so profound that it forced the visitors to tread lightly.

“Why is the smell of disinfectant so strong?” Mu Yin whispered.

The butler hesitated, glancing at Pei Che. Having been with the Song family for twenty years, he understood the internal power struggles of the elite. Despite Pei Che’s detached nature, the butler wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to disclose.

Mu Yin noticed his internal conflict and said seriously, “Professor Pei is a psychology expert. Giving him clear information is necessary to properly evaluate Madam Song’s condition. Besides, he’s a professor at Jiabei University; you don’t need to worry about his character.”

Pei Che listened in silence, sparing her a couple of side-glances. He hadn’t realized she held his character in such high regard.

Her words convinced the butler. “Madam’s… situation is becoming more severe. She has started self-harming. It happened just a few days ago; the hallway was covered in blood. Luckily, the caregiver delivering medicine found her in time.”

No wonder the Songs were in such a rush to send her abroad. It seemed they cared more about the family’s face than her health. If she harmed herself again, rumors would surely spread, damaging the Song reputation.

Mu Yin and Pei Che exchanged a look, both seeing the gravity in each other’s eyes. Madam Song’s Munchausen syndrome was spiraling.

Will my demo work? Mu Yin wondered. It’s just a demo, after all. But since they were here, they had to try.

The butler opened the door. The room was spotless, but the decor was so minimalist it felt like a prison cell. There were only essential pieces of furniture—likely to prevent self-harm—but such an environment would only reinforce Madam Song’s belief that no one cared for her.

Madam Song lay silently on the bed. She wasn’t sleeping; she was staring blankly at the ceiling. She didn’t turn her head when they entered.

“Madam,” the butler whispered, “Miss Mu is here to see you. Do you remember her? Young Master’s fiancée.”

Madam Song finally turned. Almost instantly, her eyes filled with tears. She pulled her left hand out from under the covers, revealing a wrist wrapped in thick bandages. Though she didn’t speak, her face was a mask of misery—her illness was seeking the attention it craved.

The butler sighed softly. Mu Yin whispered to him, “If there are too many people, she won’t be able to stay calm. Perhaps you could leave us for a while? We’ll sit with her.”

“Alright. I’ll go prepare some fruit for you.”

…

The “AI” Treatment

Mu Yin sat by the bed, smiling warmly. “Do you remember me? I came to visit.”

“Of course I do.” Madam Song reached out, and Mu Yin took her hand.

Madam Song pouted, her voice pitiful. “You’re the only one who comes to see me. They don’t give me treatment, they don’t give me food… I never know when my next meal is coming…”

Mu Yin didn’t indulge the lie, but she didn’t point out the empty dinner tray on the table either. She simply asked, “Are you hungry? I can have the kitchen prepare something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I heard you weren’t feeling well,” Mu Yin continued, her voice soft as if soothing a child, “so Jinxun asked a doctor to come and check on you. It’s normal to feel unwell sometimes. When I work too hard, I feel out of sorts too. A few days of rest is all it takes.”

She was careful. She comforted her without validating the idea that Madam Song was “critically ill,” which would only lead to a circular argument.

Pei Che stepped forward in his capacity as a doctor. True to his reputation, he was far more professional than Mu Yin. Under his questioning, Madam Song’s emotions stabilized, and she even began to smile.

Relieved, Mu Yin pulled her laptop and equipment from her bag. In both her previous world and this one, she had been working on the intersection of AI and medicine. Her product concept involved using virtual scenarios and characters to lead patients into a healing world. The AI would generate tasks based on the patient’s psyche, allowing them to overcome trauma through simulated challenges.

Her current demo was limited—it was audio-only with no visuals. It was a small test to see if she could shift Madam Song’s emotional state from negative to positive.

As Mu Yin adjusted the volume, Madam Song suddenly asked, “By the way, why did you come alone? Where is Jinxun?”

“He’s busy, so he sent me ahead… Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.”

“That boy, what is he so busy with? Is it those sculptures again? Sigh, he knows his grandfather hates them…”

Sculptures? Mu Yin wondered, but she didn’t ask.

Then, Madam Song dropped a bombshell: “Has Old Master Song set a date for you two? When are you getting married?”

“It… hasn’t been decided yet.”

Madam Song began to ramble. “It’s better to marry early. You can enjoy a few years together before having children… Don’t wait too long. I had Xingyao in my thirties, and it wasn’t as smooth as having Jinxun in my twenties…”

Mu Yin could only play along. “Yes, yes, we know.”

Suddenly, she felt a gaze she couldn’t ignore. She looked up and saw Pei Che staring at her in silence. Mu Yin ignored the intensity of his look and focused on placing the headset over Madam Song’s ears.

…

The Unexpected Arrival

A black car pulled into the Song villa’s garage. Song Jinxun stepped out, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he headed inside. He remembered two people were coming today: Pei Che and Mu Yin.

Entering the living room and finding it empty, he said, “Let me know when Miss Mu arrives.”

The butler, carrying a fruit platter, said quickly, “Miss Mu is already here.”

“She is?”

“Yes, she’s in Madam’s room… Mr. Pei is there as well.”

Song Jinxun raised an eyebrow. “The two of them are in my mother’s room together?” It sounded… strange.

The butler almost dropped the tray and explained hurriedly, “Mr. Pei wanted to see Madam as soon as possible because her condition worsened. Miss Mu was very worried too.”

“Understood.”

Song Jinxun washed his hands and headed toward his mother’s quarters. He reached for the handle and pushed the door open quietly.

His mother was propped up in bed, a soft pillow behind her, wearing a radiant smile he hadn’t seen in a long time. Mu Yin and Pei Che were sitting on either side of the bed. They seemed to be listening to music with her, sitting quite close together.

From any angle, they looked like a family.

Song Jinxun felt a strange sensation—that he was the one who shouldn’t be here.