Cen Yuan’s face darkened instantly.
Those roguish peach-blossom eyes, usually so carefree, seemed to shatter.
A dark tide surged deep in his gaze.
Because Jiang Liuyue had hit the mark.
He couldn’t even keep up his fake smile.
Since childhood, Song Hanzheng had always been that “model child” their parents held up as the ideal.
Their families were old family friends, always gathering during holidays and celebrations.
For Cen Yuan, those occasions were never pleasant memories.
Whenever he got in trouble, his family’s opening line was always the same: “Look at Song Hanzheng, then look at yourself.”
His mother’s voice dripped with frustration and disappointment.
His father, on the other hand, would put down his newspaper, his gaze calm but cutting more deeply than any scolding ever could.
“When will you be as outstanding as Song Hanzheng? Then your mother and I won’t have to worry anymore.”
He’d heard that phrase his whole life.
Until his ears were numb, until it rooted a thorn deep in his heart. Later, just hearing the name “Song Hanzheng” would trigger a wave of irritation in him.
So Cen Yuan kept up a surface-level friendship with Song Hanzheng, all while harboring jealousy beneath.
Until that year.
Song Hanzheng’s mother was committed to a mental institution, and within half a year, she killed herself when no one was watching.
When news broke, everyone in their circle fell silent.
Lin Mei moved into the Song household with her son, Lin Yizhou, and the picture-perfect family that everyone admired finally crumbled before their very eyes.
Cen Yuan’s mindset began to shift. He started to pity Song Hanzheng.
He even genuinely wanted to become his friend.
He thought that after losing his mother, Song Hanzheng would finally shed that flawless shell.
But Song Hanzheng was truly a master of pretense.
“I don’t need that many friends. Having one good friend like Li Xinle is enough.”
“Cen Yuan, the way we are is just fine.”
Fine, Cen Yuan sneered inwardly.
So much for his sincerity.
That faint flicker of genuine goodwill was brushed off by Song Hanzheng as if it meant nothing.
Later, when their mutual friend Li Xinle went out to hang out, he always brought along his younger sister, Li Feile.
She was a girl who seemed noisy, full of spoiled airs.
But she suited Cen Yuan’s taste. He’d never liked delicate, crying women.
Those kinds bored him.
He admired strong people.
If you’re strong yourself, the woman at your side should be shrewd and capable of fighting back.
Even if she was vicious, so what?
That was just her way of protecting herself. Like a hedgehog’s spines—not meant to wound, but to avoid being hurt.
So with appreciation and curiosity, he gradually started paying attention to Li Feile, like a collector who stumbles upon a unique treasure and can’t help but take another look.
But Li Feile’s focus remained fixed on Song Hanzheng.
Song Hanzheng stood out in their circle.
With his stellar family background and his own accomplishments, he was almost the definition of perfection.
He seemed to have no weaknesses. Especially after his mother’s death, it was as if all emotions had been stripped away, leaving him perpetually cold and aloof.
Li Feile, of course, couldn’t move Song Hanzheng.
But that only made Cen Yuan more interested. He wanted to see how far she would go, using any means necessary to get Song Hanzheng’s attention.
It was like a long, scriptless reality show.
And he was in the audience, waiting to see how the main character’s story would end.
As time passed, even Cen Yuan couldn’t tell how much of his liking for Li Feile was genuine affection.
And how much was driven by his curiosity to see how she would close the distance with Song Hanzheng.
Until Li Xinle died, and Song Hanzheng took on the responsibility of looking after Li Feile.
But he made it clear to their friends: “From now on, Xinle’s sister is my sister too. That’s all she will ever be.”
That day, Li Feile cried her heart out.
She got dead drunk at a bar, nearly taken advantage of by some man.
Cen Yuan stepped in, landing a punch square on the man’s face.
At that moment, he didn’t know what came over him, but he confessed that he liked her.
Li Feile laughed through her tears.
“Cen Yuan, what’s the use of you liking me? I only like Hanzheng-ge.”
She downed another glass of liquor, mumbling, “I’ll never give up. Never. Even if I can’t have him, I won’t let any other woman get him either.”
Seeing the ambition and malice flickering in her eyes, Cen Yuan’s heart raced.
He… had found a kindred spirit.
But that feeling only flashed like a spark, bright for a moment before going completely dark.
As time wore on, Li Feile kept chasing Song Hanzheng without receiving the slightest bit of special attention.
All she got was his sense of duty as a friend’s older brother.
That kind of distant, polite, indifferent care was more hopeless than outright coldness.
Cen Yuan’s emotions slowly drained away. One day, he lost all patience, leaving only weariness.
Which turned into hatred.
Why was it always like this? Ever since he was a kid, his family said he couldn’t measure up to Song Hanzheng.
And Li Feile, in a fit of rage, once said the same thing, hitting the deepest scar at the perfect moment.
Cen Yuan admitted he was dark-minded by nature.
So his attitude shifted. His faint liking for Li Feile turned into a desire for revenge.
He kept up his act as the devoted lover, planning to win her over and then ruthlessly dump her.
He knew it was childish, like a petty kid smashing a toy in anger, only to find his own hand smarting from the broken pieces.
But maybe, his cruelty toward Li Feile could provoke Song Hanzheng?
That would be enough.
He didn’t need dignity, didn’t need a happy ending.
As long as he could see that perfect face crack, he’d be satisfied.
But no one expected the ever-cold Song Hanzheng to suddenly bloom. He not only got a new girlfriend, but her personality—Jiang Liuyue—was extraordinary.
Even though she acted sweet and innocent in front of others, the moment Cen Yuan saw her, he knew with certainty.
She was also a kindred spirit.
So when Li Feile proposed the plan to seduce Jiang Liuyue, he gladly agreed.
Deep down, he was even vaguely looking forward to it.
At last, there was something that could make him stop being the shadow forever trailing behind Song Hanzheng.
In the darkest part of his heart, he thought: stealing his friend’s girlfriend would feel even more thrilling.
Song Hanzheng would definitely break down.
Would it be anger, collapse, or the daze of betrayal?
He desperately wanted to know.
Haha, keep pretending.
One day, he’d shatter that perfect mask and let everyone see that underneath it, Song Hanzheng was just an ordinary man who felt pain, anger, and regret—no different from Cen Yuan.
His thoughts snapped back to the present.
Facing Jiang Liuyue’s accusation, Cen Yuan played his part flawlessly, his expression unchanged.
“What does this have to do with Song Hanzheng?”
“I just happen to be interested in my brother’s girlfriend. It’s just that my brother happens to be Song Hanzheng.”
Listen to that, how utterly shameless.
But coming from Cen Yuan’s mouth, it sounded so natural.
Jiang Liuyue couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
The corner of her mouth curled into a mocking smile.
"Bro, have a heart!"
"Jiang Liuyue, I'm not a bad person..."
Cen Yuan's tone was slow and unhurried. The turbulent undercurrent in his peach-blossom eyes gradually faded, replaced by an inscrutable expression.
His fingers idly tapped twice on the steering wheel.
Then he lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror.
The corner of his mouth curved into an ambiguous smile.
"Nor am I a good one."
