The call was connected to another woman named Lan Xin.
"Hello, my darling," Zhou Yang said softly, lowering his voice the moment the call connected.
"Oh? You remembered me?" Lan Xin scoffed, her laugh edged with bitterness. "I thought you'd be too busy playing the perfect fiancé—birthday candles, sweet smiles, pretending I don't exist."
Zhou Yang chuckled, indulgent, dangerous. "Don't be like that. You know I'd never forget you." A brief pause, then, deliberately intimate, "Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be right by your side."
Lan Xin's tone shifted, slow and satisfied. "Fifteen minutes," she repeated. "I'll be waiting… while she's still raising a glass to you."
He smiled to himself as he hung up—because they both knew exactly what that promise meant.
The door shut with a soft click, sealing off the world where he was still someone else's fiancé. Lan Xin's perfume wrapped around him—heavy, deliberate, unmistakably intimate. This wasn't a coincidence. It was a declaration.
"Happy birthday, love," she murmured again, closer this time, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as if they belonged there. Her lips brushed his cheek, slow enough to leave a vivid stain, a mark that said taken in the most dangerous way.
He should have stepped back.
Instead, his hand settled at her waist, fingers pressing just enough to tell her he was staying. "You planned all this," he said quietly, eyes darkening.
Lan Xin smiled, pleased—not innocent, never pretending to be. "Of course I did. You didn't think I'd let your birthday end without me, did you?" Her gaze flicked to his phone, then back to his face. "After all… she isn't the one standing here with you."
The words were a blade, sharp and intentional.
Zhou Yang loosened his tie, the gesture small but damning. Outside this apartment, there were expectations, promises, a carefully arranged future. Inside, there was only temptation and the thrill of crossing a line he'd already crossed too many times to count.
Lan Xin reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his with practiced ease. "Come in," she whispered. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be tonight."
And as he followed her deeper into the apartment, the guilt he should've felt was drowned out by something far more dangerous—the excitement of being wanted in a way he knew was unforgivable.
"So hungry already? Didn't your fiancee satisfy you before coming over? Or can I say she's incapable of satisfying her own man?" Lan Xin laughed sarcastically.
"Sorry I'm late," Zhou Yang murmured as the door closed behind him, his gaze sweeping over her with open hunger. "You look… different tonight." His lips curved slowly. "Is this my birthday gift?"
He didn't wait for her answer. His hands slid around Lan Xin's waist, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her—deep, reckless, tasting of impatience and indulgence—guiding her backward into the apartment as if he belonged there.
Lan Xin laughed softly when she finally pulled away, her eyes glittering with mockery. "So desperate already?" she teased. "Didn't your precious fiancée satisfy you before you rushed over?" She tilted her head, voice laced with poison. "Or should I say—she doesn't know how to satisfy her own man?"
Zhou Yang scoffed, the words spilling out as if he'd been waiting to justify himself. "You know how Yi Han is," he said, irritation edging his tone. "All principles and distance. A kiss is as far as she'll go—even after getting engaged." His jaw tightened. "She still doesn't treat me like a husband."
Lan Xin smiled then—slow, triumphant.
"Poor you," she said lightly, fingers brushing his collar. "Lucky for you… I'm not so conservative.". She teased.
"But you're getting married in a month," Lan Xin said softly, pouting as she slipped out of his embrace. "By then, she'll give you what you want… and you'll dump me."
Zhou Yang caught her wrist and pulled her back gently. "Lan Xin, my darling, what nonsense are you thinking?" His voice lowered, coaxing. "Look at you. You're irresistible. You spent my birthday night with me—doesn't that tell you how much you mean to me compared to her?"
She searched his face, eyes sharp despite her teasing tone. "Then tell me," she said deliberately, "why do you love me more?"
Zhou Yang didn't hesitate. "Because you're nothing like her. You want me. You need me." His thumb brushed her chin upward. "You make me feel like a man. That's what I love about you." He smiled, assured, almost smug. "Marriage is just for appearances—to satisfy the elders. You should know I'll still belong to you." After a pause, he added casually, "Besides, Yi Han still owns that apartment her mother left her. It's worth a lot. She still has… her use."
Lan Xin said nothing. She poured two glasses of wine, her movements unhurried, then handed one to him. Their glasses clinked softly. She sat on his lap, arms looping around his neck, her smile returning—slow and knowing.
"No more talking," he murmured. "You've been overthinking lately." Zhou Yang leaned in, his voice brushing her ear. "Then let me remind you."
The rest of the night unfolded behind closed doors, unspoken promises and dangerous illusions filling the silence—while somewhere else, Yi Han worked through the night, unaware of how easily devotion was being traded for desire.
---------
11pm, Xin News Building
Rain poured relentlessly as Yi Han finally wrapped up her tasks and stepped out of the office, a sense of relief settling over her. She reached into her purse for her umbrella—only for her phone to ring.
Zhou Yang.
A smile tugged at her lips. He must be calling to pick her up.
Answering the call, she popped open her umbrella and walked toward the traffic light.
"Hello, birthday boy," she said, raising her voice over the drumming rain. "You don't have to come over. I've just left the office and I'm heading to the bus stop…"
Silence.
No reply came from the other end of the line.
Yi Han slowed her steps, frowning slightly as the silence on the other end stretched on.
"Hello?" she tried again, stopping near the traffic light. The red signal glowed faintly through the rain. "Zhou Yang?"
There was a faint sound then—muffled, indistinct. Not his voice. More like movement. A breath. The background noise felt wrong, too quiet for a street, too enclosed for a car.
Yi Han's smile disappears.
