The Real Young Master is Entangled by the Paranoid Fake Young Master - Chapter 8

Zhaoqing’s pressure on Zhiyuan’s shoulder didn’t waver. Lin Qi’s face turned deathly pale; he couldn’t imagine how he would survive the coming days if Song Zhiyuan actually kowtowed to Song Zhaoqing today. After all, he was the one who had guaranteed to Song Shicheng that he could convince Zhaoqing to return home quietly.

Now, the boy was back, but he was turning the Song family upside down. If Lin Qi didn’t do something to fix this, Shicheng and Zhiyuan would surely settle the score with him later.

He racked his brain before desperately trying to play the peacemaker. “Young Master Zhaoqing, you’ve only just arrived; you don’t yet understand Young Master Zhiyuan’s character. You’ve misunderstood his good intentions. He was simply worried and spoke out of turn. Now that the air is cleared, there’s no need for this. You and Young Master Zhiyuan are blood brothers, there’s no need to take things this far, right?”

Zhaoqing remained silent. His dark, piercing eyes shifted toward Lin Qi, exerting a silent, suffocating pressure. Lin Qi saw him pause, though his foot remained firmly on Zhiyuan’s shoulder. Understanding the opening, Lin Qi immediately turned to the rest of the Songs.

“Sir, Old Madam, Young Master Zhiyuan, Young Master Zhaoqing is just tired and throwing a bit of a childish tantrum. Please, do not be angry. Once he is taught the family rules, I am certain he will become sensible and understand his responsibilities as a Song. He won’t lose his temper like this again.”

Lin Qi was a skilled persuader; his words were neither too exaggerated nor too blunt, and they hit their mark. Shicheng and the Old Madam’s brows relaxed slightly, though the arrogance remained etched on their faces.

Seeing the atmosphere soften, Lin Qi struck while the iron was hot. “Oh, and look, these are all the gifts Young Master Zhaoqing prepared for his family.” He emphasized the word “family.”

“Old Madam, look at this tea set. See if it’s to your liking. Young Master Zhiyuan, these original edition books were found specifically for you; he knew how scholarly you are and spent a lot of effort tracking them down. And Miss Lili, this dress is perfect for you ”

Lin Qi acted like a high-energy salesman. Under his efforts, things truly seemed to be turning around. Even Zhaoqing slowly withdrew his leg. Once freed, Song Zhiyuan scrambled up from the floor, shooting a look of pure, murderous hatred at Zhaoqing.

Zhaoqing ignored him. At this moment, he seemed genuinely captivated by Lin Qi’s vivid descriptions, as if he had suddenly remembered his longing for “family affection.”

Seeing his plan working, Lin Qi was overjoyed. “And this… Sir, look…”

Lin Qi opened a grey, nondescript parcel, presenting its contents like a treasure. Inside was a scarf. Its material wasn’t expensive, and it lacked any intricate patterns. Shicheng frowned, looking at the crude item with obvious distain.

Zhaoqing watched Shicheng’s reaction in silence. In his past life, he hadn’t seen this expression, so he had been able to lie to himself. But now, he saw the blatant contempt in his father’s eyes.

If I were the Zhaoqing of the past, how much would this have hurt? he wondered.

But he was no longer that boy. A decade of brutal infighting and discrimination had grounded him in reality. Seeing this scene now, he felt absolutely nothing.

“Sir, Young Master Zhaoqing knitted this scarf specifically for you. His filial piety is clear for all to see. Young Master Zhaoqing, didn’t you want to give this to Sir yourself? Now that he is here, apologize and give him the gift.”

Lin Qi coaxed him, desperate for Zhaoqing to give the Songs an “out.” Zhaoqing looked at Lin Qi’s fawning face and suddenly smiled. This time, there was no mockery; it was a genuine, warm smile.

“You’re right, Brother Lin. This is my gift for Father. I almost forgot. Since you’ve helped me so much, I should listen to you.”

Zhaoqing was cold to everyone else but was suddenly pleasant to Lin Qi. Lin Qi breathed a sigh of relief, missing the way Shicheng’s gaze flickered between him and Zhaoqing.

Why is he so aggressive toward me, his father, yet so willing to listen to an assistant? Shicheng, habitually suspicious, felt a surge of unease. Is this a double-act between Lin Qi and the boy? Shicheng assumed Lin Qi was trying to become the new “young master’s” confidant to get closer to the Sun inheritance. Fine, Shicheng thought, I’ll tolerate the brat for now. Once the inheritance is mine, I’ll send him far away.

The Old Madam watched with contempt. A low-born brat after all. He causes a scene just to get the family to notice him. Zhiyuan stood with arms crossed, his rage boiling, wanting to throw the books out the window but not daring to move. Only Lili shyly accepted the dress and hid it behind her back.

Shicheng waited for the gesture of reconciliation. Instead, Zhaoqing stopped just an arm’s length away. To everyone’s shock, a gleaming fruit knife suddenly appeared in his hand.

