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Her hand was still trembling; she rubbed it hard twice and finally exhaled a long breath. Quietly gathering her courage, she promised herself that when confessing her feelings later, she would be resolute and unwavering. Just as she raised her hand to knock on the door, she suddenly realized her cuff had been soaked by the rain, startling her. Her hair, too, was in disarray, so she quickly ran her fingers through it, restoring some semblance of order. Then, she put on her most charming smile—but at that moment, a woman's voice came from inside Room 1602, and that seductive, gentle smile froze stiffly on her face.

"Xiang Zuo, when are you planning to leave this wretched hotel and move back home? You have a house but won’t live there, you stay holed up in this hotel every day—are you planning to live like this forever?!"

The voice was loud enough that even through the well-insulated door, Zhang Momo could hear every word. As she recognized the stern reprimand, her body became as rigid as her face. Though she had lived with Xiang Zuo for eight months after their marriage, she had only met the woman behind that door five times. According to Xiang Zuo, he feared that Momo would suffer at the hands of such a 'difficult mother-in-law,' so 'less contact, fewer problems' was the only way to coexist peacefully. Yet, however infrequent their meetings, the moment she heard that voice, the dignified and severe face appeared vividly before her eyes.

"Mother, living in the hotel is convenient. You don’t need to worry about it. It’s late—if you have something to say, just say it."

There was a brief silence in the room. Standing outside, Zhang Momo, though uncertain why, felt as if she could see Mrs. Qin Lan's sharp, penetrating gaze fixed upon Xiang Zuo’s equally expressionless face. With that thought, the raindrops falling on her body suddenly felt icy, almost piercing.

"You’re running Shenglian, such a big operation, yet you have the leisure to prepare for the listing of some barely breathing Dongyin Corporation? Xiang Zuo, when did you become so irrational? Don’t tell me you’re really doing this for that woman called Momo. Let me repeat myself: I don’t care who you truly love, I don’t care who you originally wanted to marry, but since you married Nianqing—even though you’re divorced now—you cannot bring her younger sister into the family! Besides, that girl’s conduct is questionable; she lost herself drinking at a bar, and with someone like that—"

"Mother!" Xiang Zuo’s voice was heavy, decisive. "This is my personal matter. I don’t believe who I love needs your approval beforehand."

"Fine! I won’t discuss that with you," Qin Lan retorted, her words crisp and swift. "I’ll only talk to you about the company. For Dongyin’s listing—including supplementing Dongyin’s performance, acquiring Lucheng, and all the administrative costs along the way—how much has Shenglian spent? You should know better than anyone. When I handed Shenglian over to you, was it just so you could squander everything in pursuit of a woman? I worked hard all my life to build Shenglian—was it only for you to make a mess of it?"

"I’m sorry. If you feel my decisions are hindering the company’s development, I can hand Shenglian back to you."

"Are you threatening me?!" Qin Lan’s voice instantly chilled; 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 grew. She could hardly believe her once outstanding and rational son had become so muddled. Yet, when she spoke again, her tone was resolute, unyielding. "Then prepare to transfer Shenglian. I will not let my company be ruined by someone so reckless and self-destructive, even if that person is my son!"

Standing outside the door, Zhang Momo could no longer hear a single word. All the excitement and anticipation that had soared moments ago vanished into the depths of the earth. What did 'transfer Shenglian' mean? Who said they would give it up? Did he not understand what Shenglian represented? The work he had worried over day after day these years—had he forgotten why he did it?

On that pitch-black spring night, the rain poured harder and harder; each large drop struck her, stinging faintly. Zhang Momo walked about the length of a bus stop before suddenly realizing her car was still parked at the Junyue Hotel. She had forgotten to drive it home…