The storm had passed.
Luminar shone again, investors praised his leadership, and the media that once whispered "reckless" now called him "unyielding."
Yet in the quiet after triumph, Gu Ze Yan changed.
The man once known for his sharp words, his ruthless decisiveness, the way his gaze could make subordinates freeze—suddenly became clingy. Like a wolf turning into a spoiled housecat, he refused to leave Lin Qing Yun's side.
At night, he wouldn't let her return to her apartment.
When she tried to slip away after dinner, he would trap her with arms that felt more like chains of warmth than iron. "Stay," he murmured. "I can't sleep without you."
In the mornings, when she rose to wash, he followed, leaning lazily on the bathroom doorframe, eyes half-lidded but lips smiling. "Sunny, hurry, I'll be late if you don't tie my tie."
Even in the office, his composure cracked. If she passed through the management floor, he would stroll after her without hesitation, hands slipping around her waist when no one looked, chin on her shoulder when she bent over files.
"Gu Ze Yan," Qing Yun hissed one day, cheeks flushing as Shen Qiao walked past, brows arching.
Ze Yan only laughed, lips brushing her ear. "You feel like a ghost on my back," she accused.
"Then let me haunt you forever," he replied with a rare grin.
She could only roll her eyes, though her lips betrayed a smile.
---
But Qing Yun knew the Zhao family mattered still. One night, when his arms circled her waist and refused to let go, she tilted her head back against his chest.
"You should apologize to your stepfather."
Ze Yan stiffened. "Why? I was right. Zhao Han Sheng—"
She turned, pressing her finger to his lips. "Being right doesn't matter. Zhao Corp's reputation was still dragged into the mud. It is his company. Be humble, Ze Yan. Show respect. It's not weakness—it's grace."
His eyes searched hers. Finally, he sighed, burying his face into her hair. "…You always make it hard for me to argue."
---
The next day, father and son met on the quiet green of a golf course.
Zhao Ming Liang greeted him with open arms, his voice warm, "Ze Yan, come. Let's play."
The afternoon sun washed the grass in gold. Balls struck, flew, rolled. Silence lingered between their breaths, until finally, Ze Yan lowered his club, shoulders straight but head slightly bowed.
"Pa, I… apologize. For staining Zhao Corp's name."
Ming Liang chuckled, brushing it aside. "Apologize? For what? You exposed a snake, protected your company. If anything, I am proud. You've proven yourself a leader greater than I dared dream."
Ze Yan looked up sharply. His stepfather's eyes glowed not with disappointment but pride.
"You are Luminar, the way I am Zhao Corp," Ming Liang continued. "Two different hearts. But in the future, there will be no rivalry. Only partnership. If Luminar needs help, Zhao Corp will always be there."
For the first time in years, something warm cracked Ze Yan's armor. He stepped forward. They embraced on the field, father and son not by blood but by bond.
"…Thank you," Ze Yan whispered, his voice low with sincerity.
---
Meanwhile, Lin Qing Yun returned to her quiet apartment.
The stairs creaked. The corridor smelled faintly of detergent. She slid her key into the lock.
Then—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The door shook beneath furious fists.
"Lin Qing Yun! Open up!"
Her breath caught. The voice was harsh, rough, dripping with menace.
The debt collector.
Her pulse quickened, but she steadied her tone. "What do you want?"
"You know what I want!" he bellowed. "Your mother owes me again. Pay up!"
Her heart twisted. Again? After everything…
But she straightened, voice cold. "She isn't here. And I won't pay anymore."
Silence. Then a laugh—low, mocking.
"You think you can hide? I know who you're with now. That rich CEO. Do you think he'll still want you when I tell him where you come from? That you're nothing but a poor girl climbing into luxury?"
Her hand clenched on the knob. "I don't care."
The door slammed open. He grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise.
"You bitch!" His palm cracked across her cheek. She staggered, her hand slamming against the floor, skin tearing, blood welling bright.
Pain burned, but fear drove her legs. She twisted, pulled free, ran—barefoot, breath ragged, streets blurring past. She ran without direction, only away, until exhaustion numbed her legs.
When she finally stopped, chest heaving, she found herself before a tall, familiar building.
Ze Yan's apartment.
Her fingers trembled on the key. The lock clicked. She pushed the door open.
---
Inside, light spilled across polished wood.
Gu Ze Yan sat at his desk, a laptop open, his face lit cold by screen glow. He looked up—
And froze.
She stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, cheek raw with a crimson mark, blood dripping down her hand. Her body swayed with exhaustion, pale as porcelain about to crack.
For a heartbeat, the room was utterly silent.
His chair screeched back as he rose, the sound sharp as a blade. His eyes darkened, fury like a storm surging behind their calm surface.
"Sunny…" His voice was low, dangerous.
She staggered one step forward, lips parting as if to explain. But her body trembled, too drained.
Ze Yan crossed the room in three long strides. His arms wrapped around her before she fell, pulling her against his chest. He looked down at the wound, at her pale cheek, at her broken strength.
His jaw clenched so tightly it could have cracked.
No words came—only the promise in his grip:
Whoever dared to touch her… would regret ever being born.