Tang Rui had come over so many times that, even though Cheng Ling didn’t particularly like him, she had gradually softened and found herself able to speak with him here and there. Zhou Yang stood silently by, hearing everything. He lowered his head slightly, lightly licking the corner of his lips, hands in his pockets, then smiled and interrupted:

 

“Aunt Cheng, it’s a bit late. We should be going.”

 

Cheng Ling, mid-conversation, froze for a moment, then glanced at the clock on the table. It was nearly 9:30.

 

Su Hao was still resting. Leaving the two men alone didn’t feel right—two grown men sitting together made her slightly uneasy. She looked at Zhou Yang and said, “Zhou Yang, thank you for bringing her back.”

 

“You’re welcome, Aunt Cheng. We’re family, after all.” Zhou Yang’s long, narrow eyes softened, and a warm, polite smile spread across his face.

 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Cheng Ling nodded, feeling it was better not to be too distant.

 

Zhou Yang set down his teacup, lightly tapped the table with his fingertips, and rose. His gaze casually drifted toward Tang Rui, who maintained a calm expression. He could sense Cheng Ling’s softened attitude—that was the leverage in his hand. Tang Rui also stood, placing his teacup down, moving toward the door.

 

The two men were similar in height, but Zhou Yang’s presence was far more dominant. Even without speaking, without making a move, he exerted a pressure that Tang Rui could hardly match. It wasn’t Cheng Ling’s fault for chatting with Tang Rui; it was simply that Zhou Yang’s aura was intimidating, and ordinary people found it hard to break through.

 

As they stepped outside, Cheng Ling intended to close the door.

 

But Zhou Yang, casually holding it, glanced at the master bedroom door and said, “Aunt Cheng, you don’t need to close it. I’ll handle it.”

 

“Oh, that’s fine,” Cheng Ling began to protest, but Zhou Yang, a teasing smile on his lips, lowered his eyes and exuded charm so effortlessly that the door closed before she could speak.

 

Cheng Ling froze, staring at the closed door.

 

Once the door shut, the hallway went dark. The two men stood there, and Zhou Yang gave Tang Rui a quick glance, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and leisurely made his way down the stairs.

 

Tang Rui clenched the railing, then loosened his grip.

 

The hallway was still; the atmosphere oppressive. Two currents of tension collided silently, like smoke before a fire.

 

Near the bottom, Zhou Yang held the cigarette, smoke curling from his lips. He pressed his teeth together, minty scent lingering, long legs stepping onto the final stair.

 

But the moment his foot landed, he suddenly pivoted. The next second, his fist shot forward, cleanly striking Tang Rui’s face. Tang Rui had nowhere to dodge, grasping Zhou Yang’s large hand. Zhou Yang sneered, cigarette slanted between his lips, and delivered a hard kick to Tang Rui’s abdomen. Tang Rui flipped over, returning a punch that landed on Zhou Yang’s shoulder.

 

Zhou Yang brushed it aside, one hand gripping Tang Rui’s neck, slamming him against the railing.

 

Bang.

 

Zhou Yang leaned closer, looking down at Tang Rui. “So? Really want to remarry her?”

 

Tang Rui’s forehead veins bulged, neck straining. He sneered, “Why not? Can you marry her?”

 

“Oh?” Zhou Yang chuckled, eyes cold and sharp.

 

Removing the cigarette, he said quietly, “I can. Me showing up here tonight says it all.”

 

“Going back for a lost cause and acting righteous?” Tang Rui’s tone was icy, fingers tensing.

 

His face flushed crimson, but he still fought back. Tang Rui reminded himself: Zhou Yang was holding the advantage. He let out a low, cold laugh, “She’ll never marry you, with all your dirty history.”

 

“Sounds like you don’t have any yourself?” Zhou Yang retorted.

 

“I at least had three years of feelings with her.”

 

“Impressive,” Zhou Yang’s eyes glinted dangerously. He looked at Tang Rui like a dog he wanted to kill.

 

Three years.

 

So impressive.

 

Tang Rui refused to back down. Though in pain, he didn’t utter a single plea. Experience in hardship had forged his resolve. His eyes were determined—definitely no comparison to naive Shen He.

 

Zhou Yang pressed harder. “Let’s see how long you can hold out.”

 

“Never letting go.”

 

“Really?”

 

The next second, Zhou Yang released his grip, but delivered a sharp kick. Tang Rui dodged and countered. Tang Rui had trained in Muay Thai; Zhou Yang in mixed martial arts. They clashed in the narrow staircase.

 

Someone approached the door outside and screamed.

 

Zhang Xinhua had received a call—someone was fighting at his building entrance. He rushed over, car keys in hand, a whistle clenched between his teeth, ready to scold. But upon seeing the scene, he froze, whistle dropping to the ground.

 

“Oh… it’s Brother Zhou Yang.”

 

Brother Zhou Yang’s martial arts were that impressive? Probably taught by Master Nie.

 

The two exchanged moves with precision. Tang Rui was not easy to fight; his strikes were proper. It looked natural even on someone so refined. Zhou Yang wore a shirt and pants, the faint outlines of his abs showing—well-built.

 

Spectators’ fear shifted to awe.

 

Both men were handsome, and watching them fight displayed their athletic physiques. Yet gradually, Tang Rui began to tire.

 

Zhou Yang slammed him against the wall again, wiping blood from his lips. “I underestimated you.”

 

Tang Rui gritted his teeth, struggling to breathe.

