The drizzle hadn't stopped since that morning in the clinic.
Soft, persistent — the kind that never floods the streets but soaks everything slowly, patiently.
Inside Jiù Mèng Xuān, the scent of old paper mixed with the faint sweetness of sandalwood. Lin Qing Yun worked in silence, her sleeves rolled just above her wrists, her brush gliding over a cracked scroll. The lines of faded ink seemed to breathe again beneath her steady hands.
For a moment, she felt calm.
The nausea had faded; the dizziness, too. She told herself she was simply tired — that if she kept her mind busy, she wouldn't have time to think about the small heartbeat she'd seen on a screen days ago.
Master Shen glanced up from his desk.
"Girl, you've been sighing more than the wind outside."
She smiled faintly. "Just the weather, Shifu."
He grunted, unconvinced, but didn't press.
---
By noon, thunder rolled faintly over Liangcheng.
At Luminar System headquarters, crisis meetings were stacking one after another.
An "emergency investor conference" had been announced without Ze Yan's consent.
When Shen Qiao burst into his office, her tone was sharp.
"She's doing it, Ze Yan. Yi Rong called the press. Says she's representing minority shareholders demanding 'transparency.'"
Ze Yan's fingers stilled on the keyboard.
"Let her talk."
"Talk?" Shen Qiao stared at him. "She's feeding blood to sharks."
He rose from his chair, calm but pale. "Then we'll see who bleeds first."
---
The Conference
In a grand hotel ballroom, Yi Rong stood under spotlights, poised in a flawless white suit.
To the cameras, she was every inch the polished savior — speaking softly about "ethics," "responsibility," and "trust in innovation."
Her tone carried no malice, only concern.
But every word was a blade.
When journalists' phones buzzed mid-speech, she paused delicately, pretending surprise as new "documents" appeared in their inboxes — scans of contracts, forged signatures, and altered ledgers.
A murmur swept the room.
By the time she stepped down from the podium, the rumors had already escaped the walls.
---
The Storm Online
Hashtags lit up across every feed:
#LuminarFraudScandal
#GuZeYanEthics
#CEOandHisMuse
Photos of Gu Ze Yan beside Lin Qing Yun flooded comment threads.
> "Wasn't she the consultant rumored to live off him?"
"She's the reason Luminar fell — pillow power."
"Look at her face, typical gold-digger calm."
The words multiplied like insects.
By late afternoon, the chaos had reached the boardroom.
Ze Yan's jaw was set, his voice even.
"Contain official statements. No panic. No firing."
But beneath that composure, his phone vibrated again — this time with a message from Chen Rui:
> [Boss, Miss Lin just arrived downstairs. Reporters everywhere. Should I bring her in?]
Ze Yan froze.
He'd told her to rest.
---
The Descent
Qing Yun stepped out of the taxi, umbrella tilted low.
The street outside Luminar's tower swarmed with cameras.
Flashes burst through rain like lightning.
"Miss Lin! Did you fake the contracts?"
"Are you Gu Ze Yan's secret partner?"
"Did he buy you that apartment in Guangjing?"
The barrage was deafening.
She kept walking, expression calm.
Every instinct told her to retreat — but if she turned away now, she'd only give them proof of guilt.
She pressed forward, step by steady step.
Someone shouted louder than the rest —
> "Like mother, like daughter, huh?"
The world tilted.
Her breath caught.
A sudden, tearing pain bloomed deep inside her abdomen — hot, sharp, merciless.
Her vision dimmed at the edges.
She tried to move, but her legs trembled.
The umbrella slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the wet pavement.
A red stain spread quietly beneath her pale coat.
---
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Then — the frenzy.
Cameras lifted again, flashing wildly as if tragedy were a show.
"Call an ambulance!" someone yelled.
Chen Rui shoved through the mob, rain soaking his hair, eyes wide.
"Miss Lin!"
He caught her just before she fell completely, her head lolling against his shoulder.
Her lips moved faintly, a whisper barely audible above the storm.
> "Please… don't tell him…"
Blood streaked her palm where she'd tried to cover the wound that wasn't meant to be seen.
---
The Hospital
By the time Gu Ze Yan reached the hospital, his car tires screeched against the curb.
The hallway reeked of antiseptic and panic.
"Where is she?"
His voice was too low, too sharp.
A nurse pointed toward the emergency doors. "They're operating— please wait outside, sir."
Through the small window in the door, he caught a glimpse of her — a pale hand, an oxygen mask, a sheet stained crimson.
The color hit him harder than any stock crash ever could.
He pressed a hand against the glass, breath shallow.
> "Qing Yun…"
Chen Rui stood nearby, shaken.
"They said severe bleeding. She fainted before the ambulance came."
Ze Yan turned slowly, eyes cold with disbelief.
"Who leaked it? Who did this?"
No one answered. Only the rain answered, drumming against the windows like a relentless clock.
---
The Light Above the Door
The operation light glowed red.
"Procedure in progress."
He sank into a chair, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair.
His mind replayed the last video call — her calm smile, her soft "Sleep early, Ze Yan."
Now that memory felt like a blade pressed against his throat.
He didn't know she'd been carrying more than secrets.
Didn't know that every careful word had been a shield for something fragile and alive.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered to the empty hall.
Rain streaked down the window beside him.
Thunder rolled, far away yet too close.
Behind the glass, the red light flickered once — then steadied again.