Song Yingfei's car idled by the curb, her eyes locked on the Jinghe Hotel's entrance, nerves taut as a bowstring. When Xu Miaoli emerged, flanked by two female bodyguards but without Liu Weiwei, Song Yingfei's heart sank. Damn it! Leaving Weiwei alone with Lei Zhengyang was a disaster waiting to happen—a lamb tossed to a wolf.
She didn't hesitate. The second Xu Miaoli's car pulled away, Song Yingfei bolted toward the hotel. Tianhua's partnership with Tianding was massive, but no deal justified sacrificing Weiwei. If that scoundrel dared touch her, Song Yingfei swore she'd make him pay. At the front desk, she demanded Tianhua's reserved room number and charged upstairs. For the first time, her ladylike poise vanished—she kicked the door open with a savage thud.
Relief flooded her: she wasn't too late. Weiwei was safe. But rage surged as she saw Zhengyang's arms around her friend. That bastard! One minute later, and he'd probably be tearing off her clothes. "You filthy creep, let her go!" Song Yingfei roared, branding him with the vilest name she could muster. Her kick and shout stunned the pair into a daze.
"Yingfei, what are you doing here?" Liu Weiwei gasped, dropping formal titles in the heat of the moment.
Zhengyang jolted, baffled. What's this woman's deal? Barging in like that—was one humiliation not enough? Does she want another round? Song Yingfei lunged, yanking Weiwei behind her like a shield, and glared at Zhengyang. "You scum! Reborn as some lecherous bandit, huh? Can't resist a pretty face? I'll call the cops and have you locked up!"
Zhengyang broke into a cold sweat. Is she nuts? He hadn't done anything—Weiwei was the one clinging to him, leaving him clueless where to put his hands. Me, taking advantage? Liu Weiwei grabbed Song Yingfei, desperate to explain. "Yingfei, you've got it wrong! He's not—"
"Not what?" Song Yingfei snapped. "He's exactly that! Even if he turned to ash, I'd know him. He's a rotten, woman-bullying pervert!"
"He's the man I love, Yingfei!" Liu Weiwei blurted, voice trembling. "He's my boyfriend!"
Song Yingfei froze, dumbstruck. Pointing at Zhengyang, then Weiwei, she stammered, "You're saying—he's—your—boyfriend? I heard that right?"
Weiwei nodded solemnly, and Song Yingfei's world spun. No way. Weiwei, so sensible, falling for this self-styled Casanova? Impossible. She knew Weiwei's taste—this wasn't it. He must've tricked her. Determined to expose his facade, she pressed on. "Weiwei, listen—you're being played. This guy's the one I despise most. Remember the jerk who tried to assault me? That's him!"
Weiwei stared at Zhengyang, then Song Yingfei, reeling. The man she loved and the man her friend loathed were one and the same—a twisted cosmic joke. Zhengyang, silent till now, finally spoke, his head pounding from the chaos. Standing, he said, "Ladies, the food's getting cold. I'm clearly in the way, so I'll bounce. Enjoy your meal." He moved to leave.
"No, Zhengyang!" Weiwei cried, but Song Yingfei's grip held her back. Zhengyang flashed a wry smile. "Don't worry, I've got your number now. I'll call tomorrow—though after Miss Song trashes me, you might not pick up. Gotta say, everything she's said about me? It's true." With that, he walked out.
Song Yingfei puffed up, triumphant. "Hear that? Caught red-handed! He admits I'm right—everyone in the capital knows his sins. At least he's got the guts to own it. Weiwei, you're under some spell. If I'd been a minute later, that creep would've ruined you. Scary thought. Cut him off—change your number, quick. Don't let him find you." Her own brush with Zhengyang's darkness fueled her panic; though he'd spared her then, the shadow lingered, haunting her.
But Weiwei sank into a chair, calmly picking at the dishes—using Zhengyang's chopsticks, Song Yingfei noted with a jolt. "Yingfei, tired? Sit, eat. The food's great, and it's paid for—waste not, right?" Weiwei's nonchalance stunned her.
Song Yingfei sat but had no appetite, fuming at Weiwei's indifference. "Weiwei, did you hear me? He's bad news—cut contact. I'm begging you, for your own good."
Weiwei smiled, setting down her chopsticks and dabbing her lips. "I heard every word, Yingfei. I know you're looking out for me. You've got more dirt on him, right? I'm all ears—lay it out, and I'll weigh in after."
Song Yingfei huffed. "Fine, here's the rundown. He's Lei Chunping's third son, the capital's 'Third Young Master Lei.' Since sixteen, he's prowled every notorious nightclub, sauna, and club. He's ruined dozens of women—eighty, maybe a hundred. He even dared target me. That's how low he is. Weiwei, I brought you to the capital. I want you happy, but this guy? I'll never approve."
She finished, certain Weiwei would see reason. But Weiwei's eyes flickered, undaunted. "Yingfei, I don't doubt you. The old Lei Zhengyang was a despised scoundrel. But don't you want to know how we met?"
Song Yingfei blinked. She didn't know that story. "How'd you two meet?"
"It was romantic—a classic hero-saves-damsel moment," Weiwei said, her voice softening as she sank into the memory. She recounted their encounter, their time together, and how her heart gradually opened to him. Song Yingfei listened, incredulous.
"You lived together for over a month, and he didn't touch you?" she asked, skeptical.
Weiwei grinned. "I swear, I'm one hundred percent untouched. Want to check?" Song Yingfei flushed—I'm a virgin too, big deal!—and snapped, "Get lost! With that lovesick look, what, you're mad he didn't make a move? Were you trying to seduce him?"
"Yingfei, I know you care," Weiwei said, earnest. "Your stories are true, but they're his past. I believe he's a good man now. When I let him crash at my apartment, I was terrified he'd pounce. But he didn't. For a month, nothing. When I caught feelings and hinted at more, he turned me down. Said his heart's too wild to settle, that he couldn't give me what I wanted. If he'd asked me to stay, I might've skipped Tianding. But he didn't—he refused to hurt me."
Song Yingfei faltered. This Zhengyang sounded nothing like the predator she knew. The old him would've leapt at a beauty like Weiwei. "If he rejected you, why see him again?" she pressed. "You're gorgeous—plenty of better men out there. Don't meet him anymore. Like he said, don't get yourself torn apart."
Tears welled in Weiwei's eyes as she shook her head. "If you'd said this yesterday, I might've wavered. But seeing him today? I know now—I love him. No reason, no regrets, just love."
Song Yingfei sighed, silent. No amount of pleading would sway her. Weiwei was a moth to Zhengyang's flame, ready to burn for a fleeting blaze. Foolish, yet achingly true—a love so pure it moved the heart, brought tears to the eyes.