MCFEM C8

Chapter 8: What Else Did That Mistress’s Child Do…

The situation was a little complicated.

Less than a few dozen meters from the banquet hall crowded with social elites, a pair of adulterers were in the middle of their affair—and unfortunately, both could barely be considered his elders.

Gu Yang leaned forward and peeked again. On that side, things were already heated—Zhou Qinqin’s clothes had come loose, and Shen Shan’s face was twisted with lust.

He silently pulled his head back.

Who wanted to watch a pair of middle-aged people getting intimate?

Gu Yang grumbled inwardly with disgust—then turned, only to find himself staring straight into a pair of dark, phoenix-shaped eyes.

So close—close enough that he could feel the other’s breath brushing across his skin.

This corridor happened to have a recessed alcove, originally meant to house a built-in water dispenser. Now it had to cram two long-limbed boys inside, squeezed so tightly their faces were practically pressed together.

How utterly ridiculous.

Why was he even hiding? Gu Yang thought idly.

So what if they were seen? It wasn’t like he was the one who should feel embarrassed.

With this pleasant decision made, Gu Yang let go of Song Yinxing and started to step out. But just as his foot moved forward, someone yanked him back by the collar.

In an instant, the dynamic flipped. He was pinned against the tiled wall, mouth clamped shut, unable to move until the sound of high heels and leather shoes gradually faded into the distance.

Only after the grip released could Gu Yang step out. The hallway was now empty. He turned around.

“Why’d you insist on hiding?” He leaned forward, the corner of his lips curling into a teasing smile, his tone laced with ambiguous suggestion. “Was it because you’re too shy?”

“No.” Song Yinxing’s reply was hard and stiff. “They’re important guests here. I was afraid of getting reported and losing my wages.”

But despite his words, his ears were flushed red.

“Wages?” Only then did Gu Yang notice Song Yinxing was wearing a server’s uniform. “You’re working here? Why? Isn’t your scholarship enough?”

“It’s enough.” Song Yinxing lifted his eyes to meet his. “I’m saving money. I’ll pay back that ten thousand yuan to you.”

“You actually remembered that?” Hearing this, Gu Yang laughed with interest. “Didn’t I say I don’t need that kind of money?”

It really was fitting for a protagonist—studying during the day, working nights to pay back debts, and even managing to slot into a shift the same evening trouble had struck.

“…I’ll pay you back,” Song Yinxing repeated stubbornly after a brief silence.

Gu Yang instantly lost interest again and switched topics. “When you saw them just now, what went through your mind?”

“Were you thinking: wow, what a talented man and beautiful woman, a match made in hell, only a little nauseating because they couldn’t even wait until they got inside?”

“But what if I told you that both their children are already in high school, and the man has a legal spouse, meaning what you just saw counts as adultery? Then what would you think?”

Song Yinxing paused, but his face betrayed no change. “I’d have no thoughts.”

Not receiving the reaction he expected, Gu Yang gave him a look of incredulous disbelief, then ran his gaze up and down Song Yinxing as though inspecting him anew.

“Then what if I told you the man’s legal spouse is actually the woman’s younger sister—and that the spouse herself was once a mistress who clawed her way up? Which means this woman is the second mistress. And that mistress’s child even—”

“No thoughts!” For a moment Song Yinxing’s composure cracked, but he forcibly pushed Gu Yang aside and answered with measured restraint: “I need to switch shifts. If I’m late, they’ll dock my pay. Goodbye.”

“Huh?” Gu Yang watched him leave, his face full of emotional confusion. He couldn’t understand why anyone in this world wouldn’t enjoy hearing gossip.

What an unbearably boring person. Whoever ended up as his partner would be cursed with terrible luck.

—

Ying Jiayi had been waiting so anxiously her eyes were practically boring holes through the door before Gu Yang finally strolled in, late as ever.

She had just asked her mother about it, confirming that the Lu family’s young master really had collapsed only minutes after arriving at the hotel.

Though she didn’t know the exact cause, it was clearly not something suitable to spread around, so they’d quickly rushed him to a hospital. Her mother had even been surprised at how she knew about it at all.

