Chapter 67:

How Zhao Chunjun got Lin Qiao’s phone number was something Shen Qingzhou didn’t even bother to ask. He had one hundred percent trust in Lin Qiao—not only because he believed in her character, but also because he had full confidence in his own charm.

Indeed, someone like Zhao Chunjun, who gave off vibes that made people want to keep their distance, simply couldn’t compare with Shen Qingzhou. Their personalities were polar opposites: Shen was the type who immediately made people want to get close, while Zhao was the kind who made people want to run away immediately—there was just too big a gap.

“You go to sleep first. I’ll handle this,” Shen Qingzhou said, patting Lin Qiao’s shoulder. Ignoring the rainwater on his shoulder and forehead, he took her phone and walked outside.

Lin Qiao grabbed his hand and asked, “Is it raining outside?”

Shen Qingzhou looked back and said, “Not heavily, just a light rain.”

Lin Qiao pursed her lips and began warming his icy hand, “It’s a fine, heavy drizzle. Look, your clothes are soaked, and your hair too. Don’t go out. Wash up first, change into pajamas, and deal with it in the car. I won’t listen anyway.”

Hearing this, Shen Qingzhou couldn’t help but smile: “It’s not that I mind you listening. I just don’t want to disturb your sleep.”

Lin Qiao leaned back on the pillow and said, “I’m not sleepy. I’ve been asleep all day.”

Shen Qingzhou nodded, “Then I’ll go wash up first and deal with it here afterward.”

Lin Qiao finally smiled sweetly, softly saying “Okay” in a particularly adorable way, making Shen Qingzhou feel like all his tiredness and hardship were worth it.

Pinching Lin Qiao’s nose gently, Shen Qingzhou got up and left the bedroom to freshen up. Soon, he returned wearing pajamas, his hair washed, and still carrying the pleasant scent of shampoo.

“Come lie down,” Lin Qiao offered him space beside her.

Shen Qingzhou naturally lay down beside her. Most of the lights had already been turned off on the way back, leaving only the small lamp by the bed. Lying down, he picked up her phone and carefully examined the text messages sent by Zhao Chunjun.

Zhao had sent two messages. The first one read, “Welcome to Zhoushan City,” signed with his name. The second one was an invitation to dine together… well, more accurately, an invitation specifically for “her.”

The message was sent to Lin Qiao’s phone, and the content read, “Would I have the honor of having a meal with you?” That “you” was clearly not referring to Shen Qingzhou.

Of course, there was also the possibility that Zhao Chunjun had anticipated Lin Qiao would definitely tell Shen Qingzhou about this, so he intentionally omitted the word “both” in the message.

“Are you going to reply to him?” Lin Qiao asked, seeing Shen Qingzhou silently staring at the messages.

Shen Qingzhou held the phone in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing her arms, which eased the aches she’d been experiencing due to her pregnancy.

“I’m thinking,” Shen Qingzhou replied casually. After carefully examining the two received messages, he added, “The first and second messages were sent over an hour apart. He probably sent the second one because you didn’t reply.” He closed the phone and placed it on the table, then gazed at the ceiling of the car, lost in thought. Everything was peaceful.

Lin Qiao watched him for a while, deciding not to interrupt him, and obediently waited for him to finish thinking before telling her the result.

As it turned out, Lin Qiao ended up falling asleep while waiting. She didn’t wake up until the next morning, when Shen Qingzhou told her a piece of news that wasn’t particularly good.

“He must have learned we were here from someone,” Shen Qingzhou said as he changed clothes. “I didn’t reply to him, but today when we go up the mountain to Guanyin Temple, we’ll probably run into him. Be mentally prepared.”

Lin Qiao asked blankly, “But you didn’t reply to him. How do you know he’ll be at Guanyin Temple today?”

Shen Qingzhou turned to look at her, a meaningful smile on his face as he slowly said, “That’s a secret.”

“…” Once again, she felt a little of that old impression she’d had when she first met him—that he was like a mystic.

