When She Stops Being Dramatic novel Chapter 132

Chapter 132: Chapter 65: 1960s Art Troupe’s Top Star (4)

The Song family went through a whole ordeal at the hospital. Song Zhenbao had her head bandaged and her fractured arm put in a sling. Paired with her tearful, pained expression, she looked like a pitiful, devastated victim.

After her IV drip was finished, the sky had already darkened, but she refused to stay in the hospital a moment longer.

So the Song family hurried about again, handling the discharge paperwork and taking her home.

At the doorway, Song Zhenbao shivered. Song Huie immediately smiled, eager to take credit. "Don’t worry, sis, go on inside. There’s no one unsavory around."

He added, quite pleased with himself, "After she did such a terrible thing, it was merciful enough for Mom and Dad not to press charges and send her to jail!"

"If she just ’moved out,’ she could still use our family’s influence to throw her weight around. I saw she wasn’t the least bit repentant, so I had her household registration transferred out and even made her change her name..."

Father Song and Mother Song exchanged a look, fuming and anxious inside. But in front of their innocent, adoring little daughter, they didn’t say a word.

Once Song Zhenbao was in her room resting, they called their eldest son into the study.

Song Huie closed the door. The moment he turned around, a thick, heavy book slammed into his head, the impact leaving him stunned.

Grimacing, he clutched his forehead. "Dad, what was that for?"

Mother Song pulled her son over, her heart aching for him. "Can’t you talk to him properly? The boy’s a grown man! He’s married and has a child of his own; he has his pride. How can you still hit him like he’s a little kid?"

"Hah! It looks like he grew taller, but not smarter! The Song Family raised Song Ruoyun for eighteen whole years, and we haven’t gotten a damn thing out of it, and now you, you idiot, have just kicked her out?" Father Song was so angry his head throbbed.

Song Huie was stunned, then chagrined. "I was just trying to make her suffer, to make sure she was punished. Without the Song Family’s protection, a girl with her temper and looks is bound to have a hard time."

"I just forgot to make her sign an IOU for the debt she owes our family for raising her for eighteen years."

Mother Song put a hand to her forehead and smacked him hard on the back. "You oaf! She’s just one girl; how much could she possibly have cost in food and clothes over eighteen years? What kind of math are you doing?"

Seeing their son’s bewildered expression, the couple felt as if half a lifetime of hard work had gone down the drain. But then she remembered they still had their second son as a backup, so Mother Song offered a cursory explanation. "Song Ruoyun is beautiful. She can help us secure a good marriage alliance, which in turn could help your father get another promotion or two."

"Why do you think your father and I have been so strict with her all her life? It was all to pave the way for you and your brother!"

’He remembered overhearing someone mention to his father that a widower with four children had taken an interest in Song Ruoyun. The man was the editor-in-chief of a Beijing newspaper, and if he just happened to give Father a front-page exclusive, it would be enough for a promotion.’

’And that was just one possibility. What about the others?’

’Song Ruoyun was so proud and arrogant. If she were married off to a man as old as his own father, forced to be a stepmother to a bunch of kids... she would probably go insane with rage, right?’

’After all, with her looks...’

Suddenly, Song Huie shuddered, realizing that he and Song Ruoyun shared no blood. They were simply a man and a woman.

All sorts of thoughts flew through his mind, and the hot blood coursing through his veins ultimately rushed downward.

Xia Zhaoyun read her manuscript for a while before lying down on her bed, staring blankly at the faint cracks in the ceiling.

It was only eight o’clock, but some people were already asleep under thin blankets. Others read by the dim yellow light of their desk lamps, while some sat before mirrors, applying various lotions to their faces, necks, and hands. The occasional words that were spoken were nothing more than careful whispers.