Hua's POV
The crowd was a living organism.
Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder at the foot of the corporate building, a sea of suitcases, voices, heat, and perfume thickening the air until it felt like trying to breathe underwater. Dozens of private buses were lined up one after another outside, their engines rumbling like giants waiting to swallow us whole. I had barely stepped onto the plaza when anxiety punched me in the lungs.
I couldn't even find my team.
The moment the weight of the crowd hit me, I grabbed my phone with sweaty fingers and called Mr. Wang.
"Where are you?" I shouted over the noise.
"In the hall! Come inside!"
Inside wasn't better. Somehow the heat was worse, the suitcases were bigger, and the air was filled with that warm scent of too-many-people-in-one-place. My suitcase bumped into legs, someone's elbow cracked against my shoulder, and I muttered a string of silent curses while trying to carve myself a path through the chaos.
Mr. Wang, Zi Tan, Qianlu…
Where are you guys?!
While I was trying to squeeze my way between two chatty interns, a hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist.
Firm. Certain. Familiar.
I turned—
And froze.
Yiran.
Of course.
Of course he would show up looking like he walked out of a luxury watch advertisement.
He was dressed to kill today—literally, considering the size of the stones glinting inside his silver watch. His hair was styled with a precision I'd never seen on him during work hours, the kind of hairstyle men paid stylists two hundred dollars for. His cologne drifted between us, stronger than usual, expensive and dark. And the suit—bright blue, tailored, basically screaming I'm here to steal the show.
His lips were moving.
I had no idea what he was saying.
I'd been staring at him for too long.
He stopped talking, eyebrows lowering slightly as if waiting for an answer.
"Huh?" I blinked.
He smiled. Soft. Too soft. Too confusing.
"I'm happy to see you," he said—genuine, almost gentle, and it threw me off balance.
And that was the problem.
I didn't hate him anymore.
I should. I absolutely should.
But growing up with someone—sharing childhoods, firsts, mistakes, heartbreaks—it didn't just vanish.
I knew he was dangerous. Toxic, even.
But some parts of my heart still recognized him like muscle memory.
And that was the worst part.
This moment… it felt too normal. Like the past few weeks never happened.
"You're not taking that bus," he added suddenly, snapping me out of the fog.
"What? Why?" I frowned.
"I'll drive you there."
He said it like he was offering me a ride to the grocery store. Normal. Natural. Expected.
Except it wasn't.
"I prefer taking the bus with my coworkers," I said firmly, pulling my wrist out of his grip.
For a brief moment, he looked… sad.
And something in me flinched. Damn it.
"I'm sorry," I added softly, "I just don't think it's professional."
"No, I— I get it. I'm sorry."
He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, like the boy I once knew.
I exhaled and slipped away into the crowd to find my team.
On the bus
The engine's low hum numbed my thoughts, lulling me dangerously close to sleep. I was drifting—finally—until someone poked my shoulder.
"Hua."
I lifted my head. Qianlu was leaning over the aisle, eyes sparkling with gossip hunger.
"What?" I mumbled.
"I know I shouldn't ask but… is something going on between you and Mr. Liang Yiran?"
My soul left my body.
"What? No! Why?"
Did she see us? Oh god.
"Well… earlier you two looked—close."
Damn it.
She DID see us.
"I'm married to his brother," I blurted. "We are not—there's nothing—"
"Oh! Say no more." She believed me immediately, nodding as if everything made sense now.
Thank god.
"But I was worried because of what I heard about Mr. Liang Yiran," she whispered.
My stomach tightened.
"What did you hear?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
"You don't know?" Her volume went up one octave too high.
Half the bus turned.
She cleared her throat. "Sorry! Anyway… rumor says he's about to divorce his new wife. And everyone thinks it's because of another woman—the one he used to date before."
My heart jolted.
Divorce?
"That's what I heard," she added quickly.
Rumors. Always rumors.
Still, a cold shiver ran down my spine.
If people started assuming I was the 'other woman'… it would be a disaster.
Eventually, the motion of the bus won again and I drifted into sleep—exhausted from the last two days, emotionally and… physically. My cheeks heated at the thought of Yichen's hands, his warmth, the two nights tangled between sheets.
When I woke up, Qianlu had fallen asleep with her head resting gently on my shoulder. Outside, skyscrapers rose like glowing pillars against the afternoon light.
Hong Kong.
Busy, loud, alive.
The bus slowed, then stopped.
We had arrived.
Arrival at the hotel
Stepping off the bus felt like walking into another universe.
This wasn't a hotel.
This was… royalty.
The assistant standing at the entrance lifted a clipboard and started checking badges as we walked past. When my turn came, she nodded politely, but I barely noticed.
My eyes were glued to the building.
Tall, majestic, dripping with luxury.
Golden accents, carved stone, wide steps leading to an entrance framed with marble pillars. It wasn't just fancy—it was obscene. Like a palace straight out of a billionaire's dream.
"Welcome to the Palace Pentrova," the assistant announced, voice soft and elegant.
A few coworkers whistled.
"My name is Lalyn, and I'll be your guide during these three days."
Someone from the back shouted, "So what are we doing here?"
She smiled, the perfect trained customer-service smile.
"We've planned seminars, discovery activities, fine dining, and of course—free time."
We each received a printed schedule.
Then she glanced at her watch and gasped.
"Oh dear, we're going to be late. Everyone, follow me inside before the marketing team arrives!"
Inside the Palace Pentrova
I swear my brain shut down for three seconds straight.
The lobby was… unreal.
A massive fountain sparkled under a chandelier larger than my apartment. Gold trims lined every pillar, every railing. Soft music played somewhere high above, echoing like we'd stepped into a royal ballroom.
I felt underdressed. And also extremely out of place.
After checking in at the front desk, the assistant returned with key cards.
"We've assigned suites in groups of four," she explained. "I'll read the names."
People gathered into groups, laughing, comparing room numbers, already taking selfies.
Everyone… except me.
"Um… I don't have a group," I said.
"Oh! Right!"
Her eyes widened and she dove into her stack of papers.
Pages shuffled. Brows furrowed. Her expression flickered from confusion to surprise to… professional neutrality again.
"You— You have a suite for yourself," she announced.
A few coworkers turned to look at me.
I felt their eyes like needles.
Judging.
Assuming.
Because of course the married-into-the-Liang-family woman gets special treatment.
But the worst part?
They were probably right.
I just didn't know which Liang had done it.
Yichen?
Or Yiran?
Both possibilities made my stomach twist in completely different ways.
One out of love.
One out of fear.
Both out of obsession.
And I had no idea which one the truth leaned toward.
To be continued...