Yang Juchao's eyes blazed with murderous intent as he turned to Song Xiyan. "My son spoke out of turn—please don't take offense, Brother Xiyan. But this Lei brat has humiliated my Yang family. If he walks away unscathed, how will we stand tall in the South? Bear witness: it's not that I disrespect Patriarch Lei. I've simply had enough."
Song Xiyan, though seething at the Leis, was no fool. He rose, his voice measured. "Given the situation, I need to consult Father. Patriarch Yang, let's postpone the engagement talks."
Yang Yikun's venomous words had revealed the Yangs' true attitude toward this alliance. Something had been overlooked, and this chaos offered a chance to reassess. Whether the marriage could proceed was now uncertain.
Yang Juchao's face flickered with disappointment. His carefully laid plans, so close to fruition, had been shattered by this reckless Lei scion. He glared at Lei Zhengyang, his eyes sharp enough to carve him into pieces.
"Take him down—dead or alive!"
Yang Juchao's roar echoed. No one in the South had ever dared disrespect him like this.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Three sharp impacts broke the circle of guards surrounding Lei Zhengyang. Cold Heart strode in, her presence commanding, trailed by four formidable figures—four of the Hidden Sect's Six Masters.
She shot Lei Zhengyang a venomous look. "Lei Zhengyang, get out. Don't play hero if you lack the skill. This isn't your place, and I'm tired of cleaning up your messes."
Lei Zhengyang's heart skipped. His little aunt had come after all.
"Who are you?" Yang Juchao demanded, sizing up the woman. She radiated danger.
Cold Heart's voice was ice. "Who I am doesn't matter. I'm here to take Lei Zhengyang. I hope you'll grant me this courtesy, Patriarch Yang. Otherwise, I'd hate to harm your esteemed guests."
Lei Zhengyang's pulse raced, not from the need to whisk Song Yingfei to safety, but from the burning desire to see his aunt. Her ethereal beauty, etched in his heart, had haunted him every moment of the past year.
Yang Juchao's eyes narrowed—a predator's signal. Cold Heart's gaze sharpened in response, the air crackling with imminent violence.
Just then, a middle-aged man rushed to Yang Juchao's side, whispering urgently. Moments later, Yang Juchao's fury subsided, his demeanor calm. With a wave, he said, "Let them go."
Lei Zhengyang didn't bother with pleasantries. Gripping Song Yingfei's hand, he strode out, leaving Song Xiyan bewildered and frustrated. What the hell had happened? A perfect alliance with the Yangs had unraveled into this mess. Judging by his daughter's actions, they'd likely end up enemies instead of in-laws. He needed to report this to Father immediately.
At the entrance to the Pearl Tower's underground parking, a sleek sports car gleamed under the lights. But Lei Zhengyang's eyes locked onto the figure leaning against it: Xu Luoyan, his little aunt.
"Where do you think you're taking me?" Song Yingfei said, her voice edged with irritation. "Lei Zhengyang, I don't hate you, but I feel nothing for you. If possible, stay away from me. Can you do that?" The ordeal of the banquet had shifted her world. From a dutiful daughter to a woman fighting for freedom, the transition was jarring.
Lei Zhengyang's tone turned serious. "Relax. I spared you back then, and I've got no designs on you now. Honestly, I just realized your allure isn't as irresistible as I thought. Yingfei, pride's no sin, but a word of advice: marry anyone you want, just not a Yang. They'll ruin you."
"Who I marry is none of your business," she snapped. "But you're right—I'd never join the Yangs. Thanks for today. As for the fallout, that's on you. You owe me that much. From now on, we're even."
Lei Zhengyang grinned. That was his goal, and he'd achieved it.
"Perfect. From here on, we're strangers. Miss Song, forget the past. I genuinely wish you joy and peace."
Without giving her a chance to reply, he turned toward the sports car, his steps quickening with urgency.
Song Yingfei opened her mouth but held back. No man had ever dismissed her so brazenly. Most begged for a moment of her time, yet this man—once the object of her loathing—ignored her charm entirely.
Had her allure faded, as he claimed? A friend had once said she was a goddess in his eyes. Was he playing some game, feigning indifference to pique her curiosity?
Hmph. She, Song Yingfei, wasn't that shallow. His tricks were outdated.
Lei Zhengyang didn't look back. He stopped three meters from the car, facing Xu Luoyan. Their eyes met, a silent tide of emotions swirling between them.
Song Yingfei noticed Xu Luoyan and froze. As one of Beijing's four renowned beauties, Xu Luoyan's fame rivaled her own. Though Yingfei was often ranked first, she'd never felt superior to the others.
Then Lei Zhengyang moved, closing the distance in a single stride and enveloping Xu Luoyan in a tight embrace.
Song Yingfei clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. "No way! If I'm not mistaken, Xu Luoyan's his aunt! They can't—there's no way!"
As Lei Zhengyang gently released her, Xu Luoyan read the question in his eyes. "Wondering why I didn't slap you?" she asked softly. Since that incident, any time he'd come within three meters, she'd greeted him with a stinging slap—no exceptions.
He knew, but he hadn't held back. Over the past year, Song Yingfei hadn't been his obsession—Xu Luoyan had. His forty years of memories revealed the sacrifices she'd made for him, earning her his deepest devotion. More crucially, he'd learned the truth: his mother's sister had no blood ties to the Xu family.
No familial barrier stood between them. But that secret, revealed by his mother a decade later, had once brought him agony. He'd driven Xu Luoyan to despair, a wound of his own making.
Her eyes, once cold as frost, now held a trace of warmth. She reached out, her hand gliding across his face, and nodded. "Zhengyang, I'm leaving for a while. I saw what you did in there, and I'm proud. My Zhengyang may be a bit of a rogue, but he's a real man. Before I go, I want you to know: I don't hate you anymore."
"Auntie—" Lei Zhengyang began, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
"Don't say anything," she said. "I believe in you. If, when I return, you've become a man who stands tall and unshaken, I'll have a gift for you. One you'll love."
Several cars screeched out of the parking garage, halting before them. A window rolled down, revealing Cold Heart's icy face. "Miss, it's time."
Xu Luoyan took Lei Zhengyang's hand, her grip firm. "I'm leaving, Zhengyang. Don't let me down."
She turned to board the car, but Lei Zhengyang felt his heart lurch, as if it were being torn from his chest. He'd never imagined he'd have the courage for this. In a flash, he pulled her back, wrapped her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers, claiming the soft, rose-red warmth in a kiss that silenced the world.
Song Yingfei gaped, stunned. Even Cold Heart was floored.
Xu Luoyan broke away, her face flushed crimson, and fled into the car, speeding off.
"Kid," Cold Heart said, her voice sharp, "I don't like you. But I hope you're still alive when we meet again. Good luck." With a gust of wind, the cars vanished, taking his beloved aunt—the woman he cherished most—from his sight. He lingered in the aftertaste of her kiss, sweet as nectar.
Song Yingfei approached, her voice dripping with disdain. "I'll hand it to Beijing's gossip—you are a lustful wolf. Seducing your own aunt? Not something just anyone could pull off. I admire your nerve, Lei Zhengyang, but I hope I never see you again."
With that, she turned and left, her contempt clear.
Lei Zhengyang offered no defense. He didn't need to explain himself to anyone.
That kiss, a decade in the making, was his. Win or lose, he'd acted, and his heart held no regrets.