Shu Yao managed to stand—barely. His knees trembled beneath him, breath thin as paper. George hovered a step behind, tense, unwilling to let him walk straight into ruin.
Then she appeared.
Ming Su glided into the corridor with the kind of elegance that cut instead of soothed. Her smile, faint and blade-thin, sharpened even more when she caught sight of Shu Yao's reddened eyes.
"Oh my," she breathed, hand fluttering to her chest. "You look dreadful, Mr. Shu."
Shu Yao instantly turned his gaze away.
Too similar.
Her delicate features, the poised serenity—Qing Yue's ghost flickered in every angle of her face. It was unbearable.
He stepped forward without acknowledging her. George, struggling to avoid her predatory gaze, called his name softly, "Shu Yao—"
Ming Su blinked once, lashes dipping like she was savoring the moment. Her assistant, Naina, appeared beside her, clutching a tablet.
"The Rothenberg brand is… difficult to decipher," Naina murmured.
"Of course it is," Ming Su replied, placing a finger thoughtfully on her chin. "That's what makes it exciting."
Her smile sharpened. "They're all exhausted and miserable. Especially Bai Qi."
She tilted her head, eyes alight with unkind delight.
"I can't wait to see him tomorrow. He must be terribly confused. But it's fine—he'll end up working with us in the end."
She pivoted, heels clicking against the marble like punctuation marks of victory. As she walked, she lifted her phone and dialed Shen Haoxuan without a backward glance.
Her voice trailed behind her like perfume—sweet, venomous, triumphant.
Meanwhile George was still calling, "Shu Yao—please. Think about it."
He hurried after him. "You can't destroy yourself like this. Bai Qi deserves to know what Shen did that night."
Shu Yao flinched.
He turned his head weakly toward George, eyes glassy, voice raw and nearly broken.
"Please… Mr. George," he whispered.
The hoarseness scraped through every syllable—crying had worn his throat down to the bone.
George clenched his jaw.
"Shu Yao—"
"Let it go," Shu Yao said softly. "At least… he won't be disgusted."
He exhaled a shaky breath, steadying himself on the wall. His lashes trembled, trying to blink back the heat building beneath them.
"Bai Qi will only hate me," Shu Yao murmured. "And that's… not hard. He already does."
His voice went thin, cracking at the edges.
"I can manage that."
But inside—he was shattering.
The memory of Bai Qi's words cut deeper than any knife.
The way he'd cried when Qing Yue died.
The way he'd looked at Shu Yao with accusation burning in his eyes.
The way he'd turned away from him, like the old Bai Qi—the gentle one, the one who once promised, 'I'll take your pain away'—had vanished forever.
Tears pricked at the corners of Shu Yao's eyes again. He bit them back violently. He refused to let them fall.
"Shu Yao, don't do this," George pleaded, taking a step forward. "You're hurting yourself—"
"I'm sorry, Mr. George," Shu Yao interrupted. "But I can't."
He turned away when George tried to reach for him. George's throat tightened; he felt it constrict until breathing stung. He'd promised Shu Yao he would help pull him out of this mess. But everything seemed to slip through his fingers.
Then his phone rang.
"Damn it," George hissed. "Who the hell—"
He glanced at the screen.
Niklas.
Of course.
He inhaled deeply, steeling himself, and answered. "Yes, brother?"
Niklas's voice cut through the speaker like thunder.
"George. What exactly is happening in Rothenberg Industries?"
George's face drained of color. His shoulders slumped.
"Oh—well, what happened? Everything is… cooler than usual," he attempted.
Niklas barked into the phone so loudly George had to hold it away from his ear.
"You're twenty-six! Not a child! And yet something like this happens?"
"I know Brother, can you please calm down for a moment" George tried to calm him, voice tight with desperation.
Niklas let out a long, disappointed sigh.
"Bai Qi and Armin are still young. They can make mistakes. But you—I never expected something like this from you."
George latched onto those words like a lifeline—something he could use to guard Bai Qi, Shu Yao, and Armin all at once.
"I'll fix everything," he promised immediately.
"No," Niklas said flatly. "You can't. The person who buy our designs isn't just anyone. It's Shen Baoliang."
George blinked. "So what? Brother—"
"Enough. Leave everything to me. All you ever do is make a mess."
Another sigh. "I'll return to China once I finish business here."
George felt the shame hit like a stone to the chest.
"…Just as you say, brother."
The line went dead.
Silence carved its way into the corridor.
George lowered the phone slowly, breathing deeply as the reality sank in.
"Even Niklas found out…" he muttered wearily.
Then—his eyes widened.
Shu Yao was gone.
"Shu Yao?" he called, stepping forward quickly.
No response.
He spun around, scanning the hallway. Empty.
