November in the capital city—winter had already set in.
The sky hung low and gray, fine snow whipped by the bitter wind stinging against the face with bone-piercing cold.
Xu Yumo pulled her trench coat tighter and walked quickly into the High-Tech Innovation Park.
Most of the companies in the park were newly established tech startups. The buildings weren’t tall, and the decor was hardly impressive, yet they gathered countless entrepreneurs chasing their dreams.
The elevator climbed steadily. When the doors slid open on the ninth floor, a sleek silver nameplate came into view—
Aether Technology.
The office spanned just over three hundred square meters with forty or fifty employees, yet it was the culmination of two years of painstaking effort she had built up piece by piece.
The moment she pushed open the glass door, her assistant Xu Li rushed over in a fluster.
“Ms. Xu, we have a big problem! Taike just called out of nowhere—they’ve unilaterally voided the tactile sensor procurement plan we’d finalized. They’re not supplying us anymore!”
Xu Yumo’s motion of removing her coat came to an abrupt halt, her brows knitting together. “Not supplying? Didn’t we wire the deposit last week?”
“The deposit was refunded in full. They said there were issues with equipment calibration. But I asked around privately—yesterday they shipped goods to another automation company.” Xu Li clenched her teeth, her tone simmering with indignation.
Xu Yumo’s gaze darkened. Without a word, she pushed open her office door and dialed the general manager of Taike directly.
“Mr. Zhao, this is Xu Yumo.” She tossed her bag onto the desk and cut straight to the point. “I’d like to ask—regarding the contract for that batch of high-sensitivity tactile sensors, why did Taike suddenly back out? Is there something on our end that didn’t meet your expectations?”
On the other end of the line, Mr. Zhao hemmed and hawed for a long moment, his tone carrying that elder-style slickness. “Yumo, this has nothing to do with Aether. It was your father who personally put the word out…”
Xu Yumo’s fingers tightened around her phone, knuckles going white. “My father told you not to supply me?”
“That’s right.” Mr. Zhao let out a sigh, speaking with weighty sincerity. “Your father is doing this for your own good. He says this humanoid robot venture of yours is just burning money on a big-model toy. Heavy investment, long cycles, high risk. You should head back to Xu Heavy Industries while you still can, learn to take over the family’s traditional business—that’s real, tangible assets.”
Finally, like a dutiful lobbyist, he delivered the finishing blow: “Take your uncle’s advice—stop butting heads with your father. Go back and admit you were wrong. Xu Heavy Industries is more than enough room for you to spread your wings.”
The call ended. The monotonous beeping of the disconnected line rang harshly in the silent office.
Xu Yumo slowly set down her phone and gazed out at the steel-and-concrete metropolis beyond the window. A desolate feeling swelled within her like wild grass.
Her father, Xu Zhengming, had never opposed her entrepreneurship out of concern for the cost of trial and error—it stemmed from an arrogance and contempt ingrained in his bones.
In his eyes, her so-called ideals, passion, and persistence were nothing more than a young person’s fleeting whim.
So when she refused to concede, he began to correct her himself. Using resources as a blade and connections as a net, he tightened the noose bit by bit until she had no way out and would obediently return to the path he had laid for her.
But she was long tired of a life controlled by strings.
From childhood to adulthood, she had been like a fine porcelain piece enshrined on an altar—never truly holding the power of decision, no one ever caring what she actually loved.
In her sophomore year, she rebelled openly for the first time, secretly switching her major from finance to artificial intelligence behind her family’s back.
When Xu Zhengming found out, he flew into a thunderous rage and immediately froze all her overseas accounts, trying to force her to yield through the most direct means possible.
That was the most desperate period of her life.
Her bank balance kept dwindling. Rent, utilities, and tuition came crashing down one after another, pressing down on her until she could barely breathe.
On the snowy night she was about to be thrown out by her landlord, she crouched on the steps outside her apartment door, staring blankly at the meager balance on her phone, running calculations over and over in her head for how to survive the days ahead.
Just then, a black card was suddenly slapped onto her forehead.
“What are you worrying about?”
The familiar voice carried a hint of casual amusement.
Xu Yumo looked up, dazed.
Zhou Shiye stood in the wind and snow in a black tactical jacket, snowflakes dusting his shoulders. Seeing her frozen in place, he casually ruffled her hair, the gesture as natural as when they were kids.