And the hospital in question? A private one owned by the Ye family. After inquiring, she learned the doctor’s diagnosis was a severe allergic reaction leading to shock. The allergen was still being tested.

But chances were, Gu Yang’s words had been right.

He really knew. Everything he’d said turned out to be true.

The people present exchanged subtle looks, the air thick with unspoken tension. But everyone wisely held their tongues, waiting for the only true victim in this to speak.

“Gu Yang.” Ying Jiayi thought carefully over her words. It had been a long time since she’d spoken so cautiously. “…What do you think of Yu Zhou?”

“What do I think?” Gu Yang countered, “What do you think of him?”

Ying Jiayi froze. What could she say? In her heart, she had already sentenced Yu Zhou to death.

Gu Yang observed her reaction and remembered what Yu Bai had once said—that she was deeply in love.

“I don’t think much of him. You two aren’t suitable.”

“How so?” Ying Jiayi pressed.

“Because a live-in son-in-law is no good.” Gu Yang said bluntly.

“You can’t say that. Look, my father is a live-in son-in-law, and hasn’t he and my mom been fine?” Ying Jiayi suppressed her disgust, trying to guide the conversation.

Who could have guessed—until today, the one thing she couldn’t bear hearing was anyone insulting her father for being a son-in-law.

But Gu Yang’s face only twisted with open disdain, not bothering to hide it. And that disdain was directed straight at her—she could feel it.

If not for the information gap—if she hadn’t heard Gu Yang’s inner thoughts and understood the context—this conversation would’ve been impossible.

“Love really does turn people terrifyingly brainless.”

“Ying Jiayi’s original plan was to go abroad for university right after graduation—she’d already gotten her offers. Yu Zhou, afraid of losing his chance, lured her out, drugged her, and took photos to use as blackmail.”

“Just at that time, Ying Xueying was diagnosed with cancer and preparing for surgery. To spare her mother worry, Jiayi only confided in Liu Chaoyin.”

“Unfortunately, even with all her courage, she couldn’t escape. Liu Chaoyin instead used the chance to send Yu Zhou overseas, covering his expenses under the guise of ‘taking care of Jiayi,’ conveniently giving him leverage over her.”

“While Jiayi was alone abroad, Liu Chaoyin had already been buying up scattered shares. And during Ying Xueying’s hospitalization, he personally shuttled between home and hospital, finally winning over the grandfather who’d always disapproved of him. He transferred shares to Liu Chaoyin, making it easier for him to control the group.”

“Jiayi—” Yu Bai cried out in shock.

Because Ying Jiayi was crying. Tears spilled uncontrollably down her face, smearing the eyeliner at her eyes.

Gu Yang’s inner voice cut off. For once, he looked genuinely lost, staring blankly at the girl before him, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine. Just not feeling well. You all keep playing. I’ll have the driver take me home to rest.” Ying Jiayi stiffly brushed off Yu Bai’s attempt to steady her, turning to leave in haste.

The class monitor put a hand on her shoulder and murmured: “If you need help, come to me.”

She gave a slight nod. The sheer weight of information was suffocating.

She had to act quickly—take her mother for an immediate checkup, and deal with the matter of the share acquisitions.

Outside the hall, she stood in the cold night air for several minutes to calm herself, then dialed a call. “Grandpa, sorry to spring this on you suddenly, but I need to ask you to investigate something…”

“…What’s wrong?”

The monitor glanced at Gu Yang and asked softly: “Still thinking about Xiao Ying?”

Gu Yang said nothing. His heavy lashes lowered, concealing his empty eyes. He leaned on the balcony railing, night shadows shrouding his face.

Downstairs, Jiayi finally got into her car and left. The headlights faded into the distance.

“Why was she crying?” he murmured, half as a question, half as self-talk.

The monitor wanted to respond but only spread his hands helplessly.

There was nothing to be done. This was a secret shared among Class Eleven—a secret that Gu Yang alone could not know.

Perhaps it was a little deceitful. But for now, it was the only choice.

Gu Yang hated tears—or rather, he feared them.

Once, a woman had crouched on the ground, burying her face into his neck. Her hot tears soaked through his clothes, searing him with their dreadful warmth.

Tears that never fell to the floor had instead shattered his world into a drawn-out earthquake.