"Zhou Yang, can you hear me?" she asked, gripping the phone a little tighter. "If you're calling to pick me up, I really don't need—"
A soft click echoed through the line, followed by a brief rustle, as if the phone had shifted against fabric. For a split second, she thought she heard a woman's laugh—low, distant, unmistakably not hers.
Her heart skipped.
"Who's there?" Yi Han asked, her voice barely rising above the rain now. The traffic light changed, people crossing around her, umbrellas brushing past, the world moving as usual while she stood frozen. Something, she knew, was not right.
*Ruffling*
A strange rustling sound slipped through the line. Yi Han frowned, lifting the phone closer to her ear as the rain grew heavier and cars rushed past.
"Hello? Zhou Yang?" she called again.
Instead of his voice, she heard something else—soft, intimate sounds, indistinct yet unmistakable. Breaths too close. A muted laugh. The kind of closeness that didn't belong on an accidental call.
Yi Han's steps slowed. Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Then a woman's voice came through, low and breathless.
"Zhou Yang… prove it," Lan Xin said softly. "Prove that you'll only love me. No one else."
Yi Han's heart lurched.
Zhou Yang's reply followed, careless, unaware, intimate in a way Yi Han had never heard before. "How do you want me to prove it?"
Lan Xin's voice returned, closer now, deliberate—every word landing clearly in Yi Han's ear. "Even if you marry her, I still love you. Don't ever leave me."
There was a pause. A sound of movement. Then Zhou Yang spoke again, his voice warm, certain.
Yi Han stopped walking altogether.
The rain blurred her vision as the truth settled in—not shouted, not confessed, but revealed in stolen moments she was never meant to hear. Around her, the traffic light changed, people crossed, the city moved on.
But Yi Han stood frozen under her umbrella, listening as her world quietly came apart on the other end of the line...
"I'll prove it," Zhou Yang said, his voice low, teasing, intimate in a way Yi Han had never heard before. "I'll stay with you tonight. I love you, Lan Xin."
There was a soft laugh from the woman on the other end, followed by sounds of closeness—too close, too unmistakable. Words were whispered, breaths overlapping, the kind of intimacy that needed no description.
Yi Han's mind went blank.
The rain seemed to fade into the background as her grip on the phone loosened. Every syllable echoed painfully clear, stripping away every excuse she had tried to give him. This wasn't a misunderstanding. It wasn't coincidence.
It was betrayal—spoken plainly, without shame.
Her chest tightened, breath catching as the call continued for a few seconds longer than she could bear. Then, with trembling fingers, she ended it.
The screen went dark.
Yi Han stood there beneath the umbrella, rain sliding down around her, the city still alive and indifferent. Moments ago, she had been thinking of him—of kindness, of patience, of a future she believed in.
Now, all that remained was the cold realization that while she had been waiting, working, loving him quietly—
He had been giving his heart to someone else.
Under the pouring rain, Yi Han's eyes widened in disbelief as every word she'd overheard replayed mercilessly in her mind. The man she was supposed to marry in a month—the man she trusted without reservation—had been lying to her all along. Betraying her. Mocking her devotion behind her back.
Her vision blurred. Tears welled up uncontrollably as she raised a trembling hand to cover her mouth, stifling a sob that threatened to tear out of her chest. The umbrella slipped from her fingers, clattering uselessly onto the wet pavement as rain soaked through her hair and clothes.
*HOOOOONK—
The deafening sound ripped through the night.
A white Bentley barreled toward her, its headlights glaring through the rain. The driver slammed on the emergency brake, the tires screeching violently as the car came to a halt just inches away.
Yi Han jolted back to reality.
She gasped, stumbling backward in panic. Her foot slipped on the slick ground, and before she could regain her balance, she fell hard onto the pavement. The shock—both physical and emotional—was too much. Darkness swallowed her whole.
The driver's door flew open.
"Miss!" Chen Xi called out urgently as he rushed toward her, rain soaking through his suit. He knelt beside Yi Han, checking her quickly—no blood, no visible injuries—but she was unconscious, pale and motionless.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed for an ambulance, his voice calm but firm as he reported the situation.
Ten minutes later, the wail of sirens cut through the rain-soaked street. The ambulance pulled over swiftly, paramedics jumping out and moving with practiced efficiency. Yi Han was helped onto a stretcher, her consciousness returning in fragments. Her lashes fluttered open, but her face remained deathly pale, as if the color had been drained from her entirely.
"Miss, can you hear me?" a paramedic asked gently.
Yi Han nodded faintly, though her eyes were unfocused. She stared blankly at the ceiling of the ambulance, her mind eerily empty—except for the echoes of voices she wished she had never heard. The words replayed again and again, cruel and vivid, until her eyes burned red and tears slipped silently into her hairline..
She simply lay there, broken in quiet disbelief.
Across the street, inside the white Bentley, Feng Yan glanced out the rear window just as the ambulance doors remained open for a moment longer. Through the blur of rain and flashing lights, he caught sight of her face—ashen, dazed, eyes rimmed with red in a way that spoke of more than physical shock.
Something about it made him pause.
"Is the lady alright?" Feng Yan asked calmly, his gaze still fixed on the scene outside.
Chen Xi, seated in the driver's seat, responded, "She fainted from shock, it seems. No visible injuries. I've already given her my business card, in case she needs assistance later."
Feng Yan gave a brief nod. "Mm."
The paramedics closed the ambulance doors, and the vehicle slowly pulled away, its siren fading into the distance. Feng Yan leaned back against the leather seat, expression returning to its usual composure.
"Let's go," he said evenly.
The car merged back into traffic, leaving the scene behind—unaware that this fleeting, rain-soaked encounter was not the end, but the quiet beginning of paths destined to cross again...