“Even if the sky falls, your buddy’s got your back.”
To this day, she never learned how Zhou Shiye had gotten word, or how he’d driven all the way from New York to Princeton in such a heavy snowstorm.
She only remembered that on that bitingly cold snowy night, a young man stood amid the swirling flurries and reached out his hand to her.
It was also from that day on that she weathered the hardest times, turning her passion into a career step by step, securing her first round of venture capital.
But after returning to the country, entrepreneurship hadn’t been as smooth as she’d imagined.
A startup like Aether Technology had neither mature supply chain resources nor much bargaining power on core components. Any single bottleneck could directly stall the entire R&D timeline.
After finally finding a suitable partner, Xu Zhengming had cut it off from under her again.
Xu Yumo took a deep breath, suppressing the tightness in her chest, and picked up her phone to continue contacting new backup suppliers.
But she worked all the way until the end of the day with no results.
It was as if, invisibly, all her channels and connections were being severed one by one.
She glanced at the time—already past seven.
Tonight was Zhou Shiye’s birthday party. If she didn’t leave now, she’d be late.
The supplier matter would have to be pushed to tomorrow.
She hurriedly packed up her things, made a detour to the cake shop to pick up the cake she’d ordered in advance, and then took a cab to the outskirts of the capital.
The night on the outskirts was silent and desolate.
But a private villa halfway up the mountain blazed with lights, music drifting faintly through the darkness, mingled with the lingering roar of sports car engines—ostentatious and utterly out of place in this quiet.
Xu Yumo pushed open the villa’s heavy wooden door.
The clamor spilled out instantly, a wave of heat carrying expensive perfume, alcohol, and the scent of tobacco all rushing toward her.
In the center of the living room, on the leather sofa, Zhou Shiye was surrounded by a crowd.
He wore a black shirt, collar loosely open, collarbone lines faintly visible, sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, his wrist bones sharp and clean. He lounged lazily amid the shifting lights and shadows, sharp-featured and exuding an unapologetic aura—the kind of person who seemed born to be the center of attention.
“Ye-ge, your dry spell’s been going on a while now—almost half a year, right?” Someone laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Still haven’t found someone new? That’s not like you. Gone soft?”
Zhou Shiye leaned back lazily against the sofa, an unlit cigarette pinched between his fingers, his voice carrying a slightly drunken rasp and indifference: “Haven’t run into anyone interesting. Can’t muster the energy.”
“What about Xu Yumo?”
Lin Yuhang leaned in, his tone laced with meaningful teasing: “You two have always gotten along pretty well, haven’t you? She’s getting more beautiful too. With that innocent look of hers, half the circle’s got their eyes on her. You never thought about giving it a shot?”
Zhou Shiye was silent for a moment, then let out a scoffing laugh.
“Xu Yumo?” He straightened up, casually tossing the cigarette into the crystal ashtray, his tone dismissive. “Too familiar. Being with her would be no different from my left hand touching my right. No spark.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the living room erupted in laughter.
“Exactly—Ye-ge likes women with some fire!”
“Xu Yumo’s too well-behaved for that. Can’t even bring yourself to make a move!”
…
Xu Yumo’s steps faltered. Her fingertips clenched abruptly, the ribbon on the cake box nearly crushed out of shape.
She stood frozen for a few seconds, then swallowed the tightness in her throat and stepped out of the shadows with a blank expression.
“Zhou Shiye.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was like pressing pause—the noisy living room fell instantly silent.
Zhou Shiye’s movements halted. The moment he turned and saw her, the smile on his face stiffened. But quickly, he slipped back into that rakish, carefree demeanor, casually waving her over. “Mo Mo’s here? Come sit.”
She didn’t sit. She just set the cake down in the corner of the coffee table.
“Happy birthday.”
She lifted her head. Those almond eyes, usually so clear and bright, were now dim, with no light falling into them. “The cake’s delivered. I’m leaving.”
Zhou Shiye frowned slightly and reached out, catching her slender wrist.
“Leaving as soon as you got here?” His voice dropped a notch. “I even saved you some champagne.”
“I’ve been working overtime these past few days. A bit tired.” Her voice was soft, and she gave her wrist a slight tug. “Going home to catch up on sleep.”
“Then at least have a bite of cake before you go.” He didn’t let go, his gaze sweeping over the box on the table. “Don’t let the trip go to waste.”
