Chapter 181 Day 13 of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Chapter 181: The Thirteenth Day of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Sunlight cast silent beams of light through the air, with dust motes drifting slowly within them.

Finally, Song Chengye let out a heavy sigh, as if all the strength had been drained from him, and leaned back into the wide leather chair, defeated.

"...Alright."

His voice carried a trace of weariness: "The project department has a deputy director position available. I'll make the arrangements. You can report directly next week."

He rubbed his temples, already planning to assign a capable, experienced, and absolutely loyal assistant to watch over An Yi closely.

This was to prevent An Yi, young and inexperienced, from causing any unmanageable trouble. If that happened, he could step in to clean up the mess and get An Yi to back down.

"Thank you." Having obtained the answer he wanted, An Yi gave a slight nod and turned to leave.

Just as his hand touched the cold door handle, he suddenly stopped.

He didn't turn around. His clear voice rang out again in the quiet study: "One more thing."

Song Chengye looked up at his back.

An Yi slowly turned around, his gaze calm as it fell on Song Chengye's face. He spoke clearly, word by word: "Don’t even think about bringing Song Xinghai into the group—neither now nor in the future. I won’t have it."

He paused, then added in a light tone: "Also, as for the shares of the Song Group, in the future, not a single share is going to Song Xinghai, ever."

"What?!" Song Chengye shot up from his chair, hands on the desk, leaning forward with his face full of shock and disbelief. His voice rose with emotion:

"Xiao Yi! Do you even know what you're saying?! Xinghai... he’s the kid we raised for twenty years. He's your brother! How can you—"

"Brother?" An Yi repeated the word softly, a faint, distinctly sarcastic curve appearing at the corner of his lips, but his beautiful eyes held no trace of a smile. "Is that so? I don’t think so."

He reached out, and with a soft *click*, the study door swung open a crack.

An Yi looked down.

There stood Song Xinghai, frozen at the doorway, his face pale as paper, lips trembling slightly.

His eyes, filled with a complicated mix of emotions, stared at the two inside the study—especially when they fell on An Yi, revealing shock, hurt, and an indescribable shame.

He had clearly been standing there for a while and had heard the entire conversation.

Seeing Song Xinghai, a flash of panic and distress crossed Song Chengye's face. He quickly stood up, walked around the desk, and said soothingly: "Xinghai... when did you get here? Don’t misunderstand. Xiao Yi didn’t mean it that way..."

An Yi watched this scene of father-son affection and suddenly let out a crisp, clear low laugh: "But that’s exactly what I meant."

"Why..." His gaze swept over Song Chengye, who was eager to explain, and the pale-faced Song Xinghai, his tone carrying a hint of genuine confusion:

"Why does your reaction make me look like an aggressive, unreasonable villain?"

He turned back, his eyes clear as they locked onto Song Chengye: "Isn’t this only right? The Song Group is the Song family’s business. I, An Yi, am yours and Mom’s only biological son."

"Is there anything wrong with stopping someone with no blood relation, who took twenty years of your biological son's life, from taking what should be mine?"

His logic was clear, cold—even ruthless—yet it was impossible to argue with on moral grounds.

Having said that, he didn’t wait for Song Chengye’s reply. Instead, he turned his gaze to the tottering Song Xinghai at the door, speaking calmly: "What about you, Song Xinghai?"

He tilted his head slightly, looking at the other man’s eyes, which were on the verge of tears, and asked directly: "Do you want the position? Do you want the shares?"

Song Xinghai’s body trembled violently. He bit his lower lip hard, almost drawing blood.

He endured An Yi’s calm yet overwhelmingly oppressive gaze, as well as Song Chengye's worried and conflicted expression beside him.

Overwhelming shame, embarrassment, and a trace of panic at having his thoughts exposed flooded him.

He remembered An Yi’s words: *"Did you know... or didn’t you?"* As if all his secret thoughts were laid bare before this man.

Silence.

Finally, Song Xinghai lowered his head deeply, avoiding An Yi’s eyes, and spoke in a faint voice, with a note of resigned defeat: "I... I won’t take them."

He took a deep breath, as if gathering all his strength, looked up at the grim-faced Song Chengye, and forced a smile that was more like a grimace than a smile:

"Dad, don’t worry. I never thought of competing with An Yi. I won’t enter the Song Group, and I won’t take any Song Group shares. I... I can find a job on my own."

Song Chengye watched Song Xinghai like this, his heart aching as if pierced by needles, filled with sour bitterness. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, only a heavy, helpless sigh escaped: "Xinghai..."

He hadn’t expected things to come to this.

An Yi looked satisfied with Song Xinghai’s declaration. He nodded lightly, his tone still calm but with the certainty of someone in authority: "Good."

He walked over to Song Xinghai, stopped in front of him, and looked at the other’s pale face. He enunciated clearly: "Remember what you said."

Then, under Song Chengye’s complicated gaze and Song Xinghai’s strained expression, An Yi reached out and gently patted Song Xinghai’s shoulder.

Having done that, he didn’t linger. He pulled open the door and walked out calmly, leaving behind a stifling silence in the study.

Song Chengye slumped back into his chair, looking at Song Xinghai, whose face was ghastly pale as if about to faint at any moment. A wave of immense helplessness and sorrow surged through him.

Rubbing his aching temples, he muttered under his breath, more like he was asking the absent An Yi: "Why did it have to be like this... How did it come to this..."

An Yi, who hadn’t walked far, heard this question. At the staircase corner, he paused slightly, half-turning his face. Light and shadow clearly defined his perfect profile.

A faint, almost imperceptible gentle smile curled at the corner of his lips as he told them: "It’s not my problem. It’s yours."

You wanted to keep up the appearance of fairness but couldn't let go of twenty years of feelings. You wanted to make it up to your biological son but didn’t want to wrong the child you raised. Favoritism.

This bowl of water was never meant to be balanced from the start.

And he was simply acting out what the original protagonist should have done—no longer willing to be that forced "understanding," forced "generous" person anymore.

Song Chengye fell silent.

Comments section:

"I’m kinda feeling good~"

"Obviously Song Xinghai is the main character, but I feel SO good!!!"

"An Yi is a little mean~ He knew Song Xinghai was outside and said that on purpose~"

"Bad? I like him even if he’s bad!"

"An Yi! An Yi! I like you! (lewd) (lewd) (hot) (hot) (rose)"

"An Yi’s performance really gets me hyped up! (dog head holding flower.jpg)"

"???? The person above made a typo!"

Not at all! (shy)

Then I'll move too! (thrilling)

...

An Yi: ...

No need for that.

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