"Shu Yao!" he shouted, panic lifting his voice. He ran in the direction Shu Yao had disappeared, each footstep echoing down the long corridor.
He vanished into the hallway too—chasing a man already too broken to be caught.
Outside the building, the automatic glass doors sighed open. Ming Su stepped through them like a queen leaving a conquered palace. The air lifted her hair, the faint city glow brushing her cheekbones with cold light.
The car waited at the curb, sleek as polished venom. She walked straight toward it, heels clicking a calm rhythm. Her assistant Naina halted outside, letting her employer slip into the back seat alone.
Shen Haoxuan was already inside.
One leg crossed over the other, his posture as casual as a cat lounging after clawing apart something expensive. A soft smirk tugged at his lips, and his grey eyes glinted with satisfaction.
"You performed perfectly, Ming Su," he drawled.
Ming Su rested two fingers against her mouth, amusement flickering there. "Save the compliments for later," she said lightly. "I did what you asked. Now—what's our next move?"
Shen leaned forward just enough for the shadows to cut across his face.
"The game has only just begun," he murmured. "Why rush?"
She blinked at him, expression neat and unreadable. "Since you forged Bai Qi and Shu Yao's signatures… wouldn't Shu Yao push back? Claim he never signed such a file?"
Shen lifted a hand lazily. "Relax, Ming. Shu Yao won't say a word. He wouldn't even dare."
She studied him, brows lifting a fraction. "But why wouldn't he tell the truth?"
Shen exhaled a slow, satisfied breath—almost a sigh of indulgence.
"Because I know him. I know exactly where to strike. He'll take the blame willingly."
A smirk curved his mouth. "Shu Yao wouldn't bring himself to expose the truth even if it strangled him. That boy was born to swallow his own suffering."
Ming Su frowned thoughtfully. She thought hard, searching for a flaw in his logic, but found none. "But Shen… how will he stay silent knowing you're the one behind all this?"
Shen's smirk widened, arrogance dripping from the angle of it.
"Because I'm the one playing the game."
A beat of silence.
Ming Su finally nodded. "Very well. I'll trust your word. Let's see how things unfold."
He waved dismissively. "We'll speak again soon."
She opened the door and slipped back out. Her steps drew her to her own car—a luxurious red machine that gleamed like velvet wine under the golden light. She sank into the seat beside Naina, who was waiting behind the wheel.
Ming Su leaned back, lips curling into a small, thoughtful smile.
"Hm… will Shu Yao really refuse to fight?" she murmured to herself. "How lame. A grown man choosing silence."
She crossed her legs, eyes narrowing with cold delight.
"Well. That only means he's easy to remove."
Her gaze sharpened.
"After all… our real target is Bai Qi."
The engine started with a low purr.
The car rolled away from Rothenberg Industries.
Back to the rothenberg industry's,
Shu Yao stepped out of the lift on unsteady legs, barely holding himself upright.
Each step felt like wading through a flood of memories he never asked to revisit—Bai Qi's cold stare, gentle Qing Yue's smile, Shen Haoxuan's smirk, and that girl whose face twisted like Qing Yue's ghost.
It was all too much.
Too loud.
Too heavy.
But what choice did he have except to keep walking?
A sudden presence blocked his path. Shu Yao halted. Armin stood there, arms loose at his sides, expression unreadable.
Shu Yao immediately turned his head away, lowering it like a child caught doing something wrong.
"Why did you leave the boardroom without your boss's permission?" Armin asked, voice cool.
Shu Yao flinched, shoulders trembling. "I–I'm sorry, sir."
Armin averted his gaze, exhaling slowly. "Your boss is calling you."
Shu Yao's eyes widened. Panic—or something close to it—rippled through them.
"I… I'll go to his office now, sir."
"Very well." Armin stepped aside.
Shu Yao moved past him, almost stumbling, almost collapsing under the weight of his own shaking breath. The moment he disappeared around the corner, Armin crossed his arms, staring after him.
"Well, well," he muttered. "Such a fragile frame… it'll shatter instantly."
His eyes softened for a brief second. Florian's face flickered in his mind—uninvited, unwelcome.
Armin closed his eyes. "He shouldn't have done something like that," he whispered to the empty hallway.
The lift chimed again.
Armin turned his head sharply. Uncle George stepped out in a hurry, nearly tripping over his own feet. His coat swung behind him like a storm cloud.
"Why are you in such a rush, Uncle?" Armin asked, brows lifting.
"Did Shu Yao come this way?" George demanded.
Armin pointed lazily. "He was just here a second ago. He'll be reaching Bai Qi's office by now."
George's eyes widened. A flash of dread crossed his face.
"Why are you after him?" Armin asked, suspicion curling beneath his tongue.
