Yichen's POV:
Tomorrow was supposed to be just another workday—except it wasn't.
I had an interview scheduled with three of the biggest media outlets in the capital. It was meant to mark my official "return," to show investors and partners that I was back for real, stronger than ever.
No nerves.
No hesitation.
Just confidence.
This was my chance to prove I wasn't the same person they used to look down on—the "second son," the "troublemaker," the one who'd never live up to the family name.
The morning sunlight slid through the blinds as I stood in front of the mirror, towel around my shoulders, drying my hair. My reflection stared back, sharper, more composed than before—but my eyes drifted downward, to the scar across my torso.
That scar.
The one that changed everything.
Flashback
I was fourteen.
My mother had just found out about her—the other woman. And the son my father had secretly brought into the world two years after me.
Ten years of betrayal wrapped up in a single moment.
I remember the shouting. The shattered voices echoing off the walls. My mother, trembling with rage and heartbreak, demanding a divorce and her rightful share of the company she'd helped build from scratch.
Then my father's voice—booming, cold, merciless.
I'd tried to step between them, hands out, begging him not to yell at her.
But when he looked at me… something snapped inside him.
He grabbed my arm, furious.
"Always taking her side, huh?"
Then he shoved me.
Hard.
I hit a glass display on the way down. The crash was deafening.
Pain tore through my stomach. I looked down—blood. A shard of glass had buried itself near my navel.
Everything went silent after that.
Back in the present, I traced that same scar with my fingertips.
"This time," I muttered at my reflection, "you won't push me away, Dad."
I slipped on my shirt, my jacket, and finally—those ridiculous "clown shoes."
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
"She kept making fun of these…" I murmured, thinking of Hua. The way she'd laughed that night when she was drunk enough to tell me exactly what she thought of my fashion choices.
Maybe I should've been annoyed. But I wasn't.
That memory—her tipsy smile, her warmth—still made something in me soften.
I grabbed my keys. Time to go.
The company's main conference room had been transformed into a full-blown media circus.
Cameras, lights, microphones, a buffet no one would touch until after the event. Three senior journalists from the capital's top networks, each with their team of assistants, were already setting up.
But one thing—or rather, one person—was missing.
Hua.
I frowned, scanning the room. "Where's Hua?" I asked my secretary, Zhou Yue, who was hovering nearby with her usual perfect smile.
She stepped closer—way too close—and adjusted my tie without asking.
"She said she had a lot of work to catch up on. I told her it was fine if she couldn't attend," Zhou Yue said lightly.
I removed her hand from my tie and took a half step back.
"I didn't ask you to decide that," I replied flatly.
She blinked, then quickly bowed her head. "Of course, sir."
I exhaled, trying to brush off the irritation. Maybe it was for the best. Interviews could be messy. Still, a small part of me wished Hua were here. Her presence always grounded me somehow, gave me that strange, unexplainable boost.
Whatever. Focus.
The cameras rolled. The red light blinked on.
The questions came one after another, just as expected.
"When did you come back to China?"
"What are your new objectives for the company?"
"What's your strategy to strengthen international connections?"
I answered smoothly, confidently. Every word calculated, every smile practiced—but not fake. I meant what I said.
When I spoke, people listened.
That was something I'd learned the hard way—how to command attention without raising your voice.
I was in the middle of an important answer about overseas partnerships when… I saw her.
Hua.
She slipped into the room quietly, head down, clutching a file against her chest. Nobody else noticed. But I did. Instantly.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Her hair was slightly messy, like she'd run here. The soft blue blouse she wore caught the studio lights in a way that made her look almost… glowing.
I froze mid-sentence. The journalists blinked, confused. Then I caught myself, cleared my throat, and continued as if nothing had happened.
Get it together, Yichen.
The interview went on until the final question—or so I thought.
Then one of the reporters, a smug-looking man in glasses, leaned forward.
"Mr. Jiang, lately, a few pictures of you with a woman have been circulating online. Is she your girlfriend?"
The room buzzed immediately. Cameras zoomed in. Microphones moved closer.
I smiled. Calm. Controlled.
"No—"
Gasps echoed. Some of relief. Some of confusion.
"—She's my wife."
Silence. Absolute silence.
Then whispers.
Shock. Curiosity. A thousand unspoken questions rippled through the room.
