Early winter was drawing near, and Nancheng had already turned cold.
When Qin Sang got out of the taxi, she wrapped her coat tighter around herself. Her slender figure drooped like a fragile willow, eyes lowered. The driver glanced at her swollen, reddened eyes several times and couldn’t help asking with concern, “Miss… do you want me to call the police for you?”
She’d been crying the moment she got into the car—silent tears, but heavy with pain and despair, as if she’d just been through something unbearable. The driver couldn’t help but think she must have run into serious trouble.
Qin Sang forced a faint smile. “No, thank you.”
She didn’t return to the flower shop right away. Instead, she sat down on a bench nearby, needing a moment to steady herself.
She hadn’t wanted to cry.
But his face wouldn’t leave her mind—his sorrow, his pain, even his unspoken grievance and frustration…
And yet she truly didn’t know how to walk back into his world again.
Qin Sang slowly lifted her gaze toward the bustling street ahead. Nancheng was a city full of warmth and human touch—people coming and going, lively chatter everywhere, the corners of the streets steeped in everyday smoke and fire.
Yet she felt shut out.
Unable to feel any of that warmth or noise.
Her world was gray.
Pei Zhiyu, who had been waiting in the shop, immediately stood up when he saw Qin Sang finally return. One look at her swollen eyes made him anxiously scan her from head to toe.
“Did Sheng Yu bully you?” he asked.
“No,” Qin Sang replied calmly, her tone firm. “He wouldn’t bully me.”
Pei Zhiyu froze for a moment, unease creeping into his heart. He deliberately added, “Sheng Yu isn’t the Sheng Yu he used to be. People change over the years, don’t they?”
Qin Sang didn’t argue. Not because she agreed—she just didn’t want to talk.
Seeing that, Pei Zhiyu didn’t push further. He poured her a cup of warm water and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” Qin Sang said softly, sitting down behind the counter.
Watching her distracted, unsettled state after returning from seeing Sheng Yu, Pei Zhiyu felt increasingly uneasy. Still, he kept his tone gentle as he tried to change the subject.
“When I was looking for tissues earlier, I accidentally noticed a few books about the teacher qualification exam under your desk. You still want to become a teacher like your parents, don’t you?”
“No,” Qin Sang replied quickly, masking the truth. “I don’t want that anymore. Those books were from before—I forgot to throw them away.”
She didn’t want a day to come when she’d be standing at a podium, teaching students, while the internet was flooded with shameful videos of her.
Videos she couldn’t even defend herself against.
She changed the topic instead. “What about you? You didn’t follow your childhood dream either. You were so good at computers—yet you chose law.”
She forced a light smile. “I still remember you winning first place in that junior high computer competition.”
A flicker passed through Pei Zhiyu’s eyes. He smiled as well.
“I became a lawyer for you. So your uncle could finally rest in peace.”
Qin Sang gently but decisively rejected that. “When my family had their accident, you were already a lawyer. So don’t say you did it for me.”
Pei Zhiyu laughed awkwardly, finding a way to step down. “I was just joking—you looked so down.”
Then he circled back again. “Honestly, your personality really suits being a teacher. Uncle and Auntie wanted that for you too. It’s just that so many things happened over the years… they changed you.”
He added pointedly, “This society is run by capital. And capital is ruthless. It’s people like us who suffer.”
Qin Sang said nothing, resting her cheek against her hand, looking utterly exhausted.
Pei Zhiyu assumed she was thinking about Sheng Yu and couldn’t hide his bitterness. “Are you thinking about Sheng Yu again?”
He deliberately reminded her, “If Uncle were watching from above, he wouldn’t rest easy. You know he didn’t like Sheng Yu. And I know you don’t like hearing this, but—
“Sang, don’t forget—everything dark in your heart today was caused by cold, merciless capital.
“And Sheng Yu… he is capital incarnate.
“He’s only more terrifying than the rest.”
“Can you stop?” Qin Sang suddenly snapped, emotion surging as she cut him off. “Stop talking about Sheng Yu.”
She was already suffocating under the weight of it all. Why did he have to keep dragging up everything she wanted to forget?
Late at night, Qin Sang had a shattered dream.
She dreamed of her sweet past with Sheng Yu. Dreamed of the fragments of the five years they’d spent apart. She even dreamed that they got married—
Only for the giant screen at the wedding to start playing that shameful, AI-generated video.
