It had been a week since the visit of Zhou Han and Liu Yaqing.
During that time, Feng Xinyue kept herself busy like never before. Her days were a blur of gathering food and hoarding supplies. Restaurants packed steaming boxes of hot dishes into her car, their lids releasing waves of savory fragrance. Street vendors handed over jianbing—crispy and golden, wrapped with egg and scallions; chuan'r, skewers of sizzling meat dripping with spice; and baozi, soft buns that puffed with fragrant steam when torn open. At one shop, a kind old man pressed a tray of glossy red-braised pork belly into her hands, its sweet, rich aroma clinging to her clothes.
By the time she was done, her car was filled to the brim, every inch loaded with meals.
Just as she reached for the driver's door, a shadow fell across her path.
Zhou Han.
He stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement as though the whole street had been reserved for him alone. That arrogant, practiced smile curled on his lips—half charm, half entitlement.
"Yue'er," he drawled, his voice dripping with false tenderness but brimming with self-importance. "I've been looking everywhere for you. About last time…" He sighed dramatically, as though he were the one wronged. "I know you were angry, but come on, you still love me—I know you do. You've always loved me. Don't let a small misunderstanding ruin what we had."
He leaned closer, his smirk widening. "And really, isn't it too harsh of Uncle Feng to cut off all collaboration with the Zhou family? If you talk to your dad for me, he'll listen. Yue'er, don't be stubborn—you know no one else will treat you the way I did."
Feng Xinyue's hand stilled on the car door. Slowly, she turned, her eyes glinting coldly as her lips curved into a sharp, mocking smile.
"You're right, Zhou Han," she said, her tone cutting like glass. "No one will ever treat me the way you did—betraying me with my best friend, then crawling back with shameless demands as if the world owes you something."
His confident smirk faltered, the air around them tightening.
"Love you?" Her voice rose, crisp and merciless. "Don't flatter yourself. The only thing I feel for you is disgust. And as for collaboration…" her gaze swept him from head to toe with icy disdain, "…the Feng family doesn't feed parasites."
Her words were a slap across his face, so sharp that Zhou Han visibly stiffened, the muscles in his jaw twitching.
Xinyue opened her car door with steady grace, slid inside, and drove off without sparing him another glance.
Zhou Han stood frozen on the pavement, his face flushed crimson, caught between anger and humiliation as her car disappeared from view.
Inside the car, Xinyue gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her expression was calm, but deep in her chest, a faint tightness lingered. Even after rebirth, even after swearing she would never look back, seeing Zhou Han again left a bitter taste that stung sharper than expected.
She pulled into a quiet coffee shop she often passed. The warm scent of roasted beans greeted her as she ordered a latte and retreated into a corner seat. The cup's heat seeped into her palms, steadying her heart sip by sip.
But fate had its own timing.
As she rose to leave, her shoulder brushed against someone at the doorway. The impact jolted her cup, coffee sloshing dangerously close to spilling.
"I'm sorry," a deep, steady voice said.
Xinyue looked up—straight into the calm, dark eyes of a tall man in a tailored suit. His presence carried quiet authority, sharp yet restrained, like a blade sheathed in velvet.
Mo Yixuan.
He had just returned from a business trip, flight hours earlier, but even in travel-worn clothes, he stood out—straight-backed, composed, the kind of man who radiated military discipline without needing to speak.
For a breathless second, the world seemed to still.
Mo Yixuan's gaze lingered, faint recognition flickering in his eyes as though she were someone he had once known. Xinyue, regaining her composure, dipped her head slightly.
"No harm done," she murmured, stepping aside.
Yet as she walked past him, the faint trace of sandalwood and coffee lingered between them, leaving behind a quiet, inexplicable pull.
Back at the Zhou family villa, dim lamplight cast long shadows across the study. Zhou Guoliang and Feng Qiang sat stiffly, their faces heavy with anger.
"Brother-in-law," Zhou Guoliang said, voice low and cold, "I've already hired investigators. They'll dig into every move Feng Weiguo's made these past weeks. He's hiding something, and I'll find it."
Feng Qiang sneered, slamming his teacup so hard the liquid splashed. "That bastard always thought he was above me. Let's see how long he can keep secrets once the city's eyes are on him."
The two exchanged a look—greed and resentment binding them tighter than family ever could.
But elsewhere, another man was already a step ahead.
Li Jie sat in his office, report glowing on his screen. The corner of his lips curved coldly. "Private investigators? Pathetic."
A few swift calls later, every lead Zhou Guoliang and Feng Qiang had set in motion was strangled. Investigators found themselves blocked, doors slammed, trails erased as if nothing had ever existed.
When word of this reached Feng Qiang, his face turned a mottled purple. "Blocked again! That damn Li Jie!" He slammed a fist against the table, veins bulging with rage.
Zhou Guoliang's expression was just as dark, his jaw clenched. "If information won't come to us, we'll take it directly. The Fengs have been moving goods overnight. If we raid their warehouses, intercept their trucks—we'll find what they're hiding."
A slow, malicious grin spread across Feng Qiang's face. "Fine. If Weiguo wants to play games, then let's see him lose everything."