The same journalist adjusted his glasses, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"But, Mr. Jiang, you recently returned from the United States, didn't you?"
I nodded. "That's correct."
He continued, relentless.
"After doing some research, we discovered that your… wife has never left China. How did your relationship begin? Before or after your return? Don't you think marrying so quickly might raise questions? Or is this, perhaps, a PR move?"
Damn. He was good. Too good.
My father must've sent him. Or my brother. Someone clearly wanted this angle exposed.
I gave the man a polite but sharp smile. "Do the pictures look fake to you?" I asked, tone perfectly calm but cutting.
A classic deflection tactic. Turn the question back on them.
But the journalist didn't flinch.
"Well," he said, "since the woman in those pictures is actually here in the room with us—and judging by her badge, she works for you—it doesn't exactly look ordinary, does it?"
The murmurs grew louder. Heads turned. All eyes landed on Hua.
Great.
The same reporter smirked slightly.
"Would you mind if we asked a few questions to… your wife?" he asked, emphasizing the word like it was a joke.
Before I could refuse, Hua nodded.
What?
She actually nodded, looking calm—almost confident.
"Sure," I said finally, giving her a small gesture to come over. "Come here."
Her steps were quiet, but my heartbeat wasn't.
She stood next to me, fingers nervously twisting together, but she kept her head up.
The interviewer smiled, ready to pounce.
"Thank you for agreeing to answer, Mrs. Jiang. Could you tell us about your first meeting?"
Oh no.
I glanced at Hua, silently begging her to keep it simple.
She cleared her throat. "Umm… we… met near a fountain at night," she began.
Everyone leaned in.
"I was drunk and fell onto him. He got mad and threatened to file a complaint for… sexual harassment. I thought he was crazy."
Laughter filled the room.
I rubbed my temple, trying not to smile. Well, at least she wasn't lying.
"But after that night," she continued, voice softer now, "I couldn't stop thinking about him."
She turned her head toward me, eyes locking with mine.
"And he couldn't stop thinking about me either."
Someone in the crew literally said, "Aww."
The room melted.
Damn it. My face felt hot.
The journalist grinned. "That's quite the story. Then, if I may—what do you like most about each other?"
I chuckled under my breath. "Where should I start…"
Before Hua could react, I took her hand and pulled her gently toward me. She stumbled slightly—and ended up on my lap.
Gasps. Camera flashes.
I didn't care.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I said with a faint smirk, "There's not one thing I don't like about her. But if I had to pick one…" I glanced at her. "It's that she challenges me."
A chorus of soft chuckles and dreamy sighs filled the room.
Then everyone looked at Hua, waiting for her answer.
She blinked, nervous. "Um… I— I like…"
(I could hear her heartbeat from where I was sitting. Fast. Uneven.)
"I love the way he makes me feel," she said finally. "With him, I feel like I can overcome anything."
Her voice trembled slightly at the end.
It sounded… real.
For a second, I forgot we were surrounded by journalists and cameras. My chest tightened. My cheeks burned.
And then—beep beep beep.
My watch alarm went off.
Perfect timing.
I jumped to my feet, still holding her hand. "Well, I'm sorry, but time's up. We've got a big event to prepare for. Thank you for your time."
I bowed slightly, then guided Hua out of the room, ignoring the dozens of questions still being shouted behind us.
Out in the hallway, the tension finally broke.
I turned to her, unable to hide my grin.
"So… you like the way I make you feel, huh?"
I wasn't even sure why I said it. Maybe I wanted to tease her. Maybe I just wanted to hear her say it again—without the cameras, without the pressure.
She blushed instantly, avoiding my gaze.
"Huh? That was just part of the show! Don't get any ideas!"
Then she rushed off, her perfume lingering in the air like a soft whisper.
I watched her disappear around the corner.
Yeah, I was an idiot… to think she might've actually meant it.
"Mr. Jiang!"
Zhou Yue's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She hurried over, holding a stack of files.
"I need to talk to you about the event. There are still some unclear details."
I nodded, glancing once more at the direction Hua had gone.
"Fine," I said quietly. "What do you need?"
She placed a hand on my arm.
"Follow me to my office. I'll explain everything there."
I sighed. "Alright."
But as I followed her down the hall, I couldn't help but think—
Work could wait.
What I really wanted…
was to chase after Hua.
To be continued… ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