After Liang Yifeng hung up the phone, he prepared to leave.
His shift began at eight in the morning. He had woken up half an hour early just to bring her the dress. Now that it had been delivered, there was no reason to stay—especially with an emergency at the hospital demanding his attention.
Still, thanks to the morning rain, he had managed to step inside her home. And he had also seen his suitcase sitting perfectly intact in her entryway.
Before troops move, provisions go first. That logic could never be wrong.
Before leaving, Liang Yifeng reminded her not to forget tomorrow’s wedding. Zhong Nian nodded and said she wouldn’t.
After he left, she rubbed her neck, ordered takeout, and opened her laptop to review documents.
·
The next day was Su Huachao’s wedding.
The ceremony was divided into two parts: an outdoor ceremony during the day and an evening banquet at the hotel.
As a bridesmaid, Zhong Nian stayed by Su Huachao’s side the entire time.
Standing beside her—
Was Liang Yifeng.
There were four bridesmaids and four groomsmen in total.
Among the bridesmaids, Zhong Nian was undoubtedly the most stunning. She wore a white lace strapless dress, lace ribbons tied around her wrists. Her long curls were swept to one side, dotted with sprigs of lily of the valley—pure, ethereal, almost otherworldly.
Among the groomsmen, Liang Yifeng drew the most attention.
Though he carried an unmistakable “keep your distance” aura, his sharply defined features, deep-set eyes, high nose bridge, and gold-rimmed glasses gave him an air of restrained asceticism.
In women’s eyes, the colder a man is, the more challenging he becomes.
In men’s eyes, the more aloof a woman appears, the stronger the urge to conquer.
Liang Yifeng and Zhong Nian were precisely that kind of man and woman.
So in private, many guests asked Su Huachao’s assistant for their contact information. But Xiao Zuo, the assistant, was clever—there was no way she would casually hand out their details. She simply said that after the banquet, during the after-party, everyone could have drinks together.
Before the ceremony began, Xiao Zuo tallied the final count in the lounge.
“Miss Zhong Nian received requests from sixty-seven gentlemen. President Liang received requests from sixty-five ladies. This round goes to Zhong Nian! Let’s give her a round of applause!”
Caught off guard by the sudden mention of her name, Zhong Nian blinked.
She leaned closer and asked quietly, “Who is President Liang?”
Xiao Zuo stared at her in disbelief, then pointed at the man resting with his eyes closed on the sofa.
“That cold-faced gentleman—Liang Yifeng. You don’t know? He’s famous in the business world! And this year he was named South City’s Number One Golden Bachelor. So many women want to marry him!”
Zhong Nian hadn’t realized Liang Yifeng carried so many titles before his name.
She followed Xiao Zuo’s gesture.
Liang Yifeng sat on the sofa, one hand covering his eyes, revealing only the lower half of his face. His lips were pale, the line of his jaw tight—he looked slightly unwell.
Before she could think further, Xiao Zuo tugged her toward the hall.
“The wedding’s starting!”
Holding up her skirt with one hand, Zhong Nian hurried after her.
Aside from the ring exchange, the most exciting moment of the ceremony was the bouquet toss.
Everyone was eager. Zhong Nian, however, was not. She quietly stepped back from the crowd.
The lawn was uneven. Not paying attention, she twisted her ankle while stepping backward.
Just as she thought she was about to make a fool of herself at such an important occasion—
A firm arm tightened around her waist, and she fell into a warm, solid embrace.
Instinctively, she grabbed his sleeve and looked up.
She met Liang Yifeng’s eyes.
His double eyelids were faint, but his eyes were long and sharp. Even through his glasses, she could see the sweep of his dark lashes.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
She came back to herself and quickly stepped out of his arms.
His embrace emptied abruptly. Liang Yifeng withdrew his hand, adjusted his glasses, and said, “Be careful.”
She lowered her head slightly. “Mm.”
They stood facing each other, neither moving.
Suddenly, a gasp rose from the crowd nearby.
Between them—
A bouquet landed.
Everyone turned to look.
Zhong Nian and Liang Yifeng exchanged a glance.
After a moment, she bent down to pick it up.
At the same time, another hand covered the back of hers.
They bent together.
She touched the bouquet first.
But he touched her first.
The sunlight was gentle that day. A breeze carried the fragrance of flowers. Music drifted softly through the air. Everything felt beautiful—almost unreal.
Her hand holding the bouquet didn’t move.
“Let go,” she said softly.