That night, Li Jie met his brother-in-law at the Feng villa.
"Weiguo," he said gravely, "your brother and Zhou Guoliang can no longer sit still. They're preparing to raid the warehouses and intercept the trucks."
Feng Weiguo's expression didn't waver, but his eyes narrowed, sharp as steel. "So, they've finally reached that point."
"I've blocked their investigators, but this won't hold them for long," Li Jie warned.
Weiguo leaned back, his calm composure returning. "Then let them come. Since we're moving the goods anyway, we'll strike first. Leave the rest to me."
The next morning, Feng Xinyue was already in motion.
"Dad, everything's ready," she reported, her voice steady though her heart beat faster. "I'll oversee the transport today."
One by one, she visited each warehouse, inspecting and directing staff. Trucks were loaded with supplies—rice, flour, medicine, fuel, tools. But under the guise of checking inventory, she quietly swept entire sections into her hidden space, securing more than anyone would ever know.
By the time the final warehouse was cleared, her clothes clung with sweat, but her eyes gleamed with determination.
Come then, Zhou Guoliang. Come then, Uncle Qiang. Intercept every truck if you want. What you'll get are scraps.
Her lips curled in a cold smile. This time, it'll be my turn to slap your faces until you choke.
Word spread quickly.
By noon, Zhou Guoliang and Feng Qiang stormed into Feng Corporation headquarters, arrogance dripping from every step.
"Where's Feng Weiguo?!" Zhou Guoliang barked, slamming a hand against the receptionist's desk. "Tell him his brother and I demand answers now!"
The lobby froze. Employees exchanged anxious looks, whispers trembling on their lips.
Before anyone could respond, a crisp, steady voice rang out.
"What's this noise?"
All eyes turned to the staircase.
Feng Xinyue descended with measured grace, her long black coat outlining her tall, slender figure. Her eyes were sharp, her lips tilted in a faint smirk—gone was the little girl they once dismissed.
"Zhou Guoliang. Uncle Qiang," she greeted, her voice like frost. "If you came to make a scene, you've chosen the wrong place. This is Feng Corporation, not a vegetable market."
Feng Qiang's face darkened. "Yue'er! Watch your tone. We know your family is hoarding something. Speak honestly before we force you!"
Zhou Guoliang sneered, "The Feng family's been buying like lunatics, moving warehouses overnight. Don't think you can hide it. Hand over what you're hoarding—or don't blame us for being ruthless!"
Gasps echoed through the lobby. The tension was suffocating.
Then—Xinyue laughed. Low, cold, mocking.
"Hand over?" Her eyes gleamed like blades. "And who exactly do you think you are? Did my Feng family ever sign ourselves over to the Zhou family? Or perhaps…" Her gaze cut like a knife toward Feng Qiang. "…Uncle forgot he's not the master of this house."
Her words struck deep, leaving their faces twisted with humiliation.
"You—!" Zhou Guoliang roared.
But Xinyue stepped forward, her aura unyielding. "Listen carefully. The Feng family's business is ours and ours alone. Storm in here, bark like stray dogs—it won't change that. Whatever we've bought, whatever we've moved, belongs to us. Scheme for a thousand years if you like; in the end, you'll only choke on dust."
Her voice dropped, razor-sharp, sweeping across the lobby. "Now… get out."
For a beat, silence reigned.
Then—suppressed laughter burst from the employees, echoing like thunder.
Zhou Guoliang and Feng Qiang stood frozen, faces mottled red, caught between rage and humiliation. What was supposed to be their victory had turned into utter disgrace.
Without sparing them another glance, Xinyue turned on her heel, her coat sweeping behind her like a banner of defiance.
"Trash," she said coolly, "should know its place."
Zhou Guoliang's face was livid as he stormed out of Feng Corporation, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. The humiliation burned hotter than fire—every suppressed laugh, every mocking glance from the employees replayed in his head like knives twisting deeper.
The two men reached their car in silence, but the air around them was suffocating. Zhou Guoliang yanked the door open and slammed it shut so hard the vehicle shook. His face was darker than the storm clouds gathering above the city.
"That little wench…" he hissed through clenched teeth, his veins bulging with fury. "She dared humiliate me in front of everyone. Feng Xinyue—just you wait. I'll make you crawl one day!"
Beside him, Feng Qiang's expression was equally twisted, his eyes bloodshot with restrained rage. "My own brother's daughter dares speak to me that way? Hmph! Let her be arrogant while the Feng family is still standing. When the world burns, I'll strip away everything they cling to. Position, wealth, resources… they'll beg me for mercy!"
Zhou Guoliang's lips curled into a venomous sneer. "The Fengs think they've won this round, but this isn't the end. I'll crush that smugness out of her, even if I have to burn the entire Feng Corporation to the ground."
The car engine roared to life, the sound harsh and jarring against the quiet street. As their vehicle sped away, the dark clouds above seemed to mirror their rage, heavy and oppressive, pressing down on the city like an omen.
Inside the car, the vow of revenge hung thick in the air—venomous, unrelenting, and deadly.
And far away, in the safety of the Feng family villa, Feng Xinyue had no idea that her cold dismissal had lit the fuse of a storm.