He pointed the blade directly at Song Shicheng, his expression relaxed and provocative.

“You little jinx! Are you planning to murder your own father?!” the Old Madam shrieked.

Zhiyuan and Lin Qi lunged forward to stop him, but Zhaoqing was faster. As the blade lunged toward his chest, Shicheng lost all composure and scrambled back, using his hand to block the strike. His mask of calm was torn away, leaving only a pathetic, panicked man.

But the pain never came. Instead, there was a sharp, tearing sound. Zhaoqing had used the knife to slice the scarf clean in half.

He had taken the knife from Yuening’s bedside table before the family entered, hiding it in his sleeve.

“Brother Lin was wrong. This scarf isn’t for you.”

“I wanted to get a dog, but I was worried the kennel would be too hard. So, I knitted a mat for the dog. But it was a bit too big, so I had to split it.”

Zhaoqing tossed the two pieces of the scarf back to Lin Qi, retracted the knife, and turned to leave before they could react. At the door, he looked back and smiled.

“Oh, I forgot to ask, I can keep a dog in the Song house, can’t I?”

He waved a casual hand and walked out.

“SONG ZHAOQING!!!”

Shicheng’s roar of fury echoed behind him, but Zhaoqing felt only a sense of weightless relief. He ignored the impotent rage. Just as he was wondering if he should run before Shicheng sent people after him, he heard a commotion in the ward.

“Ning-ning! Ning-ning! You’re awake!!!”

Song Yuening, the family treasure, is finally awake, Zhaoqing thought coldly. I wonder what kind of crimes he’ll pin on me now.

He didn’t care. No matter what he did, the Songs would never treat him well. Why bother chasing people who despised him? He hummed a song as he walked out of the hospital.

But he hadn’t gone two steps when a plump, freckled boy slammed into him. The boy didn’t apologize; he just glared at Zhaoqing as if he were an obstacle in his path. Behind him was a tall girl in heavy makeup, reeking of perfume.

“Fang Haoyang! Move it!” she snapped at the boy. “The sun is too bright; my makeup is going to melt!”

“My apologies.” A smooth, teasing voice spoke from behind them.

Zhaoqing turned, and his heart sank. The person was about seventeen or eighteen, with “peach blossom” eyes that always seemed to be analyzing the person they were looking at.

The stranger nodded at the visibly upset Zhaoqing and followed the other two into the hospital.

Zhaoqing stood alone in the sun, his hands and feet turning cold. His temples throbbed as if a vein were about to burst.

Fang Haoyang. Duan Ran. And… Fu Lansheng.

Zhaoqing whispered their names. The fear, hatred, and pain they had caused him in his past life were etched into his bones. If the Songs were venomous snakes in the grass, these three were the hyenas of the savannah: shameless and cruel.

In his past life, Zhaoqing had been sent to the city’s top high school thanks to the Song name. But because he had worked instead of studied, his grades were poor, and he was placed in the worst class. He had hoped for a normal school life—friends, sports, parties.

That dream was shattered within days by the constant humiliation and bullying orchestrated by these three.

He could barely remember when the bullying started.

• Was it when they poured a bucket of cold water over him before the New Year’s gala, forcing him to perform in soaking clothes while the school laughed?
• Was it when his homework, which he spent all night on, vanished, leading to a harsh scolding from his teachers?
• Was it in gym class, when no one would partner with him, leaving him isolated and mocked?
• Or was it when he was locked in a bathroom and missed his final exams, resulting in a zero that led the Old Madam to scream at him for “disgracing the family”?

Duan Ran, Fang Haoyang, and Fu Lansheng were a nightmare that never ended. Their families were powerful; no one dared touch them. Zhaoqing had begged the Songs for help or to change schools, but the Old Madam only told him:

“The Fu and Fang families are our business partners. These children got along perfectly with Yuening. Lansheng even walked Yuening to school every day because he was frail. They are good kids. If you can’t get along with them, reflect on your own failings.”

He had fought back once. He wasn’t afraid of a bruised face or broken skin. But when he returned home, he faced Shicheng’s “Family Law.” Afterward, Zhiyuan told him:

“Song Zhaoqing, you’ve gone too far. Lansheng is the only son of the Fu family; do I really need to tell you how much his grandmother dotes on him? I knew you picked up bad habits in the slums, but I didn’t think you’d dare hit Lansheng. Reflect on yourself. You are a Song now; you must understand the weight of your actions. Whatever Lansheng did is just a childish prank. Can’t you be more tolerant? The Songs and Fus are allies. Once you finish your punishment, Father will take you to their homes to apologize.”

Back then, locked in a dark room, Zhaoqing had finally cried. In this vast new world, no one liked him. No one was on his side. He began to believe he was truly the problem. He stopped fighting back and became silent and submissive, telling himself he was doing it for his “family.”

But was it worth it?

Zhaoqing stood in the scorching sun, sweat dripping down his neck. He started to walk away when a harsh, familiar voice called his name.

“Song Zhaoqing! Stand right there! Who gave you permission to leave?!”