Liang Yifeng arched a brow, then released her.
She stood upright, bouquet in hand, facing the smiling crowd.
Looking down at the flowers, her palm burned inexplicably. Unsure what to do, she forced a smile.
“Should we toss it again?”
Just then—
Click.
She turned toward the sound.
The photographer stuck out his tongue apologetically. “You two standing together looked too perfect. I couldn’t help myself.”
She frowned, wanting to say something—but remembering it was Su Huachao’s wedding, she swallowed the words.
And so the bouquet remained in her hands.
·
Later, the bridal party returned to their rooms to rest.
Only Liang Yifeng came back out. He found the photographer and asked him to save the earlier photo for him.
After the wedding, he would collect it.
The photographer grinned. “You two looked so good together. Anyone would think it was your wedding!”
Liang Yifeng’s face was pale, but at those words, the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
“Thank you,” he said.
·
The evening banquet began quickly.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen followed Huo Sui and Su Huachao from table to table offering toasts.
But Liang Yifeng had caught a cold that day. He coughed throughout the evening and couldn’t drink much, cutting his usual stamina in half. He was known for holding his liquor—thousand cups without falling.
Zhong Nian, having spent years abroad, didn’t understand the local custom. She thought that when it was time to toast, one truly drank.
Unbeknownst to her, the bridesmaids were drinking water disguised as liquor and juice disguised as wine.
Only she—
Alongside the groomsmen—
Poured real alcohol and drank it cleanly.
Someone tried to stop her.
But Liang Yifeng silenced them with a glance.
He stood beside her—
The one pouring her drinks.
By the time the banquet ended, Zhong Nian was heavily intoxicated.
After the guests left and the hall emptied, Liang Yifeng watched her steady herself against the wall, heading toward the restroom.
A faint light flickered in his eyes.
He followed.
She vomited for a long time. Cold water splashed over her face cleared her mind somewhat, but her body remained light and unsteady, as though walking on clouds.
Leaning against the wall, her stomach burned—white liquor, red wine, spirits, beer, all mixed together.
Her throat felt aflame.
Her entire body overheated.
She untied the lace ribbon from her wrist and tossed it onto the carpet.
Still too hot.
Almost suffocating.
Yet her mind retained a thread of clarity.
She lifted her head, gaze misty.
The figure before her seemed like one—or two—or three. She blinked, focused.
One.
White shirt. Black trousers. One hand in his pocket.
He looked down at her.
Lights shimmered. Shadows flickered.
Liang Yifeng’s expression was unreadable, his gaze devoid of visible emotion behind the lenses.
She leaned against the wall, her dress outlining her figure—bare shoulders, flushed lips, eyes damp and dangerously alluring.
He appeared calm.
But beneath that calm, something surged like a contained tidal wave.
His breathing grew uneven. His heart pounded violently.
The tight line of his jaw finally softened—
As she collapsed.
He caught her instantly, pulling her into his arms. The scent of lily of the valley filled his senses. One hand gripped her waist; the other slid beneath her knees, lifting her up.
The hotel belonged to him.
The private elevator was unobstructed.
Two presidential suites occupied the top floor. One was prepared for the newlyweds, its hallway carpeted with roses. The other—
He had reserved for her.
Fingerprint recognition unlocked the door.
In darkness, he carried her inside.
The roses remained outside.
In the dim room, only this single lily of the valley remained in his arms.
·
She lay on black sheets, dressed in a robe.
The curtains were open, revealing the neon brilliance of the sleepless city below. From the fifty-sixth floor, thousands of lights shimmered against the endless night.
Liang Yifeng sat silently nearby.
The scent of lily of the valley lingered in the bedroom.
His eyes were fathomless, lips pressed thin, profile cold as jade.
He removed his glasses.
Slowly, he moved toward the bed.
Leaning over her, he rested his forehead against her body, inhaling deeply.
From her forehead to her toes, he memorized her scent.
Then he withdrew, collapsing beside her, drained.
Later, in the living room, he sat smoking cigarette after cigarette.
At three in the morning, in the bathroom mirror, he saw his bloodshot eyes.
He splashed cold water over his face, braced his hands against the sink, and slowly lifted his head.
Twelve years.
He had endured for twelve years.
And this—
Was his limit.
His robe hung loose, revealing part of his left chest.
Above his heart, beneath his collarbone, a tattoo stretched fiercely across his skin.
A heart-shaped design.
Inside it—
One character.