*Chapter 21: The Gentle Storm*
The penthouse was unusually lively that evening. Zhao Liang's friends had dragged him out of his office, claiming he worked too much, and now the four of them — including Mei Yan — sat scattered across the living room.
The conversation quickly shifted from wine to work.
"Stock markets are brutal this week," one friend groaned, loosening his tie. "I lost more in a day than you'd earn in a year, Zhao. Care to celebrate my downfall?"
The other snorted. "Don't dramatize. You'll double it back tomorrow. You always do. Some of us have actual clients to deal with, not just numbers on a screen."
Li Xue watched silently, her eyes flicking between them. One was a sharp-eyed investor, his world a whirl of markets and risks. The other managed a chain of luxury hotels, juggling contracts, staff, and endless late nights. They were rich, successful — yet somehow human, playful, even vulnerable.
Mei Yan sat beside Li Xue, whispering with awe. "Can you believe how casually they talk about millions? My boss complains if I misfile one report."
For the first time in weeks, Li Xue laughed softly. The sound drew Zhao Liang's gaze, his expression unreadable.
But the warmth was fleeting. When his friends teased him about being "too serious for his wife," Zhao Liang leaned back, eyes cold.
"She knows better than to expect a husband out of me."
The laughter died. Mei Yan stiffened beside her, and Li Xue forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Beneath the joking, the careers, the wealth — Li Xue felt it again: the gentle storm of cruelty disguised as truth.