Feng Yi stood half a head taller than Sang Lu, sharing similar features with Feng Yan in the eyes and brows, yet their auras couldn’t have been more different.
If Feng Yan came across as sharp and aloof, Feng Yi was all flamboyance and bravado—like a reckless younger brother.
He handed over her wristwatch along with a box that looked like pastries.
Sang Lu’s mind was elsewhere, still lingering on the scenes from her dream, so she didn’t immediately reach for them.
“Oh, this?” When Sang Lu didn’t respond, Feng Yi assumed she was confused and explained offhandedly, “That girl Qiao Xi insisted I bring these to you. Said she felt bad about keeping your watch as collateral, so she made some snacks as an apology.”
Feng Yi didn’t get why an apology was even necessary.
Women were so complicated.
His tone was breezy as he said, “Mission accomplished. I’m out.”
Finally snapping back to reality, Sang Lu took the watch and the pastry box.
But her gaze lingered on Feng Yi.
Right now, his cocky, irritable expression annoyed her.
Yet, the vivid energy in his demeanor was something she hadn’t seen in the latter half of her dream.
In that dream, his thigh had been injured by debris, damaging the nerves. Though he could still walk, he’d never ride his beloved heavy motorcycle again.
Lost in thought, Sang Lu suddenly blurted out,
“Drive safely. And if you’re riding a motorcycle, be extra careful.”
It sounded like a parental warning, delivered with genuine concern.
Feng Yi had just slid into his convertible and was about to start the engine.
At her words, he froze.
Turning his head, he gave her a baffled look.
“?”
He rubbed his ear, wondering if he’d misheard.
Seeing Sang Lu’s calm expression only deepened his confusion.
“???”
“Uh…” Sensing how abrupt her remark was, Sang Lu quickly backtracked, “Actually, it’s your brother who’s worried about you. He mentions it at home all the time—how he’s concerned about your motorcycle safety.”
She figured using Feng Yan as an excuse would always work.
But to her surprise,
Feng Yi’s expression grew even stranger, as if he’d just heard something outrageous.
“???”
His brother? Worried about him?
Since when did Chinese become so hard to understand?
Seeing Feng Yi’s disbelief, Sang Lu waved him off.
Her eyes urged him to leave.
“Stop dawdling. Go already. Don’t ruin my nap. Bye, drive slow.”
With that, she turned and crossed the street back to the TV station.
Feng Yi leaned back in his seat, frowning deeply.
His suspicious gaze followed Sang Lu’s retreating figure, circling her again and again,
trying to find a clue.
Nothing.
After a long pause, he finally started the engine and sped off with a screech.
……
Meanwhile, on the other side of the TV station’s intersection,
Zhuang Xiao sat in her Mercedes, watching the entire scene unfold.
Her molars ground together so hard they might crack.
She didn’t need to confront Sang Lu for answers.
She’d seen everything clearly.
That man was Feng Yi—the infamous young master of the Feng family, one of the most prominent names in the capital.
The white Lykan’s owner was a Feng.
Feng Yi was a Feng.
So, it wasn’t some chauffeur pretending to be wealthy.
As hard as it was to believe, the truth was staring her in the face.
When doubts had first crept in, Zhuang Xiao had searched online for information about the Feng family.
Typing in the keywords, the first result that popped up was “Feng Yan.”
The current CEO of Feng Corporation.
The name had barely registered in her mind before she dismissed it outright.
No way.
She’d heard enough about Feng Yan to know—even if Sang Lu had the luck of the gods, she’d never cross paths with someone like him.
Feng Yan was a name known to everyone in the business world despite his youth.
His methods were swift and decisive, his strategies razor-sharp.
Most notably, his aura of unapproachability set him apart from other heirs of wealthy families—there wasn’t a single scandal attached to his name.
No matter how you looked at it, his name should never have been linked to Sang Lu.
Even if Sang Lu had stumbled into extraordinary luck and somehow crossed paths with the Feng family, it would only have been with the other two members—certainly not him.
Feng Yi, at an age where he chased novelty, was often photographed by paparazzi surrounded by beauties. Occasionally, he might have wanted a change of pace—perhaps an older woman, or even treating Sang Lu as a plaything. It wasn’t entirely impossible.
No matter how much Zhuang Xiao looked down on Sang Lu, she had to admit that Sang Lu had a certain charm. Her bright, lively exterior might just be enough to deceive some jaded young masters who were used to beautiful women.
Zhuang Xiao pressed her lips together, fists clenching.
Then, abruptly.
A flicker of suspicion flashed in her eyes.
Earlier, Sang Lu had been wearing a hat—just like the woman in the residential surveillance footage.
Clearly, she was deliberately hiding something.
There was likely an untold story behind this relationship.
Staring at the entrance of Jing City TV Station, Zhuang Xiao’s fists tightened and loosened, loosened and tightened.
Jealousy and malice rose in her heart.
...
Feng Yi sped down the road in his sports car, leaving a trail of engine roars behind him.
As he drove,
the corner of his mouth suddenly curled up.
Had he heard right earlier?
His sister-in-law had said that his older brother was worried about him.
Worry meant concern.
His brother, cold as ice, actually cared about him.
Every time they met, Feng Yan wore a stern expression. Even during meals at the family estate, he only occasionally asked about Feng Yi’s graduate studies—never once showing concern over whether riding motorcycles was safe.
From childhood, Feng Yi had idolized his older brother above all others.
Being suddenly cared for by him felt... unfamiliar.
But also...
kind of nice.
Feng Yi perked up.
He eased off the accelerator slightly,
rolled down the window, and let the riverside wind rush against his face.
He didn’t care that his hair was a mess.
In fact, he whistled cheerfully a couple of times.
If anyone had glanced into the car at that moment,
they would have been shocked to see the usually rebellious and sharp-tongued second young master of the Feng family—
grinning like an absolute fool.
The early spring wind wasn’t as biting as the previous months, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
After a while, his face grew stiff from the cold.
The triumphant second young master, who had been basking in joy just a second ago, shivered and sneezed.
He swerved abruptly, pulling over to the roadside.
After a moment’s hesitation,
he pulled out his phone, transformed into an adoring younger brother, and sent Feng Yan a message:
[Feng Yi: Thanks, bro. You’ll always be the best big brother.]
...
Feng Yan stared at the message in silence.
After a long pause, his brows furrowed.
His reply was as icy as his expression.
[Feng Yan: What trouble did you cause? Spit it out.]
Feng Yi’s smile froze: "..."
Afraid his sharp-witted brother might deduce something was off and trace it back to his overspending and the damaged instrument,
his fingers danced frantically across the screen.
Within a second:
[Feng Yi: No trouble at all. Didn’t do anything wrong, swear.]
Feng Yan coldly eyed the screen.
Oh? No trouble?
Then there was only one reason for this sudden display of obedience.
...
Feng Yi watched his phone with grave intensity.
Then—
Ding.
A notification chimed.
[Account ending in 3459 has received a transfer of 300,000 yuan.]
"!!!"
Feng Yi’s eyebrows shot up in delight.
This kind of luck?
An unexpected windfall!
