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That night, Zhang Momo wandered restlessly around her home, circling again and again but never managing to sit on her bed. Hadn’t she resolved earlier to completely push Xiang Zuo away? So why, when the moment came, had their meeting turned into a shared reminiscence? She’d said things like, “No matter what others say, we can still live our own lives,” and, “But for some people, loving only once is enough”… Why, when she heard these words, had she felt so overwhelmed by the urge to cry?

What was most infuriating was that even after the pain, even after the tears, when he kissed her cheek, why had she run? What was she running from?

Zhang Momo could no longer stay indoors. She flung open the door and rushed into the thickening rain. Xiang Zuo was right—if he didn’t mind her tainted reputation, didn’t care if she was mud tracked through the city, what else was there to worry about? Why should she care that the twins had, one after another, married the same man? The truth was plain—though their relationship was complicated and impossible to explain, it had never crossed any forbidden lines.

She had done plenty of shameless things in her life already; now, for the sake of a promising, dazzling young man, what harm was there in seizing her chance again? Even if, one day, he tired of her and cast her aside, at least she would have tasted sweetness in her life. Only a fool like Xiang Zuo would speak of love as a silent devotion! As a sharp, capable woman of the new era, for her, love was possession—absolute possession!

With this thought, she felt nearly weightless, as if she might fly, gripped by a fear and impatience that someone else might snatch him away first. By the time she reached the Junyue Hotel, she was breathless from the anticipation. The rain had grown heavier, and the short walk from the parking lot to the hotel entrance left her drenched and disheveled. Yet her heart was brimming with grand resolve—she would tell him she would not let him spend another lonely night in this wretched hotel! Why not make things irrevocable tonight, so he’d have no chance to change his mind?

Her urgency was unmatched, and she rushed like a headless fly down the hallway of the sixteenth floor, searching for room 1602. She finally stopped, trembling, outside the door. Her hand shook as she forced herself to breathe deeply, determined to be unwavering in her confession. Just as she raised her hand to knock, she noticed her cuff was wet from the rain, startling her further. She hastily smoothed her hair and summoned her most captivating smile—when suddenly, a woman’s voice from within 1602 froze that smile in place.

“Xiang Zuo, when are you going to move out of this miserable hotel and come home? You have a house but refuse to live in it, choosing instead to hole up here—do you plan to go on living like this?”

The voice was not quiet; even with the soundproof door, Zhang Momo heard it clearly. Once she realized whose stern rebuke this was, she felt not only her face but her entire body go rigid. Though she’d spent eight months married to Xiang Zuo, she’d only met this woman five times. Xiang Zuo’s explanation had always been that his mother was difficult, and he didn’t want Momo to suffer, so “less contact meant fewer mistakes”—the most peaceful way to co-exist. But no matter how rarely they met, the sound of that voice brought her stern, dignified face vividly to mind.

“Mom, staying in the hotel is convenient. There’s no need for you to worry. Since you’re here so late, just say what you need to say.”

There was a brief silence in the room; standing outside, Zhang Momo inexplicably felt as if she could sense Ms. Qin Lan’s sharp, penetrating gaze fixing on Xiang Zuo’s equally expressionless face. The thought sent a chill through her, and the raindrops on her skin suddenly felt icy.

“You manage such a large operation at Shenglian, yet you still have the leisure to help that half-dead Dongyin Company prepare for an IPO? When did you become so irrational, Xiang Zuo? Don’t tell me you’re really doing this for that woman named Momo. I’ll say it again—I don’t care who you truly love or who you originally wanted to marry. Since you married Nianqing, even if you’re now divorced, it’s absolutely impossible for you to marry your former sister-in-law! Besides, that girl’s behavior has always been questionable—drinking in bars, losing control of herself—how could you—”

“Mom!” Xiang Zuo’s interruption was heavy, resolute. “This is my personal matter. I don’t believe I need to seek your approval for whom I love.”

“Fine! I won’t discuss this with you anymore.” Qin Lan’s retort was brisk, sharper than ever. “Let’s talk business. For Dongyin’s IPO—stuffing their numbers, acquiring Lucheng, all the administrative costs—how much has Shenglian spent? You know better than anyone. Did I hand Shenglian over to you just so you could squander it chasing after a woman? I built Shenglian with a lifetime of hard work—did I do it for you to make a mess of things?”

“If you believe my decisions are hindering the company’s growth, I can return Shenglian to you.”

