The ballroom glowed like a chandelier dropped from heaven — gold, glass, and too many eyes. Wen Yuxi paused at the entrance, breath catching for a moment she didn't allow herself to show.
Then she saw him.
Li Zhenyu stood near the center of the room, surrounded by executives who looked like they were trying too hard. He didn't. He never did. He wore a black suit that made the rest of the room fade, and when his gaze lifted and found her—
Everything else disappeared.
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't look away.
He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, the kind that made people instinctively move aside. When he reached her, he didn't speak. He simply offered his arm.
She placed her hand on it, light as a whisper.
"Ready," he said.
It wasn't a question.
They entered together. Conversations dipped. Heads turned. Someone gasped softly — the CEO who never brought a date now had a fiancée who looked like she'd stepped out of a dream.
Yuxi kept her chin up, her smile polite.
Zhenyu kept her close, his hand resting just a little too naturally at the small of her back.
---
The Rival Appears
They hadn't been inside five minutes when a woman in a red silk dress approached — tall, elegant, the kind of beauty that came with old money and sharper intentions.
"Zhenyu," she purred, sliding her hand onto his arm like she'd done it a thousand times.
Yuxi's fingers froze.
He didn't push the woman away.
Not immediately.
"Chen Yiran," he said, voice cool. "This is my fiancée."
The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Fiancée? My, that was fast."
Her gaze swept over Yuxi — slow, assessing, dismissive.
"So this is the girl."
Girl.
Yuxi's jaw tightened, but she kept her expression calm.
Yiran leaned closer to Zhenyu, ignoring Yuxi entirely. "You didn't tell me you were seeing someone."
Zhenyu's hand shifted — finally removing Yiran's grip — and settled firmly on Yuxi's waist.
"I don't report my personal life to you," he said.
Yiran's smile cracked for a split second.
But Yuxi had already seen enough.
The way the woman touched him.
The way he didn't react fast enough.
The way her chest tightened even though she had no right to feel anything at all.
She stepped back slightly. "I need some air."
Zhenyu turned to her immediately. "Yuxi—"
"It's fine," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll be right back."
She walked toward the terrace before he could stop her.
---
The Terrace
Cold night air brushed her skin, clearing her head. She gripped the railing, staring at the city lights below.
It's just a contract. Don't be stupid.
The door opened behind her.
She didn't turn. "I said I'm fine."
"I didn't ask," Zhenyu said quietly.
He stepped beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. The scent of his cologne — clean, subtle, expensive — drifted toward her.
"You left suddenly," he said.
"You seemed busy," she replied, eyes still on the skyline.
A beat of silence.
Then his hand lifted — slow, deliberate — and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her skin, warm against the cool night.
She inhaled sharply.
"You look better without your hair in your face," he murmured.
Her heart thudded once, hard.
"This is dangerous," she whispered.
"What is?"
"This." She gestured between them. "Whatever this is."
His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second — barely noticeable, unless someone was watching him too closely.
"I know," he said.
The air tightened.
He leaned in — not enough to touch, but enough to make her breath catch.
"Yuxi," he said softly, "don't walk away from me like that again."
Her pulse stumbled.
"Why?" she asked.
His answer was low, almost a confession.
"Because I didn't like it."
She turned to him fully — and froze.
Someone was standing in the doorway.
Watching them.
Chen Yiran's silhouette leaned against the doorframe, a slow smile curving her lips.
"Well," she said, voice dripping with satisfaction, "isn't this interesting."