Qian Zhaoye stood not far away, his face dark and terrifying.
Qu He stepped back from Zhuang Bieyan’s embrace and steadied herself. She lowered her head to straighten her wedding dress, not noticing the cold sharpness that flashed through Zhuang Bieyan’s eyes when he saw Qian Zhaoye.
Qian Zhaoye strode forward and grabbed Qu He’s wrist, pulling her behind him.
His gaze froze the moment it landed on Zhuang Bieyan, and when he spoke again, all his earlier arrogance was gone: “Zhuang… President Zhuang? What are you doing here?”
Zhuang Bieyan gave a slight nod, leisurely adjusting his cuff as his gaze swept coldly over Qian Zhaoye’s hand gripping Qu He’s wrist.
“Miss Qu.” He looked at Qu He, his voice low. “What doesn’t suit you is best changed sooner rather than later.”
Qu He was startled. Following his gaze, she saw the hem of the wedding dress trailing longer than it should.
Beautiful as the dress was, it ultimately didn’t fit her.
Qian Zhaoye’s expression turned ugly. In all these years, wherever he went, people fawned over him—this was the first time someone had ignored his greeting.
What was so impressive about Zhuang Bieyan anyway? Just because he came from a prestigious family?
His grip unconsciously tightened, paying no mind to the red marks already forming on Qu He’s wrist.
“President Zhuang, my fiancée is inexperienced. Please don’t mind her.”
Only then did Zhuang Bieyan look at him, his tone polite yet distant: “It seems President Qian is so busy with work that he can only leave his fiancée to try on wedding dresses alone.”
At these words, Qian Zhaoye’s face cycled through shades of pale and red. Qu He sucked in a sharp breath from his grip, twisting her wrist to break free.
The atmosphere froze to its breaking point.
“President Qian.” Zhuang Bieyan’s voice turned cold. “When it comes to someone you hold dear, it’s better to be more careful.”
Qu He’s heart skipped a beat.
Was Zhuang Bieyan speaking up for her?
Had he not heard what the shop assistant said earlier, or…
Qian Zhaoye’s face grew even uglier, but he dared not argue. He released his grip with a resentful air.
Qu He massaged her wrist and looked up to meet Zhuang Bieyan’s eyes directly. There seemed to be something hidden within them that she couldn’t decipher.
The store manager hurried over. “Mr. Zhuang, the items you requested are ready.”
She respectfully led Zhuang Bieyan toward the inner room.
Zhuang Bieyan nodded his farewell to the two. As he passed by, his cuff brushed lightly against Qu He’s palm—just for an instant, then gone.
His figure disappeared at the end of the corridor. Qian Zhaoye turned Qu He around by the shoulders, his tone full of suspicion: “When did you meet Zhuang Bieyan?”
Qu He looked at this man she had loved for seven years and suddenly felt he was utterly unfamiliar.
His tie was crooked, and there was a barely noticeable red mark on his suit jacket—the exact same shade as Qiao Mian’s lipstick in the video.
Seeming to realize his tone had been somewhat offensive, he reached out to caress her face. “I was just too worried about you.”
Qu He tilted her head away. “Didn’t you have something to do? Why did you suddenly come?”
Qian Zhaoye’s expression stiffened for a moment. “What could be more important than accompanying you to try on wedding dresses? Didn’t I want to surprise you?”
Qu He watched the concern he was performing and felt nausea churning in her stomach.
When exactly had he started lying so habitually?
“Is the dress settled? This one suits you well.” Qian Zhaoye’s gaze swept meaningfully over the cutout at Qu He’s waistline.
Qu He closed her eyes. Perhaps the store lights were too bright, making her eyes sting and ache. She turned her body away to avoid his touch. “I’m tired.”
“Alright. Then I’ll take you home.”
Qu He changed out of the wedding dress and walked toward the entrance.
As she passed the mirror at the corner, she saw Zhuang Bieyan standing at the second-floor railing, his eyes fixed intently on her. He didn’t seem surprised to have been spotted, merely offering a faint smile when Qu He looked back.
Knowing that he had witnessed all her humiliation today, Qu He forced a polite smile and quickened her pace to leave.
Outside the bridal shop, Qian Zhaoye eagerly opened the passenger door of his Cayenne, his face full of tenderness. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
Qu He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the familiar Cayenne before her. In her mind surfaced the image from the video—him and Qiao Mian entangled in this very car.
How dare he!
This car was already dirty, and even the air around it carried a sickening stench.
She watched his devoted expression, her hand gripping her bag strap until her knuckles turned white. She barely restrained herself from tearing off the mask on his face.