While the young couple got ready to go out to Guanyin Temple, Zhao Chunjun, who hadn’t received a reply to his message, had indeed arrived at Putuo Mountain. Right now, he was standing at the entrance of Guanyin Temple, gazing at the sea in the distance, his face expressionless.

Although the weather was getting colder, there were still many tourists visiting Putuo Mountain. Even though the National Day Golden Week holiday had passed, Guanyin Temple remained bustling with incense offerings.

During the day, the island was slightly warmer, but because of the sea breeze, it couldn’t compare with the inland regions.

Wrapped in her husband’s coat and leaning on his arm lazily, Lin Qiao climbed the steps at a slow pace, stopping every few steps to rest. She rested twice as long as she walked, and Shen Qingzhou patiently waited each time, though he looked like he wanted to say something several times, which made Lin Qiao feel quite awkward.

When she stopped again, Lin Qiao mercifully said, “Go ahead and say whatever you want. It’s obvious you’re holding back.”

Shen Qingzhou sighed in relief, frowning as he said, “It’s nothing, really. I’m just a bit regretful about coming here. It’s cold, and we have to climb all these steps.”

Lin Qiao smiled, “Wherever we go, we’d have to climb steps. I can manage, I’m just more tired than usual. It’s good for a pregnant woman to get some exercise—it’ll make giving birth easier.”

At the mention of childbirth, Shen Qingzhou perked up, “Are you planning to have a natural birth?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Lin Qiao replied naturally, “Of course a natural birth. Isn’t it better for the baby?”

Shen Qingzhou pursed his lips and resumed walking with her toward Guanyin Temple, saying, “But natural birth is really tough. I suggest you have a cesarean section.”

Lin Qiao’s smile widened, “It’s not you giving birth. Why do you look so serious and upset?”

Shen Qingzhou fell silent and turned his head away, clearly sulking.

Alright, he was being stubborn—maybe she had been a bit unappreciative. Just as Lin Qiao was about to comfort her husband, she caught sight of a familiar figure in the crowd. The person stood tall and straight behind some bamboo, wearing rimless glasses over dark eyes, the lenses flashing coldly like frost and snow.

“Honey,” Lin Qiao whispered, her expression turning serious, “It’s Zhao Chunjun. You were right—he’s really here.”

Shen Qingzhou followed her gaze and saw Zhao Chunjun in a black coat standing not far away, seemingly deep in thought. He replied indifferently, “Ignore him. Pretend we didn’t see him.”

Zhao Chunjun seemed not to have noticed them, which was unusual for him, known for his sharp awareness. Lin Qiao suspected he was pretending. So, following Shen Qingzhou’s suggestion, she pretended not to see him and continued walking.

Near Guanyin Temple, there was also a bamboo forest called Zizhulin, which was relatively quiet. Shen Qingzhou took Lin Qiao directly there to avoid Zhao Chunjun.

Although he was confident in his ability to protect Lin Qiao, considering she was pregnant, he preferred to avoid any risk. Even if he could ensure absolute safety, he still wanted to stay as far away from danger as possible—after all, anything could happen.

After walking a bit in Zizhulin, they didn’t see Zhao Chunjun again. When they returned to the entrance of Guanyin Temple after taking many photos and circling the area, Zhao Chunjun was still nowhere in sight.

Only then did Lin Qiao believe Zhao had left. This guy, always appearing like a ghost, suddenly showing up and disappearing, was just too creepy.

Walking into Guanyin Temple with Shen Qingzhou, Lin Qiao had intended to light incense, but they unexpectedly encountered Zhao Chunjun again at the kneeling cushions in front of the statue of Guanyin.

Zhao Chunjun had probably just finished offering incense. He was about to leave when he looked up and saw them, appearing somewhat surprised—whether genuine or feigned, it was unclear.

Since they had already met face to face, a conversation was inevitable. Zhao Chunjun approached them directly, not foolishly trying to shake Shen Qingzhou’s hand, but merely nodding politely and saying, “What a coincidence.”

Coincidence? Meeting by chance would be a coincidence. A planned encounter wasn’t a coincidence at all.

