Inside a coffee shop in the bustling H. City, all eyes turned to a woman in a white dress.
"Hello, I'm Lin Qinglan."
As the Lin family's daughter stepped forward and stopped before him, Zi Rui's gaze drifted from the high-rise buildings beyond the glass and settled on her. She was early—slightly earlier than expected.
A faint blush crept across Qinglan's cheeks as her eyes traced his face: the way his ashen hair fell over well-shaped brows, the sharp gold of his eyes glinting behind his glasses, and then lower, to the clean line of his nose and his thin, unreadable lips. She hadn't expected him to have changed so much since they were kids, and her heart fluttered.
"Hello, I'm Wang Zi Rui," he said, his tone cold and detached as he gestured for her to take a seat across from him.
Qinglan lowered herself into the chair, her hand brushing gracefully against the hem of her dress. For a moment, she couldn't meet his eyes, a flutter of nerves rising at the sight of him.
Zi Rui's gaze lingered on her—her face small and delicate, her movements graceful and controlled, every gesture exuding the poise of a young lady from a prominent family. She would indeed make a perfect daughter-in-law, he thought.
A waiter appeared, placing a cup of cappuccino and two croissants on the table with careful precision before retreating. Qinglan smiled as she lifted the cup, took a delicate sip, and then set it down. Her movements were effortlessly graceful.
"Ms. Lin, you probably know the purpose of this meeting, am I right?" Zi Rui asked.
Qinglan's cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she nodded. "My father mentioned that the Wang family is looking for a suitable woman to be your wife."
Hearing this, Zi Rui leaned slightly closer. "Then I would like us to meet a few more times, Ms. Lin," he said, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, his eyes darkened too quickly to notice.
Qinglan froze, caught off guard. They hadn't spoken that long, and yet he was already suggesting they meet again. She lowered her head, hiding the flush on her cheeks, her heart thudding with happiness, and nodded in reply.
…
While the streets of H. City thrummed with life, in Province A the chirping of birds echoed softly through the quiet mountains.
Song Meiqi threw her arms up as she raced her bike downhill, the wind whipping through her hair. She closed her eyes, letting it carry her worries away. When she opened them, the sea stretched endlessly ahead.
Its salty breath rose to meet her, sunlight spilling across the horizon, warming her skin. Her dark eyes glinted with quiet delight. Drawn by the view, she slowed to a stop, left her bike behind, and walked along the shoreline, her feet sinking into the white sand while the waves danced at the water's edge.
Brushing her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, she let her gaze drift over the endless blue. How strange, she thought, that I once wished never to return to this place… and yet here I am, on my own.
A childhood memory cut through her thoughts, the woman's words echoing and making her body tremble. Clenching her fists, she drew in a deep breath. She wouldn't let those memories steal this moment from her—not anymore.
Blinking away the past, laughter from a distance drew her gaze. A couple walked past hand in hand, wide smiles bright on their faces.
Meiqi's chest tightened as an image surfaced—her and Haoran on their first date, fingers intertwining for the first time, the warmth that followed sending her heart into a helpless race.
It had only been a year ago. Who would've thought so much could change so quickly? Back then, I never imagined it would end like this, she thought, the words barely audible as they left her lips.
Sighing, letting the pain surge through her chest, she heard Wang Zi Rui's words cut through her thoughts: "Trust is fragile, and love is fleeting… only a fool would believe otherwise."
A small, wry smile tugged at her lips. He's right. It doesn't matter how long you've known someone—love isn't guaranteed, she admitted to herself.
…
Back at the Han Residence,
Han Yichen leaned back in his office chair, his expression calm but unreadable, as Linglong guided Mr. Yang, his attorney, to the seat directly across from him. The silence pressed down like a weight.
"I invited you here, Mr. Yang," Yichen said evenly, "to draft my will."
Mr. Yang nodded, retrieving his laptop from his briefcase. For him, it was routine—clients often requested wills to secure their affairs and plan for the future.
Moments later, Linlong broke the quiet. "President Han, may I ask why you'd transfer your shares to Miss Song? She's never shown any interest in business."
Yichen turned to him, his gaze steady. Curiosity flickered in Linlong's eyes.
Meiqi had always rejected the socialite life—giving up her title as the Chen family's Young Mistress to pursue the difficult path of a struggling trainee. Even as a successful idol, she rarely attended parties or mingled with powerful figures, earning the resentment of many in the industry, some of whom tried to smear her reputation as rude and arrogant.
"These shares mean nothing to me," Yichen said quietly.
"She can sell them, keep them, do whatever she wants. What matters is that they give her security and protection in a world that won't always be kind… when I'm gone."