 

Zhang Xinhua filmed the scene on his phone and sent it to Xu Dian.

 

Zhang Xinhua: Bro, why is Brother Zhou Yang fighting this guy?

 

Xu Dian: Hmm?

 

Xu Dian: Rival, at Huahui Community? When did this start?

 

Zhang Xinhua: Damn… it’s a rival! Brother Zhou Yang went insane, using all his skills on a rival? Unreal!

 

In the group chat:

 

Xu Dian: Check it out, Zhou Yang is fighting!

 

Li Yi: …Awesome.

 

Jiang Yu: Haha, is that Tang Rui? Su Hao’s ex? Zhou Yang finally gets his day! Fighting martial arts?

 

Li Yi: Martial arts. Master Nie must be frustrated—taught him all that, and he uses it on a rival. Waste of talent.

 

Wen Zeli: Hahaha, let him bully my brother-in-law, deserved it! Look at his lips! Got hit too! Damn.

 

Wen Zexin: Embarrassing.

 

Yan Xing: Your lives are that exciting? Before, women fought over Zhou Yang; now he fights for a woman. Share it in your circles! This is spectacular!

 

That night, Zhou Yang fought a rival for a woman, using his most skilled martial arts, instantly spreading across the elite circles of Li City.

 

“You’re lying! Zhou Yang wouldn’t fight over a woman!”

 

“Exactly!”

 

“I don’t believe it. The video must be fake.”

 

Li Xiu: Fake! Fake! Fake!

 

Whether it was fake or not, the video was everywhere.

 

Dawn broke.

 

Su Hao woke with a hangover, head pounding. She stumbled to the bathroom to wash up. When she came out, Cheng Ling had already woken, in pajamas, yawning, standing by the table with honey water for her. “You drank way too much last night. Luckily, Zhou Yang brought you back.”

 

“And Tang Rui,” Su Hao added after a moment of thought.

 

Su Hao paused, holding the cup, looking at Cheng Ling.

 

Still yawning, Cheng Ling said, “Zhou Yang carried you back. You were completely out of it. Don’t drink so much next time.”

 

Su Hao set the cup down, staring at the pattern on the tablecloth. “Oh.”

 

“What about Tang Rui? Why did he come?”

 

Cheng Ling, no longer so sleepy, tied up her hair. “He often waits outside for you.”

 

“Just to say a word to you.”

 

“What would you like for breakfast?” Cheng Ling asked as she entered the kitchen.

 

“Anything’s fine.”

 

Su Hao went to change clothes. When done, she rubbed her forehead—it didn’t hurt as much anymore—and picked up her phone. Overnight, she had received more messages than usual. Tang Yu had sent one:

 

Tang Yu: Sorry, I didn’t plan well last night.

 

Su Hao didn’t reply.

 

Scrolling down, she noticed a private company group chat at Feijie Corporation.

 

Everyone was watching a video.

 

She clicked it.

 

The footage was clear. Zhou Yang and Tang Rui exchanging blows.

 

Su Hao froze.

 

The video was only twenty seconds. Both fought with technique, striking and blocking in turn. Zhou Yang, stepping back, wiped blood from his lip.

 

The location looked like her building’s stairs.

 

Combining with her mother’s words, they must have fought downstairs after leaving.

 

“Su Hao? Tag her! Is this for you, President Zhou?”

 

“I never knew he’d fight for a woman.”

 

“Su Hao, you’re lucky.”

 

“This video is everywhere in WeChat circles!”

 

“Su Hao is so beautiful, she deserves Zhou Yang’s attention. Did you see her in the qipao? Gorgeous!”

 

“Beautiful, indeed. President Zhou was there—was it love at first sight?”

 

“Definitely. Look at the type Zhou Yang usually likes. Su Hao’s gentle, older-sister vibe would have him captivated.”

 

“Pfft. Captivated? Did you see Zhou Yang fight? Tang Rui may be ruthless, but he couldn’t match Zhou Yang. Retreat after retreat.”

 

“Su Hao, breakfast!” Cheng Ling called from outside.

 

“Coming!”

 

Everyone in the chat didn’t care if Su Hao was present, continuing their discussion. Su Hao logged off WeChat, grabbed her small bag, and went out. The staircase lights were flickering. The skylight let in a sliver of light. She reached the ground floor, paused briefly, scanning the side.

 

Zhou Yang, cigarette in mouth, smiled. “Morning.”

 

His shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled, revealing part of his forearm with faint bruises. His face and neck also bore marks, lips ruggedly wild.

 

Su Hao frowned, ignoring him, glancing elsewhere.

 

Tang Rui rubbed his lip. “Su Hao, sober now?”

 

With both men pressing her, and everyone staring, Su Hao pursed her lips and walked quickly. Tang Rui tried to follow, but his phone rang. He answered and walked off to hail a cab. Zhou Yang stubbed out his cigarette, hands in pockets, lazily trailing behind Su Hao.

 

“Good.” His voice low. “Your company’s too small. Want to consider another one?”

 

Su Hao ignored him.

 

Zhou Yang cleared his throat. “Ignoring me again? Really don’t care?”

 

“I missed you. My heart aches.”

 

Su Hao stopped abruptly, lifted her gaze, staring sharply at him.

 

Zhou Yang froze, licking the blood at his lip, slightly afraid. He rubbed his lips, voice lowered. “I want to date you. Should I?”

 

“No.”

 

Zhou Yang clenched his teeth.

 

After a long pause, he forced the words through his teeth: “Then… I’ll ask next time.”