At a small table in the corner, a middle-aged couple sat beside Qin Qinghan. Their faces were lined with exhaustion and unease.
"Qinghan," her mother, Yang Yu, began softly, "listen to me. I know it's hard, but if you let Jing Si be adopted by a good family, you can finally marry into the Zhang Group. You'll have a secure life—a better life."
Her voice trembled with a mix of pity and weariness. For years, Yang Yu had endured the whispers and stares. Her daughter had been assaulted, and the child born of that horror had branded their family with shame. She hated the man who had ruined her daughter—but part of her hatred had spread to the innocent girl herself. More than once, she'd fought the urge to abandon the child altogether.
Qin Qinghan placed a few greens onto her daughter's plate, then looked up calmly.
"Mother," she said quietly, "I've accepted that my fate is cruel. But if it means losing Jing Si, I'd rather live on the streets."
Her father, Qin Zhi, sighed heavily. "Qinghan… Jing Si is a sweet, sensible child, yes—but she's still the daughter of that criminal. You can't raise her forever."
Qin Qinghan's face turned pale, her eyes sharp.
"Father, how can you say that? I know what that man did. I don't even know his name or face. But Jing Si is my child. I brought her into this world. If her father was cruel, does that mean I have to be cruel too?"
Tears welled again in her eyes. No one could possibly understand what she'd endured—
the assault, the disgusted looks, the whispered insults, the silence from those who should have protected her.
Her life had been shattered by a man whose name she never knew. She had wanted to die more than once—until the day her baby was born.
That tiny heartbeat had given her a reason to breathe again.
Even if Jing Si was a constant reminder of her pain, she was also the only proof that Qin Qinghan had survived it.
The little girl sat silently beside her mother. She was too young for such words—but old enough to feel the coldness in every glance not filled with love.
She pulled a tissue from the table, handed it to her mother, and said in a small, trembling voice,
"Mommy… I made you sad again. It's my fault. Please don't send me away. I'll be good. I promise."
Qin Qinghan broke completely. She pulled the child into her arms, sobbing into her hair.
"No, baby. No. Mommy will never leave you. Never."
The sound of laughter and chatter around them faded as a man's voice cut through the hall.
"Everyone, quiet, please! Grandfather has an important announcement!"
The speaker was Qin Fei, the eldest son of the Qin family patriarch. His son, Qin Shou, leaned back in his chair, smirking toward the corner where Qin Qinghan sat with her parents.
Qin Fei's smirk deepened. He'd always found his cousin beautiful—too beautiful. Were she not his blood, he might have tried his luck long ago.
The ballroom fell silent again as the patriarch, Qin Guangnan, rose from the main table. Dressed in a red Tang jacket, he smiled broadly and lifted his glass.
"Tonight, on my seventieth birthday," he announced, "I thank you all for coming. I would also like to take this opportunity to announce a joyful occasion—my granddaughter Qin Qinghan's engagement!"
A murmur rippled through the room. Qin Guangnan turned toward a table near the front, where a mild-mannered man in his thirties stood and adjusted his tie.
"Mr. Zhang," the old man said warmly, "thank you for accepting my granddaughter despite her… past. I entrust her to you."
Zhang Ge rose quickly and gave a small bow. "Please, Grandfather Qin, the honor is mine. It's my family's privilege to be connected with the Qins."
Then his eyes drifted toward the corner—toward Qin Qinghan. For a moment, he froze. Her beauty was beyond the rumors; even the stories hadn't done her justice. He felt a rush of triumph. Finally, she would be his.
But when his gaze fell on the little girl beside her, his expression soured.
"However…" he hesitated, "my father was clear. We're willing to accept Miss Qin's past, but the child cannot enter the Zhang household."
The words struck like a whip.
Qin Qinghan's breath caught. She had already been forced into this marriage by her grandfather's manipulation. She had decided, grudgingly, to endure it—if it meant her daughter would be safe. But this?
Her hands clenched into fists.
Qin Guangnan laughed stiffly. "Of course, of course. I've already promised your father. The girl will be sent to a foster family."
"Thank you, Grandfather Qin." Zhang Ge smiled broadly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He could barely contain his excitement; he'd dreamed of this woman for years.
The deal was done.
But Qin Qinghan's face darkened with fury. She stood up abruptly.
"Grandfather, you can decide my marriage, my future, even my humiliation—but not my child. If Jing Si leaves me, then I leave this family forever."
"Silence!" Qin Guangnan roared, slamming his palm onto the table. "Do you think you've earned the right to speak? After all the disgrace you've brought us? Zhang Ge is willing to marry you despite your… condition. You should be grateful!"
He turned toward his grandson.
"Qin Shou! Take that little bastard out of here. Now."
Qin Shou licked his lips, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Consider it done, Grandfather."
He strode toward them, and Qin Qinghan's face went white with terror. She wrapped her arms around Jing Si, shielding the child as if her body could form a wall.
"Grandfather's doing this for your own good," Qin Shou sneered. He grabbed Jing Si by the arm, yanking hard.
"Let go of my daughter!" Qin Qinghan screamed, clawing at his hands. But he was a grown man, and her blows barely made him flinch.
"Enough!" he barked, jerking her aside. His rough pull sent the little girl flying, tumbling to the floor several feet away.
Qin Qinghan fell backward into her mother's arms, struggling to rise, but Yang Yu held her tightly.
"Stop it, Qinghan! This is for your own good! Don't let that child ruin your life!"
"Does it hurt?"
The sudden voice froze everyone.
Qin Shou turned sharply—and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man kneeling beside the little girl, lifting her gently from the floor.
The stranger's voice was low and calm. His expression—kind, almost tender.
For a heartbeat, the entire hall went still.
Qin Qinghan looked up, startled. Her heart raced. She didn't know the man, but something about his presence—the way he carried himself—made her chest tighten.
Tears glimmered in Jing Si's eyes, but she forced herself to shake her head.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
The man smiled faintly. "What's your name?"
"My name is Qin Jing Si," the girl said softly.
He nodded. "And where are your parents?"
"I don't have a dad," she said. "That's my mom."
She pointed toward Qin Qinghan, still struggling in her mother's arms.
"They all say my dad was a bad man," the girl added quietly, "but Mommy says he was a hero."
The man's gaze softened. "And who do you believe?"
Jing Si hesitated only for a moment. "I believe Mommy."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, guilt, pride, and something far darker.
He smiled gently, though his voice had turned to steel. "That's a good answer."
Then Qin Shou laughed, breaking the moment.
"Hero? Don't make me laugh. Your father was a rapist, kid. That's the only thing heroic about him—his crime."
The word rapist hung in the air like poison.
Ye Fengwu froze. The warmth in his expression vanished. His face hardened, his eyes turning razor-sharp, predatory—like a wolf that had caught the scent of blood.
Qin Shou felt it instantly. His body tensed. He took an involuntary step back.
Ye's voice, when it came, was quiet—but deadly.
"Tell me, little one," he said, still kneeling, "is your mother's name Qin Qinghan?"
Jing Si blinked, surprised. "Uncle, you know my mommy?"
A chill swept through Ye Fengwu's heart. His jaw tightened as realization struck.
He closed his eyes briefly, guilt cutting deep, then opened them again—cold and lethal.
The wolf had found his family.
And the hunt had just begun.