The car moved quietly along the road, heading toward Qinghe Bay.
Fang Assistant sat in the driver's seat, eyes fixed on the road as he drove. In the backseat, Feng Yan and Sang Lu sat side by side.
The dimly lit interior of the car cast a muted glow, and Sang Lu wore a slightly dazed expression. There was something she couldn’t quite figure out.
She held her breath.
Her gaze drifted downward, inch by inch.
Then, she took a shallow breath.
She couldn’t understand—why was Feng Yan still holding her hand?
Feng Yan stared out the window, his expression unreadable.
He didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.
Outside, the night was dark, and the flickering streetlights cast shifting patterns of light across his face.
Sang Lu studied his sharp profile, but even with the faint illumination, she couldn’t make out his expression.
Still, even without seeing clearly, she could guess.
Feng Yan was probably as expressionless as ever.
Alright then…
She tried to convince herself.
No need to make a big deal out of it.
They’d held hands before—even interlaced fingers.
Now, with her hand simply enveloped in his, it shouldn’t feel so unfamiliar.
She was, after all, a variety show producer.
She should be able to handle any unexpected situation with composure.
Right.
Just holding hands.
Between a married couple, what was there to fuss about?
Having adjusted her mindset, she picked up her phone with her free hand, scrolling casually to project an air of nonchalance.
Three minutes passed…
He still hadn’t moved, silently gazing out the window, his brow slightly furrowed as if deep in thought.
Five minutes passed…
Sang Lu’s hand was growing warm in his grip.
Ten minutes passed…
She couldn’t take it anymore.
Carefully, she shifted her arm—it had grown stiff.
The movement caught Feng Yan’s attention.
He turned his head, and their eyes met.
Sang Lu hesitated for a second before remembering the unfinished conversation from last time.
Casually, she withdrew her hand.
Lifting her phone, she began scrolling through her friends’ posts.
“Last time, I wanted to show you Feng Yi and Feng Bai’s social media updates, but we got interrupted. I forgot about it. Let me find them for you now…”
She tapped into Feng Yi’s profile first, locating the post in question.
Since they were sitting close, she only had to tilt the screen slightly for Feng Yan to see.
“Here, take a look at this one—Feng Yi’s.”
Feng Yan’s gaze flickered downward.
“Hm.”
Sang Lu didn’t pull her hand back. Instead, she leaned in a little closer, swiping to Feng Bai’s profile next.
“Now this one—Feng Bai’s. The captions are almost identical. Isn’t that a funny coincidence? Maybe their relationship isn’t as bad as we thought?”
Feng Yan’s breath hitched slightly.
When he glanced down, the glow of the screen illuminated Sang Lu’s face—her fair skin almost luminous, her nose delicate and upturned, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Only when she looked up, waiting for his response, did Feng Yan finally shift his attention back to the screen.
Then, a new notification popped up at the top.
[Xiaomei: Lu, your taste hasn’t changed at all! Just like the guys you liked back in high school!]
Xiaomei hadn’t been able to hold back.
Unable to wait until she got home, she’d sent the message while Lu Sheng was driving her back.
The shock of the evening had been too much for her.
Her high school classmate had married into one of the most powerful families.
Her husband was impossibly handsome.
But the most surprising discovery?
Sang Lu’s taste in men was exactly the same as it had been back when she was obsessed with anime characters—the cold, aloof type.
That was definitely worth a message.
In the dimly lit car, the phone screen remained between Sang Lu and Feng Yan.
The moment the notification appeared, Feng Yan’s indifferent gaze froze.
His eyes locked onto the last few words—high school… liked?
Who had Sang Lu liked in high school?
The face of the man from the restaurant—her classmate—flashed in his mind.
He couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the message.
Nor could he confirm who Sang Lu had liked back then.
But an unwelcome thought forced its way in.
Unconsciously, his expression darkened, his brows knitting together.
Sang Lu felt the vibration and glanced down, startled to see Xiaomei’s message.
Seriously?
What kind of timing was this?
Every time she tried to bring up Feng Yi and Feng Bai, something interrupted her.
She wasn’t exactly a staunch believer in fate, but this was making her question things.
Was the universe trying to tell her to stop being so nosy?
After three seconds of deliberation, she decided not to fight it.
Fine.
She’d drop it for now.
Pulling her phone back, she flashed Feng Yan a smile.
“Never mind. I won’t ask you about it. Next time we visit the family, I’ll just ask them directly.”
Cut out the middleman.
And catch those two off guard when fate wasn’t looking.
That was her plan.
Feng Yan’s gaze flickered imperceptibly at her words.
What had made her suddenly stop wanting to talk to him?
His dark eyes remained fixed on her, an unreadable intensity simmering beneath the surface.
A few days ago, he wouldn’t have been able to name the emotion churning inside him.
But now, he knew.
It was displeasure.
It was jealousy.
Unaware of his stare, Sang Lu lowered her head to reply to Xiaomei.
Two more messages popped up.
[Xiaomei: Your 2D and 3D husband standards are exactly the same!]
[Xiaomei: The club president’s taste is impeccable!]
Sang Lu blinked, processing the words.
Then, slowly, she turned to look at Feng Yan.
His gaze had already shifted back to the window, distant and unfocused.
A faint chill lingered in his expression.
She paused.
Huh.
Now that it was pointed out…
It was true.
Feng Yan’s features, his aura—everything aligned perfectly with her lifelong preferences.
Bathed in moonlight, his sharp profile carried an air of enigmatic aloofness.
Tap—
A raindrop hit the window.
Then another.
After a long stretch of oppressive stillness, the rain finally began to fall.
……
Meanwhile, Xiaomei, having sent her messages, couldn’t resist striking up another conversation with Lu Sheng.
“Lu Sheng, since you just got back from abroad, you probably haven’t heard much about Feng Corporation, right?”
“I have, actually. Feng Yan’s name comes up often—he’s a regular on the wealth rankings. His business spans finance, real estate, and countless other industries…”
“Wow, that’s impressive. Even famous overseas.”
Lu Sheng nodded. “His business style is distinctive. It’s been used as a case study in economics lectures…”
Xiaomei’s curiosity piqued. “What’s so special about it?”
“Once he sets his sights on something, he moves immediately—leaving no room for the target to react.”
……
The rain fell harder.
Tap-tap-tap against the glass.
Sang Lu tensed.
This was the first rainfall since that stormy day.
She couldn’t help but worry—would Feng Yan have another adverse reaction?
“Feng Yan?”
She called his name softly.
He turned, the shadows still lingering in his gaze.
When their eyes met, he caught the concern in her expression, his fingers curling slightly.
Sang Lu’s eyes shimmered with light—neon signs outside, refracted through the rain, cast a mosaic of colors across her face, surreal and dreamlike.
Feng Yan’s gaze steadied, fixed on her illuminated features.
Feng Yan raised his hand and moved it toward the button controlling the car’s partition.
His slender fingers curled slightly.
The compartment was divided into two separate spaces.
Feng Yan gazed into Sang Lu’s eyes, his mind echoing with a single thought—
He refused anything less than real.
He would not tolerate uncertainty.
Before Sang Lu could react, a shadow suddenly loomed over her.
Feng Yan’s striking features filled her vision, his face now dangerously close.
His fingers gripped her chin firmly.
Sang Lu: “!”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
Feng Yan’s face hovered mere inches away, his dark, unreadable gaze lingering on her for several seconds.
Slowly, his eyes drifted downward, settling on her lips.
Before Sang Lu could process what was happening,
she felt something cool and soft brush against her mouth.
