Shao Qi sat in the car with a stormy face.
He had already sent the driver away a while ago. The man stood outside the vehicle now, trembling, too afraid to move. Shao Qi stared off into the near distance, eyes heavy with thought — or perhaps simply lost in a reverie. After a long spell of silence, he laughed quietly to himself.
“Wen Yin.”
He found himself saying the name out loud. The woman had real talent — no wonder she had Shao Yinan wrapped around her finger. If she hadn’t, none of this would have happened.
“Drive me home.”
Slowly, he wound down the window. The authority that had carried him upward for decades sat on him like a physical weight. He was nearly fifty, but the presence hadn’t faded. If that girl wanted it, let her fight for it. He wanted to see how she would play her hand.
Meanwhile, online, the next season’s pre-sale for Cai Yi’s new line had already exploded across Weibo. Shao Yuanjia scrolled through the trending page, knuckles tightening on the mouse. Cai Yi’s buzz was massive — it was even overshadowing Shaohua, long considered a leader in the industry.
He had lost to Wen Yin.
He took a hard breath and thought back to why he’d come home in the first place. His mother had somehow heard a rumor that Shao Yinan was planning to quit show business and return to the family company. She’d insisted he rush back as well. He needed a way to turn things around — a chance to claw his way back.
Yuanjia opened the safe at his feet and pulled out a sheet of paper: a draft plan Yinan had made when he was still with them, intended for next quarter’s designs. It had been meant for Wen Yin originally, but fate had scattered those plans. The draft was rough, only an outline, but something about it lit a spark in Yuanjia. If those pieces were pushed out right, they would be a sensation. This could be his comeback.
The thought eased some of the pressure off his chest.
—-
Wen Yin finished work early that day; there wasn’t much on her plate, so she came home straight away. After asking casually what Yinan wanted for dinner, she booted up the computer again. The conversation on Weibo shifted by the minute. At seasonal turnover, every company rushed to post previews of their new lines. Wen Yin noticed a few names still hadn’t released anything — Shaohua among them. But she didn’t want to dwell on Shao Qi or Shao Yuanjia. Neither deserved more of her attention.
By the time Yinan came back, Wen Yin had already set the table. “You working late tonight?” she asked.
He shook his head, hesitated, then spoke. “Remember that bold project I showed you a while ago?”
Wen Yin picked up a potato sliver with her chopsticks and nodded. “Yes?”
“Shao Yuanjia chose that for next quarter.”
Her eyes widened until they were like startled deer. “You mean he actually picked that? Has he lost his mind?”
She pressed her lips together. That proposal had been a discarded draft Yinan had once shown her — something wild and risky. Wen Yin couldn’t fathom why Yuanjia would decide to run with it.
Yinan smiled at her bewilderment. “Who knows.”
Her expression said everything she wouldn’t say. She chewed, set the chopsticks down, then gave a rueful shrug. “It’s hard to judge. Different fields have different rules. I’ll just wish him luck, then.”
Before she could finish her meal, Yinan’s phone rang. The voice on the other end was cold and clipped.
“Shao Yinan, come sort out your mess.”
Wen Yin recognized it instantly; that voice was impossible to forget — he’d spoken to her that very morning. Yinan frowned but stood up immediately.
They arrived to find Mr. Qi — Uncle Qi — seated on the sofa. He greeted Yinan with a spare nod. With him sat Qi Siran in a pale dress. Her composure in front of Wen Yin had been measured; in front of Yinan it frayed.
“Uncle, is there something wrong? It’s late,” Yinan asked.
Shao Qi snorted, amused by his own silence. Uncle Qi watched Yinan closely, appraising him. He’d heard that since taking a post at the Shao company, Yinan had landed an important internet project for them. Young and promising — a man with a future.
Qi Siran glanced at him, a crease forming between her brows. “Yinan,” she said, voice tight, “did you forget what I told you last night?”
Her face was stung from public embarrassment — she’d felt humiliated in front of others and had come tonight to set things straight. This marriage wasn’t something she could allow to be brushed off by Yinan’s indifference. The Qi and Shao families had always been meant for each other, she believed. They were a perfect match.
Yinan’s gaze drifted to Qi Siran and held. There was ice in his eyes, but he didn’t answer right away. When he spoke, his tone was calm and dry. “I think what you didn’t understand was what I said last night.”
The air in the room suddenly tightened; the earlier civility thinned. Qi Siran’s composure cracked. “Dad…” she breathed, looking around for support. Uncle Qi patted her hand and softened his expression. As his only daughter he would naturally want to protect her — and this request was a small one compared to that.
“Yinan,” Uncle Qi said, “we came to talk about this marriage tonight. The two families are close already. Why not make the bond official? Isn’t it a good thing?”
Yinan felt something like amusement at the absurdity of the plea, but he kept his voice level. “Uncle, I think you’re misunderstanding. I have a girlfriend.”
The bluntness of his reply made both Uncle Qi and Shao Qi frown. How could a young man be so brazen with an elder like that?
Uncle Qi’s expression hardened. “Do you really think women in show business are pure? The Wen family, a small household — they even have a sister who’s been to prison. Do you think another one couldn’t have... questionable character?”
The words fell like a slap.
Glass shattered. The wine glass in Yinan’s hand split under his own grip — he had squeezed it so hard that the crystal gave way, slicing into his palm. Blood welled between the shards and began to drip onto the expensive carpet below. Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain.
“Uncle,” he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous, “what do you mean by that?”