The eldest young master of the Pei residence, **Pei Zhaolin**, was said to be as pure and untouchable as a clear breeze and bright moon—brilliant, noble, a dragon among men. **Cui Jintang**, newly down from the mountains, was captivated at first sight. Under the pretense of repaying a benefactor, she stayed at the Pei household—and for three long years, she played the careful game of getting close to him, step by step, heart against reason, risking everything for a single chance. At last, she won the words she had chased for so long: “I love you.” But the moment those words fell, fate turned cruel. Pei Zhaolin lost his memory—sacrificing it to save the childhood sweetheart who had always held a place in his heart. Cui Jintang told herself it didn’t matter. As long as his memory returned, everything would go back to how it was meant to be. …Until the day she heard he had regained it. Overjoyed, she rushed back. Standing quietly outside the corridor, she heard his voice—cold, indifferent, as if those three years had never existed: “An unpresentable orphan girl… a legitimate wife? She’s not worthy.” The laughter and whispers that followed were a slap sharp enough to wake her up. So Cui Jintang chose the most decisive path. In front of everyone, she **staged her death**—cutting off the past with one clean, ruthless stroke. That night, with his memories fully restored, Pei Zhaolin’s eyes turned red. He held what he believed to be her lifeless body, shaking, and nearly destroyed himself in a frenzy of regret. Later, with a new name and a hidden face, Cui Jintang dragged her friends along to chase freedom—admiring flowers, listening to music, laughing without restraint. She lived brightly, as if she had never loved anyone too deeply. Then one night, just after leaving the bathhouse, she saw a familiar figure waiting by her bedside—her long-unseen former fiancé. His coat hung loosely from his fingers, his gaze dark and feverish, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. “Tang Tang,” he said softly, voice frayed at the edges, “how did it come to this?” He leaned closer, smile crooked, almost desperate. “If you want… I’ll give you anything. I’ll do anything.” His throat bobbed; the madness in his eyes looked too much like longing. “I’m begging you,” he whispered. “Just don’t leave me again.”