The Real Young Master is Entangled by the Paranoid Fake Young Master - Chapter 9

Zhaoqing didn’t need to look back to know who was behind him. He didn’t stop; instead, he quickened his pace. This immediately caused the person behind him, whose tone had been so hostile just moments ago, to panic.

“Song Zhaoqing! Did you not hear me calling you?”

Song Zhiyuan grabbed Zhaoqing’s shoulder to stop him. Zhaoqing pivoted sharply to break the hold and turned to fix him with a cold, piercing stare.

Zhiyuan flinched. The memory of how Zhaoqing had humiliated him earlier was still fresh. He quickly lowered his hand, though his voice remained sharp.

“Ning-ning is awake. He wants to see you. According to him, you’re the one who saved him?”

Zhiyuan’s words were laced with suspicion. Zhaoqing hadn’t expected Song Yuening to actually admit the truth to the family. After all, even if Yuening stayed silent, Lin Qi would certainly never have volunteered the information.

But it didn’t really matter. Who cared what the Songs thought?

“What does him wanting to see me have to do with me? I won’t go,” Zhaoqing retorted bluntly. However, seeing the flicker of jealousy on Zhiyuan’s face, he couldn’t help but smile.

Zhaoqing had guessed correctly, Zhiyuan was indeed jealous. He couldn’t understand why Ning-ning, the moment he regained consciousness, would insist on seeing a “jinx” like Song Zhaoqing instead of the family members surrounding his bed.

Zhiyuan knew Yuening had a cold, detached personality. He was never too distant, but he was never warm, either. He always maintained a clear, calculated distance from everyone, observing the world with a frosty gaze. Zhiyuan had always seen this as natural; they were born winners, meant to look down upon the masses.

Zhiyuan had believed that he was closer to Yuening than anyone else, even if Yuening’s “closeness” was just a disciplined, polite coldness. But today, he realized that Yuening was capable of heat, it just wasn’t directed at him. In Yuening’s heart, Zhiyuan’s position was eternally locked at “brother,” with no path forward.

If he couldn’t do it, then why could Song Zhaoqing?

Zhiyuan grew more resentful. But looking at Zhaoqing’s smile, he felt a momentary daze. The brothers weren’t particularly similar; Zhaoqing looked more like their mother, the Sun daughter, while Zhiyuan took after Shicheng. Zhiyuan had to admit Zhaoqing was handsome, when he smiled, even the tiny mole on his nose seemed to shimmer with a faint, hypnotic light.

But Zhiyuan quickly snapped out of it. What use is a pretty face? He’s still just a thug from the slums.

“What are you smiling at?” Zhiyuan snapped. “We are in a hospital. Ning-ning is ill, yet you’re standing here gloating.”

Why does Song Zhaoqing get to have a strong heart and a carefree smile, while Ning-ning has to be frail and suffer every day? Zhiyuan thought. It’s not fair. A dark, toxic thought crossed his mind: If only Song Zhaoqing’s heart could be given to Ning-ning.

But he knew the odds of a match were too slim.

Zhaoqing watched the shifting shadows in Zhiyuan’s eyes. Hypocrite. Both Song brothers were perfect examples of the hypocritical breed the Song family produced.

“What, I can’t even smile now? Eldest Young Master, your frown is deep enough to crush a fly. Are you jealous of me?” Zhaoqing drawled, his gaze mocking.

“What would I have to be jealous of you for?” Zhiyuan barked, his voice turning shrill.

“Oh… you know,” Zhaoqing dragged out his words. “I think you’re jealous because your ‘little darling’ woke up and immediately asked for me, didn’t he?”

In this life, go ahead and be happy with your ‘Chosen One’ baby brother, Zhaoqing thought. You, Fu Lansheng, Xie Chengxuan, you’ll all have plenty of competition soon. I’m done with this muddy water.

Despite the slight tremor of anxiety, he had felt seeing the bullies earlier, Zhaoqing now felt a strange calm. He was going to change his fate, save Fang Yang and Lili, and protect his grandfather’s inheritance from these scavengers. A man who had died once had nothing left to fear.

While Zhaoqing found his peace, Zhiyuan was unraveling. “I have no interest in your ‘brotherly love’ games,” Zhaoqing continued. “If you love him so much, stay by his side. I wish you and Song Yuening a long and happy life together.”