The world plunged instantly into endless darkness.
Curses and filth echoed all around her. Even Sheng Yu was dragged into public scorn and ridicule because of her.
The world spun violently, as if she were falling into an abyss with no bottom.
She covered her ears and desperately tried to explain:
“That’s not me… that’s not me…”
“Ah—!”
She jolted awake with a scream, cold sweat soaking her forehead. Her heart pounded so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest, as if a brutal hand were squeezing her heart, slowly crushing it, pushing her toward death.
And yet…
She didn’t want to struggle.
Dying like this didn’t seem so bad.
Death would mean release. Complete release.
But her mother’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind.
“Baby, you must live well in the future. Go see the world your father and I never got to see.”
“We love you so much. We just want you safe and happy.”
In the end, she couldn’t give up on life.
She stared blankly at the ceiling in the dark, then slowly pulled the blanket over her head, hiding all her fear and grievance.
The next morning, the sunlight was bright.
Qin Sang made herself breakfast and went to the flower shop.
That evening, she received a message from Jiang Yue.
Jiang Yue: Sis, good news! Director Li’s movie already has its male lead confirmed, and he happens to be in Nancheng today filming an ad. He wants to meet me. The second male and female leads are coming too—the assistant director set up a dinner. Wish me luck!
Even through the screen, Qin Sang could feel Jiang Yue’s excitement.
Qin Sang: Waiting for your good news. Try not to drink too much. If you need me to pick you up, message me right away.
Jiang Yue: Okay! 🐱👍
Qin Sang’s shop didn’t stay open late. She closed before nine and headed home.
She had just locked up when another message came in—first a crying emoji, then:
Jiang Yue: Aaaah these people can drink! Especially the second female lead—she probably doesn’t like me and keeps forcing me to drink. I’m going to puke!!!
Qin Sang replied immediately.
Qin Sang: Are you drunk? Do you want me to come get you now?
Usually, when Jiang Yue wanted to leave a dinner but had no excuse, she’d secretly message Qin Sang to come pick her up.
But this opportunity was too important. Jiang Yue didn’t dare offend anyone.
Jiang Yue: No, everyone’s still here. I can’t leave first. I’ll message you if I need you.
Qin Sang: Okay. I’m on standby.
Qin Sang went to the supermarket before heading home and made herself a simple dinner.
Just as she finished eating, another message came in.
Jiang Yue: Wuwu… it’s finally over. Come pick me up. I can barely walk.
Qin Sang: I’m on my way.
Jiang Yue had already sent her the location. Qin Sang took a taxi straight there.
She rushed toward the restaurant the moment she got out—only to freeze at the glittering entrance.
Jiang Yue, hair disheveled, was being dragged out by a man gripping her wrist roughly. Two other men of similar age followed behind him.
Jiang Yue struggled desperately, fear written all over her face.
Qin Sang’s heart lurched. She ran forward and blocked their path.
“Who are you? Why are you treating her like this?”
Seeing Qin Sang, Jiang Yue’s eyes lit up with desperate hope. “Sang Sang, save me…”
“Well, well,” the man sneered. “Pretty girls really do have pretty friends.”
He eyed Qin Sang with blatant amazement but didn’t linger. Pulling Jiang Yue closer, he asked arrogantly, “You her friend?”
“Yes,” Qin Sang nodded urgently. “I’m her friend.”
“Good.” The man laughed. “Got money? Your friend broke my watch. Five million. Limited edition.”
Qin Sang froze.
Seeing Jiang Yue’s panic—and her lack of anger—Qin Sang could guess it was probably true.
But five million?
Even if she sold herself on the spot, she couldn’t come up with that kind of money.
She tried to reason with him. “Sir, if it’s our responsibility, we’ll take responsibility. But right now—”
“Enough nonsense.” He cut her off impatiently. “Pay up now, or I take her with me.”
He tugged Jiang Yue hard, about to leave.
Qin Sang frantically blocked him again. “Sir, how about this—”
“No!” the man barked. “Stop wasting my time. Or I’ll take you too.”
He smiled maliciously. “More people makes it more fun.”
That smile dragged Qin Sang straight back into the memory of her own kidnapping. Panic seized her.
In that instant, she realized—
He probably never wanted compensation.
He wanted to take Jiang Yue.