Lin Qiao ignored him, and Shen Qingzhou, acting as her spokesperson, replied to his greeting, “Meeting Dr. Zhao here is quite unfortunate.”

Bravo—the couple thought alike.

Zhao Chunjun curled his lips into a smile that was hard to interpret. After a moment, he said, “I invited you both to lunch last night but received no reply. Now that we’ve met today, I’d like to extend the invitation again. Would Mr. Shen do me the honor?”

Lin Qiao immediately answered without hesitation, “He wouldn’t.”

The two men both turned to look at her, but she remained unfazed, politely declining, “We have other plans. Meeting Dr. Zhao here has already been unpleasant enough. Let’s not have dinner together—it’ll ruin our appetite.”

So direct and unfriendly, yet Zhao Chunjun showed no sign of anger. He nodded kindly and said, “Then I won’t spoil your good mood any further. I’ll take my leave first.” Without lingering, he quickly walked away.

“This isn’t right,” Lin Qiao frowned. “He’s acting strange. I don’t believe he came all this way and it had nothing to do with us.”

Shen Qingzhou gave a light snort, “A mayfly trying to shake a giant tree—let him be.” He held her hand gently and softened his tone, “Come on, let’s go pay our respects.”

Lin Qiao snapped out of her thoughts, nodded, and said, “You’re right. It’s not worth letting him affect our mood. Let’s go.”

The couple quickly put aside the earlier “chance encounter,” but the man who had just left hadn’t gone far.

Zhao Chunjun stood in a nearby corner, gazing at the entrance of Guanyin Temple. One hand, previously stuffed in his pocket, now held a phone. The call was connected to the other party—Qin Muyao.

“Mr. Qin, you heard everything. What do you think? Have you made a decision about cooperating with me?” Zhao Chunjun held the phone to his ear, asking in a very gentle tone.

Qin Muyao had listened to the entire interaction between Shen Qingzhou and Lin Qiao, understanding exactly what Zhao Chunjun needed from him. It was simply leveraging their existing familiarity to provide convenience, targeting Lin Qiao as Shen Qingzhou’s most vulnerable point, disrupting Shen’s life, and then having Zhao Chunjun himself step in, together with some third or fourth parties unknown to Qin Muyao, to frame Shen Qingzhou. In short, it was about “many hands make light work” and “everyone for themselves, heaven help us all.”

Qin Muyao couldn’t deny that he had once been tempted and nearly agreed, but his conscience ultimately prevented him from doing something so despicable.

Lin Qiao was already pregnant. If she were to experience the pain of divorce and her child were to be separated from his biological father, would she really be happy?

Absolutely not.

Qin Muyao loved Lin Qiao. He had loved her for so long, invested so much, and although it was frustrating not to win her love in the end, he had never considered destroying her life.

“I’m sorry,” Qin Muyao finally answered Zhao Chunjun after a long silence, his voice calm. “Regarding what Dr. Zhao mentioned, I won’t disclose what I know to the parties involved. As for cooperation, I’m afraid Dr. Zhao will have to find someone else. I’ve decided to go abroad for further studies and won’t return in the near future. I’m truly unable to help. I apologize, and with that, I’ll take my leave.”

Zhao Chunjun put his phone away, looking at the screen where the call had ended. He smiled indifferently, then opened the message app and sent a text to someone else. The message was simple—just three characters: “Found them.”

It was obvious what he meant by “found them”—the couple who had ignored him. And whoever received this message must be someone who knew about the situation and was collaborating with him.

The recipient of this message was none other than Fang Zheng’s father, Fang Mingjun, who was already in prison.

As a father who had raised his son alone after his wife passed away early, despite Fang Zheng’s many flaws and even his legal transgressions, Fang Mingjun couldn’t bear to see his only son imprisoned.

As the saying goes, “If a child is not properly raised, it’s the father’s fault.” Fang Mingjun had questioned himself many times about his son’s missteps, but eventually, even that small sense of guilt had vanished after Fang Zheng was sent to prison.

Now, all he could think about was making the person responsible for this “farce” experience the bitterness of imprisonment too.