The chandeliers of the Grand Pavilion Hall shimmered like frozen constellations. Gilded light spilled across polished marble floors, reflecting the swirl of silk gowns and the dark lines of tailored suits. Waiters weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, balancing silver trays of wine glasses that clinked softly against one another.
The Zhao Corporation's anniversary banquet was in full swing.
To outsiders, it was a symbol of prosperity—an empire celebrating its legacy. To those who lived within the shadow of its name, it was a stage, every gesture magnified, every smile calculated.
Gu Ze Yan walked at Qing Yun's side, his presence as magnetic as ever. His black suit was precise, his tie line sharp, his posture carrying the effortless confidence of someone used to command. Yet his gaze often drifted—not toward the investors shaking his hand, nor the executives offering polite words—but to the woman who moved gracefully beside him.
In her emerald gown, her hair swept into an elegant loose updo, she looked… luminous. The kind of beauty that silenced whispers, yet it wasn't only beauty. It was the warmth in her eyes when she greeted Zhao Ming Liang's business partners, the care in her voice when she poured tea for Mei Lian, the quiet patience with which she endured Zhao Rui's cold, dismissive glance.
To Ze Yan, she was a lantern in a hall of mirrors—steady, warm, real.
--
Ming Liang's speech filled the hall, voice still firm despite the faint weakness that had worried Ze Yan weeks ago. "Zhao Corporation has weathered decades of change," he declared. "What remains constant is our faith—in innovation, in unity, in family."
Polite applause followed. Glasses clinked. Conversations resumed, rising in waves of laughter and murmurs.
Xin Yue slipped through the crowd to find Qing Yun, taking her hand warmly. "You look incredible," she whispered. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Gege really hit the jackpot. Even my classmates would never have believed it if they saw you like this."
Qing Yun laughed lightly, squeezing her hand. "Don't tease."
Ze Yan stood slightly behind, watching the two women with quiet fondness. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that this was what life could always be—his family welcoming her, his sister at her side, himself free from battles of bloodlines and succession. Just a simple evening, with Qing Yun in his world.
But reality was never that kind.
The banquet unfolded in layers.
Board members cornered Ming Liang to ask about succession. Investors toasted Zhao Capital's latest projects. Zhao Wei Jun and Zhao Han Sheng hovered like circling hawks, their smiles wide but their words dripping faint scorn whenever they passed Ze Yan.
And through it all, Qing Yun remained composed. She had promised him, on the way here, that she would stand by him. And she did—her small hand brushing his arm when he clenched his jaw at a remark, her calm voice slipping into conversation to divert tension, her bright smile softening the cold edges of the hall.
It should have been enough to steady him.
Yet fate rarely allowed peace for long.
--
Qing Yun excused herself politely to fetch a glass of water. She walked across the hall, the train of her gown brushing the marble with quiet grace.
Ze Yan was in the midst of a conversation with two investors, though his eyes lingered on her silhouette. He felt strangely restless, like something unseen shifted in the air.
And then—
"Qing Yun?"
The voice came from behind her. Deep. Familiar.
She froze. The crystal goblet in her hand trembled slightly. Slowly, as though pulled by invisible strings, she turned.
Under the chandelier, he stood.
Xu Wei Ran.
He was sharper now, maturity carved into his features. His tall frame carried a quiet confidence, the sleek line of his suit tailored with precision. The years abroad had refined him further, but his eyes—dark, steady, unflinching—were unmistakably the same.
Eyes that once watched her solve equations under dim classroom lights.
Eyes that once argued with her over theories until dawn.
Eyes that once softened, briefly, when no one else was looking.
Her breath caught. The banquet noise blurred, dimming to nothing but the thundering of her own heart. For an instant, she was seventeen again, ink stains on her fingers, winter wind rattling old windows, his voice calling her name across a crowded exam hall.
Her lips parted. The name came without thought, soft as a confession.
"Rainy…"
The nickname no one else ever used.
The name that belonged only to her.
Across the hall, Gu Ze Yan heard it.
He hadn't heard the man's nickname before, but he didn't need to. The way her body stilled, the way her gaze lingered—longing, fragile, achingly tender—the way that nickname slipped past her lips…
Something cracked inside him.
Investors still spoke at his side, their voices dull and meaningless. He didn't respond. His gaze was locked, unblinking, on her.
Xu Wei Ran took a step closer to her. The golden light caught his profile, confident and sure, but it was the softness in his eyes that struck Ze Yan like a blade.
She looked back at him, unmoving.
The glass in Ze Yan's hand felt suddenly heavy. His fingers flexed once before setting it down with quiet precision. His stride cut through the banquet crowd, his expression perfectly calm, but inside—inside he was a storm.
Each step carried jealousy sharp as knives.
Each breath weighed with the fear of being too late.
He had never once doubted himself with women. Never cared when smiles came easily. Never believed anyone could unsettle him.
But seeing her look at Xu Wei Ran with that gaze—a gaze she had never given him—made his chest tighten until it hurt to breathe.
From behind, Ze Yan's shadow stretched closer.