Si Yuan secretly glanced at Jiang Wang.
Unexpectedly, he was looking right back at her.
With an intense, unwavering gaze.
Si Yuan froze for a moment, swallowed the food in her mouth, and asked, “Are… you full?”
“Mhm.”
Si Yuan nodded: “Then when are you leaving?”
Jiang Wang narrowed his eyes: “K
As he spoke, he wanted to take off his own jacket for Si Yuan.
Si Yuan took a step back.
Chen Mo, however, thought she was just being shy and stepped forward to drape it over her.
He noticed that Si Yuan’s clothes and belongings weren’t branded, and he’d heard she had relied on scholarships during her years abroad—her family background probably wasn’t well-off.
“You’ve just returned to the country, so there must be things you’re not familiar with yet, right? My family owns a yacht. I could take you out on the weekend—no need to feel embarrassed.”
Si Yuan sensed that Chen Mo was trying to show her favor.
In his words, there was clear confidence about his family’s yacht.
Si Yuan wanted to return the jacket to him, but he held onto the collar, wrapping it around her in an almost domineering manner.
Just as Chen Mo was about to say something more, a short, sharp honk sounded from behind.
The sound was abrupt and cold, like an ice pick piercing through the sticky curtain of rain.
Both turned around simultaneously. A pure white car sat quietly in the misty rain, its body reflecting a cold, sharp glow under the green traffic light.
Chen Mo’s eyes lit up, his tone tinged with envy. “Wow, a Cullinan! That car isn’t cheap—it’s gotta be at least fifty million, even more expensive than our family’s yacht.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the rear door of the car opened.
First, a hand with distinct knuckles emerged, holding a black umbrella with sharp, sleek ribs.
Thin-soled leather shoes stepped out, splashing tiny droplets from the puddles.
It was Song Yan.
He stood under the umbrella, wearing a deep gray trench coat, poised like a sculpture in the rain—aloof and detached.
From afar, Si Yuan watched, her heart feeling as if gripped by something, her breath slowing for a moment.
This image of him holding an umbrella was one she had remembered for so many years.
On that equally damp and chilly rainy day when she was eighteen, he had stood in the distance just like this, the umbrella hiding half his face as he watched her—drenched, shivering, and crouched in a corner.
Then, without so much as a glance, he turned and walked away, leaving her in the endless rain and darkness.
Song Yan walked over, his gaze first falling on Si Yuan.
He looked her up and down, confirming she hadn’t gotten too wet, before slowly lifting his eyes to Chen Mo.
His expression was too indifferent, yet it carried an invisible pressure.
The smile on Chen Mo’s face stiffened; he felt an inexplicable chill on the back of his neck, and the confidence he’d mustered earlier faded away.
Song Yan’s gaze then shifted to the jacket on Si Yuan’s shoulders, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
In the next moment, he reached out, lightly lifted the collar of the jacket, and casually tossed it back to Chen Mo.
The jacket landed with a soft “thud” in Chen Mo’s arms.
Song Yan’s voice was as cold as the rain: “Next time, don’t wear just any dirty thing.”
“Who do you think you are?!”
Chen Mo was both shocked and angry, his hands trembling as he clutched the jacket. He was about to lash out but found himself frozen in place by Song Yan’s gaze.
Si Yuan lowered her head, her long eyelashes casting a small shadow under her eyes. Digging her nails into her palm, she finally spoke in a hoarse voice, “Brother.”
Song Yan took a step forward, the black umbrella steadily shielding Si Yuan, completely separating her from Chen Mo behind her and the pouring rain.
“Get in the car.”
Si Yuan took a deep breath, stepped forward, and followed Song Yan toward the car.
The edge of the umbrella remained tilted toward her the entire time. A few fine raindrops dotted Song Yan’s shoulders, but he seemed not to notice.
He opened the car door for her and said, “Get in. Don’t catch a cold.”
The door closed.
After a moment, Song Yan also got in.
Si Yuan silently moved to the farthest seat from him.
Song Yan took off his damp suit jacket, then turned his face slightly, his gaze falling on the distance Si Yuan had put between them.
His tone carried a hint of reproach: “Staying away for so long—are you planning to cut ties?”
Si Yuan’s heart gave a sudden jolt, her fingertips tightening around the folder clutched to her chest.
“No,” she explained, “I’ve just been busy with work.”
Her eyes remained downcast as a bitter ache churned inside her.
This was her last remaining family—how could she sever ties?
To avoid being abandoned again, she had already lowered herself to the utmost humility.
She’d even fabricated a fake boyfriend, hoping the Song family wouldn’t grow suspicious of her.
Song Yan’s gaze drifted downward, hesitating for a moment before asking, “With such heavy rain, isn’t your boyfriend coming to pick you up?”
Si Yuan’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as she casually spun another lie: “He’s busy too—his company is going public recently…”
She dared not meet Song Yan’s eyes, afraid her pitiful pretense would be exposed.
Song Yan suddenly let out a low chuckle, the sound dripping with mockery.
He lifted his gaze, sweeping it past Chen Mo who still hadn’t left outside the car window: “I thought perhaps that man just now was the boyfriend you mentioned.”
Si Yuan’s heart clenched as if someone had seized her weakness.