“You’re threatening me?” Qin Lan’s voice instantly turned glacial, and Xiang Zuo’s was equally cold.

“This isn’t a threat—it’s a solution. If you want me to give up Zhang Momo, it would be easier for me to give up Shenglian.”

Xiang Zuo was neither impulsive nor angry. The calmer he spoke, the deeper Qin Lan’s disappointment. She could hardly believe that her son, always so rational and outstanding, could be so muddled now. Yet when she spoke again, her voice was firm and unyielding to the extreme. “Then prepare to hand over Shenglian. I will not let my company be ruined by someone so reckless and self-destructive, not even if he is my son!”

Standing outside the door, Zhang Momo heard no more. The soaring excitement and joy of moments before vanished, swallowed by the earth. What did it mean to hand over Shenglian? Who said he would give it up? Did he not understand what Shenglian represented? All these years, he had poured his heart and soul into his work—had he forgotten why?

In the dark spring night, the rain grew heavier, fat drops striking her with a stinging pain. Zhang Momo walked about a block before she realized she’d left her car in the Junyue Hotel parking lot.

She sighed, head bowed, and turned back, only to see a young man of medium build across the street pause in his steps. No matter how much grief she’d felt, it was all replaced by fear. Zhang Momo tensed and hurried her pace, glancing back in alarm—only to see the man change direction and follow her.

He wore his cap low, and in the darkness and rain, he could have been any ordinary passerby. But now, with her nerves on edge, he seemed oddly familiar. The street was nearly empty, and he wasn’t carrying an umbrella. She was certain now—he was following her.

He walked along the opposite sidewalk. Zhang Momo clutched her phone, debating whether to call the police, but hesitated—after all, public streets belonged to everyone, and he hadn’t done anything. Still, she was sure he was tailing her.

Just then, a group came out of a brightly lit restaurant nearby. In the middle of them, she spotted Song Jiakai. Relief flooded her—he was like a lifeline, and Zhang Momo ran toward him without hesitation.

Song Jiakai had just opened his car door when he heard someone call him. Turning, he saw Zhang Momo, drenched and terrified, running toward him.

“What happened?”

She was breathless, her lips pale and trembling. “Behind me—don’t look! Across the street, I think someone is following me.”

Song Jiakai raised his umbrella over her, startled by her warning. Discreetly, he glanced around—sure enough, in the rainy night, a man without an umbrella lingered, not leaving. He took a towel from his car and dried her dripping hair. “Do you know him?”

“No, but I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

Song Jiakai paused, then took her hand and walked with her down the sidewalk.

“Aren’t you driving?” Zhang Momo’s legs were weak; she’d always been timid and now just wanted to escape in Song Jiakai’s car. But he clearly had other plans.

“If we lose him today, what if he follows you again another day?”

He led her down a side street, and Zhang Momo nearly pulled her arm away. But whether out of fearlessness or recklessness, Song Jiakai kept a firm grip and pulled her into a dim alley.

“Hey, what are you doing—?” Before she could finish, he covered her mouth, pinning her against a wall at the corner. “Shhh…” he whispered, peeking out. “He’s coming. Hold the umbrella, and don’t move.”

Her heart pounded as the footsteps drew closer through the rain. Zhang Momo barely dared to breathe. If the man was really a criminal, what could she and Song Jiakai do? In her panic, she couldn’t help but think of Xiang Zuo; if he were here instead, she wouldn’t be so afraid, because Xiang Zuo would never play games with her like this. But right now, she was too frightened to utter a sound, not even noticing when Song Jiakai removed his hand from her mouth.

She couldn’t remember when the footsteps had drawn so close, only that Song Jiakai suddenly cursed, lunged forward, and punched the man in the face. Zhang Momo yelped, fumbling for her phone to call the police, only to drop it in her panic.

“Why are you following us?”

Before she could call, Song Jiakai had already grabbed the man and hauled him up. The stalker’s cap fell to the ground, revealing an ordinary face. He raised his hands in surrender. “I was just passing by.”

“Don’t give me that crap!” Song Jiakai punched him in the stomach. This time he didn’t hold back, and even the man’s stoic face twisted in pain, almost reflexively ready to strike back. Seeing his burly physique, Zhang Momo nearly screamed, but in a flash, he lowered his hands submissively.

“Hey, stop hitting me; someone hired me to follow Miss Zhang and watch out for her safety.”