Song Wanyi has two things she has never told anyone. First, she hates rainy days. Second, she has a secret.
It was an August evening, still oppressively hot. Though the sun was about to set, the heat clung stubbornly to every inch of her skin.
After smiling and saying goodbye to everyone, Song Wanyi finished her shift for the day.
With her backpack slung over her shoulders, she walked beneath the fading glow of the sunset, waiting to catch the 308 bus home.
Even though this summer job was far from the university district, the pay was good and the working environment was comfortable. Despite the one-hour commute each way, she cherished the job.
In just a few days, tuition would be due. She needed the money.
Her counselor had already messaged her on WeChat to remind her in advance.
Ding-dong. The bus arrived.
Song Wanyi got on, chose a window seat, and pulled out a book titled Introduction to the Humanities from her backpack.
The evening light fell across her plain white T-shirt, as if adding a rare touch of color to her otherwise muted life.
An hour later, she stepped off the bus and returned to her student dormitory.
She was alone. Her roommates had all gone home after final exams.
She turned on the light, placed the fried noodles she had casually bought by the roadside onto her desk, and took out her notebook to record the day’s expenses.
If tuition was due next week, then even after adding her current savings and the salary she was about to receive, she would still be nearly two thousand short.
Worry crept in. That wasn’t an amount she could gather in just a week.
With that anxiety weighing on her, she drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, it was that same rainy night again. She could hear herself crying, yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wake up.
At 9 a.m. the next morning, Song Wanyi arrived at work on time.
It was an Italian gelato shop located in a prime mall in the city center—where every inch of space was expensive.
Unsurprisingly, the ice cream there came with a jaw-dropping price tag.
She set down her bag, changed into her uniform and apron, slipped on rubber gloves, and began preparing for the day.
“Hello! I’m late—sorry!” Shuqing apologized as she hurried in.
“Good thing the manager isn’t here today,” Song Wanyi said with a smile.
Shuqing was her coworker. They were both working summer jobs at the shop, and because they shared similar backgrounds, they got along easily.
Shuqing stuck out her tongue, then shuddered slightly at the thought of the manager’s stern face.
“It’s fine. If he scolds me, just use your charm on him. He’s always staring at you anyway—it’s all your fault for having such a pretty face.”
Song Wanyi didn’t get upset, only smiled indifferently. The manager’s gaze did make her uncomfortable at times, but nothing had ever crossed the line. Besides, the job would end next week.
“Oh, right,” Shuqing leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “I took a gig as a cheerleader for a basketball game tomorrow night. But my cat suddenly got sick today—I have to take her to the hospital for surgery. Can you cover for me? The pay is really good.”
She added with a grin, “I heard there’ll be lots of handsome guys there. You can make money and enjoy the view—aren’t you tempted?”
“How much?” Song Wanyi only cared about her tuition.
“Five hundred. If you go, you can have all of it.”
“Alright. Send me the time, location, and details on WeChat.”
“That game is actually pretty high-level—I worked really hard to land that job,” Shuqing sighed. “But my cat matters more.”
Living alone in the city, Shuqing rented a small room and kept a cat. She once told Song Wanyi that the cat was her only family in the world.
“Let me know if you need any help,” Song Wanyi said, pausing her work.
“Okay.”
As Shuqing looked at her, she couldn’t help but think—Song Wanyi was truly beautiful.
Even in simple T-shirts and jeans, her graceful figure stood out in any crowd. Her pale skin, delicate features, and natural student-like aura often made people pause when they saw her. Customers would frequently ask for her WeChat.
But Song Wanyi never seemed interested in such things.
Her life was always weighed down by pressure, filled with back-to-back part-time jobs just to get by.
After work the next day, Song Wanyi headed toward the sports arena following the address she’d been given. Luckily, it wasn’t far—she could walk there.
She bought two steamed buns from a roadside stall, planning to settle dinner quickly.
But not far away, beside a trash can, she spotted a stray cat rummaging for food.
Its tiny claws scraped against the plastic, making a harsh, grating sound that seemed to pierce straight into her heart.
When it noticed her approaching, it instinctively backed away, watching her warily—its feline instincts on full display.
Song Wanyi quietly crouched down.
Under the golden glow of the setting sun, her white T-shirt seemed almost brushed with gold. Her soft hair fell over her shoulders, unable to hide her slender, graceful figure.
She gently extended her dinner toward the cat. Her pale, delicate wrist looked almost fragile—and even the cat seemed to lower its guard.
Catching the scent of food, it let out a soft “meow.”
Grabbing the food, it quickly darted into a nearby alley.
Song Wanyi stood up, watching it disappear into the distance.
She had never thought of herself as kind—kindness costs money, and she had none.
But seeing that small, helpless stray cat digging through trash for survival, she couldn’t help but think of her own past.
For the past twenty years, hadn’t her life been much the same?
Abandoned. Cast aside. That was her fate.
Lost in thought, she continued walking toward the arena.
Even though the weather forecast said there was only a slight chance of rain that night, she still brought an umbrella.
She was terrified of getting caught in the rain.
She had heard of this arena before, but had never been inside. It only hosted major events and was never open to the public.
Song Wanyi took a deep breath and silently prayed that everything would go smoothly tonight.
As she hurried toward the arena, she suddenly noticed a group of security guards in black suits rushing toward the entrance.
Instinctively, she followed their gaze.
A row of sleek black business cars was lined up neatly. As a man in a black uniform stepped forward and respectfully opened a door, a distinguished-looking man emerged from the back seat of a deep sapphire-blue Bentley.
