Cloud Peak Apartments.
Su Qianqian lay nestled in the soft bedding, her sleep restless.
Her delicate brows were slightly furrowed, her pink lips unconsciously pressed together.
She was trapped in an oppressive dream.
There were no clear images, only chaotic yet intense sensory overload.
She felt confined in a cramped, suffocating space.
Then, as if thrown into the fiercest underwater currents of the deep sea.
She couldn’t breathe—every attempt to struggle upward was met with a crushing wave forcing her back down.
No matter how she twisted her slender waist or fought, she couldn’t break free from the restraints.
Even the slightest movement invited harsher punishment, leaving her sobbing uncontrollably, her voice hoarse.
Later, the drowsiness from alcohol was magnified infinitely in the dream, morphing into a seductive yet agonizing whirlpool, dragging her deeper.
She flailed her arms helplessly, desperate to grasp something stable against the violent turbulence, but her fingertips only met the cold, smooth surface of a mirror.
Instinctively, she pressed down hard, her palm flat against the unyielding plane, her knuckles whitening from the force.
As if trying to leave a mark—or push open this suffocating cage.
Yet it remained immovable, forcing her to clutch the mirror even tighter.
She caught glimpses of her own tear-streaked face, contorted in distress, intertwined with indescribable sensations coursing through her body… each wave leaving her more disoriented, unable to distinguish pain from something else entirely.
"Mmm…"
Su Qianqian jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
Her dazed eyes blinked up at the familiar chandelier overhead.
The room was dim and quiet.
A dream.
But why… did the physical sensations feel so real?
She shifted slightly, her entire body aching as though her bones had been dismantled and reassembled.
Especially her waist and legs… the lingering soreness was unmistakable, a vivid reminder of what had happened in the car and the bathroom the night before.
Slowly, she raised her right hand—her palm still seemed to carry the memory of pressing desperately against the car window, trying to escape, only to fail.
Su Qianqian’s face burned crimson, the flush spreading all the way to her ears.
How could she have such a dream?
Burying her feverish cheeks into the pillow that carried Gu Chengyu’s scent, she let out a muffled whimper of frustration.
This was all his fault.
Song Family Villa, evening in the music room.
The melancholic melody of a piano flowed through the air, serene yet tinged with sorrow.
Song Qingwan sat poised before the grand piano, her slender, pale fingers dancing gracefully across the black and white keys.
She wore a flowing beige linen dress that draped elegantly to her ankles, her hair pinned up to reveal the graceful curve of her swan-like neck. Her profile was soft and refined, her entire being immersed in the music like a meticulously painted classical portrait.
As the final note faded into silence, her fingertips lingered on the keys, her lashes casting faint shadows beneath her eyes as if savoring the last echoes of the piece.
Her expression was serene, even carrying a gentle, amiable smile.
Yet beneath the surface, her heart was a lake disturbed by a boulder—churning with unseen turbulence.
The arranged marriage had been called off.
Gu Chengyu had personally rejected it.
Without even offering a proper explanation.
How dare he?
She, Song Qingwan—the true jewel of an elite family, the treasured daughter of a scholarly household, an international piano competition gold medalist.
In terms of lineage, beauty, talent, or grace, what did she lack compared to that spoiled, arrogant Shen Nian'an?
Or even that…
Her mind flashed to the rumors she’d overheard about the actress by Gu Chengyu’s side, and the coldness in her eyes deepened.
A cheap plaything like her—how could she possibly compare?
