Chapter 196 The Old Fox vs. “Strange Tales Acting”

The Qu family’s ancestral residence had been passed down from the previous generation, located in the Western Hills district.

Hidden beneath parasol trees, its grey bricks and tiled roofs exuded a quiet elegance.

Unlike the Lu family’s old mansion with its ostentatious luxury, this place radiated the leisurely refinement and deep cultural heritage of scholars.

By the time Leng Qinghua’s car stopped outside the vermilion gates, the house steward was already waiting.

Before coming, she had deliberately changed into a dark green qipao, with a matching cashmere coat draped over it. Her hair was neatly pinned up, and her makeup was flawless.

No matter how furious she felt inside, she couldn’t afford to lose composure on the surface.

The old steward of the Qu family bowed slightly as he led the way. “Madam, the master is waiting for you in the tea room.”

Leng Qinghua nodded and followed him through the front courtyard.

Rows of wintersweet trees lined the yard, blooming beautifully in this season.

Pale pink buds dotted the branches, and a faint, cool fragrance lingered in the air.

Under normal circumstances, she might have stopped to admire them.

But today, her mind was entirely occupied by that loan contract—

Lu Chen’s disappointed gaze, and Lu Er’s stubborn refusal to come home even at the cost of paying an astronomical debt.

Inside the tea room, Qu Jingyu was already waiting.

In his fifties or sixties, he wore a light grey traditional Chinese jacket. His hair was neatly combed, and he had a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

Rather than a business tycoon worth hundreds of billions, he looked more like a seasoned university professor.

Seeing Leng Qinghua enter, he smiled and stood up. “Qinghua, you’re here. Come, sit.”

The tea set was already arranged on the table.

A purple clay teapot, celadon cups, and a small jar of tea leaves.

The jar was plain white porcelain with no decoration, but Leng Qinghua recognized it immediately.

It contained Qu Jingyu’s prized Wuyi Mountain “Mother Tree” Da Hong Pao—less than half a kilogram produced annually, priceless and unavailable on the market.

“I know you like tea, so I dug out this little stash just for you.”

Qu Jingyu personally boiled the water and warmed the cups, his movements unhurried and composed, carrying an old-school calm.

Leng Qinghua sat across from him without responding.

Instead, she took a document out of her handbag and gently placed it on the tea table.

On top was a bank-issued debt clearance certificate.

Underneath lay the loan contract.

Party A: Qu Weiwei.
Party B: Song Jingmo.

Loan amount: 10 billion.
Term: five years.
Interest: 50% above the benchmark bank lending rate.

Qu Jingyu glanced at it but didn’t stop what he was doing.

When the water boiled, he lifted the copper kettle and slowly poured it into the teapot.

The tea leaves unfurled in the hot water, and the aroma quickly filled the room.

Rich and mellow, with a distinct rocky aftertaste—something only top-tier rock tea possessed.

“Good tea.”

Qu Jingyu poured himself a cup, then one for Leng Qinghua. “Give it a try. This year’s new batch.”

Leng Qinghua didn’t touch the tea.

Looking at him, she suppressed the surging anger in her voice. “Brother Qu, our families have been close for generations. I just want to ask—why is the Qu family interfering in the Lu family’s private matters?”

Qu Jingyu lifted his cup and took a slow sip.

The tea was a bright amber, fragrant and inviting.

“Qinghua,” he said gently, “where is this coming from?”

“From this contract.”

Leng Qinghua pushed the loan agreement forward. “Qu Weiwei lent Song Jingmo 10 billion, helping Lu Er repay his debt.”

“Brother Qu, Lu Er is my son. Whether his debt should be repaid and how—it’s a matter for the Lu family. Isn’t it inappropriate for the Qu family to step in like this?”

Qu Jingyu looked at her and smiled.

“Qinghua, you’ve wronged me with those words.”

He shook his head. “I had no idea about this contract. Let alone 10 billion—even ten or eight yuan isn’t something this old man can decide on anymore.”

Leng Qinghua frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Qu Group was fully handed over to Weiwei five years ago,” he said lightly. “I’ve long stepped back. These days, I just drink tea and practice calligraphy. I don’t concern myself with company matters at all.”

“Forget lending money—even if the company signs a contract today, I might not know about it.”

The explanation was flawless, but Leng Qinghua didn’t believe a word.

Qu Jingyu—the old fox—had been famous in the business world for his meticulous mind and ruthless methods.

Stepped back?
Detached from worldly affairs?

As if.

“Qinghua, you really misunderstand.”

His tone was so sincere it was hard to fault. “Some time ago, Suiwan did call me, asking for 10 billion.”

“I only have one younger sister. I’ve doted on her since childhood. If she asks for money, I’d scrape together everything I have to give it.”

He paused, took another sip of tea, and continued, “I immediately asked finance to prepare the funds, but before the transfer was made, Suiwan called again and said it was no longer needed.”

“I was puzzled and asked what happened. She only said the children’s matters should be handled by the children themselves, so I didn’t ask further.”

Leng Qinghua’s expression darkened.

Every word of Qu Jingyu’s explanation was airtight.

First, he showed willingness to help—because Qu Suiwan asked.
Then he confirmed the money had been prepared—but was declined.
Finally, he hinted that children’s matters should be left to them, subtly suggesting she, as a mother, was interfering too much.

If Qu Suiwan wanted money, it must have been for Song Jingmo.
And if Song Jingmo needed money, it must have been for Lu Er.

And Qu Weiwei’s loan…
The timing was too perfect, and the amount exactly 10 billion.

If this wasn’t coordinated, she’d write her name backward.

“Suiwan is Suiwan. Weiwei is Weiwei.”

Leng Qinghua said coldly, “Your daughter, Qu Weiwei, lent Song Jingmo 10 billion. Don’t tell me you knew nothing about such a huge sum?”

“I truly didn’t.”

Qu Jingyu picked up the teapot and refilled her cup. “That child has always had her own mind. After taking over the company, she became even more decisive.”

“She never reports her decisions to me. But…” He looked up at Leng Qinghua. “You said Weiwei lent money to help Lu Er repay his debt? How so? Wasn’t the loan given to Jingmo?”

Leng Qinghua choked on her words.

Only then did she realize she had let something slip in her urgency.

If Qu Jingyu truly didn’t know the inside story, then he might not know about Lu Er and Song Jingmo’s relationship.

But… was that even possible?

She didn’t believe it.

“Brother Qu,” Leng Qinghua decided to stop beating around the bush and laid everything bare,
“Song Jingmo didn’t borrow the money for investment. He borrowed it to help Lu Er repay his debt.”

“The hundred-billion debt Lu Er owed was a setup by me. My intention was to make him retreat in the face of difficulty and come home to admit his mistake. But now, Qu Weiwei lent him the money and let him clear the debt.”

“Tell me—if this isn’t interference in our family affairs, what is?”

Qu Jingyu fell silent for a few seconds.

Then he slowly set down his teacup, a trace of perfectly timed surprise appearing on his face. “There’s such a thing? Jingmo and Lu Er?”

He then looked at Leng Qinghua, his expression complicated. “Qinghua, you said just now… that Lu Er’s debt was a setup by you? This…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication was obvious:

As a mother, you set up your own son like this?

A flicker of discomfort crossed Leng Qinghua’s face, but she quickly regained composure. “I did it for his own good.”

“The relationship between him and Jingmo… is not normal. It has no future. I wanted him to wake up and turn back before it’s too late.”