The moonlight barely touched the marble tiles as Han Jiayan stepped into the luxury apartment Xinyue had given him. Quiet elegance surrounded him, but his mind was far from calm.
He removed his blazer and poured himself a glass of water, his fingers pausing briefly on the cold rim.
Tonight had gone... sideways.
Xiang Zeyan wasn't just a relic from Xinyue's past. He was a warning. A signpost written in gold ink and veiled threats. And yet, Jiayan had walked straight into the battlefield—and didn't break.
📲💬
Zhao Yelin:
> "You really showed up to a viper dinner unarmed? Bold of you."
Han Jiayan:
> "I brought sarcasm. It worked."
Zhao Yelin:
> "Be careful. They don't stab with knives. They use contracts, scandals, and smiles."
💬
Jiayan sighed. He didn't belong in this world of corporate vendettas and glass towers. But he'd be damned if he let that stop him.
Meanwhile, in a much darker room lined with soundproof panels, Xiang Zeyan sat facing an old man whose eyes were sharper than scalpels.
Chairman Xiang, patriarch of the Xiang Family, former kingpin of energy-sector real estate. Retired officially. But no one truly believed that.
"You lost control of the situation," the old man said slowly.
"I underestimated him."
"Underestimating nobodies is how kings lose thrones," the chairman growled. "You're still too proud. That woman—Li Xinyue—has outgrown you. And now she brings in a mutt from the gutters who thinks he can sit at her table."
"He's nothing."
"He's the beginning," the old man corrected. "Start treating him like one."
The next day, 11:57 AM — Xu Corporation, Executive Wing
Xinyue walked into the boardroom, a vision in navy-blue silk and a mind like a war map. Half the board members nodded stiffly. The others… she didn't need to name.
But today wasn't about them.
It was about a motion to reassign a key logistics contract, one that had Xiang Group's invisible fingerprints all over it. The timing wasn't a coincidence.
She glanced at the empty chair at her right.
Han Jiayan entered a moment later, dressed in a formal grey suit that didn't quite hide the nervousness in his eyes. Still, he walked tall—like he belonged.
And to Xinyue's surprise... no one questioned his presence.
He was, after all, the "husband." And now that she'd quietly submitted his name into the board assistant ledger, he had the right to sit in.
A few raised eyebrows. A few silent whispers. But no objections.
Jiayan sat beside her, flipping open a notepad and pulling out a pen. He didn't know the boardroom politics yet—but he was learning.
Fast.
Later that evening at Feng Shanshan's Private Lounge, 21st Floor, Skyline Avenue
Tang Weilan sipped her espresso while Shanshan scrolled through her phone with the grace of a panther in heels.
"He walked into the boardroom like he owned the table," Shanshan mused.
"He's adapting," Weilan replied. "Faster than I expected."
Shanshan smirked. "Do you think she knows she's training her replacement?"
Weilan raised an eyebrow. "Or building her equal?"
They both fell silent.
Midnight — Unknown Surveillance Room
A woman in a jade green cheongsam leaned against a console, staring at a paused image on the screen: Han Jiayan, standing up to Xiang Zeyan at La Vielle.
A quiet voice behind her asked, "Should we move?"
She didn't respond at first. Then, slowly, she smiled.
"No. Not yet. Let the queen play her game. Let her piece believe he's safe."
Then she turned and walked into the shadows, her heels clicking like clock hands on countdown.
---