"…Yifan, why is she here?" Zhao Jingyuan scowled the moment his son stepped down from the stage.
Yifan's expression turned icy, his gaze sharpening like a blade. "Meaning, Father?" he asked, his tone daring him to speak further.
Jingyuan's frown deepened. "You know exactly what I mean. That girl is a forbidden fruit. The relationship between the Li and Zhao families is… complicated."
He turned sharply to his wife. "Qin Lihua, talk some sense into your son."
Qin Lihua, graceful and poised as always, stepped forward slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she observed the tension between father and son.
Yifan's jaw clenched. "She's not a fruit, father. She's a person."
Jingyuan's scowl deepened, his voice low and sharp. "Don't get sentimental, Yifan. You know what her family represents. That girl's presence is a direct insult to the Zhaos".
"I'm not you father," Yifan snapped, his voice cold but steady. "And I don't plan to live out someone else's grudge, your grudge."
Qin Lihua gently placed a hand on Jingyuan's arm, trying to de-escalate. "Let's not cause a scene, Jingyuan. This is his night."
"A night he's turned into a scandal," Jingyuan said bitterly, shrugging off her hand.
Yifan stepped forward, standing tall. "She's here because I invited her. Because she matters to me. And if that's a scandal, then let it be."
Jingyuan's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. "Are you saying you'd choose her… over the family?"
Yifan didn't even blink. "I already have."
The silence that followed was deafening, heavy with unspoken declarations and decades of expectation breaking apart in an instant.
Qin Lihua's eyes softened, not with disappointment, but something more unreadable. She turned to her husband. "Let him make his choice. He's not a boy anymore."
Jingyuan stared at them both before letting out a slow, bitter breath. "We'll see how long that loyalty lasts when her past comes knocking."
He walked away without another word, disappearing into the crowd.
Yifan turned, his gaze immediately seeking Lian across the hall. She stood quietly, unaware of the exchange that had just happened, unaware that drama brewed in the shadows. He sighed, brushing past his parents, placed a light kiss on his mother's temple, and made his way toward her.
"I want you to meet someone," he said softly, reaching for her hand.
Before she could respond, his fingers had already laced with hers, leading her across the grand ballroom floor.
"…Uncle." Yifan's voice called out respectfully.
The tall, dignified man in his 50s turned, his youthful features aged like fine wine, sharp eyes, calm demeanor, and a presence that commanded attention.
"Son." Elder Yang's face lit up in a warm smile at the sight of Yifan, only for that smile to shift into something more knowing, almost amused, as his eyes landed on Lian beside him.
Yifan blinked. For a fleeting second, he was stunned by how much Elder Yang resembled someone very familiar, his best friend, Yang Yufan. The jawline, the smirk, the knowing eyes, it was uncanny.
"Girlfriend?" Elder Yang asked, tone casual, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Huh… N-No!" Lian responded far too quickly, panic lacing her voice.
Yifan turned to her slowly, one brow lifting, confusion etched on his face. Elder Yang merely chuckled, clearly entertained.
"You don't want to be?" Yifan asked, his voice quiet, probing.
Lian lowered her gaze. "Your parents… my parents… you know how strained our family ties are, Yifan. This… it's just a fleeting adrenaline rush. We can't work."
His heart clenched. Her words hit like a slap, and the calm in his expression slowly gave way to hurt. "Adrenaline rush?" he repeated, voice laced with disbelief. "Is that what you think this is to me?"
She didn't answer.
"I can make it work, Lian," he said firmly, stepping closer. "You just have to say yes. I'll do anything… anything to make this work."
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the world silenced around them. The sincerity in his voice shook her to her core, but behind her heart's ache was the memory of kneeling in front of this same man, begging him once upon a time… and being shattered instead.
She bit her lower lip, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
"Yifan…" she whispered, voice trembling, "why do you like making me walk barefoot over hot coal?"
He didn't respond, but the way his eyes glistened said he felt every word.
Because deep down, she still loved him. Even if she wasn't supposed to. "…I'll think about it."
"No."
The word cut through the space between them like a blade. Yifan's tone wasn't loud, but it was final, edged with desperation. His eyes locked onto hers with a force that made her heart thunder.
"I want an answer… now."
Lian's breath hitched. The pressure built like a storm inside her chest. He didn't mean to, she could see it in his eyes, but his demand was turning forceful, almost like a cornered plea. Like if she slipped through his fingers again, he'd never recover.
But she wasn't alone. As she turned to retreat, her eyes darted around.
Yang Yufan stood a few steps behind Yifan, arms folded across his chest. His expression wasn't unkind, but it was firm. A wall of support, for Yifan.
Beside him, Meilin leaned against a marble column in her wine-colored gown, gaze sharp and calculating as she watched the scene unfold. Lian wasn't sure if Meilin was judging her, supporting her, or preparing to intervene.
Realizing she was surrounded, Lian's body stiffened. Her heartbeat quickened. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as panic curled in her stomach. Her eyes twitched.
"…Don't do this to me," she whispered, barely audible.
But Yifan didn't back down.
"Then don't run." His voice softened, yet it carried the weight of everything between them. "Just… don't run, Lian."
Lian paused, a dark chuckle slipping from her lips. "Yes, I might be naive… but I lived in this world once too, Yifan. I'm not powerless." Her voice was steady, eyes locking with his, unflinching. "Let me go."
She wasn't pleading anymore. It was a command.
Yifan didn't speak immediately. His chest rose and fell, jaw clenched, emotions flickering behind his gaze like a tempest barely restrained.
"…Yufan." He finally muttered.
At once, Yang Yufan, who had been watching closely, exhaled and took a step back—giving her space. The silent signal was clear: let her walk.
And she did.
The sharp sound of her heels echoed through the grand hall, slicing through the tension as she walked away without another word. Yifan stood still, eyes following her retreating figure as if each step she took dug deeper into his chest.
Elder Yang, who had witnessed the entire scene with quiet observation, finally stepped forward. His expression was calm, but the weight of his words cut through the silence.
"…The Li Chenghai I knew wouldn't teach his daughter to hold a grudge this deep," he said gently, his gaze soft as it followed Lian's silhouette. "Li Lian… my child," he murmured with surprising affection.
"Yes, you have the right to hurt him. To get back at him if you must," Elder Yang continued, voice low but firm. "But right now, you're only breaking your own heart."
His eyes moved between Yifan and Lian who was some steps away.
"…Think about it." With that, Elder Yang gave a small, fatherly smile, then turned and disappeared into the crowd, no doubt in search of his wife, Lu Shuyan, leaving behind a silence that was heavier than any scream. And leaving the rest for them to solve. Alone.