Dawn in River City.
Outside the window, a light drizzle pattered against the tender sprouts of new life, the silent green blades whispering of spring's arrival.
Inside the room, luxurious yet disheveled garments lay strewn across the floor, their presence charged with lingering intimacy.
On the bed, a woman lay cocooned in pristine white silk sheets, one delicate shoulder exposed. Her serene sleeping face, framed by exquisite features, carried an alluring charm.
A moment later, the bathroom door creaked open. A man emerged, draped in a snow-white towel that barely concealed his lower half. He wiped away the lingering droplets trailing down his chiseled jawline—devastatingly handsome, to say the least.
He moved forward with deliberate grace, his dark, fathomless eyes fixed on the woman in bed. Standing there, his sculpted abs and lean waist, devoid of any excess, spoke of disciplined perfection. Towering at well over six feet, his presence was commanding.
The sound of the door had jolted the woman awake, though she hadn’t moved a muscle. Now, her eyes flew open, wide and unblinking.
The man nudged aside the scattered clothes with his foot, his gaze settling on the pale figure curled in the sheets. His voice, deep and velvety, carried a hypnotic edge.
"How was last night?"
Gu Shaoyun’s tone was icy, yet laced with faint mockery. Had it not been for the telltale stain of crimson—like a plum blossom blooming on snow—on the sheets, he might not have believed the raw hunger in her drunken gaze: feverish, dazed, desperate.
But he knew. The signs were unmistakable—she’d been drugged. And damn him, he’d responded. Still, if both had wanted it, why not indulge?
Ruo Qinghan remained silent for several seconds before finally parting her lips with visible effort. Her voice came out hoarse, brittle with cold detachment.
"Get out."
Two words, yet their weight was undeniable.
A slow, knowing smirk curled at the corner of Gu Shaoyun’s mouth. He studied her for a lingering moment, then picked up his phone and dialed.
Almost instantly, a knock sounded at the door.
He strode over, accepted the items handed to him, and returned. With a swift motion, he discarded the towel, letting it drop to the floor as he dressed in a flawlessly tailored black suit. His long legs, his towering frame, the obsidian glint of his eyes—sharp, calculating—and that faint, devil-may-care smirk all radiated an aura of untouchable arrogance.
With a disdainful glance at the woman lying motionless on the bed like a dead fish, his voice carried a sharp edge of finality. "I don’t want a single word about last night to get out. And as for those people you wanted investigated... consider it payment for the evening. Fair enough?"
"Change into something new." Gu Shaoyun’s eyes flicked toward the white Chanel handbag before he added coolly.
Everything had happened so fast the night before—Ruò Qīnghán’s clothes had long since been torn to shreds by him.
With that, he strode out with effortless grace, leaving behind a faint trace of cool mint in the air.
The moment the door clicked shut, Qīnghán squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face in silent torrents.
She had never imagined her own sister could be so cruel—all for the sake of a man.
The images replaying in her mind made her chest ache, and the tears refused to stop.
...
"Qīnghán, last night, Wénqiān and I... we... I’m sorry, we ended up together..." Ruò Zǐqí’s voice trembled, her eyes brimming with tears, delicate as a flower on the verge of wilting at the slightest breeze—so pitiful it made anyone want to protect her.
"Qīnghán, please let me explain! It wasn’t what you think... Wénqiān said he wanted to drink, to talk to someone, so I went... but then... I don’t even know how we ended up in bed together... Qīnghán, what should I do? What should I do?"
From start to finish, Qīnghán remained silent, her expression icy as she watched the woman before her weep with theatrical sorrow.
The next day, she saw Chǔ Wénqiān outside her home, disheveled in the morning breeze as if he had stood vigil all night.
For the first time, she realized that the man who had always seemed so warm, so effortlessly radiant, could look this haggard—this desperate.
The moment he spotted Qīnghán, the unease in his eyes melted into relief.
"Xiaohan, you finally came out... Please let me explain..." Chu Wenqian spoke frantically beside her, trying to convince Ruo Qinghan with his words.
"Xiaohan, I was really drunk that night. I mistook her for you, don’t you understand? I love you, Xiaohan. I know I’ve wronged you, but please give me another chance..."
Chu Wenqian pleaded desperately. Ruo Qinghan suddenly stopped in her tracks, her lips curling into a faint smile as she tilted her chin toward the woman standing behind him. "She’s here."
Ruo Ziqing stood in the gentle breeze, her eyes blazing with jealousy the moment she spotted the two ahead. But just as quickly, she masked it, replacing the fury with an innocent, harmless smile.
"Wenqian, Qinghan... you two are together?"
Ruo Qinghan regarded her with icy detachment, letting out a self-mocking laugh before turning to walk away alone.
Chu Wenqian grabbed her arm, refusing to let her leave. "Xiaohan, I was wrong. Please forgive me. Just this once..."
A moment later, her voice, clear yet distant, cut through the air. "Wenqian, we both need time to think." Her hand slipped effortlessly from his grasp as she walked away.
The moment her back was turned, her heart ached so fiercely it nearly suffocated her.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. The man who had once vowed to love her forever had changed—changed in a way that terrified her. What did she even have left?
A best friend who had sworn sisterhood for life, yet shamelessly schemed to betray her. A man who had once been her beacon of hope, only to cruelly shatter her with reality. It felt like she had nothing left—this emptiness was driving her mad.
Silent tears flooded her sight, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away as they fell unchecked.
After a long pause, the sound of Ruo Ziqing’s sobs reached her from behind, accompanied by what sounded like weak protests against Chu Wenqian—though the words were too muffled to make out.
That night, she found herself in the neon-lit streets of the city’s pleasure district. She wanted to see—would she, too, lose herself in drunken oblivion and end up in bed with a stranger?
As it turned out, she did.
...
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, her fingertips digging into her palms until they turned white. She pushed aside the white sheets, gritting through the sharp discomfort between her legs as she gathered her clothes and stumbled toward the bathroom.
Inside, muffled sobs spilled out—raw, heart-wrenching grief that lingered in the air, refusing to fade.
---
Inside the luxury RV, a voice as chilling as a specter cut through the silence.
"Where are the men from last night?"
The bodyguard outside the window scrambled to respond. "Third Young Master, those men were indeed hired. The one who sent them is a woman named Ruo Ziqi—apparently, she's the young lady's sister." He hesitated before adding, "Also, here's the file we just compiled on that woman." With a deferential bow, he handed the documents through the window.
"Hm."
A faint, indifferent acknowledgment. His brows knitted slightly. A sister targeting her own sibling?
He reached out, took the file, and scanned its contents.
Within moments, his dark, razor-sharp eyebrows drew tighter with each passing second. Then, three syllables slipped from his lips, low and deliberate—
"Ruo Qinghan..."