George froze. Then—quietly, fiercely—"Because he's not guilty."
Armin frowned. "But didn't you see him trembling? He obviously did something."
George narrowed his eyes. "Shu Yao is honest. He would never humiliate the brand. It was all him."
Armin blinked. "What are you talking about, Uncle?"
George clicked his tongue. "Stop wasting my time."
He pushed past Armin and hurried down the corridor.
Armin watched him disappear, jaw tightening. The hallway hummed with silence.
"Look at you," Armin muttered under his breath. "Already an old man… still playing games."
He turned away sharply with a huff.
"Hmph. Whatever. It's not like I care."
He strode off.
Now meanwhile, Shu Yao inhaled shakily, steadying himself, then lifted a trembling hand and knocked.
He didn't even get the chance to process the sound.
Bai Qi stood there—cold, sculpted, expression carved from stone. Not a hint of warmth remained. His obsidian eyes flicked over Shu Yao like he was looking at a stranger.
Shu Yao froze. The breath left his lungs.
"Sir— I —" he stammered, already stumbling backward from the weight of that gaze.
Bai Qi didn't allow him the space. He seized Shu Yao's wrist in a rough grip, forgetting entirely the strict distance he had once imposed—those meters he demanded, that invisible boundary Shu Yao tried so desperately not to cross.
He yanked him inside.
The door slammed shut behind them, locking with a sharp, final click.
Shu Yao flinched.
Bai Qi didn't stop. He dragged Shu Yao across the office, past the long stretch of polished floor, toward the sleek mahogany desk that dominated the room.
"Sir—wait—I can explain—" Shu Yao barely managed the words before Bai Qi shoved him down.
Shu Yao hit the desk hard. Papers scattered like a burst of startled birds. Air rushed from his lungs; his knees buckled, sliding him halfway to the floor.
He gasped, chest stuttering.
Bai Qi crouched down in front of him, fingers gripping Shu Yao's jaw with chilling precision.
"I didn't even punish you properly," Bai Qi said, voice low, trembling with fury. "And yet you dare to play games behind my back?"
Shu Yao's breath trembled.
He said nothing.
Silence was the only shield he had left.
Bai Qi's anger twisted sharper. "I'm asking you a question. How did my designs end up sold to Shen's brand?"
Shu Yao swallowed hard. His lips parted.
Only one fragile sound escaped:
"I… I am sorry."
Bai Qi's eyes widened. Obsidian turning volcanic.
"So you did betray me."
His voice erupted—not shouted, but detonated.
He forced Shu Yao's chin higher, tilting his face upward until their eyes locked and Shu Yao could see his own reflection warping inside Bai Qi's fury.
"One last chance," Bai Qi growled. "Speak. I swear, Shu Yao, if you don't tell me the truth right now, I'll—"
He stopped himself, jaw tightening dangerously.
And Shu Yao, trembling, broken in places he no longer examined, whispered:
"I did it."
The words weren't loud. But they crashed through the room like a thunderclap.
Bai Qi jerked back as if struck. His entire body stiffened—rage, disbelief, betrayal colliding inside him all at once.
"How dare you," he hissed. "You—of all people. Playing tricks. Pretending to be innocent."
His breath quickened. "Letting Qing Yue die wasn't enough? Now You also betray me?"
Something inside Shu Yao flickered—an emotion too fractured to name. A hollow smile trembled on his lips, the kind born not from joy but from a body that forgot how to react.
Bai Qi saw it.
And snapped.
"You're smiling," he barked. "Smiling? Now?"
His hand shot forward, grabbing Shu Yao by the collar and hauling him upright with a strength fueled by grief and fury.
Shu Yao dangled slightly, toes brushing the floor.
He stared into Bai Qi's eyes—deep and black, storming with accusation. Inside those pupils, Shu Yao saw a ghost of himself: pale, small, unwanted.
"Listen carefully," Bai Qi spat. "If I don't make your life a living hell for this, then you may as well change my name. I swear it, Shu Yao."
Shu Yao didn't fight him.
He never did.
Silence wrapped around him like an old coat—heavy, protective, suffocating. He lowered his gaze, letting Bai Qi's anger crash over him like cold waves.
There was nothing else he could offer.
No defense.
No truth.
No escape.
Just endurance.
His lips curved again into that soft, collapsed smile—the one he didn't choose, the one that wasn't a smile at all.
"Forgive me, sir," he murmured.
It wasn't a plea.
It wasn't an apology.
It was a habit—a quiet performance for a world that had never asked what his heart actually felt.
And Bai Qi, burning with betrayal, confusion, and a grief he refused to name, stared at him like he was trying to understand how the man he trusted could look so fragile… and still lie so easily.