He had a strikingly handsome face, with sharp, well-defined features—a straight nose, a chiseled jawline, and an air of quiet authority.
He wore a crisp white shirt and tailored black trousers that accentuated his long legs. On his feet were custom-made Oxford shoes, and on his wrist, a Patek Philippe perpetual calendar watch. Everything about him radiated wealth and distance, as if he were someone not to be approached.
“Mr. Shen, this way please—VIP entrance,” said a man with a badge, likely the head of security.
He gave a slight nod.
A dark red carpet stretched beneath his feet, and it felt as though all eyes were drawn to him.
Flanked by two lines of bodyguards, he walked in with one hand casually in his pocket. Yet even that casual posture couldn’t hide his innate nobility.
Song Wanyi knew clearly—this was a man from a completely different world.
In this world, people were divided into ranks. And she would always belong to the very bottom.
“Excuse me, miss,” a guard with an earpiece said tensely, afraid of any mishap.
The man seemed to cast a brief, indifferent glance her way, but Song Wanyi didn’t notice.
Snapping back to reality, she quickly stepped aside into a corner, making way for the imposing procession.
Once they passed, she ran toward the gathering point backstage, where people were already beginning their makeup.
The outfit was a bright orange short-sleeved top paired with a skirt-shorts combination. It felt a bit too revealing for her taste, but she forced herself to put it on.
In between makeup, she kept taking out her phone to review the cheerleading routine.
The moves were simple, but she was still nervous. She needed the pay badly—she couldn’t afford to mess this up.
“Are you new? I haven’t seen you before.” A girl beside her, wearing heavy makeup and dramatic false lashes, whistled as she looked Song Wanyi up and down, inwardly marveling at her figure—so alluring, yet paired with such an innocent face.
“Yes, I’m just filling in temporarily,” Song Wanyi replied.
“You look young—still a student, right? What’s your name? I’m Xiao Xi.”
“I’m Song Wanyi. You can call me Song Wanyi. I study at Hu City University.”
“A top student, huh? Nice to meet you, Song Wanyi. I’m part of the V Dance Crew. Our studio is handling this cheerleading job.”
“Time to enter!” a staff member called out, urging everyone to line up.
Song Wanyi realized she was standing right next to Xiao Xi.
“If you forget anything later, just ask me,” Xiao Xi said.
Perhaps thanks to the dance training she had as a child, Song Wanyi managed to get through the opening performance smoothly.
Though she briefly forgot a few moves, she covered it up well enough not to stand out.
After all, most of it was just waving pom-poms—she could follow the others.
When the performance ended, they returned backstage to rest.
“Come on, let’s go check out the handsome guys!” Xiao Xi grabbed Song Wanyi’s hand. “I heard this game has top-tier players—you don’t usually get to see this kind of thing.”
Song Wanyi closed the book she had just opened, Cultural Relics Restoration. In such a noisy environment, she couldn’t focus anyway, so she decided to go along.
They stood in a corner near the front of the court, watching the intense game alongside the staff in the aisle.
The two teams seemed evenly matched, the score tight the entire time.
“Look, look! That handsome guy in the white shirt sitting in the front row across from us!” Xiao Xi tugged excitedly at Song Wanyi’s arm. “He’s the one in charge of Wanzhen Group. I heard a big reason for this match is that he’s planning to invest in and acquire a team. Whichever team performs better might get his massive sponsorship.”
Song Wanyi followed her gaze—and froze slightly.
It was the same man she had seen at the entrance.
Two imposing bodyguards stood behind him. Seated at the very center of the front row, he had the best view in the arena.
“His last name is Shen?” Song Wanyi asked casually.
“Yeah. You can look him up on your phone.”
He seemed busy—people kept approaching him, leaving him little time to actually watch the game.
He sat there casually, yet carried an air of complete control, as if the entire scene was under his command. He watched the game with calm indifference, as though winning or losing didn’t matter.
After it ended, everyone backstage laughed and celebrated the successful performance.
Song Wanyi, alone, headed toward the women’s restroom.
The arena was massive, and during halftime, many people were gathered in the corridors buying drinks.
Dressed in her bright orange uniform, she knew she stood out. Curious glances followed her wherever she went.
She deliberately chose a more secluded restroom—she didn’t like crowded places.
“Hey there, little sister!”
Just as she stepped out after washing her hands, a man with dyed red hair and a nose ring blocked her path, grinning mischievously.
Startled, Song Wanyi lowered her head and tried to slip past him.
But he seemed to sense her fear and cornered her.
“How old are you? So pretty… how about adding me on WeChat? Big brother really likes you.” He kept inching closer, the strong smell of smoke on him sharp and unpleasant.
“I don’t have WeChat,” Song Wanyi said, trying to brush him off.
“Are you kidding me? Who doesn’t have WeChat these days?” he scoffed, leaning in closer.
Cold sweat broke out across her back. She wanted to call for help, but the area was too secluded—there wasn’t a single person around. She cursed herself for being too careless.
“I… I forgot my phone. Why don’t you give me your ID? I’ll add you later.”
“No way. I saw you carrying your phone into the restroom. I followed you all the way here.” His expression darkened as he raised his hands, reaching toward her pockets.
Her thin skirt-shorts offered no protection—she couldn’t let him touch her.
Song Wanyi struggled, knocking his hands away, but the difference in strength was too great. Trapped in the corner, she could only keep dodging his advances.
Just as she was running out of options—
A low, cold voice came from behind.
“She told you to stop. Didn’t you hear her?”
Song Wanyi turned around.
Dark suit pants outlined long legs; his face was calm, but his sharp gaze was impossible to ignore.
It was him—the man she had seen at the entrance.