A soft melody drifted through the background, and soon the center of the room was filled with couples swaying in a slow dance.
On the sidelines, a slightly chubby man scanned the room for a dance partner, his gaze drifting over women in the crowd until it settled on Song Meiqi—just as three young men were inviting her to dance.
He watched Meiqi turn them down, a smirk curling his lips as his gaze darkened. As Meiqi started to walk away, he moved through the crowd, slipping between guests with the clear intention of reaching her.
He grabbed hold of her arm—pale, slender, and soft—a subtle warmth that made his heart raced.
His mind twisted with dark, invasive fantasies of Meiqi—images that made his smirk sharpen with sick anticipation.
'A girl like her wouldn't waste her time on inexperienced young lads,' he thought, pride swelling in his chest. 'No—she'd want a man like me. Someone seasoned. Powerful. Rich enough to give her the world… and take whatever I please in return.'
He licked his lips, a glint of eagerness in his eyes, and said, "Young Miss, I saw you turn down those young men's offers," his voice thick with barely contained excitement.
"Surely… you'd want to dance with someone like me," he added, a sly grin curling his lips.
Song Meiqi's eyes wavered, a flicker of discomfort and disgust flashing across her gaze.
The chubby man wore a smug, self-assured grin, as though certain Meiqi's answer would be yes.
Yet, after a brief pause, Song Meiqi answered, "No," her voice steady and distant.
The man's expression darkened, as though her refusal were a personal insult, and his grip on her arm tightened.
"Huh… what did you just say, woman?!" His voice rose—not with excitement, but with simmering anger.
Song Meiqi tugged against his grip, but he wouldn't let go.
"I said… no," she repeated, her voice unwavering, a flicker of disgust glinting in her eyes.
Upon hearing her, the man became more agitated.
"How dare you say no!" he spat. "I know deep down you came here just to lure men in!" He said it loud enough to draw attention.
Heads turned, and soon the surrounding guests formed a loose circle, curiosity sparking as they tried to catch a glimpse of the unfolding scene.
Song Meiqi felt the press of curious eyes on her, the crowd swelling around them. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.
"Please… let go of me, sir," she said, struggling to wrench her arm free, but his grip only tightened.
He ignored her completely, his face twisted with rage, bloodshot eyes locking on hers. Then, with a voice dripping venom, he hurled his accusation for all to hear.
"Everyone, this woman tried to seduce me—and now she pretends she's innocent!"
Gasps rippled through the gathering. Meiqi's breath caught as more people stopped to watch, their stares sharp as knives.
Whispered words slithered through the air—too soft to catch fully, yet loud enough for her to feel their judgment searing into her skin.
As eyes wandered around them, she felt her breath grow unsteady—sweat beginning to form at her temple as her heart pounded rapidly.
The voices that had been deafening her began to fade, her vision blurring as her body weakened.
Her thoughts drifted back to when she was a child—memories she had tried to bury deep inside her mind.
A memory surfaced—her with her mother, surrounded by a crowd. Then a pregnant woman's voice rang out, screaming accusations.
"This woman seduced my husband, and now he's left me and our child!" Her words were sharp and unwavering, slicing through the noise.
Young Song Meiqi cowered behind her mother's back, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the crowd point fingers at them—faces twisted with disgust and scorn.
Song Meiqi's vision darkened as she struggled to steady her breath. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, clutching it tightly against her chest as if it were the only anchor keeping her from falling apart.
Then another memory flashed before her—a punishment, a cold confinement.
"Your mother was a mistress. Did you really think I'd ever treat you as my own?" a woman's voice echoed from beyond the door, sharp and distant.
A crushing weight settled over Meiqi, her body numbing as sweat traced cold paths down her face.
Then…
Suddenly, through the haze, she noticed a hand gripping the chubby man's arm—blurred but unmistakable.
Then a deep, raspy voice cut through the tension.
"Enough…" it commanded, firm and wielding unmistakable authority.
Song Meiqi's vision gradually sharpened, her breathing slowing as the man's steady voice eased her panic.
She looked up and saw the side profile of a man wearing a silver mask—his expression calm and composed, commanding quiet attention.
"This woman is my dance partner," he said calmly.
"Please cease your baseless accusations and remove your hand from her." He continued with quiet authority—his voice calm but unwavering, measured and respectful, yet carrying an unmistakable firmness that brooked no argument.
Song Meiqi gazed at him, though his face was hidden. And slowly, her tense expression softened, and the frantic beating of her heart began to steady into a gentle calm.
Though she didn't know who he was, a comforting warmth seemed to wrap around her, gently lifting the darkness that had settled over her heart moments before.