Downstairs in the residential compound, the moment Sheng Yu appeared, his executive assistant, Qian Jin, promptly opened the car door for him.
Sheng Yu’s expression was dark, a chill clinging to him as though he no longer intended to restrain his emotions. As he got into the car, he even spoke a single word to Qian Jin in a low, uncharacteristically harsh tone—
“Cigarette.”
After parting with Qin Sang, Sheng Yu had barely smoked anymore. The request came so suddenly that Qian Jin didn’t react right away and turned back to confirm, “President Sheng, what did you say?”
The coldness in Sheng Yu’s eyes deepened instantly. His voice turned impatient. “Do I need to say it again?”
“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare.”
Qian Jin’s heart jolted as he hurriedly took out a cigarette and handed it over, lighting it for him.
Fortunately, people often gifted cigarettes and alcohol, so there were always some kept in the car. Otherwise, this sudden order would have been truly troublesome.
Sheng Yu pinched the cigarette between two fingers, took several deep drags, and exhaled thick rings of smoke that hid the emotions in his eyes. The nicotine suppressed the restlessness churning in his chest—and the restraint he’d endured all night.
No rush. There would always be another chance to win her back.
If gentleness couldn’t break through, then he’d use other means. Either way, he wasn’t letting her go again.
As he released one final plume of smoke, he lifted his gaze through the half-lowered window toward Qin Sang’s apartment. He lingered there for a moment before speaking again.
“Drive.”
As the car pulled out of the compound, Qian Jin asked respectfully, “President Sheng, should your itinerary in Nancheng remain confidential?”
Leaning back with his eyes closed, Sheng Yu replied in a tone devoid of emotion, “Make it look like it was meant to stay confidential—but leaked. And keep a close eye on Hong Kong.”
Qian Jin nodded. “Understood.”
Then he added, “The hospital records from when Miss Qin’s father passed away—I’ll organize everything and hand it to you first thing tomorrow morning.”
Sheng Yu opened his eyes abruptly and instructed in a low voice, “Don’t miss a single detail.”
“Understood.”
Upstairs, Qin Sang cleared the dining table and only then noticed that Sheng Yu hadn’t touched his bowl of rice at all. Thinking back, it seemed he’d eaten only the slice of beef she’d put in his bowl.
She stared for a few seconds—then quickly forced all thoughts of Sheng Yu out of her mind.
After tidying up, she went to shower.
If I fall asleep, I won’t think about anything.
Just as she was getting ready for bed, her phone rang. It was Jiang Yue calling.
Qin Sang answered immediately, only to hear Jiang Yue’s dejected voice. “Want to grab a late-night snack? I can buy something and come over.”
Knowing Jiang Yue had been in a low mood after losing her job, Qin Sang replied even though she wasn’t hungry. “Sure. There’s a new movie out—your favorite genre. We can eat and watch.”
“Okay, wait for me,” Jiang Yue said with a laugh. “I’ll fly over right now.”
With the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, Jiang Yue slipped on her shoes and asked, “What do you want to eat?”
“Anything’s fine. I’m not picky.”
“Alright, I’ll just pick something.”
Just as Jiang Yue was about to head out, she habitually stepped onto the scale by the door—and saw she’d gained a pound. Her appetite vanished instantly.
“Forget it,” she wailed. “Eating at this hour is too sinful. I can’t give up like this. Let’s eat breakfast together tomorrow instead.”
Because of her work, Jiang Yue was extremely sensitive to the numbers on the scale. This wasn’t the first time she’d enthusiastically suggested a meal only to cancel on the spot.
Qin Sang smiled, used to it. “Okay, my big star. Breakfast tomorrow.”
Hearing that, Jiang Yue sighed. “Ugh… when will I actually become a big star? Honestly, it’s not even about the late-night snack. I’m just annoyed and needed to vent. I’m already twenty-four and still playing tiny background roles…”
Between close friends, it was always like this—some worries couldn’t be told to parents, for fear of making them anxious, so they could only be shared with friends.
Some people entered the entertainment industry for money. Jiang Yue, however, had genuinely loved acting since childhood and wanted to turn her passion into a career.
Listening to her frustration, Qin Sang comforted her. “What’s wrong with twenty-four? Plenty of award-winning actresses were older than you when they made it—some even debuted later than you. You can’t give up on yourself first. We’ll shine eventually. Right now is just a period of lying low, building strength…”
Though she knew it was encouragement, Jiang Yue felt much calmer.