He couldn’t bear the weight of them.

Without its star, the banquet ended faster than usual.

When the hall was mostly empty, a man nearing fifty approached. He carried a coat in his hands, standing respectfully by the French windows.

“Huang Shu,” the monitor greeted.

This was the Gu family’s personal driver—he’d seen him several times before.

“Young Master He.” The driver, kindly and gentle by appearance, turned to Gu Yang. “Young Master, we should return. The night is cold. Your father asked me to drape this coat over you.”

Like coaxing a child, he guided Gu Yang’s arm into the sleeves before leading him to the car waiting below.

In the passenger seat already sat a man, the overhead light illuminating the impeccable lines of his tailored suit when the door opened.

The car started.

“I didn’t expect you’d come.” The man’s voice carried a gentle laugh. “When your Uncle Nie pointed you out, I thought he was mistaken. You’ve never liked crowds.”

“Better than sitting idle. There’s nothing in that house anyway.” Gu Yang propped his chin on his hand, staring out at scenery that didn’t exist. “Can’t I?”

“Of course you can. I’d rather you go out more. You’re only eighteen—why act so lifeless?” The man pulled a small gift box from his coat and handed it over. “I’d planned to give this to you at home. I bought it while traveling.”

Gu Yang leaned forward to take it. As he reached, the red gem bracelet at his wrist glimmered under passing streetlights, scattering dazzling light.

“I’ve never seen that before. Who gave it to you?” The Gu family’s fortune had been built on jewelry, and even now its most profitable subsidiaries were jewel firms. With one glance, Gu Yuhui recognized the bracelet’s worth.

“He Ming’an.” Gu Yang opened the box. Inside, on deep red satin, lay an iris brooch, vintage and restrained.

“Him again. That boy really has thoughtfulness. Still a student, yet he spends so lavishly.”

Gu Yuhui chuckled. “You’ve been in the same class since elementary school. A bond like that can’t be matched. Wanhe will definitely fall to him one day. Your brother and he never got along, so the connection between the families depends on you.”

“He treats you well—you shouldn’t be stingy. I’ll wire more money to your account later.”

Gu Yang gave the faintest hum, then closed his eyes. That was his usual gesture of ending conversation.

His body sank deeper into the seat, the folds of the coat soft as they covered his chin.

The car fell completely silent, the only sound the steady hum of the engine.

Maybe he hadn’t rested enough the night before, but with his eyes closed, Gu Yang actually drifted into a doze. Only when Huang Shu gently nudged him awake did he stir. “We’ve arrived, Young Master.”

Gu Yang half-squinted, pulling the coat tighter as he stepped out.

Then he suddenly turned back. “Huang Shu, how much do you earn in a month?”

After reporting the rough figure, the driver asked warmly: “Did something happen, Young Master?”

“How long would it take a student to earn ten thousand yuan?”

“Students can only take part-time jobs. Those usually pay by the hour—not very high. Around ten yuan or so.” Huang Shu searched his expression but found nothing. He tried asking, “Is it about a friend of yours?”

“Not exactly.” Gu Yang answered lazily.

—

Cleaning up after the banquet was also a time-consuming job.

Without a word, Song Yinxing carried out the last two large bags of trash.

“Thank you so much, Xiao Song.” One of the kitchen aunties smiled warmly. “This job really wasn’t supposed to fall to you. You’re too sincere—it saved us a lot of work.”

Song Yinxing shook his head. “No, Chen Ayi. I should be the one thanking you for recommending me here. This is nothing.”

“Oh, don’t say that. I’ve known your mom for years. And these are all the dirtiest, hardest chores. You’re too good a student to be doing this.” After speaking, she asked kindly, “How’s your mother’s health lately? Is she doing better?”

“She’s been better recently, able to eat again.” The topic ended there. After a few polite refusals, he finally accepted the leftovers she packed for him from the banquet.

The night air was frigid. He unlocked a rental bike and hurried home, then ate the packaged food as a late-night snack while studying. Only after several more hours did he finally head to bed.

After turning off the light, unlike usual, he didn’t fall asleep immediately. Even with his eyes shut, over ten minutes passed before he slowly opened them again into the pitch-black room.

That mistress’s child.

What else had he done?