Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 938: A 3:30 AM Breakfast

Song Ying felt deeply saddened by Bai Shuitang's sacrifice to save Song Haoran. Thankfully, Basil, the enemy, had been eliminated, avenging Bai Shuitang. Song Haoran shared this with Song Ying in Song Tianyou's presence, so she had no reason to doubt it.

"I recall that Second Uncle had a cousin who worked with him in Chinatown, named Bai Zhan," Song Ying sighed. "Grandfather, Second Uncle sacrificed himself to save Uncle. We can't mistreat him."

Old Master Song nodded, "Don't worry. Your grandfather repays kindness and seeks retribution. I do recall this Bai Zhan; Bai Shuitang brought him to visit me for New Year's several years ago. I won’t 'mistreat' him."

After a pause, Song Tianyou patted Song Ying's hand, saying softly, "Stay here at Cold Residence for a few days to recover. Leave everything else alone and rest."

"No... I still have a lot of work to arrange in the group," Song Ying shook her head. "I can't leave at this moment. Besides, you’ll only be here for a few days, so I need to settle things quickly."

Song Tianyou, both touched and guilty, replied even more softly, "You don't need to worry too much about that. I'll find someone to handle the group's affairs."

"Someone else?" Song Ying was startled, frowning. "Who?"

Song Tianyou smiled slightly, glancing at Song Haoran, who stood quietly beside him, "What do you think? This guy is a board member and has been shirking for too long. It's time he got back to work."

"Uncle?" Song Ying looked at Song Haoran, astonished.

She knew her uncle’s personality well—he often ignored things he disliked, even if her father ordered them.Song Haoran shrugged, "Don't look so surprised. The Song family has so much business. With me still around, you can't handle it all on your own, right?"

Song Ying looked suspicious... it felt as though her uncle had changed since she regained consciousness. Previously, he had attended to work briefly but, once she graduated early and returned, he had left everything to her and went off on adventures.

"If you're so concerned about me being busy, maybe you should hurry up and find a husband to help me out."

"Get lost!"

Song Haoran reverted to his usual playful self, but Old Master Song waved him off, "Go on; I have a few words to say to Ying."

"Alright," Song Haoran nodded. "I’ll go find a suit for work... see you later!"

Once Song Haoran left, Song Tianyou sighed, "Your uncle is a lot like the younger me. He's not irresponsible; he just has ambitions beyond what the Song family can provide."

"Then why is he…" Song Ying asked, puzzled.

"Even the lofty-minded must walk grounded," Song Tianyou shook his head. "If he now has the idea, it may be a good thing. Just go with the flow. The burden you carry wasn't placed on you by us but by yourself. Let it go when you can."

"Grandfather, you and Uncle are acting a bit strange," Song Ying said, shaking her head.

"Perhaps it’s everything that’s happened lately." Song Tianyou sighed, then added, "As for what I told you the other night, I’ve reconsidered. Forget I ever mentioned it."

"The other night?" Song Ying looked confused.

"I’m referring to you and Luo Qiu," Song Tianyou said. "Forced feelings don’t bring happiness. I think it’s better to let things unfold naturally; you both might find someone more suitable... especially you. Are you worried I’ll bring it up again?”

Song Ying seemed lost in thought, then quickly replied, "Oh... I understand. Thank you, Grandfather! If that’s the case, I, too, can breathe easier."

Song Tianyou laughed, "Don't keep things bottled up. I’m not rigid. I just want to see you walk down the aisle, truly happy."

"Grandfather! Maybe I just won’t get married and stay with you forever," Song Ying teased, hugging him.

"Heh," he chuckled, gently patting his only granddaughter's back.

Song Ying also laughed, but with something on her mind, resting her head on Song Tianyou's shoulder and staring out the window, lost in thought.

---

Late at night.

It was past 1 a.m., yet more guards patrolled Cold Residence. After two recent attacks on the Song family, Uncle Wu, the butler, had ordered strict vigilance, threatening to replace everyone if a third incident occurred.

The guards, seeing this position as an honor, were all highly alert.

"Who goes there!"

In the darkness, a stern voice rang out as three guards rushed out, surrounding a figure in the corridor. One guard even drew his gun.

"Are you looking for trouble?" snapped the person in question—it was none other than Song Ying herself!

Wearing a thin nightgown, she glared at the guards, who broke into a cold sweat, wondering why she was wandering the halls in the middle of the night.

"Sorry, Miss Ying, we thought it was an intruder," one guard quickly apologized.

"Fine, go back to work," Song Ying dismissed them. "I couldn’t sleep and wanted to take a walk. Return to your posts."

The guards returned to their stations. Song Ying let out a sigh, walked down the corridor, and stopped at a door.

After a long hesitation, she finally knocked.

A moment later, Luo Qiu opened the door. Seeing Song Ying, he was slightly surprised, "Is something wrong? If it’s about a street race, I think I’ll skip it this time."

"Is that all you think I’d come to you for?" Song Ying glared.

Luo Qiu blinked, "That’s what you wanted the last two times."

"Ugh! Would it kill you to stop provoking me?" She clenched her fists, then deflated, crossed her arms, and said, "I’m hungry. Make me some congee. I want some!"