They chatted a bit more. Just as they were about to hang up, Qin Sang fell silent for a few seconds, then suddenly called out, “Yueyue.”
“Huh?” Jiang Yue asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“I…”
Sitting on the couch, Qin Sang pressed her lips together, hesitant.
After her parents passed away, she’d been all alone. Many things had no one to discuss them with. With her aunt, she only ever shared good news, never worries. Jiang Yue was the only one she could truly confide in.
She hadn’t planned to say anything—but hearing Jiang Yue’s voice, the pressure inside her clamored for an outlet.
When Qin Sang stayed silent, Jiang Yue grew anxious. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Taking a deep breath, Qin Sang lowered her lashes and spoke slowly. “I… I’ve run into my ex recently.”
Jiang Yue had just kicked off her shoes and sat back on the couch. Her interest ignited instantly. “Really? Now that gets my attention. Is it that mysterious man who made you unable to fall for anyone else?”
Her gossip instincts fully activated, she fired off questions nonstop.
“How did it feel seeing him again? Has he changed? More handsome or uglier? Is he single? Tell me everything—”
Qin Sang answered the last one directly. “He’s single.”
“Single as in always, or just currently?” Jiang Yue pressed. “That’s very important.”
“I don’t know.” Qin Sang hesitated, thinking of what Sheng Yu had said that night. “Maybe… always.”
“Ahhh!” Jiang Yue squealed. “Then he must’ve never been able to like anyone but you. After meeting again, did he act like he really wanted to get back together?”
Qin Sang fell silent.
Because… Sheng Yu did seem to want to reconcile.
A bitter ache welled up in her chest. She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling to hide the redness in her eyes, then let out a long breath. “After we broke up, both our lives changed. You know I went through a lot. Now I just…”
Her words became disjointed, one sentence tumbling over another.
“After meeting him again, I don’t even dare talk to him much. I don’t dare look him in the eyes. I don’t dare respond to anything.”
“Is it because of your eye?” Jiang Yue said softly. “Maybe he doesn’t even care? Even if a lot happened over the years, you’re still you. You haven’t changed.”
Qin Sang’s eyes reddened as she hid the unspeakable grievance inside. The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself, her voice sinking very low. “It’s not just about my eye…”
Jiang Yue didn’t know about the AI video—that final straw, a ticking time bomb.
Several photos from the kidnapping. One video. Even Qin Sang herself couldn’t fully prove anything.
And…
She looked up at the ceiling again, forcing down the emotions surging in her chest. “And over these years, if he’d wanted to, he could have found me. But he didn’t. Of course, I’m not blaming him. There’s no reason to. He must’ve had his own difficulties—maybe he’d already forgotten me with time. I just mean… from the moment we separated until now, both of us had reasons that kept us from returning to the past. Now, meeting again without any warning makes it so you don’t dare hope for anything. Especially me. I don’t dare hope for anything at all.”
Jiang Yue listened carefully and finally understood Qin Sang’s state of mind. She spoke softly, almost mournfully. “Qin Xiaosang, are you avoiding it? Using reason and clarity to keep yourself from getting hurt again—cutting off all other possibilities. That’s not wrong if you want a stable life. But, Qin Xiaosang… life can’t be too rational. Too clear-headed like that makes you unhappy. Sometimes, it needs a little passion.”
Qin Sang disagreed completely. “I used to be passionate. And I wasn’t happy either.”
Jiang Yue: “…”
She had no way to argue that. She’d seen Qin Sang at her most resilient, brimming with courage and fire—yet her life had only been harder then.
After speaking her heart, the tightness in Qin Sang’s chest eased a little. Not wanting Jiang Yue to worry, she forced a light smile and pretended calm. “It was just a sudden encounter. I wanted to talk to you about it. I’m not really sad. Besides, I’m used to being alone now. And our lives are so different—we’re basically from two different worlds.”
Hearing her laugh, Jiang Yue felt more at ease and continued comforting her. “Love isn’t about being from the same world or not. It’s about whether you like each other. And anyway, aren’t the people we meet usually from similar circles? How is that a different world?”
As Jiang Yue spoke, the TV happened to be airing news about an entertainment company under the Sheng Group. She casually added, “What—don’t tell me your ex is Sheng Yu, the guy at the top of the food chain, practically untouchable even among the elite?”
