Chapter 49 Looks Like My “Wife Fund” Won’t Survive

Song Jingmo lay flat on the hospital bed, staring at the blurred light and shadows on the ceiling, completely unable to sleep.

Lu Er’s words—“I’ve fallen for someone”—echoed in his mind like a curse, each syllable pricking his heart with a dense, lingering ache.

He turned over, gazing blankly out the window.

Outside, the city’s neon lights shimmered—distant and indistinct, just like the relationship between him and Lu Er.

After a long while, Song Jingmo picked up his phone. His finger hovered over Lu Er’s WeChat profile picture, hesitating to press.

Should he ask?

Ask if the person Lu Er liked was Ye Qingge, the one constantly rumored to be involved with him?

But even if he asked… what would it change?

What right did he have to interfere?

Was he supposed to act like some despicable villain and sabotage things?

Song Jingmo let out a bitter laugh.

Lu Er would eventually marry and have children. If it wasn’t Ye Qingge, it would be some other heiress.

As a good brother, what could he do besides offer his blessing?

Listen quietly to the songs you love. Watch the person you love from afar.

As long as Lu Er was happy, he should support him wholeheartedly.

That was the ending everyone wanted to see.

Forcing himself to stop thinking, Song Jingmo picked up his phone and, out of habit, checked the weather forecast for H City.

A strong cold front would pass through the day after tomorrow, dropping the temperature by about ten degrees.

Lu Er had been frail since childhood and was especially sensitive to sudden drops in temperature—he caught colds easily in this kind of weather.

[Song Jingmo: It’s getting colder in H City the day after tomorrow. Bring a couple of thicker clothes and prepare some cold medicine.]

Almost the moment the message was sent, the chat showed: “The other party is typing…”

[Lu Er: You’re not asleep yet?]

Unless he was on night shift, Song Jingmo kept a strict routine and went to bed at 10:30 sharp.

[Lu Er: Why aren’t you sleeping? Is your wound hurting? Or are you feeling unwell somewhere?]

A string of questions, filled with undisguised concern.

Song Jingmo’s heart stirred slightly as he replied:

[Got up late this morning. Not sleepy now.]

[Lu Er: Hehe, perfect—I can’t sleep either. I’ll keep you company for a bit~]

Seeing that familiar tilde, Song Jingmo’s lips curved up unconsciously.

The two of them chatted casually, jumping from the weather in H City to amusing incidents on set. The atmosphere grew soft and ambiguous, like those late-night conversations back in their university days when they could talk about anything.

[Lu Er: Oh right, there’s an auction in H City in a few days. I’m planning to bid on a British royal necklace.]

Lu Er recalled the “task” his sister-in-law had given him to placate his mother—along with that screenshot of a 300-million transfer.

[Lu Er: I checked the catalog—there are quite a few nice things. Anything you want? I’ll bid on it and give it to you as a gift to celebrate your return.]

At the mention of the British royal necklace, Song Jingmo’s heart sank.

It must be for Ye Qingge, right?

A gift that expensive—what else could it be but a token of love?

He shouldn’t have started chatting this late at night.

He opened the auction catalog Lu Er had sent and quickly found the necklace.

The centerpiece was a massive emerald, surrounded by dazzling diamonds. Elegant, luxurious—and priced at 200 million.

Something clogged his chest, leaving him stifled.

Although Lu Er came from a wealthy family, he had always been surprisingly stingy with money.

Back in school, when they went out together, he wouldn’t even spend money on a bottle of water—always spending Song Jingmo’s money instead, claiming he needed to save up his “wife fund.”

Even on Song Jingmo’s birthday, the gifts Lu Er gave were bought with Song Jingmo’s own money. It could be said he had never spent a single cent on him.

Song Jingmo suddenly felt a pang of regret.

Why hadn’t he taken that bank card Lu Er gave him six years ago?

At least then Lu Er wouldn’t be spending so lavishly now—on a female celebrity.

A surge of bitterness and resentment rose in his chest.

Scrolling through the catalog, his gaze landed on a set of Song Dynasty porcelain tea ware.

The glaze was warm and lustrous, the design simple and ancient, perfectly preserved—a rare treasure. The price was equally “stunning”: 800 million.

Four times the price of the necklace.

Almost with a self-destructive impulse, he sent the picture of the tea set to Lu Er.

[Song Jingmo: This one.]

After sending it, he stared at the chat, waiting to see how Lu Er would respond.

Would he make an excuse? Or just leave him on read?

[Lu Er: Song porcelain tea set? You sure you want this?]

Lu Er was puzzled. Didn’t Song Jingmo only drink coffee? Since when did he start liking tea?

So he still thought it was too expensive.

Song Jingmo’s heart gradually cooled.

He shouldn’t have humiliated himself like this.

[Song Jingmo: Forget it if it’s not okay.]

There was a trace of jealousy in the words—one he didn’t even notice himself.

[Lu Er: Of course it’s okay. What kind of man says he’s not okay?]

Other men could “not be okay”—but Song Jingmo absolutely had to be.

[Lu Er: Then it’s settled. I’ll make sure the tea set reaches you intact.]

[Lu Er: Though 800 million is really not cheap—I’ll have to dip into my personal stash. Looks like the wife fund I’ve been saving all these years won’t survive~]

Ever since entering the entertainment industry, his family had cut off his financial support.

He could have asked Lu Chen for money—but this was for Song Jingmo. He wanted to use his own.

Wife fund?

Song Jingmo stared at those three words. His heartbeat suddenly skipped.

Lu Er was willing to spend the savings he had treasured for years—just to buy him a gift.

A quiet warmth spread through his chest, washing away the earlier bitterness.

Even if Lu Er liked someone else, he was still important.

That realization lifted the gloom from his heart, leaving him inexplicably lighter.

Looking down at the outrageously expensive tea set he had chosen out of spite, he suddenly found it a little amusing.

[Song Jingmo: Actually, it doesn’t have to be something so expensive.]

[Lu Er: My wife fund is pretty substantial.]

Over the years, he had saved nearly a billion.

If it were for himself, he’d never spend it—breaking even one piece would hurt him enough to land in the ICU.

But since Song Jingmo liked it, that was different.

[Lu Er: Since when did you start liking tea?]

Song Jingmo looked at the question, his fingertips lightly brushing the screen.

In the lonely nights abroad, he had grown used to replacing coffee with tea—letting the rising fragrance carry his thoughts back to someone far away in his homeland.

But saying that would only burden the other person.

[Song Jingmo: Picked it up while I was overseas.]

[Song Jingmo: It’s late. You’ve got a flight tomorrow—get some rest.]

Lu Er looked at the abruptly ended conversation, feeling a hint of disappointment.

Just how many changes had happened to someone he thought he knew so well?

Six years, in the end, had carved a deep divide between them.

A wave of fear and unease rose in Lu Er’s heart.

It seemed he really had missed too much.