“No — that’s not it! Not like that!”
Jiang Shihuai’s face twitched, then he snapped into denial, instincts flaring. “You’ve got it wrong.”
He took a step forward, but Wen Yin slipped aside so subtly he barely noticed.
“Wrong? I can see for myself.” Wen Yin’s smile was half-knife, half-ice. “I’m not as blind as you.”
Her tone carried a hard, cutting mockery. She didn’t spare him the contempt.
“You’ve known me long enough—don’t you know what I’m like?” Jiang’s voice had a wounded edge, but Wen Yin didn’t buy it.
When she spoke, a curl lifted the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I didn’t know when we first met. But I know now.”
Her gaze cooled until it was like moonlight on steel. “You’re not a good man.”
The words landed like a physical blow. Jiang’s disappointment shifted instantly into something sharper. “So you’d rather believe Shao Yinan’s lies than trust me.”
He moved as if a cat had been stepped on—quick, baring claws. He closed the distance, intent on corralling her into the cramped corner.
“Wen Yin, do you really think Shao Yinan’s sincere?” he pressed. “The Shao family isn’t what you think.”
His hands grabbed her shoulders, hard enough to leave heat. “There’s no one who loves you more than I do. Come back to me.”
A dark, strange obsessiveness flared in his eyes. “Maybe I made mistakes, but I’ve learned. I remember — when I was a child, the one who saved me was you. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Recalling their childhood made his expression falter, flashing pain like a wound opened and reopened.
Wen Yin’s look landed on his hands; she shoved him away with clinical calm. “Jiang Shihuai, if you can’t tell us apart, go find your Wen Zhi sister. A siren and a scumbag suit one another anyway.”
The words were venom, and Jiang stared at her as if struck. “So… you refuse me?” he whispered, unbelieving, and Wen Yin only caught the stubborn obsession that darkened his gaze.
Without warning, Jiang lunged and pinned her against his chest, squeezing the air from her. “Wen Yin, don’t act so strong. I know you have feelings for me.” His voice softened into that practiced tenderness. “Playing hard to get—time to stop the game.”
A figure intercepted them. Shao Yinan arrived like a storm. Seeing Jiang force an embrace on Wen Yin, his features hardened, and his fists moved before his brain caught up.
Shao hit with everything he had. Jiang made a strangled sound and slumped to the floor.
It happened too fast. Wen Yin was suddenly behind Shao, shielded by his body; the sight of her safe relief tightened something in him that neither of them could control. Jiang staggered up, tasting blood. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to regain composure.
“You don’t listen, do you?” Shao’s voice was a low thunder as the two men sized each other like rival beasts. For a moment, the air crackled with the threat of tearing.
Jiang, bruised and embarrassed, forced a bitter smile. “Shao Yinan, Wen Yin isn’t someone you can toy with. Stay away from her.” He enunciated each word. “And take your filthy hands off her.”
Shao’s reply was equally cold, but sharper. “I should be the one telling you to leave.”
Assuming Jiang wouldn’t back down, Shao released a sleeve and adjusted his cuff—a small gesture, but in Jiang’s eyes it was surrender.
Jiang’s smile grew meaner. “Apparently, I don’t understand what you rich boys want. With the Shao family name behind you, you can have any woman you want. Wen Yin’s not for you. If you’re just playing, I can introduce you to others.”
Shao’s face hardened. Then he smiled—a curve that didn’t reach his eyes. “So you want to make a deal?”
He glanced at Wen Yin, and their eyes met. Wen Yin’s expression went cold, a blade of frost passing over her features.
Shao let go of her hand, buttoned his sleeve with careful calm. Jiang took it as consent and grinned, but the grin was cut off by another fist—stronger than the first.
Jiang stumbled back against the wall, winded. Shao’s face, which had worn a courteous polish before, now carried a sullen, dangerous intensity.
“You’d reduce a woman to the same as those who sell themselves?” Shao’s words hit with steady force. “Only you could say something like that.”
Wen Yin felt the words land in her chest too. She hadn’t expected them to come from Jiang’s mouth.
“Jiang Shihuai.” Her voice, clear as glass, made Shao pause. Both men turned to her. She stood under the light, cold and luminous.
“Why do you think I like you?” she asked, her tone flat, distant, nothing like the softness she’d once shown him. “My… feelings died the moment I learned I was only a substitute for Wen Zhi.”
The confession was simple and devastating. “Jiang Shihuai, your love makes me sick.”
She was dressed in a blue dress that set off the sharpness of her features; even with no expression on her face, she was startlingly beautiful. Jiang froze—being exposed hurt in a place deeper than his mouth, which still tasted of iron.
If anyone had actually fought, it had been Jiang taking hits. Shao’s suit bore not a wrinkle.
Wen Yin reached for Shao’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Shao steadied himself, control snapping back into place, and together they began to walk away. Jiang watched them, pressed to the wall, breathing hard, his eyes fixed on their retreating backs.
She finally didn’t love him.
They hadn’t made it halfway into the main hall when Wen Yin stopped suddenly.