Chapter Sixty-Seven: Lin Yiqing Is Pregnant?

Shen Huaijin glanced at her phone—it was already deep into the night in Paris. There was no way those two were still working at this hour.

She pressed, “It’s so late. Are they really still at work?”

The voice on the other end remained unhurried, “Madam, I can't say for certain. I follow whatever the boss instructs me to do; I have no authority to interfere or inform you about anything else.”

“Just tell them I’m looking for Fu Chen—is that not enough?” Shen Huaijin’s tone was sharp.

“I’m sorry, Madam. Mr. Lin specifically instructed that no one should disturb them,” replied the person with calm dignity.

It felt as if Shen Huaijin’s fist had punched into cotton—she was getting nowhere. “Fine, at least let them know after they’re done, can you do that?”

The other person hummed in agreement and promptly hung up.

She was now desperate to find out the truth about Lin Yiqing’s situation. There were only two people who knew for sure, and Fu Chen’s phone wasn’t reachable. Was she supposed to go find Lin Yiqing herself?

Sitting in her chair, torn and anxious, Shen Huaijin’s phone rang again.

“Is this Shen Huaijin?” came a sweet, feminine voice. Shen Huaijin immediately recognized it as Lin Yiqing. It was uncanny how fate brought what she was thinking about straight to her.

She dispensed with all pretense, getting straight to the point, “Just say it. What do you want?”

Lin Yiqing seemed surprised by Shen Huaijin’s forthrightness. After a brief pause, she stammered, “Are you home? Can we talk face to face?”

“Fine, just come over,” Shen Huaijin replied crisply, ending the call.

Even if the rumors were true, she couldn’t let Lin Yiqing push her down. No matter what, she was Fu Chen’s legitimate wife, and she had to show some strength.

She rose abruptly from her chair; darkness clouded her vision and her legs felt weak. She clutched the edge of the table to steady herself, barely avoiding collapsing to the floor.

Rubbing her temples, Shen Huaijin wondered what was wrong lately—she felt perpetually sluggish and drained. It was probably because her period was approaching.

Without dwelling further, she hurried upstairs to change. She couldn’t dress too deliberately, nor too casually, and found herself fretting in front of her vast wardrobe.

In the end, she chose a white knit sweater that revealed one shoulder, paired with flowing black leisure pants. She applied a light touch of makeup: clear, luminous eyes, delicately arched brows, long fluttering lashes, and flawless pale skin tinged with a faint blush. Her lips were soft as rose petals, and her seaweed-like curls draped over her waist. The overall effect was both languid and sensual.

Descending the stairs, she told Aunt Feng, “Prepare some desserts. We’re expecting a guest soon.”

Aunt Feng immediately wore a guarded expression, asking, “Madam, who is coming?”

Shen Huaijin picked up a grape from the table and ate it, smiling with layered meaning, “An important guest. Just make the preparations—you’ll see who it is when she arrives.”

Aunt Feng didn’t dare ask further, and went to prepare. Soon enough, the doorbell rang and Aunt Feng hurried to answer it.

The moment the door opened, Aunt Feng froze. She knew exactly who stood before her, but for a moment she didn’t know whether to let Lin Yiqing in.

From the living room, Shen Huaijin’s icy voice called, “Aunt Feng, it’s cold outside. Let Miss Lin in, quickly.”

Following protocol, Aunt Feng set out slippers and took Lin Yiqing’s coat, her gaze unreadable as she glanced at both women, then retreated to the kitchen.

Lin Yiqing had dressed with equal care: a pale pink shawl jacket, pure white velvet knee-length skirt, black tall boots, and brown hair falling naturally over her shoulders. Her delicate doll-like face was adorned with large, lovely eyes.

She sat without hesitation directly across from Shen Huaijin.

“Speak. Why are you here?” Shen Huaijin stirred her coffee, eyes lowered.

“I’m pregnant,” Lin Yiqing declared without the slightest attempt at concealment.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen—glass shattering against the floor.

Shen Huaijin sipped her coffee, eyes narrowing as a cold smile curled at her lips. “And then?” Her tone was languid, offhand.

Lin Yiqing hadn’t expected Shen Huaijin to keep her composure so well. She took a deep breath and added, “It’s Fu Chen’s.”

Shen Huaijin set her coffee cup down heavily, her expression growing colder. “If you have something to say, say it directly.”

“I want you to leave,” Lin Yiqing said firmly, locking eyes with Shen Huaijin.

Shen Huaijin’s pupils darkened, a dangerous gleam flickering beneath her lashes. “Did no one tell you that I’m pregnant as well?”

“I know it’s not true. Lin Yu told me,” Lin Yiqing replied, full of confidence, clearly prepared for this confrontation.

“It’s nothing—just a child. Our family can afford to raise one. Go ahead and have the baby; Fu Chen and I will take responsibility.” Shen Huaijin’s deep, shining eyes were cool and dismissive.

“What do you mean by that?” Lin Yiqing’s clear eyes seemed to burn with anger.

“My words are quite clear, Miss Lin. It’s wonderful you want to bear Fu Chen’s child. But you won’t be the mother of that child.” Shen Huaijin toyed with her hair, utterly unconcerned.

Anyone could tell—Shen Huaijin was proposing Lin Yiqing become a mistress, have the child, then leave.

Lin Yiqing, unable to hold back, clenched her delicate hands around her skirt hem, suppressing her fury. “That’s not for you to decide, Shen Huaijin!”

Shen Huaijin lazily raised her gaze. “You’re not qualified to discuss this with me. Only Fu Chen can.”

“And besides, who can say for certain whose child you’re carrying?” As she spoke, Shen Huaijin scrutinized Lin Yiqing’s belly, a strange smile playing on her lips.

Lin Yiqing, spoiled since childhood, had never endured such humiliation. She jumped up, face flushed, lips trembling with rage.

“You’re talking nonsense!”

Shen Huaijin shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just a casual remark—is that what’s troubling you?”

Shen Huaijin now resembled a shameless provocateur. Someone like Lin Yiqing, inexperienced and sheltered, could never match her.

Lin Yiqing bit her back teeth, forcing out her words through clenched jaws, “Shen Huaijin! Let’s see how long you can keep up this bravado.”

Shen Huaijin crossed her legs, not even sparing Lin Yiqing a glance. “Mind your own affairs. I don’t need your concern.”

“I’m going to rest now. See yourself out.” Without waiting for a response, Shen Huaijin rose decisively and walked upstairs, not once looking back.

Lin Yiqing stood alone in the spacious living room, her face pale as snow. She held back her tears for a long time before they could fall. She had underestimated Shen Huaijin—she’d hoped to deliver a heavy blow, but instead she was the one defeated.

She touched her belly. As long as she had this child, she had nothing to fear. With that thought, her spirits lifted; she grabbed her bag and left swiftly.