A month before the wedding of Zhou Yang & Yi Han
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Zhou Yang : Yi Han, i'll come pick you up at 6 alright?
Yi Han: Okay, see you tonight, birthday boy.
Zhou Yang: I love you.
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Today is Zhou Yang's birthday, Yi Han planned to celebrate his birthday just one week before their wedding. However, time was not on her side. Yi Han was swarmed with work in the last hour, afraid she'll not be able to make it for Zhou Yang's birthday.
Yi Han is a producer in a leading broadcasting company in Shanghai, Xin News. She is the brain behind the cameras, in-charge of narration, scripts and developing program material. Working in a fast-paced environment, time is precious to ensure TV presenters get their scripts before going live on national tv.
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6pm, Xin News Building
Rain hammered against the glass doors of the lobby, blurring the city lights outside. Zhou Yang stood near the entrance, checking his watch for the third time. Thirty minutes late—but when Yi Han finally rushed in, he smoothed his expression before she could notice.
"There you are," he said, voice gentle. "Ready to leave?"
Yi Han stopped in front of him, slightly breathless, her hair hastily tied back, scripts still clutched in her hands. She hadn't even brought her purse. Zhou Yang's brows creased for a split second before he masked it with a faint smile.
"Zhou Yang… I'm really sorry," she said quickly, guilt written all over her face. "I'm still stuck finishing the scripts for tomorrow's live report. I thought I could step out, but it's impossible right now."
She lowered her head, clearly ashamed. Today was his birthday—she knew how much it meant to him.
Zhou Yang reached out and took her hands, his grip warm but his disappointment seeping through despite his effort to hide it. "Not again?" he asked softly, forcing a small laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. "So… we're not having dinner together tonight?"
Yi Han's lips parted, searching for words. The rain continued to pour outside, loud enough to fill the silence between them—while Zhou Yang stood there, feeling the sting of being second place yet again, and wondering why his patience with her felt thinner than ever.
"We can have dinner at the café nearby," Yi Han said quickly, eyes bright with hope. "Their food is really good—and they have your favorite steak too."
Zhou Yang paused for a moment, then smiled, a smile that looked sincere enough. "Alright," he said lightly. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I think I love you too much to stay angry at you."
Relief washed over Yi Han's face as she nodded, already turning toward the rain-soaked street.
The café was warm and cozy, a small refuge from the storm outside. Over dinner, Yi Han tried her best to make conversation, laughing a little louder, smiling a little more, as if enthusiasm alone could make up for the lost plans. Zhou Yang played along, attentive and gentle, every inch the considerate fiancé.
When the plates were cleared, the lights dimmed slightly. Yi Han disappeared for a moment, then returned carrying a small chocolate mousse cake, candles flickering softly. Her voice was quiet as she sang, almost shy, but filled with sincerity.
"Happy birthday, Zhou Yang," she said when she finished. "May all your wishes come true—and may our wedding be smooth sailing."
She looked at him with hopeful eyes, as if this simple moment could mend everything.
Zhou Yang smiled, leaned forward, and blew out the candles. Applause rippled faintly through the café. A waiter offered to take a photo, and Yi Han instinctively moved closer to him, her shoulder brushing his arm.
The photo captured them perfectly: two people smiling warmly at the camera, fingers intertwined, looking every bit like a couple deeply in love. To anyone watching, they were just like any other soon-to-be newlyweds—happy, devoted, counting down to their wedding in one month's time.
Only the truth lingered quietly beneath the surface, unseen by the lens.
After dinner, the rain had softened into a steady drizzle. Yi Han walked Zhou Yang back to her office lobby, the fluorescent lights casting a pale glow over the quiet space. She hesitated, then held onto his hands a little longer than necessary, reluctant to let the night end like this.
"Do you not want me to pick you up later?" Zhou Yang asked, his tone casual, almost rehearsed.
Yi Han shook her head gently. "No, it's okay. Besides, tomorrow we're—"
Her words were cut short by the sharp buzz of his phone.
Zhou Yang stiffened almost imperceptibly. His brows furrowed as he glanced down at the screen, something uneasy flashing across his face before he masked it.
Yi Han noticed. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. "Who's texting you?"
"Oh—" Zhou Yang looked up quickly, lips curving into an easy smile. "It's James and the boys. They're asking if I'm done and want me to join them for some drinks at the bar."
The lie slid off his tongue too smoothly.
Yi Han studied him for a second, then nodded, though something about his hurried explanation made her chest feel oddly tight. "It's your birthday," she said. "You should go. Don't drink too much."
Zhou Yang squeezed her hands. "I won't. Go get busy and rest early for the night." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, gentle and familiar.
Yi Han nodded, forcing a smile despite the fatigue weighing on her shoulders. She waved before turning back toward the lobby.
He walked back to his car, rain dotting his jacket as he slipped into the driver's seat. Through the windshield, he watched Yi Han's reflection fade into the bright interior of the office lobby. Only then did he reach up and adjust the rearview mirror.
The man staring back at him no longer wore the same gentle expression.
He looked back at his phone.
The screen lit up again.
Lan Xin: I'm waiting. Don't tell me you're still playing the perfect fiancé.
Zhou Yang's fingers moved to his phone with practiced ease.
He tapped on it as the call connects.
Lan Xin.
As the call rang, he smoothed his hair, straightened his collar, checking his reflection like an actor preparing to step onto a different stage. The corner of his lips curled upward, slow and deliberate, his eyes darkening with anticipation.
The warmth he'd shown Yi Han vanished completely.
In its place was something sharper, more indulgent—almost cruel. It was as if the man who had just stood in the rain holding his fiancée's hands had never existed at all.
The phone connected.
And Zhou Yang smiled, no longer pretending to be anyone else.
"Hello my darling.." Zhou Yang called out.
Lan Xin? No, it cannot be…