The next morning dawned bright and cold. Sunlight spilled through the curtains, touching the edge of Lian Yue's silver gown still hanging from the night before.
She sat by the mirror, brushing her pale hair slowly, her reflection calm but her mind anything but.
Three days until the ceremony.
Three days until the world changed again.
"Madam Yue," Mei Rong's voice came softly through the door. "Your car is ready."
"Good," Yue said, standing. She wore a fitted white suit today — elegant yet sharp. Power in every step. "Let's go."
---
Outside, the black sedan gleamed under the morning sun. The driver, Mr. Han, opened the back door for her.
"Straight to the company, ma'am?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, checking her phone. Her company headquarters was on the same street as Zhao Enterprises — a detail she remembered all too well.
The ride was smooth, her thoughts calm. But fate had other plans.
As they turned the last corner, a sudden screech cut through the air — CRASH!
The car jolted to a stop. Yue's phone slipped from her hand.
"What happened?" she asked coolly.
Mr. Han's voice trembled. "Madam… I—I think we hit someone's car."
Yue stepped out, heels clicking sharply against the pavement. Her eyes fell on the sleek black sports car ahead — the front bumper slightly dented.
And beside it stood Rian Zhao.
He was in a tailored black suit, one hand in his pocket, the other brushing faint dust off his sleeve. His gaze lifted slowly, locking on hers.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
"Miss Lian," he said evenly, his tone unreadable. "Your driver seems… reckless."
Yue met his gaze without flinching. "I'll have it repaired and compensated."
"Money doesn't fix everything," Rian replied coldly.
His words struck deeper than they should have. Yue folded her arms. "Then what do you want, Mr. Zhao?"
He stepped closer — close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne, dark and familiar.
His eyes softened for a moment, almost nostalgic, before his expression hardened again.
"Just be careful next time," he said, turning away. "Some accidents can't be fixed."
Before she could respond, he slid into his car and drove off, leaving her standing by the roadside, heart pounding for reasons she couldn't explain.
Mei Rong approached quietly. "Madam, should I arrange the repairs?"
Yue nodded absently. Her gaze lingered on the road where Rian Zhao had disappeared.
> "Still the same cold man," she murmured. "But you'll cross my path again… very soon."
She turned back toward her car, the morning sun catching the faint smile on her lips — a smile that promised war and destiny intertwined.
The morning after the get-together was sharp and clear. Light slashed through the glass façade of Yue Corporation as Lian Yue stepped into the lobby. Employees bowed and murmured greetings, but she moved like a blade — deliberate, composed, not a second wasted on small talk.
"Miss Lian, Tian Group is waiting in Conference Room A," Mei Rong said, handing over a slim folder. Her voice held that nervous respect she'd worn for six years.
"Good," Lian replied, smoothing the lapel of her fitted white suit. "Let them in."
The negotiation was clinical and quick. Lian spoke with quiet authority, folding data and strategy into sentences so seamless the Tian representatives left smiling, signatures in hand. When the final page met her pen, a thin line of satisfaction warmed the back of her throat — this was the sort of victory that did not glitter, but changed everything.
She rose to leave the table, the document settled neatly in a folder, when the office door slammed open.
"Yue! We need to talk now!" Wei Jun's voice, raw and demanding, cut through the room.
Two guards who'd been posted at the entrance moved like shadows and blocked him. They took hold of his arms with practiced ease.
Lian paused, fingertip resting on the folder. For a heartbeat she considered letting him stand there, watch the ceremony of her life continue without interruption. Then she folded her hands and lowered her gaze to the papers, deliberately indifferent.
"Let him in," she said, soft and certain.
The guards hesitated, then released him. Wei Jun stumbled forward, breath quick, anger bright in his eyes.
"You're ignoring me," he spat. "You used to—"
"That was then," Lian interrupted, setting the pen down with a controlled clack. Her voice had no heat, only the hard edge of fact. "I do not repeat mistakes."
He advanced a step. "You think this makes you better than everyone? Because of your father's money?"
Lian rose slowly, every motion practiced, every inch of her posture a message. "No. Because I learned who deserves to stand beside me." The words were measured, surgical.
Wei Jun's face shifted with something like wounded pride. "So you choose someone else."
"Choices are mine to make," she said. "Now leave. I have work."
He opened his mouth as if to argue; Mei Rong stepped forward instead, sliding into Lian's shadow like a protective wall.
"Mr. Wei," Mei said quietly, voice steady. "Miss Lian is working. Please leave."
The guards moved. This time they did not show him the courtesy of release; they dragged him toward the door despite his protests, his hands clawing at air and papers alike. The entire trading floor watched in a hush that felt almost ceremonial.
When the door shut, Lian let out the smallest breath. Her heartbeat had not quickened; she had expected the disruption and folded it into her day like any other business variable.
Through the glass wall that separated the executive wing from the street, a black car sat curbside — the sleek shape she'd seen earlier that morning. Rian Zhao's car. She watched as a man in a suit she'd seen before — the driver from her car, Mr. Han — spoke briefly at the window. Rian stood a step back, hands in his pockets, face unreadable as always. He did not glance up. He did not come in.
Her chest stung with an odd, unreadable twitch — irritation tempered with curiosity. He had been distant at the get-together; now he watched from afar as if cataloguing the scene. She folded her fingers together on the folder and told herself it did not matter. Fate liked to repeat its cruel little jokes; she would let it.
She called security and arranged immediate repairs for the dented bumper and the paint scratch. The expense was petty; the point was the message — a mistake, paid for and closed. Practicality masked the silent calculations that hummed at the back of her mind. Every small incident was a thread; she intended to pull them with skill and patience.
When she returned to her office, the hush had lifted and the hum resumed. Phones rang, emails blinked; the world of Yue Corporation rolled on as it always did. She signed the last of the paperwork, stamped the final seal. The deal was done, and with it, a piece of the future was secured.
Three days remained until the announcement.
She paused by the window, looking down at the street where Rian's car had been a pale, composed shadow. She imagined the ceremony — the faces, the cameras, the moment she would strip the past away and set the new board in motion. For every small slight, for every ambition buried under smiles and etiquette, she had plans. She would take them all apart, one careful move at a time.
Mei Rong stood at the door, waiting. "Shall I schedule the press release, madam?"
"Yes," Lian said. Her voice regained its soft steel. "Arrange it for the afternoon. And make sure the security team is briefed. No disturbances."
"Yes, madam."
As the assistant closed the door, Lian turned back to the city. Rian's silhouette was gone, but the echo of him remained — a cold presence she could not yet name. She smoothed her suit and moved toward her desk, every step a quiet promise.
> Three days. One ceremony. One choice that would change everything.
She settled in, pen poised. The pieces were set. The game had truly begun.