Volume One, Chapter Three: What Do I Owe Her?

Originally filled with concern, Jiang Zhiyi slowly released Song Lin and glanced at the suitcase in Song Sinen’s hand. She had long learned the whole story from Song Siyen.

“Lin, why did you bring back this junk?” Her brow furrowed, her expression darkening.

Song Lin’an scolded sharply, “Who are you trying to impress with this mess? You’ve been home for years—are we lacking food or clothing? After all this time, you haven’t improved one bit.”

This daughter was becoming increasingly reckless, not at all like the obedient Minmin. Perhaps they had spoiled her too much in the past, indulging her until her character became flawed and her methods underhanded.

“Yang Ma, throw all of this away.”

Yang Ma stepped forward, took the suitcase from Song Sinen’s hand, and hurried toward the door.

“Wait.”

Just as Yang Ma reached the entrance, someone stopped her.

The familiar voice made Song Lin’s heart skip a beat. She instinctively turned and saw a man standing at the doorway.

Five years had passed since they last met, and he had matured greatly.

He wore a finely tailored, high-end gray-blue suit, a luxury watch adorning his wrist—something he had once refused to wear. The carefree arrogance of youth had faded, replaced by a proud aloofness.

It was Wen Huaiye.

Her childhood friend.

Her fiancé.

Five years ago, when she was forcibly sent abroad, Wen Huaiye was confined at home, under strict orders not to contact her.

Yet, a month after she left, he came too.

He stood beneath a foreign tree, disheveled yet resolute, declaring, “Fiancée, I have come for you.”

She later learned from the Wen family that he had broken a window, jumped down from the upper floor, stolen a passport, and fled abroad behind their backs.

That boy who once knelt, begging Mr. and Mrs. Wen not to separate them, had now grown into this man.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted.

Wen Huaiye took the suitcase from Yang Ma and came beside Song Lin, lowering his gaze to ask gently, “Do you want to throw these away?”

Song Lin shook her head.

He placed the suitcase next to her. “If you don’t want to throw them away, no one can force you.”

At those words, the faces of the Song family changed.

Song Siyen sprang up in anger. “Wen Huaiye, what do you mean by that? Don’t forget your current position, don’t forget Minmin…”

“Brother!” Song Min quickly interrupted, tugging his sleeve and shaking her head, hurt.

Song Siyen’s expression softened but he shot Song Lin a fierce look.

Song Lin’s mind raced, wondering what unfinished words were left unsaid.

“Uncle Yang, Aunt Jiang, my grandmother knows Lin has returned and asked me to bring her to stay for a few days,” Wen Huaiye said as if unaware of the shifting mood.

“That won’t do!” Song Lin’an was the first to object. “Lin is our Song family’s child. She hasn’t been home for years; how can she go to the Wen family right after returning? That would sound terrible if people found out.”

Jiang Zhiyi nodded. “We haven’t seen Lin for years either. There are many things to discuss with her.”

“Is that so?” Wen Huaiye stood protectively in front of Song Lin. “So the Song family warmly welcomes Lin’s return?”

“Of course!”

“Then the place for Lin to live must have been prepared long ago!”

Without hesitation, Jiang Zhiyi smiled tenderly at her daughter. “Lin, I decorated your room just as you like. I even bought you seasonal clothes—your favorite brands and styles.”

“And your favorite jewelry,” she added, taking Song Lin’s hand and beginning to lead her upstairs.

“Mom, the room can wait. Lin just got back and must be hungry. Let’s eat first!” Song Siyen suddenly interjected, looking at Song Lin. “Lin, tell us—do you want to see your room or eat?”

Though it was a question, his gaze was full of warning.

Suddenly, Song Lin understood.

“Lin, do you want to see the room, or eat first?” Song Siyen almost gritted his teeth as he asked again.

After a few seconds’ silence, Song Lin decisively replied, “See the room.”

They arrived at the door of the room.

Jiang Zhiyi happily opened it.

“Lin, you’re sure to like this room…” But her words vanished in shock.

What lay inside was empty—only a shabby, worn-out bed and a dressing table so old its mirror was cracked.

Opening the adjacent walk-in closet, Jiang Zhiyi found no clothes, shoes, or bags—only a few worn, low-quality garments that looked secondhand.

Remembering Song Siyen’s attitude earlier, she spun around and glared at him. “Song Siyen, what is the meaning of this?”

Song Siyen crossed his arms, leaned against the wall, and looked at the scene with a cold, indifferent gaze. “What do you mean? This is exactly what you see.”

“Brother, this is going too far!” Song Sinen frowned. “Lin hasn’t been home for years, and this is what she comes back to?”

He glanced at Wen Huaiye, still standing there.

Song Siyen turned his head toward Song Lin. “This bed? Minmin used to sleep on it. Can’t she? This dressing table? Minmin used it before. Can’t she use it? Minmin used to wear hand-me-down clothes. Can’t she wear them now?”

“Besides, Minmin lived in a rented room that didn’t even protect her from the wind and rain. What about Lin?”

“At least now she lives in a big villa.”

“Compared to Minmin, she should be much happier.”

The Song family fell silent.

Twin sisters—one raised in luxury, the other in want.

The contrast…

Was cruel beyond words.

Jiang Zhiyi looked at Song Lin, who returned the gaze calmly.

Those clear, beautiful eyes showed no emotion.

No anger.

No resentment.

No surprise.

No warmth.

Only scrutiny.

Song Lin’s gaze slowly shifted from Jiang Zhiyi to the other members of the Song family.

Everyone thought Song Siyen was right.

Even the gentle second brother looked approving.

“Brother cares deeply for her?”

She looked directly at Song Siyen.

He bent slightly, his expression cold and stern as he stared at her. “Of course I care. Otherwise, why would I worry about you?”

They had to suppress Lin’s arrogance as soon as she returned.

Otherwise, who knew how she might bully Minmin in the future.

Song Lin smiled faintly and asked, “Brother, do you think I owe her?”

“Don’t you owe Minmin?”

Song Lin: “What do I owe her?”

“Was it me who made her be taken away at birth?”

“Was it me who made her live in a rundown house?”

“Was it me who made her sleep on a broken bed?”

“Was it me who made her wear clothes worn by others?”

“Brother, if you truly care for her, why don’t you experience the hardships she endured? Why must I suffer them?” She smiled coldly. “Could it be your concern was never genuine?”