Zhiyuan’s pupils shrank. His most shameful, hidden secret had been dragged into the light. Panic and rage overwhelmed him. He clenched his fist and swung it at Zhaoqing. Zhaoqing hadn’t expected the “refined” Zhiyuan to resort to a street fight in a hospital and barely had time to react.

But before the fist could connect, a pale, slender hand caught it mid-air.

Zhaoqing’s breath hitched. His attention wasn’t on the punch anymore, but on the person who had appeared behind Zhiyuan.

Zhiyuan, furious at being interrupted, roared: “Who is it?!”

There was no answer. Zhiyuan felt a sudden chill and turned his head, only to pale instantly.

“Ning-ning , Ning-ning, how are you…”

Song Yuening was gripping his fist. Zhiyuan hadn’t held back his strength, and the frail Yuening had used every ounce of his energy to stop the blow. He was so weak he collapsed to the ground immediately afterward.

Zhiyuan’s face turned a frantic, shamed red. “Ning-ning, are you hurt?!”

Yuening stood back up, expressionless. He hid his trembling wrist behind his back.

“What are you doing? You’re sick! How can you wander around like this? Did Father and Grandmother not stop you?” Zhiyuan scolded, his voice a mix of relief and worry.

“You know no one can stop me,” Yuening said softly, his voice devoid of emotion. He turned his gaze to Zhaoqing. “I’m sorry, Song Zhaoqing. I apologize on behalf of my brother. And, thank you.”

“You…”

Under the scorching sun, Zhaoqing studied Song Yuening. Something was definitely different about him. But before he could speak, Yuening’s strength gave out, and he fainted again.

Chaos erupted. Shicheng, the Old Madam, Lili, and the bullies all rushed over. Zhiyuan frantically lifted Yuening onto a stretcher. Shicheng was furious; he regretted not letting Lin Qi handle Zhaoqing, but his suspicion of Lin Qi had led him to send Zhiyuan instead. Now, things were even worse.

Noticing the presence of outsiders, Shicheng whispered a low order to Lin Qi: “Take this troublesome jinx to the secondary villa. He is to stay there from now on.” Shicheng felt that if Zhaoqing stayed in his sight, he would lose ten years of his life.

“Hey, Fang Haoyang… so that’s the low-life trying to steal Yuening’s place? He doesn’t look as bad as I thought,” Duan Ran whispered excitedly to her cousin, watching the drama unfold.

Behind them, Fu Lansheng remained silent, his gaze fixed on Zhaoqing with an unreadable expression. Duan Ran noticed his mood immediately. Of the three, only Lansheng was truly close to Yuening; they were childhood friends. The Fang and Duan families were wealthy, but they were second-tier compared to the top-tier power of the Fus and Songs.

Lansheng had always been a ruthless protector of Yuening. But today, Yuening had ignored everyone to find Song Zhaoqing and even took a punch for him. In Lansheng’s experience, Yuening was cold-blooded; he would never help anyone if it didn’t benefit him.

But now… I can’t read him at all, Duan Ran thought.

“Sheng-ge,” Fang Haoyang said, his high-pitched voice full of sycophancy. “I heard Uncle Song is transferring this kid to our school. Should we, give him a hard time to cheer Yuening up?”

“But Yuening doesn’t seem to hate him,” Duan Ran noted, not playing along for once. “Otherwise, why would he risk his life to save him?” She peeked at Lansheng’s face.

Lansheng didn’t hear them. His mind was elsewhere. He watched the thin, rebellious youth standing in the sun. The boy noticed his gaze but didn’t look down in fear like most people did. Instead, he stared back for a moment and then walked straight toward them.

“Hello. I’m Fu Lansheng. I’m a good friend of Yuening’s. I heard you’re transferring to our school; we might be classmates soon.”

Lansheng offered a deceptively kind smile and extended his hand. Zhaoqing remained unmoved. He didn’t take the hand. He simply walked past him.

Lansheng’s brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Zhaoqing whispered in a tone only the two of them could hear:

“No need for a handshake. Who said we’d be classmates? Prying into other people’s business isn’t a good habit, is it Eldest Young Master Fu?”