Just as her mind spiraled, one of the men behind him said casually, “Young Master Han, don’t waste time. Aren’t we still heading to see Lord Sheng? That Buddha doesn’t often leave Hong Kong. If we can connect with him…”
The meaning was obvious.
“You heard that name—get out of the way!” Young Master Han snapped at Qin Sang. “Don’t block my road to money!”
He dragged Jiang Yue past her.
Jiang Yue broke down crying. “Let go of me! Sang Sang—Sang Sang!”
Qin Sang spun around, seeing Jiang Yue’s desperate, tear-streaked face.
It was exactly like her own back then.
She couldn’t let Jiang Yue go through the same nightmare.
But what could she do?
Call the police? Even then, they couldn’t pay. The man would keep harassing them. And Jiang Yue—her career would be over before it even began.
Watching Jiang Yue being dragged toward the car, her cries echoing Qin Sang’s name—
Qin Sang finally ran forward again.
“Are you going to see Sheng Yu?” she blurted out. “We’re President Sheng’s friends. Let me call him.”
The man burst into mocking laughter. “You? Friends of Lord Sheng?”
Ignoring the ridicule, Qin Sang pulled out her phone and tapped Sheng Yu’s number. Her finger hesitated—then pressed call.
It rang twice. No answer.
Her heart clenched.
On the third ring, the call connected.
Her voice, already trembling, broke as she cried out, “Sheng Yu.”
Something pierced Sheng Yu’s chest at the sound of her frightened, choked voice, but his tone remained calm.
“What happened?”
Clinging to that voice like a lifeline in the dark, Qin Sang quickly explained everything. Before she could even ask for help, he said gently:
“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. Hand the phone to them. I’ll say a few words.”
Her legs nearly gave out in relief. “Okay.”
She handed the phone to Young Master Han.
The man’s expression changed instantly. He straightened, respectful.
“So you’re friends of Lord Sheng—misunderstanding, total misunderstanding. No need to pay. Just a small matter.”
He returned the phone with exaggerated politeness.
Qin Sang took it back, her heart finally settling. Only now did her eyes redden, tears welling up as she whispered into the phone:
“Thank you.”
So pale. So powerless.
But what else could she say?
On the other end, Sheng Yu didn’t say anything reproachful. He asked softly, “Did you cry?”
“I didn’t,” Qin Sang said, lips pressed tight.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No.” She refused immediately. “I’ve already troubled you enough.”
She didn’t know how to face him right now.
Sheng Yu didn’t insist. “Then go home early. It’s late—be careful. If you need anything, call me anytime.”
“I know.”
She hung up.
Qin Sang immediately took off her coat and wrapped it around Jiang Yue, shielding her face, holding her close as she soothed her gently. “It’s okay now. It’s over. Don’t be afraid…”
She also had Young Master Han explain to the onlookers that it was all a misunderstanding.
Not far away, inside a parked Bentley, Sheng Yu watched with dark, glinting eyes as Qin Sang helped her friend into a taxi.
Qin Sang took Jiang Yue straight home, making her a bowl of sobering soup while she showered.
After drinking it, Jiang Yue sat on the sofa, shaken, mumbling, “I just accidentally bumped into that guy coming out of the restroom… he was adjusting his watch clasp, and it fell…”
Qin Sang hurried to hug her. “It’s over. Don’t think about it anymore. Sleep. Everything will pass.”
Jiang Yue muttered a few more words before Qin Sang helped her to bed. She fell asleep quickly.
But Qin Sang couldn’t.
Worry for Jiang Yue tangled with thoughts of Sheng Yu, keeping her awake all night.
The next morning, Jiang Yue was still asleep when Qin Sang woke up. She didn’t open the shop, choosing to stay home with her.
Around ten, Jiang Yue was jolted awake by a phone call.
It was the assistant director—the same one from last night.
She sat bolt upright, instantly alert, even clearing her throat to sound professional.
“Hello, Director.”
What came back was sharp and furious.
“What did you do after we split up last night? I received a video this morning—of you entangled with three men. The impact is terrible. The male lead has already told the chief director he refuses to work with you. He’s worried the film won’t even be released because of your… conduct.”
The final blow came cold and merciless.
“If this video isn’t handled properly, Jiang Yue—there’s no place for you in this industry anymore.”
The line went dead.
Jiang Yue sat frozen, phone still at her ear, soul seemingly ripped out of her body.
For a long time—
She didn’t move.