The night air on the terrace suddenly froze.
Vice President Wang's words slithered into the silence like a venomous serpent, coiling around Bai Chenxi's throat and tightening until she could barely breathe.
So — he and Zhao Qian were in this together. And worse, they clearly knew more than she had ever imagined.
Her heartbeat steadied into a sharp, deliberate rhythm. "What are you implying, President Wang?" she asked coolly, turning to face him with a poise that hid her fear. "I'm just an actress. I do my job and stay out of other people's business."
Wang let out a derisive chuckle, swirling the crimson wine in his glass as though savoring her discomfort.
"Come now, Miss Bai — you're a clever woman. Why pretend?" His eyes glinted with malicious amusement. "President Li is young, powerful, and surrounded by… temptations. My advice? Know your place. Some waters are too deep to wade into, and some old secrets are best left buried. For everyone's sake."
His tone carried unmistakable menace. Either back off from Li Sijue — and stop digging into the past — or both she and her son would pay the price.
"You're threatening me?" Bai Chenxi's voice cut through the night, sharp as tempered steel.
Wang smiled thinly, tilting his glass toward her. "Just a friendly reminder."
He took a slow step forward — but before Bai Chenxi could respond, another voice sliced through the tension.
"Vice President Wang."
The words were calm, but the air seemed to shatter with their arrival.
Both of them turned.
Li Sijue stood at the entrance of the terrace, tall and immaculately dressed in a dark suit that seemed to absorb the light around him. His presence was a storm contained behind a veneer of composure — a predator cloaked in civility.
He walked toward them with unhurried steps, each one heavier than the last, and stopped beside Bai Chenxi. The difference in temperature between them was stark — she, all tight restraint and trembling defiance; he, cold fury wrapped in control.
"Vice President Wang," Li Sijue said quietly, each syllable edged in frost. "It seems you take quite an interest in my employees' private lives?"
Wang's smug expression faltered. "President Li, this is a misunderstanding. I only meant—"
"Is it?" Li Sijue's interruption was soft but lethal. His gaze sliced through Wang like a blade. "Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you've forgotten your boundaries."
He took another step forward. The glass in Wang's hand trembled.
"My matters," Li Sijue continued, voice low and deliberate, "are not for others to comment on. Or interfere with."
Wang's face went pale. Sweat beaded at his temple. "President Li, I — I never intended—"
"Intent doesn't matter," Li Sijue said flatly. "But since you're so concerned about company affairs — perhaps you should check your email when you get home. It appears you've been… reassigned."
The last word landed like a gunshot.
For a heartbeat, the only sound was the faint clink of Wang's glass against his ring. His lips parted in disbelief. Then, realizing the futility of protest, he mumbled something incoherent and stumbled toward the exit, his steps uneven and desperate.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the whisper of night wind and the faint scent of wine between them.
Li Sijue finally turned to Bai Chenxi. His brows furrowed, concern flickering behind the steely calm. "What did he say to you?"
She looked up at him — the man who had just publicly shielded her, yet whose motives she still couldn't decipher. Gratitude and suspicion churned within her like oil and fire.
"Why?" she asked instead, her voice quiet but steady. "Why did you intervene so quickly? Because he crossed your business interests? Or because he used me — and my son — to threaten you?"
The question struck like lightning between them.
Li Sijue's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered — a flash of emotion gone as quickly as it appeared. Guilt? Anger? She couldn't tell.
For a long moment, he said nothing. The city lights painted his face in silver and shadow, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
When he finally spoke, his tone was lower, steadier — but the undercurrent of danger remained.
"Does it matter which?" he asked. "Either way, no one lays a hand on what's mine."
The words fell between them like a claim, quiet yet absolute.
Bai Chenxi's heart gave an involuntary jolt. She wanted to refute him, to tell him she wasn't his anything — but under the weight of his gaze, the words refused to form.
For just a second, the distance between them felt perilously thin — as if one breath, one heartbeat, could shatter the fragile boundary they both pretended not to see.
Then Li Sijue stepped back, breaking the moment. "Go back inside," he said softly. "It's getting cold."
He turned and left without another glance, leaving Bai Chenxi standing alone under the city lights — heart pounding, eyes burning, and utterly unsure which terrified her more: the enemies in the dark, or the man who had just claimed to protect her.