Both of them were soaked through.
With the night wind blowing, a chill crept in—only their breaths remained warm. Standing too close, their breathing tangled together.

 

That faint warmth only deepened the ambiguity.

 

Zhou Yang couldn’t stop his gaze from falling on her red lips. The memory of their tongues entwining lingered, impossible to forget.

 

Thunder rumbled as the heavy rain continued. He lowered his head, thin lips searching for hers.

 

Su Hao suddenly turned her head.

 

His lips landed on her cheek instead. A faint fragrance drifted from her damp hair. The veins on the back of Zhou Yang’s hand stood out; his long fingers were cold as he clenched them tightly. He closed his eyes.

 

In the end, he let go of Su Hao and said in a low voice,
“I’ll take you home.”

 

With that, he turned and walked into the rain, bent down to pick up the umbrella that had been blown around by the wind, then came back, holding it over her head, looking at her.

 

Su Hao tugged a strand of hair from her lips. With her other hand, she pulled at her clothes to keep them from clinging too tightly to her body. Her gaze met the man’s eyes.

 

After a few seconds, she looked away.

 

Calm—almost unnervingly so. Her voice was very soft.
“I’ve called a car.”

 

Zhou Yang said nothing, holding the umbrella, squinting at her.

 

Su Hao took out her phone and glanced at it.

 

Because the distance was too short—and probably because of the rain—the ride had been canceled.

 

Her brows knitted slightly.

 

“What?” the man said in a low voice, tinged with amusement. “The order got canceled?”

 

Su Hao looked up.

 

Zhou Yang said, “After all this, what are you still afraid of? It’s not like I’d fuck you in the car.”

 

“Why don’t you set your phone to 110? If I make a move, you can call the police.”

 

His tone carried a hint of mockery. Su Hao stared at him silently for a few seconds. He was still standing in the rain, the umbrella large but his body completely soaked. Gone was his usual air of confidence—he looked almost lonely.

 

They stood in a stalemate for a few seconds.

 

Su Hao pressed her lips together, stepped forward, and moved under the umbrella.

 

Zhou Yang glanced down at her, then turned around.

 

There was a slight distance between their bodies, yet both were sheltered beneath the umbrella. They reached the Porsche. The rain was so heavy it blurred the road ahead, pattering relentlessly, vibrating in their ears.

 

Zhou Yang opened the back door. Su Hao bent down and got in. The car’s air conditioning had been set cold—goosebumps instantly rose on her skin. She rubbed her arm. The door slammed shut.

 

Zhou Yang walked around to the driver’s seat, folded the umbrella, glanced at the rearview mirror, switched on the heater, and started the car.

 

Soft music played inside, but it was low to begin with. Combined with the roar of the rain, only broken fragments could be heard.

 

The car was quiet. Neither of them spoke.

 

Soon, they arrived at Huahui Residential Complex.

 

Late-night food stalls were open under rain canopies, still bustling with people. The air was thick with everyday warmth and noise.

 

Su Hao reached for the door handle—it wouldn’t open. She frowned and called out,
“Zhou Yang.”

 

“Mm?” His voice was low, responding softly.

 

“Open the door.”

 

He laughed lightly, one hand resting on the steering wheel as he turned to her, eyebrows raised.
“Why don’t you try calling 110?”

 

Su Hao fell silent.

 

She looked at him quietly.

 

Gentle. Completely calm.

 

Zhou Yang’s smile faded slightly, the recklessness in his eyes dimming. He frowned, then after a few seconds reached out, tossed the black umbrella into her lap, and unlocked the doors.

 

Su Hao didn’t even look at the umbrella.

 

She pushed the door open and stepped straight into the rain, walking toward the complex.

 

“Fuck.” Zhou Yang froze, then grabbed the umbrella, got out of the car, and chased after her, opening it over her head.

 

Su Hao quickened her pace. Zhou Yang frowned, then couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation.

 

They reached the entrance.

 

Su Hao went straight into the building without looking back.

 

Back at home, she hurried to take a shower, turning the water hotter than usual. Afterward, she put on long-sleeved pajamas, dried her hair, went to the kitchen, and made a large bowl of ginger soup.

 

After drinking it all, warmth spread through her body, and only then did her heart finally settle.

 

She leaned against the kitchen wall for a while before washing the bowl and returning to the living room.

 

Her small bag had been soaked too. It was a gift from Liao Yun, bought during a trip to Yunnan—simple in style, supposedly genuine leather.

 

She wasn’t sure what the inside looked like now.

 

Nervously, she pulled open the zipper. Her phone was inside, along with lipstick and a few small items.

 

Everything was dry.

 

She let out a sigh of relief and wiped her phone with a tissue.

 

Looks like the bag was decent quality after all.

 

She sat on the sofa for a while longer before going to bed. As she turned off the bedside lamp, her lips brushed against the pillow.

 

Just lightly.

 

It felt strange.

 

She frowned.

 

Click.

 

The light went out, leaving only a small wall lamp glowing faintly.

 

She turned onto her side, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

 

She rarely dreamed, but this time, strange images flooded her mind as soon as she drifted off. The beginning was chaotic, unclear—but the latter part became vivid.

 

Sometimes it was Zhou Yang as a teenager. Sometimes it was the man he was now.

 

She was tied to him with a thick rope, dragged behind him, stumbling as she followed, watching women come and go at his side—never ending.

 

In the middle of the night, Su Hao woke up.

 

She got up and drank a glass of warm water.

 

That dream…

 

It had felt too real.

 

She laughed softly.

 

Zhou Yang never seemed like the type who would ever settle down.

