Chapter Forty-Six: Mo Qinghan's Identity Is Exposed

A blaze of fury instantly ignited in her pitch-black eyes. The two men she cared for most had both been taken by Mo Qinghan. He Yurou couldn’t understand how Zhao Qingwu, knowing full well about Mo Qinghan’s improper relationship with her own uncle, still defended her so fiercely—so fiercely that even her elder sister’s lifelong happiness could be cast aside. Clearly, Zhao Qingwu’s feelings for Mo Qinghan ran far deeper than mere affection; Mo Qinghan’s name was carved into her very soul.

Even that night, when she was drunk, she had kept calling out Mo Qinghan’s name. That was why He Yurou had deliberately cut her own finger, staining the bedsheet with blood, so Zhao Qingwu would mistakenly believe something had happened between them.

From her hiding place behind a tree, He Yurou watched as He Zheyu and Mo Qinghan struggled briefly. In the end, Mo Qinghan entered the residential complex alone, while He Zheyu, brimming with rage, drove off. Only then did she slowly emerge from the shadows, her gaze ghostly as it settled on the apartment before her. Her fists were clenched so tightly that the friction of her fingers ground out an audible sound.

She hailed a taxi, and once inside, said coldly, “Cuiyun Mountain Villas.”

Mo Qinghan returned home without turning on the lights. She tossed her bag onto the sofa and lay down flat, her eyes fixed unmoving on the ceiling. Tears streamed uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes, pouring out like a broken faucet. Before long, the sofa cushion beneath her was soaked. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of her sniffling, anyone would have thought a corpse lay there instead of a living person.

When He Yurou arrived at the Zhao residence, she frantically called Zhao Qingwu. After several attempts, Zhao Qingwu finally answered, her tone listless and indifferent: “What do you want?”

“I’m at your door. Let me in.”

There was a brief silence on the line before Zhao Qingwu sighed and replied, “Fine,” then hung up.

Soon, the door opened—not by Zhao Qingwu, but by the housekeeper. Recognizing He Yurou, the woman greeted her with a smile. “Oh, Miss He! I thought it was the young lady coming home.”

“Is Yiya not here?”

“No, she went out.”

“Is Qingwu in his room?”

“No, he’s in the study.”

Without another word to the housekeeper, He Yurou went straight upstairs.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and stared directly at Zhao Qingwu, who sat at the desk, eyes glued to the computer screen, not even glancing her way. His voice was cold as he began, “About that night, I still…”

But before he could finish, He Yurou let out a few low, chilling laughs. The sound, though soft, was enough to make one’s skin crawl.

Zhao Qingwu immediately stood up, frowning in impatience. “If you came just to make those bizarre noises, I’ve heard enough. You can leave now.”

The contempt in his voice unleashed all the anger she had been holding in. She snarled, “Zhao Qingwu, you turn your back on a woman as pure as me for that Mo Qinghan, who’s happy to be anyone’s wife. Has a mule kicked you in the head?”

At this, Zhao Qingwu’s face darkened. His voice was icy. “Mind your tongue, He Yurou.”

“Let’s drop the pretenses, shall we?”

Sensing that something was off, Zhao Qingwu asked uncertainly, “What do you know?”

He Yurou let out a bitter laugh. “First Mo Qinghan took you from me, and now even my beloved uncle has been stolen by her.”

Zhao Qingwu’s tone softened, losing some of its earlier frost. “Don’t tell my sister about this. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what? You and my uncle even fought over her! Did you ever think about me or Yiya?”

“I did it to protect my sister. If your uncle doesn’t love her and they’re forced together, she’ll never be happy.”

“You—” He Yurou’s retort was cut short by a loud bang. The door was kicked open, and Zhao Yiya appeared in the doorway, her face thunderous, her glare as sharp and savage as a blade.

“The woman Zheyu keeps outside—her name is Mo Qinghan, isn’t it?”

Zhao Qingwu barely managed to utter the word “Sister” before Zhao Yiya snapped, “Don’t call me that. I don’t have a brother like you. You’re still helping outsiders hide things from me.”

Realizing she’d made trouble, He Yurou shifted awkwardly toward the door, forcing a smile that was uglier than weeping. “Yiya, I’ll just go home now!”

Zhao Yiya’s expression was grim. “I’ll drive you. I need to go to the He family anyway.”

The very thing Zhao Qingwu feared had come to pass. As he fumbled with his phone to call He Zheyu, Zhao Yiya strode over, snatched the phone from his hand, and hurried out, locking the door behind her.

Zhao Qingwu banged on the door, his voice pleading and anxious. “Sister, I beg you, don’t hurt her!”

Night made the house quieter still, so the clamor from the study quickly woke the sleeping Zhao couple. Still in their pajamas, they rushed out to find He Yurou and Zhao Yiya outside Zhao Qingwu’s locked study, while Zhao Qingwu’s cries for help echoed from within. Zhao Guangxiong, bewildered, asked, “Yiya, why have you locked Qingwu in the study?”

“Dad, look at your good son. He knows his future brother-in-law is keeping another woman outside, and not only does he not help, he even helps outsiders keep it from me.”

Zhao Qingwu’s shout rang out from within, “Dad, please, talk to Sister—don’t let her hurt Mo Qinghan!”

That was all Zhao Guangxiong needed to hear to know his daughter spoke the truth. He turned to Zhao Yiya. “You’re going to the He family?”

“Who could sit still after this?”

“I’ll go with you.” He shot a stern look at his wife, his expression hardening. “Keep that unfilial son locked up. Until this matter is resolved, he’s not to come out.”

His wife dared not object, only nodding repeatedly. “Yes, yes.”

Inside the locked room, Zhao Qingwu heard the footsteps fading down the stairs and knew what fate awaited Mo Qinghan. He broke down, sobbing and screaming, “Mom, let me out, please! If you don’t, Mo Qinghan will die—she’ll die! Please, I beg you, let me out, or she’ll die, she’ll die!” But no matter how he shouted and pleaded, no one dared open his door.