The woman’s barrage of curses hit nothing—Qin Sang remained composed, dignified, completely unflinching. It was like throwing a punch into cotton; enraged and humiliated, the attacker lunged forward, trying to rip at Qin Sang’s clothes, screaming, “I’ll tear your face to pieces today, you seductive little fox!”
Qin Sang, phone in hand, ready to call the police, acted instinctively. Her eyes sharp, her hands quicker, she grabbed the scissors she had been using and thrust them forward. “Try touching me and see what happens!”
The cursing woman froze, startled by the blade pointed at her. Another woman, seeing her sister in danger, picked up a nearby vase and shouted, “Sister, get back!”
Just as she raised the vase to strike, a sudden force pressed against her lower back, accompanied by a harsh, commanding voice: “Put it down, now! Or I’ll smash your head in with this stick!”
It was Jiang Yue, appearing out of nowhere, mop in hand, holding the woman at bay.
Qin Sang blinked in surprise at Jiang Yue’s timely arrival. There was no time to overthink; she pressed the scissors closer to the aggressor, voice sharp and commanding:
“Get out! Or I’ll take you to the police!”
One sharp pair of scissors. One wooden stick. The two arrogant women suddenly lost their bravado. Confrontation would only get them hurt. Step by step, Qin Sang and Jiang Yue pushed them out of the flower shop, and the women ran off, swearing and cursing as they went.
Standing at the doorway, Qin Sang and Jiang Yue exchanged a relieved glance, sharing a quiet laugh.
Across the street, seated in a car, Sheng Yu witnessed the entire scene. Watching Qin Sang wielding the scissors and the fleeing women, he quickly surmised that she had just been confronted by troublemakers.
She knew how to resist. She knew how to protect herself. Good.
Yet his expression darkened with melancholy. He knew this composure had come at a cost. She hadn’t always been this way—once, she was gentle, timid even.
Qin Sang’s parents were teachers, busy with their careers. Her mother was older when she was born, and Qin Sang had grown up doted on, sheltered from the harshness of the outside world. Life within her family’s protective cocoon had been peaceful, predictable.
Soft, obedient…
Like that time during her first year of university, walking home from evening classes, she had been cornered by a group of street thugs. Sheng Yu had arrived just in time, fighting with a ferocity that left the men sprawled on the ground, some of them bleeding.
Qin Sang had been terrified, bursting into tears as she clung to him.
It was the first time he had seen her cry, and he had panicked.
Five minutes of fighting. Half an hour of coaxing.
Finally calming her down, he tousled her hair, smiling through a mix of exasperation and tenderness. “How can you be so scared, baby?”
Tear-streaked, she didn’t know what to say, just looked up at him with her watery, pleading eyes. That gaze could melt anyone’s heart.
And from that moment, she could disarm him with a single look.
Sheng Yu tore his eyes away from the flower shop and forced himself to resist the impulse to intervene immediately. He knew that appearing in front of her now would only make her tense and fearful, like a startled bird.
He glanced at the shop’s sign and instructed his assistant:
“Buy all the properties on this block, including the ‘Sang Yu’ flower shop. Place people to protect her. Any suspicious activity, act immediately and report to me. And the two women who ran out—never let them appear anywhere near Qin Sang again.”
“Yes, Mr. Sheng,” the assistant replied. “We’ll take care of it immediately.”
The car drove off, heading toward Qin Sang’s aunt’s house.
Inside the shop, Qin Sang stared in shock at Jiang Yue. “What are you doing back? I thought your filming ran until the end of the month?”
“Don’t even mention it,” Jiang Yue sighed, sinking onto the sofa. “My role got replaced, so I came back.”
Jiang Yue, frustrated and exhausted, vented: “Even a tiny background role with no lines can be replaced… why is my life so cruel?”
It wasn’t the first time Qin Sang had heard Jiang Yue complain about losing a role. She had always felt sympathy, wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do.
Qin Sang wasn’t great at comforting others, but she knew a different perspective could help.
“Think of it as a forced holiday,” Qin Sang said, sitting beside her, trying to soothe her. “Them replacing you? That’s their loss. And as for a tough life…”
She smiled lightly. “I doubt mine’s anywhere near as bad as yours.”
Jiang Yue’s face softened at that, and after a pause, she suddenly hugged Qin Sang, mock-crying, “We really are a pair of unlucky sisters. Heaven’s really blind!”
Then she pulled back, still jittery, and said: “Good thing I arrived in time. Those women looked vicious.”
“No worries,” Qin Sang said, flipping the reassurance. “I’ve got the shop on camera, linked to the police system. Nothing’s going to happen. But…”
Her brows knit slightly, expression serious. “These two women were acting strange. To be safe, I should file a report at the police station.”
“Probably some guy who bought flowers from you a few times, now fighting with his wife. She sees you as the other woman… you’ve had something like this happen before, right?”
Jiang Yue gave her a sympathetic glance. “Beauty is a crime, huh? You really should’ve joined the entertainment industry.”
Qin Sang smirked. “You’re teasing me again.”
But she didn’t really understand—is beauty really a crime?
The world chases beauty. Beautiful clothes sell better. Scenic landscapes draw more attention. Yet when a woman is striking, invisible labels stick to her, often unfairly. Her efforts can be dismissed as mere beauty, as if everything she’s achieved was handed to her on a silver platter.
A handsome man? That’s usually considered a bonus.
This world… was cruel. Women deserved fair treatment, recognition without bias.
Anshun Community, Sixth Floor.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Coming!” Aunt Meilan, just about to start dinner, wiped her hands and hurried to open the door.
When it opened, darkness spilled into the room, bringing a tangible sense of pressure.
Four tall men in black suits stood at the threshold, expressions solemn and serious. The man in front exuded natural authority and cold elegance, making anyone feel inexplicably nervous, eyes darting anxiously.
“Hello, I’m Sheng Yu.”
Seeing Aunt Meilan’s tensed, twitching face, Sheng Yu forced a smile, trying to appear approachable. “Auntie… do you remember me?”