Wen Zhi sat slumped in the cold chair, feeling hollowed out.
Since she’d been brought into the police station, she’d shrunk—everywhere. The carefully tended hair she used to have was dry and frizzed; her eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. A few hours ago, Shaohua’s legal representative had sent the news: Shaohua would not tolerate this scandal. They weren’t interested in a private settlement.
She clenched her teeth until they ached. Her whole body trembled.
Wen Yin.
It had to be Wen Yin working behind the scenes—whispering sweet nothings into Shao Yinan’s ear before, and now meddling in the Wen family’s affairs. How dare she.
“Someone’s here to see you,” the young officer announced.
Hope flared, sudden and greedy, in Wen Zhi’s chest. If the Wen family alone couldn’t stand against the Shaos, maybe a new alliance could turn the tide. Her pupils dilated; she began to imagine, fervently and vividly, how she would step out and press Wen Yin under her heel.
The hope vanished the moment she saw who stood in front of her.
He looked at her with a face that contained far too much complexity.
Wen Zhi had no idea how he’d found her.
“Wen Zhi.” Xiao Mo’s voice was soft as he said her name.
Once, he used to call her “Zhizhi” with an intimacy that made her melt. Now, everything had changed.
She avoided his gaze, panicked. She knew how disgraceful she must look. It reminded her of the day at Shaohua’s new collection launch—how she had brushed past him then, equally disheveled.
“There’s nothing for you to do here, Mr. Xiao.” Her voice was thin and edged with chill. She bit the words out of her mouth. “Please leave.”
The Wen Zhi who clung and cooed and spoiled Xiao Mo in private seemed a world away from the woman in handcuffs. But just as she was about to push him away, something passed over his face that she hadn’t expected. The light in her eyes sharpened; suddenly she understood what she’d been missing all along.
Of course—Xiao Mo still owed her his life.
“Why did you do this?” His question broke the fragile illusion around Xiao Mo’s white-moonlight image in her mind. He seemed unbothered, almost detached.
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Xiao Mo, get me out.”
Her tone held no plea. It was a command, absolute.
Xiao Mo had spent his life in command; he bristled at being told what to do. A crease formed between his brows as he stared at her—at the woman who had tilted into hysteria and yet now held herself with an odd, edgy calm.
“You’ve crossed people you shouldn’t have,” he said, and for a moment emotion flickered through his eyes. “You know what happens when you go against the Shao family.”
Wen Zhi’s voice was steady. She had come this far; there was nothing left to lose. “I know.”
“Then that’s why I came to ask you for help.” She pushed on, as if rehearsed. “If the Xiao family stands with me, I will come out clean. I’ll disappear. You’ll be safe.”
Xiao Mo’s brows drew together deeper. Her plan was reckless—but not entirely irrational. If the Xiao family threw its weight behind her, the Shaos might show restraint for the sake of face. But even the idea of the Xiaos colliding with the Shaos felt like two hands into a tiger’s mouth.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice cooled. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
She met his stare. “Why would you think I’m asking you to betray the Xiao family?”
Xiao Mo’s characteristic dominance surfaced in an instant—impassive, unyielding, a look of cool superiority that made him look impossibly untouchable.
Wen Zhi clung to that need with a smile that grew brighter by the heartbeat. “Because—”
“Because my life is your doing.”
The words hit him like a blow. Xiao Mo left the station ashen-faced. Once inside the car, he closed his eyes and the memory came back unbidden.
It hurt—the kind of hurt that feels as if a blade has grazed bone. He had been closest to death then than at any other time in his life. And it was at that moment that a light appeared in his darkness, bright and sudden as dawn.
She had looked at him with wide, frightened eyes—the same eyes as a startled white rabbit—then summoned the courage to carry him away. Those days had been the hardest of his life, yet they had never felt empty. The bright bloom of her smile filled the hollow in his chest. She’d slipped him the medicines he needed in secret, visited in the night, and left before anyone noticed.
Later he learned the prettiest name she had given herself: Wen Zhi.
“Sir… are we leaving?” The driver, feeling the chill around Xiao Mo, asked timidly.
“Drive.” His eyes opened. There was a quiet calm there now, almost colder than anger.
Meanwhile, Shaohua’s new wedding gown debuted like a meteor. The finale—Wen Yin’s walk—stole the show entirely. Social feeds exploded.
#ShaoHuaWeddingGowns
#WenYin
#WinningWithWenYin
#LushEmbroideredCraftsmanship
“This gown—I'm in tears!”
“Only another girl could get what's in a girl's heart so exactly!”
“I said it before and I’ll say it again: the wife-designed dress is always the prettiest!”
“ShuoHua, release a ready-to-wear line already—I don’t even have to be getting married!”
“Will Wen Yin wear her own design when she marries Shao Yinan? I’m—”
Comments multiplied by the thousands. Many fans begged Wen Yin to return to acting; after Heartbeat, she’d been virtually invisible from the entertainment circle. She hadn’t even walked a single red carpet.
“Please, Wen Yin, act again! I’m begging you!”
“It’s been so long. I miss her!”
“One blood oath for Wen Yin to come back!”
Wen Yin scrolled through the comment stream, a complicated shadow crossing the dark pools of her eyes. And then, as fans followed the trending tags, someone noticed something different.
“Wen Yin is starting a live stream!”
In minutes, tens of thousands flooded into her room. Animated gifts swamped the screen until her face was almost obscured. She was fidgety with the equipment—clearly not used to streaming—and it took her a long moment to get everything straight.
“Hello, everyone. Long time no see.” She finally sat, waving at the camera with a gentle smile.
“Too cute, I’ll die!”
“Ahhh my fated wife, Wen Yin!”