 

At the entrance of the building, Zhou Yang watched the woman’s slender figure disappear around the stairwell corner. She looked fragile, yet she never once looked back.

 

The black umbrella obscured his eyes. He raised a hand, tugged lightly at his collar, then turned and walked back to his car.

 

Tall frame, expensive shirt and trousers, sharp jawline—and the Porsche nearby.

 

In this rundown neighborhood, soaked to the bone.

 

In just a few minutes, he became the center of attention at the late-night food stalls.

 

People sighed quietly.

 

So this was how colorful the lives of the rich were.

 

Women’s gazes lingered on him.

 

That body…
Definitely abs.

 

Then the car door closed, and the attention faded.

 

After getting into the car, Zhou Yang didn’t leave immediately. He lit a cigarette and leaned back, smoking. When the cigarette burned out, he crushed it, glanced toward the third-floor window, then started the car and drove away.

 

Su Hao’s indifference was the only wall he had never managed to break.

 

On the way back to Yiwanshan Shui, he happened to run into Xu Dian and Meng Ying, who had just returned from a red carpet event. The rain had lightened. Both cars rolled down their windows slightly.

 

Xu Dian pushed his glasses up and raised an eyebrow.
“Where’d you go? Chasing after Su Hao?”

 

Bullseye.

 

Zhou Yang smiled. “You guess.”

 

“Pretty rough,” Xu Dian said, amusement clear in his eyes. “Didn’t think you’d ever end up like this.”

 

Zhou Yang rested his chin on his hand and met his gaze. There was a silent challenge between the two men. Then Zhou Yang calmly rolled the window back up and drove off.

 

Back home, he went straight to the shower. After a hot rinse, he loosely dried off, put on a bathrobe, poured a glass of water, and leaned against the headboard, flipping open a book.

 

After a few pages, his eyes landed on the word lips.

 

Her softly struggling waist appeared in his mind—so warm, so pliant.

 

He narrowed his eyes.

 

Slowly, he closed the book.

 

He picked up his phone and opened the chat.

 

Zhou Yang: Are you asleep?

 

No reply.

 

He stared at the screen for a moment, then put the phone aside and lay down. As he drifted off, it felt like falling into something soft.

 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold onto it.

 

The woman with gently cascading black hair even shouted at him,
“If you come any closer, I’ll jump!”

 

Jump where?

 

He looked down.

 

Far below stood a man whose face he couldn’t see, holding a net.

 

In the latter half of the night, Su Hao slept well. Because she’d caught a cold, she wrapped herself tightly in the blankets. By morning, her back was slightly sweaty.

 

She got up, washed up, made breakfast, ate, and headed to work.

 

After raining all night, the rain finally stopped around four in the morning. The ground was wet. Wearing low heels, she found the sidewalks flooded, so she took a cab to the office.

 

In the lobby, she ran into Director Zeng.

 

“Good morning, Director Zeng.”

 

“Morning, Su Hao.” He smiled and pressed the elevator button.

 

They stood waiting. He glanced at her several times. No makeup, yet her skin was fair—comfortable to look at, the kind that grew more pleasing the longer you stared.

 

The elevator doors reflected their silhouettes.

 

After enduring it for a few seconds, Su Hao turned and caught his gaze head-on.
“Director Zeng, did I do something wrong?”

 

Caught, he looked embarrassed and laughed lightly.
“No, nothing. I was just thinking your skin looks really good.”

 

“Oh,” she said. “Do you do skincare too?”

 

The elevator arrived, and they joined the crowd inside.

 

People around pricked up their ears—CFO chatting with a new employee.

 

Director Zeng coughed, then replied to ease the awkwardness.
“Of course. Men need skincare too. Otherwise we age faster.”

 

Several people stifled laughter.

 

Su Hao hesitated, then said,
“Then next time I can share some tips with you?”

 

Director Zeng: “…Sure.”

 

Completely trapped.

 

Thankfully, the elevator arrived.

 

They exited one after the other. Director Zeng rubbed his temples, thinking this was all President Zhou’s fault—he’d never been this embarrassed in his life.

 

Back in the office, he opened emails, checked reports, then casually pulled up the security footage from last night, scrolling quickly.

 

His fingers froze.

 

His eyes locked onto the lobby footage.

 

Security at Feijie was tight. Cameras everywhere. Clear footage.

 

He watched Zhou Yang forcefully kiss Su Hao on the steps, pin her against the glass doors, hold her there for a long time—then personally go into the rain to fetch an umbrella.

 

He couldn’t believe it.

 

He zoomed in. Closer. Even closer.

 

Oh.

 

That really was President Zhou.

 

So… was this strong-arming?

 

That was crossing a line.

 

At that moment, his phone rang. He answered absentmindedly, eyes still on the footage.

 

When Zhou Yang helped Su Hao into the car, his broad back looked… awkward. Tense. Almost desolate.

 

“Hello, this is—”

 

“Zeng Xiao.” Zhou Yang’s low voice came through. “Resend last quarter’s financial report to my email.”

 

Director Zeng snapped out of it, immediately closed the surveillance feed, and pulled up his inbox.
“All of it, President Zhou? I sent it last night.”

 

“Resend it.”

 

His voice was low, hoarse. Director Zeng complied at once.

 

“Sent. Please check.”

 

“Got it.”

 

They discussed details for a bit. As the call was about to end, Director Zeng hesitated. Looking at the minimized surveillance window, he almost said If she doesn’t like you, don’t force it—but the words twisted at the last second.

 

“President Zhou, there are plenty of flowers in the world. No need to cling to just one.”

 

One second later—

 

The call was disconnected.

 

Director Zeng stared at the phone.

 

“…Did I say something wrong?”

 

“I was being polite!”