"Now?" Luo Qiu glanced at the time.

It was nearly 2 a.m.

“Can’t we...?” Song Ying’s voice had softened.

Luo Qiu shook his head. “Not at all. Just give me a moment. I’ll grab a jacket.”

He quickly threw on a light coat and walked out.

…

…

“Be careful! Uncle Si doesn’t like anyone touching things in his kitchen—especially his knife and spatula!” Song Ying sat at the kitchen counter, propping her chin up as she watched Luo Qiu, offering a “friendly” reminder.

“You don’t really need a knife or spatula to make congee,” Luo Qiu smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean everything up after you’ve eaten.”

Hmph.

Song Ying gave a small snort and looked away—only to glance back shortly after, watching his back as he rinsed the rice.

Someone had once told her that a man who could cook looked especially attractive when doing so, but she’d been skeptical at the time.

After all, if he was highly skilled but looked like a gourd, his “charm” would surely trend downward on the Y-axis, right?

“Well... maybe there’s a little,” she muttered, tilting her head.

“What did you just say?” Luo Qiu turned around.

“Who said anything to you? Stop flattering yourself! Hurry up, or are you planning to let me starve?” She reflexively glared at him.

Luo Qiu flicked the water off his hands and casually asked, “What would you like as a side dish?”

“Fried dough sticks!” Song Ying answered without hesitation.

Unfortunately, Luo Qiu shook his head. “I don’t know how to make those.”

Song Ying sneered, “What a failure! Can’t even make fried dough sticks!”

He laughed. “Isn’t it worse to pretend to know something you don’t? There’s some pickled vegetables here, probably from Uncle Si. I’ll just prepare some of that for you.”

“Fine, whatever, as long as it’s edible... How much longer?”

“This kitchen has an old-fashioned stove, and I found some lychee wood, so I’ll use firewood to cook—it’ll taste better that way, but it’ll take a bit longer.”

Song Ying sighed, resigned, and casually grabbed a tomato from a vegetable basket nearby, biting into it.

Luo Qiu, meanwhile, broke pieces of lychee wood and fed them into the stove, starting a fire and tending to the flames.

He seemed pretty busy.

What an interesting person... He seemed to know everything yet never pushed himself into the spotlight.

He’s the kind of person... you’d have to be with for a while to gradually uncover his...

Watching him, Song Ying began to feel drowsy, her eyelids growing heavy. She watched his silhouette until it blurred, only the soft crackling of the burning firewood echoing in the stillness.

When the fire began to smolder, Luo Qiu stretched and glanced at her. She had dozed off, leaning on the table. He took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, then stepped out into the small courtyard just outside the kitchen.

There was a small vegetable plot there, neatly tended by someone unknown.

The night was cool. Luo Qiu picked some fresh greens and scallions before heading back to the kitchen, where he resumed his preparations.

Time passed slowly.

Song Ying eventually woke up—sleeping at the table like that didn’t usually last long. She noticed Luo Qiu’s coat draped over her shoulders.

Without a word, she placed the coat aside and, sticking her tongue out at his back, made a face.

In front of her was a small clay pot, with a small plate of pickled radish on the side, drizzled with sesame oil, filling the air with a rich aroma.

“You’re awake, just in time.”

“What time is it?” she yawned.

“About three-thirty,” Luo Qiu set down a plate in front of her. “I didn’t stir-fry the vegetables to keep things quiet, plus it’s best not to eat anything too greasy at night. The greens are from the garden and easy to digest.”

The greens weren’t just blanched in hot water but simmered in a flavorful broth.

Song Ying watched as he opened the clay pot, releasing a cloud of steam carrying a delicate rice fragrance. The grains in the congee had softened to a smooth consistency.

“Do you like scallions?” he asked.

“They’re alright...” She nodded.

Luo Qiu sprinkled some finely chopped scallions over the congee, then served her a bowl.

Eagerly, Song Ying tried to hold the bowl with both hands but found it too hot, making her quickly pull her hands back and pinch her earlobes.

Realizing he’d noticed, she pretended nothing had happened, carefully holding the bowl again and turning away, sipping slowly from it.

She savored the congee with the pickled radish—a treat given her recent lack of meals. Uncle Si’s pickling skills made it especially tasty.

She also finished the greens, which were tender and delicious.

When she finally set the bowl down, she glanced at him, only to see he was already tidying up.

“Hey, you said you have a girlfriend. What’s she like?” she asked suddenly.

“Hmm... how to put it.” Luo Qiu thought for a moment. “She’s quiet and caring, I suppose.”

Song Ying frowned. “So you like her just because she takes care of people?”

Luo Qiu turned to her, “There’s still a bit left. Do you want more?”

“No, no, any more and I’ll burst.” She shook her head.

He smiled and continued cleaning up the dishes. Song Ying, feeling slightly pitiful, asked quietly, “Hey, you still haven’t told me what you like about her.”

Luo Qiu paused, looking at her. “Have you ever seen a black tulip?”

She nodded.

“She’s like a black tulip—mysterious and noble,” he replied softly.