"I'm Liu Weiwei, but my friends call me Xiao Wei. You can, too," the woman said, her voice warm but tinged with concern. She watched Lei Zhengyang devour bowl after bowl of noodle soup—six in a row—her delicate hands clutching her purse strap, a pang of unfamiliar sympathy squeezing her heart.
This man must've been starving for days. Liu Weiwei, a single woman scraping by in Tianhai, wasn't rich, but she had a roof and food. Compared to him, she was living a charmed life.
"Lei Zhengyang," he grunted, barely looking up as he called out, "Boss, another bowl!" He dove back into the steaming noodles, savoring each slurp. For a year, he'd choked down more raw meat than cooked meals, convinced his taste buds were dead. But this simple bowl of soup? Pure bliss. It was like rediscovering life itself.
"Where're you from? Where you headed?" Liu Weiwei leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "Let me guess—you're looking for work in Tianhai, right? And you're ex-military, aren't you? Not just any soldier, but one of those elite, hush-hush types who can't spill the beans."
Lei Zhengyang paused, glancing at her with a raised brow. She's got an imagination. Her eager questions made him smirk. Back in the day, women who knew his reputation kept their distance, trembling in his shadow. Now? This one was treating him like a stray puppy.
Seeing his look, Liu Weiwei waved her hands frantically. "Okay, okay, I won't pry! Just… do you have a place to crash in Tianhai? And, uh, no offense, but you could use a shower. Want to—"
His lips curled into a grin, a spark of his old charm flickering. "You're offering me a place to stay? Not scared I'll turn out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing?"
She hesitated, biting her lip, then squared her shoulders with resolve. "I've always admired soldiers. They're protectors, heroes. I trust you're not a bad guy—especially after you saved me back there."
Lei Zhengyang had planned to bolt for Beijing immediately, but a flood of memories—his memories, fused with those of the old man from forty years in the future—stopped him cold. In that other life, his greatest regret wasn't the wheelchair or the broken legs. It was Song Yingfei, the woman he'd destroyed.
In his past life, one reckless night had shattered her. He'd claimed the goddess he'd always craved, but the cost was steep. He never shirked responsibility, but despite his family's efforts, he was sentenced to five years in prison. When he emerged, Song Yingfei was gone—married off.
As Beijing's most celebrated beauty, she deserved a fairy-tale life. But happiness eluded her. The Yang family from the south, led by their heir, took her in—not out of love, but as a pawn to infiltrate Beijing's elite through the Song family. When the Song clan was devoured, Yingfei was discarded like trash. Five years after Lei Zhengyang's imprisonment, news of her death reached him. Unable to endure her torment, she'd ended her life—three days before his release.
He never even got to say sorry.
In his memories, next month—July 15th—was the day the Song and Yang families would announce their engagement. A grand spectacle in Tianhai's Pearl Hotel, it marked the alliance of two titans against the Lei family.
Lei Zhengyang decided to stay. He'd wait for that day. In the meantime, he needed to plan. This was his second chance at life, and he wouldn't waste it. He'd rewrite his fate—and hers. Not to claim Song Yingfei, but to ensure that, in old age, he'd have no regrets.
Liu Weiwei's apartment was a modest one-bedroom, cozy and scented with feminine charm. Stepping inside, Lei Zhengyang's thoughts drifted to Instructor Two, to that dream, to their final farewell. They'd likely never meet again. Once, women were playthings to him—summoned and dismissed without a second thought. Love? A foreign concept. But Instructor Two's tearful goodbye had stirred something in him, ripples in a heart that had only ever known lust.
"It's just me here, so it's a bit cramped," Liu Weiwei said, snapping him back to reality. "You'll have to make do with the couch. There's hot water in the bathroom—go clean up. I'll run to the store downstairs for some essentials. Oh, and Zhengyang, how long are you staying in Tianhai? Need help finding a job? With your skills, you'd make one hell of a security chief."
Work a job? Lei Zhengyang shook his head. That wasn't his world.
"Alright, rest up for now. We'll figure it out later," she said, a nervous edge to her voice. Bringing a stranger—a man she'd just met—into her home was insane. Liu Weiwei wasn't reckless. Was she lonely? Smitten? She pushed the thought away, unsettled.
Hot water cascaded over Lei Zhengyang's skin, and he let out a groan of pure relief. From hell to paradise in one glorious shower. A year gone. How many have forgotten me? Faces flashed through his mind—friends, foes, family. But one stood out, delicate and unforgettable. Not Song Yingfei, his supposed dream girl, but another, one he'd cherish silently forever.
"Little Aunt," he murmured. "It's been a year. Are you doing okay?"
Liu Weiwei's heart raced as she left the supermarket, bags in hand. Doubt gnawed at her. What was I thinking, bringing a man home? He was in her shower right now, and here she was, buying him underwear. Who was he? What if he was a creep, a predator, a thug? Her pulse quickened, and she crept back into her apartment like a thief, tiptoeing to avoid alerting him. At the bathroom door, she hung the clothes on the handle, careful not to make a sound.
The door swung open.
She yelped, stumbling backward, tripping over something. Her body tipped, heading for a painful fall—but strong arms caught her. Lei Zhengyang held her steady, one hand at her back, the other cradling her hip. A flimsy women's towel was his only cover, barely clinging to his waist. Their bodies pressed close, heat radiating between them.
What a man, Liu Weiwei thought, her eyes tracing his chiseled frame. She'd seen male models in magazines, but Lei Zhengyang's raw, sculpted physique was on another level. For a fleeting moment, she didn't want to pull away.
"Xiao Wei, you okay?" he asked, his voice low, snapping her out of her trance.
She shook her head, cheeks flaming, and scrambled to her feet. "I-I'm fine! I was just dropping off the clothes. You startled me, opening the door like that. I, uh, need to rest—work tomorrow!" She fled to her room, heart pounding.
Rest? Hardly. She buried her face in her pillow, muffling a groan. "Weiwei, you shameless fool! You're thinking about him? You swore you'd never fall for a guy again—especially some mystery man you just met!"
Lei Zhengyang, oblivious to her turmoil, sank onto the couch. It wasn't a bed, but it was heaven compared to the past year. He slept deeply, peacefully. Spending his first night back in a stranger's home—a beautiful stranger, at that—was absurd, yet fitting. The old Lei Zhengyang would've seen Liu Weiwei as a conquest, a fleeting thrill. But now? He saw her for what she was: a kind, guarded woman, not a plaything for a one-night stand.
If he couldn't offer her a future, he wouldn't steal her heart. Some lessons, it seemed, came only with time.