All morning, Liu Weiwei sat in her office, staring blankly at her desk. She answered a few calls, but her mind was elsewhere—consumed by the mysterious man she'd brought home. Lei Zhengyang. His rugged face, his quiet strength, his shadowed past. They haunted her.
She wasn't some starry-eyed schoolgirl anymore. Years of grinding it out in the cutthroat world of Tianhai had taught her to guard her heart. Alone in a strange city, she'd learned to read men like open books, their motives laid bare. So why had she thrown caution to the wind last night, inviting a stranger into her sanctuary?
Was it really just because he'd saved her?
Her tiny rented apartment was more than a home—it was her refuge, a canvas for her dreams and secrets. And now, a man had breached that sacred space, stirring emotions she'd long buried.
In college, she'd fallen in love once. Loneliness and a boy's earnest smile had lured her in. She'd thought two lost souls could build a life together, supporting each other in a cold world. Naïve. Childish. She'd been blind to men's true nature. When she caught her boyfriend tangled in bed with the campus's sultriest vixen, her heart shattered. She'd given him everything—except her body, which she'd saved for a perfect, sacred night. And he hadn't waited.
The betrayal crushed her faith in love. From that day, she wore a mask, keeping everyone at arm's length. But last night… Liu Weiwei groaned, burying her face in her hands. I must've been drunk.
A sharp knock-knock snapped her back. Her secretary, Xiao Fen, poked her head in. "Manager, urgent notice from the CEO's office. Someone from headquarters is coming to inspect in fifteen minutes. All manager-level staff need to gather in the main hall for a welcome ceremony."
Liu Weiwei nodded, rising. "Got it. I'm on my way." As a subsidiary of the mighty Kaiyuan Group, Wealthsource Development had to roll out the red carpet for HQ's visits. These inspections could make or break careers, and no one would be more on edge than the Weasel.
The Weasel—Huang Shulang, Wealthsource's CEO—was a wiry man in his forties, barely ninety pounds soaking wet. Rumor had it his wife, the daughter of a Kaiyuan shareholder, tipped the scales at a hundred kilos and stood just five-foot-five. Huang's marriage was a calculated climb for status, but it didn't stop him from leering at Wealthsource's young, attractive female staff. Lately, his predatory gaze had locked onto Liu Weiwei.
She was torn. The job—manager of the operations department, with a salary topping half a million a year—was a dream. But the Weasel's advances made her dread every day. Stay for the paycheck, or leave for her sanity?
In Wealthsource Tower's grand reception hall, dozens of managers stood at attention. Huang Shulang paced the steps, his voice brimming with fervor. "Listen up! Today's visitor is the Yang family's heir, the future boss of Kaiyuan Group. Impress him, or you're out. No one embarrasses Wealthsource on my watch. Now, line up by the entrance and await Young Master Yang's arrival!"
Three sleek Cadillacs rolled up, the longest parking dead center. Bodyguards and secretaries spilled from the escort vehicles, moving with military precision. A guard opened the main car's door, bowing low. "Young Master, we've arrived at Wealthsource."
A man stepped out, his tailored suit unmarked by logos—a bespoke masterpiece worth a fortune. In his late twenties, he carried an air of innate arrogance. The Wealthsource executives, lined up like soldiers, held their breath. They knew him: Yang Yikun, the Yang family's crown prince. Kaiyuan Group's majority shareholder, the Yangs controlled over eighty percent of the conglomerate. But Yang Yikun's fame wasn't just his lineage—it was his tabloid exploits, his scandals with actresses and models splashed across entertainment rags. You couldn't not know him.
"Miss Song, I hope this little 'date' isn't boring you," Yang Yikun said, his tone smooth as silk. "My father's handing me the reins of Kaiyuan, so I'm swamped. But if you're free, I'd love your help. It'd make my days a lot brighter."
A soft, detached voice answered from the car. "You're overthinking, Young Master Yang. I'm just here to observe. I hear Wealthsource's financials have been stellar these past three years—all thanks to you." The words were polite, but they carried no warmth.
Yang Yikun, unfazed, chuckled humbly. "Oh, come on. Compared to you, Miss Song, my achievements are nothing. Truly, nothing."
From the car's other side emerged a woman whose beauty stopped hearts. Mature, regal, with a haunting trace of melancholy, she was a vision that demanded devotion. To see her was to want to shield her, cherish her, keep her forever.
If Lei Zhengyang were here, he'd have known her instantly: Song Yingfei.
Her presence left everyone in awe, even Liu Weiwei. Though confident in her own looks—Wealthsource's undisputed queen—she felt small beside Song Yingfei. It wasn't just beauty; it was presence. A timeless elegance Liu Weiwei knew she'd never master, not in thirty years.
Huang Shulang rushed forward, fawning. "Young Master Yang, welcome! Under your leadership, Wealthsource will soar to new heights, riches flowing like rivers!"
The flattery was shameless, but Yang Yikun ate it up, laughing heartily. He clapped Huang's shoulder. "Old Huang, don't sell yourself short. Wealthsource's success is your doing. I'll put in a good word with the chairman. Oh, and meet Miss Song—potentially my future wife. Treat her like royalty."
"Of course, of course!" Huang gushed. "Young Master, you're dashing, and Miss Song is divine—a match made in heaven. Please, come in. I'll introduce our executives and give you a tour."
Huang's mind raced with lustful fantasies about Song Yingfei, but he kept his face neutral. She was untouchable—one wrong move, and he'd lose everything. Liu Weiwei, though? That fiery minx was a prize within reach. Rumor had it she was untouched, and bedding her would be a conquest to brag about for life.
Song Yingfei's face flickered with sorrow at Yang's words, but it vanished quickly, unnoticed by most. Liu Weiwei, though, caught it. She saw the truth: Song Yingfei wasn't smitten with the overly eager Yang Yikun. Her politeness was a mask, her heart elsewhere.
Stepping forward, Liu Weiwei seized the moment. "Hello, I'm Liu Weiwei, operations manager. Miss Song, welcome to Wealthsource. May I guide you through our operations?"
Their eyes met, and in that fleeting exchange, a silent understanding passed between them. Song Yingfei nodded. "Thank you, Manager Liu. Wealthsource's profits are impressive. I'd love to see what reforms you've implemented. Young Master Yang, why don't we split up? With the future boss around, I worry your staff might hold back the truth. What do you think?"
Flattered by her "future boss" remark, Yang Yikun waved dismissively. "Go right ahead, Miss Song. Manager Liu, answer her every question. Wealthsource has no secrets from Miss Song. Understood?"
"Absolutely, Young Master," Liu Weiwei replied, gesturing. "Miss Song, this way."
As the women walked off, the other managers dispersed. Yang Yikun smirked at Huang, his tone dripping with innuendo. "Old Huang, Wealthsource is crawling with beauties. Must be exhausting, huh?"
Huang grinned slyly. "You're too kind, Young Master. I keep my hands clean. But if you see someone you like, I'd be happy to make introductions."
For a moment, Yang Yikun's eyes glinted—Liu Weiwei's beauty had caught him off guard. But his father's warnings echoed: the Song alliance was critical. No slip-ups. "Nah, I'm a gentleman," he chuckled. "I won't poach flowers from your garden."
The Song-Yang marriage was a strategic power play, nothing more. Song Yingfei, Beijing's fallen beauty, was a means to an end. If not for the stakes, would a man like Yang Yikun bother with a woman tarnished by scandal? It was all for profit.