Xu Yumo lowered her eyes, her gaze landing on his hand—those clearly defined knuckles.
The warmth that had once made her feel so safe she’d craved it now carried an indescribable irony.
Did he think she hadn’t heard what was said earlier?
Or was he so certain that no matter what he said, she’d stay?
Her chest felt like it was being pricked by fine needles. She yanked her hand away. “Fine. I’ll take it home and eat it.”
With that, she picked up the cake and left without looking back.
As the door closed, the air in the living room seemed to skip a beat.
Zhou Shiye was still standing there, his hand frozen mid-air, his expression briefly blank.
“Ye-ge, damn…” Lin Yuhang rubbed his nose awkwardly. “She definitely heard us teasing earlier. She’s pissed. Aren’t you going to chase after her and smooth things over?”
“Did I say anything wrong?” Zhou Shiye scoffed, pulling his gaze back and sinking into the shadow of the sofa again.
He casually picked up a glass, his tone so languid it bordered on cruel: “She and I were never anything but friends. What’s there to smooth over?”
“But anyone can see she’s into you…” Lin Yuhang muttered under his breath.
“Cut the crap.”
Zhou Shiye’s eyes darkened. He tipped his head back and downed a large gulp of liquor, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the burn slid down his throat.
“Want to bet? At most a week, and she’ll get over it.”
The moment she stepped out of the villa, Xu Yumo’s forcibly straightened spine collapsed. Tears spilled from her eyes, mingling with the cold snowflakes as they fell into her collar, sending a bone-deep chill through her.
She didn’t want to expose her disheveled state to anyone, so she quickly turned into a quiet garden nearby, hoping to compose herself under the cover of night.
But the moment she stepped into the corridor, her feet froze in place.
Beneath the pavilion ahead stood a tall, upright figure.
A faint ember glowed between the man’s slender fingertips, flickering in the darkness. The subtle scent of tobacco mingled with cold sandalwood, spreading silently through the still air.
He wore a well-tailored dark suit, his posture tall and refined.
Even standing there casually, the commanding presence of someone long accustomed to power was impossible to ignore.
Xu Yumo’s breath caught. Flustered, she lowered her head, her voice soft but unable to hide the lingering tremor of tears: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
With that, she turned to leave.
But behind her came a faint sound.
The man pressed the cigarette against the edge of the stone platform and extinguished it unhurriedly.
“No matter.” His voice was low and steady. “I was already finished.”
Accompanied by the light crunch of leather shoes on gravel, he strode toward her.
As he passed by, the man suddenly paused.
“Broken heart?”
His tone was faint, revealing nothing.
Xu Yumo froze for a moment, instinctively lifting her head.
The dim lamplight beneath the eaves happened to fall across the man’s profile.
His brow bone was prominent, his features sharp and defined.
Yet a tiny, faint mole adorned the corner of his eye, softening that coldness and lending him an inexplicable allure.
He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen him before.
A complete stranger had easily seen through her current state and called it out so bluntly.
Xu Yumo didn’t know how to respond.
Seeing her silence, the man didn’t press further. He simply handed her a gray handkerchief: “Wipe your face.”
Her fingertips had gone stiff from the wind, and before she could think, she’d already taken it instinctively.
“Thank you…”
She murmured, hastily dabbing away the tear stains on her face. The moment the warm fabric touched her skin, that fleeting loss of control seemed to be absorbed bit by bit, leaving only belated embarrassment in its wake.
She lowered her head, looking at the handkerchief she’d already crumpled in her hands, then at the carefully wrapped cake in her other hand that had nowhere to go. Her cheeks flushed slightly.
“Um…”
She clutched the ribbon of the cake box, her voice faltering: “This cake hasn’t been opened. It’s from a famous private dessert shop, and it tastes pretty good… Please take it, as a thank you for the handkerchief.”
The moment the words left her mouth, even she thought it was absurd.
Who would, on such a cold, late night, hand over a birthday cake meant for someone else to a stranger who’d just offered a handkerchief?
But she had no time to dwell on whether it made sense, nor did she dare wait for his response. She hastily set the cake on the bench nearby and fled.
The cold wind lifted her black hair and the hem of her trench coat slightly.
Only when that slender figure had completely disappeared around the corner of the ornate iron gate did the man finally withdraw his gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable as they settled on the abandoned cake.