“…”
Qin Sang: “(ΩДΩ)”
She laughed helplessly. “Alright, big star, go get your beauty sleep. I wish you wake up tomorrow to a film offer—and become famous overnight.”
“Hehe…” Jiang Yue accepted happily. “Then I’ll pray that our beauty Qin’s mouth is truly blessed. See you tomorrow morning for breakfast.”
After ending the call, Qin Sang noticed a new message on her phone.
It was from Sheng Yu—sent two minutes earlier.
Sheng Yu: You live alone. If you need anything, you can call me anytime.
Staring at the message, Qin Sang felt her newly calmed heart churn again. Her fingers tightened around the phone, over and over.
She didn’t reply. She placed the phone on the bedside table and tried to sleep.
But her mind replayed scenes like a movie all night long—every memory of Sheng Yu—until she finally fell asleep in the early hours.
Morning came with a phone ringing nonstop, like it was demanding her life. Feeling as though she’d just fallen asleep, Qin Sang groggily fumbled for her phone, squinting to see it was Jiang Yue calling. She answered immediately.
Before she could say a word, Jiang Yue’s shrill, image-forgetting scream burst through the line—
“AHHHHH! My Qin beauty, did your mouth get blessed for real?! Guess what call I got first thing this morning?!”
“Huh?”
Qin Sang winced as the noise assaulted her ears and pulled the phone slightly away. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. “What call?”
Jiang Yue was practically vibrating with excitement. “Director Li En—that Director Li—called me personally! He said SY Entertainment is preparing a historical film and asked if I’m free to audition for the female lead early next month! I thought I was dreaming—I was so excited I nearly died!”
Qin Sang froze for a second, then smiled for her. “Congratulations! See? I told you you’d shine.”
Jiang Yue continued excitedly. “Do you know SY Entertainment? It’s under the Dingsheng Group—the one I mentioned last night. Sheng Yu. Their films are all big-budget, high-reputation productions. With Dingsheng backing them, money’s no object. They once made a military film—the warships and tanks were all real… I can’t take it anymore, I’m so excited. I’m going to lose weight, shape up, polish my acting—I have to seize this chance in perfect condition. I can’t let such a discerning sponsor down…”
Jiang Yue rambled on excitedly, but the moment Qin Sang heard the name Sheng Yu, her mind went blank.
Could it really be a coincidence?
She hoped it was.
After hanging up, Jiang Yue insisted on having breakfast together, convinced it was Qin Sang’s “blessed mouth” that brought the opportunity.
After they parted ways, Qin Sang went to the flower shop, still uneasy. While opening up, she noticed workers installing surveillance cameras at the barbershop next door. She greeted the owner warmly.
“Good morning. Installing cameras?”
The barbershop owner leaned in with a smile and whispered, “Did your landlord lower your rent? I heard this street’s being turned into the safest street in Nancheng. Landlords reduced the rent on condition that extra cameras be installed outside. They’re all from the same nationally certified security company. Anyway, we run legitimate businesses—extra cameras don’t hurt.”
Qin Sang glanced around. Several open shops were having cameras installed. She was about to say she hadn’t heard anything from her landlord when a voice called out behind her.
The landlord—a kind woman in her fifties—smiled warmly. “Xiao Qin, come on in. I’ve got good news for you.”
Behind her stood a younger man, equally approachable.
Qin Sang quickly opened the door wider. “Of course, Auntie, please come in.”
Inside, as expected, the landlord explained the rent reduction and camera installation. Since it didn’t really affect her business, Qin Sang agreed.
Then the landlord added that she’d sold the property to the young man behind her and that future rent matters should be discussed with him.
She’d mentioned before that she planned to sell the place and move abroad with her son, so Qin Sang accepted it calmly.
Still, all morning in the flower shop, Qin Sang felt an inexplicable sense that something wasn’t right—yet she couldn’t pinpoint why.
At noon, just as she was about to order takeout, her phone rang. It was Sheng Yu calling.
After hesitating briefly, she answered.
“Have you eaten lunch?” his voice asked.
She didn’t answer directly. “What about you?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll treat you to lunch then,” Qin Sang said quickly.
She wanted to ask about Jiang Yue’s movie.
She didn’t want their relationship to turn into his one-sided charity—or pity.