Seeing her frozen in place, Qian Zhaoye reached out to take her hand. “What’s wrong? Come on, get in.”
Qu He took a step back. “I drove myself.”
Qian Zhaoye’s expression shifted slightly, then quickly returned to a doting smile. “Alright. Then come back to the wedding house for dinner tonight. I’ve prepared a surprise for you.”
“Surprise?” Qu He asked.
What surprise could possibly top what had happened these past two days?
Looking at the fake tenderness on his face, Qu He felt as though her heart was being sliced open bit by bit with a knife.
Seven years. How was it that she only discovered today how counterfeit his devotion was? How cheap!
The two returned to Xishan Peninsula one after the other.
Her and Qian Zhaoye’s wedding house was purchased right here.
The moment she stepped inside, Qu He caught a faint scent of roses.
The next second, Qian Zhaoye walked up to her holding a bouquet of cappuccino roses, his face full of affection: “A He, are you happy?”
Qu He’s fingers dug hard into her palms, her nails almost piercing into her flesh.
Cappuccino roses.
Seven years ago, that was the first bouquet Qian Zhaoye had ever given her.
Back then, her feelings for Qian Zhaoye had been nothing more than lukewarm.
He had held the flowers, his eyes full of her: “A He, you are the one and only rose in this world to me.”
But now, this bouquet felt like a slap, striking her hard across the face.
One and only?
Then what was Qiao Mian?
What were the lingering moans in the video?
What was the pity whispered among the bridal shop staff?
Qian Zhaoye: “I know these are your favorite flowers, so I went to the flower shop especially to buy them today.”
Qu He stared at the flowers before her, her throat tightening, her eyes burning and swelling, yet she forced back the tears.
The flowers were beautiful, but they weren’t what she liked.
From the very first month they started dating, Qu He had told Qian Zhaoye that her favorite flowers were pink lychee roses.
But every holiday after that, what Qian Zhaoye brought was always cappuccino.
The first time she received them, Qu He had smiled and said to him, “You remembered wrong—I like pink lychee.”
Back then, Qian Zhaoye had explained, “Sorry, the two flowers look too similar. I definitely won’t mix them up next time.”
But the second time, the same thing happened again.
At that time, Qu He had still made excuses for him in her heart—boys, after all, it was normal for them not to tell flower varieties apart—and she had even taken him to the flower shop to learn the difference between the two.
The third time, when that bouquet appeared before her eyes again, Qu He simply took it in silence.
The fourth time, the fifth time, the sixth time…
She could no longer find any excuse, and she didn’t want to look for one anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore, after all, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t live without someone.
Qu He took a deep breath. “So this is the surprise you mentioned?”
Qian Zhaoye: “Do you like it, babe? You’ve worked so hard on the company’s affairs lately.”
Qu He was inwardly amused, almost laughing in anger.
How had she never noticed before that Qian Zhaoye was this shameless?
Thinking about it now, it seemed like every time his roses and sweet words came, it was right after she had finished a company project. What was that supposed to be?
A slap in the face followed by a sweet date?
Using cheap, hypocritical affection and a bouquet of flowers she didn’t even like to make her work even harder for the company?
Seeing that she wasn’t reacting, Qian Zhaoye thought she was moved, and smiled as he stuffed the flowers into her arms, his arm naturally sliding around her waist.
His gaze wandered uncontrollably over Qu He’s body.
The waistline from the bridal shop earlier still seemed to be swaying before his eyes.
Qian Zhaoye’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and a wave of heat surged up.
Qu He always wrapped herself in those rigid black business suits, and he had almost forgotten that she was actually very beautiful.
Not the kind of flamboyant, showy beauty like Qiao Mian, but a beauty that required attention to notice—cool and resilient.
It was just that those old-fashioned clothes had sealed away her figure and radiance.
Seven years ago, it was the sight of her in a dress that had drawn him in, but unfortunately…
A surge of possessiveness mixed with novelty rushed up, and Qian Zhaoye’s hand intimately wrapped around Qu He’s slightly stiff shoulder, his fingertips ambiguously brushing twice near her ear.
He lowered his head, leaning toward her ear, his voice thick with desire: “A He, the way you look in a wedding dress… is beautiful.”
After saying this, he paused, completely unaware of the tension in the body in his arms. “Don’t wear those old-fashioned business suits anymore. I prefer seeing you in dresses.”
His tone was light, even carrying a kind of generous condescension. “Dress yourself up prettily, and I’ll feel pleased looking at you too, right?”
Qu He: “…”