“I did not!”
Zuo Shihuan gritted his teeth, eyes burning with anger as he denied it.
Gu Heng let out a sharp, mocking laugh, his gaze turning colder and darker. “You didn’t? Then what—does that mean I did?”
“I can’t forget you. I thought if I left the Federation’s main star, if I just got far enough away, maybe I could forget this whole thing—but I couldn’t. Even after leaving, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you. Like some pathetic fool, I kept thinking of you all the time…”
Gu Heng’s eyes turned red; his voice came out rough and strained. “Zuo Shihuan, you probably don’t know this, but I secretly went to see you once. I didn’t disturb you because I didn’t want to disrupt the peaceful life you wanted. You seemed to be doing so well without me.”
Zuo Shihuan froze, eyes widening, his clenched hands slowly relaxing.
He couldn’t stop thinking— Gu Heng came to see him? He had no idea. None at all.
In those dark, harsh eyes of Gu Heng’s, a fragile mist of hurt surfaced—but he wouldn’t allow anyone to see that softness. He kept his mocking, proud expression as he laughed bitterly at himself: “Yes, you’re doing very well. Better than anyone. It didn’t take long before you found someone new. If I hadn’t happened to return to the main star, I wouldn’t even have known that you were living a life everyone envies—holding an engagement banquet, ready to bring home your new Omega fiancé. While I—still thinking about you—look like an absolute fool.”
Zuo Shihuan bit his lip until it turned white. His pale brown eyes flashed with anger at being slandered—but soon, that anger turned to something more complicated, tinged with guilt.
It wasn’t like that.
Not at all like Gu Heng said. It wasn’t that he was fickle or eager to replace him. His engagement to Yu Lizhu was something he had no choice in.
But none of this could he explain to Gu Heng—not here.
Besides, Zuo Shihuan didn’t feel that he’d done anything wrong.
Hadn’t Gu Heng already left the main star? Hadn’t he made it clear they would never meet again? So naturally, Zuo Shihuan had decided to let go of a relationship that had run its course, and to follow the Zuo family’s arrangement for an alliance with the Yu family.
Even now, he could still say with conviction that he wasn’t in the wrong—he had no reason to explain his engagement to Gu Heng.
It was Gu Heng who had turned the whole thing into chaos, leaving him now trapped with nowhere to turn.
Yet the thought that Gu Heng had been hurting too—that somewhere he couldn’t see, there had been someone missing him— made Zuo Shihuan’s pupils tremble violently. He lowered his head, unconsciously rubbing his thumb against the ring on his finger, as if he could feel the quick, uneven beat of his heart through it.
“Nothing to say now, huh? Zuo Shihuan, how am I supposed to believe you?”
Gu Heng let out a bitter laugh. “I’m starting to think—you probably want to have it both ways, don’t you? Just like before, when you tried to buy me off with money. You want to stay the Zuo family heir, marry your Omega wife—and still keep me as your secret lover on the side, right?”
His throat worked as he swallowed hard, red eyes welling with pain and fury. His voice came out low and rough: “If that’s really what you want, Zuo Shihuan—then I won’t let you get away with it.”
Zuo Shihuan blinked, momentarily stunned by the absurdity of Gu Heng’s assumption.
He almost wanted to laugh.
But when he looked at Gu Heng—the man who had always seemed so proud, so untouchable—and saw how seriously he believed this ridiculous thought, saw the pain and bitterness twisting his expression, the anger in Zuo Shihuan’s chest simply melted away.
Instead, what he saw was a pitiful, cornered wolf— soaked through by the rain, thin and exhausted, trembling and baring its teeth at him in a feeble show of threat, still trying to look fierce even as it had nowhere left to run.
Zuo Shihuan couldn’t bring himself to laugh, nor to be angry. His throat tightened, and a dull ache spread through his chest.
He kept rubbing the ring on his finger again and again, as if trying to calm the restless beating of his heart.
But it was useless.
The moment Zuo Shihuan saw the pain and disappointment in Gu Heng’s eyes, it was as though a sharp blade pierced through his chest. The ache that flooded out—reluctance, tenderness, sorrow—made it impossible for him to hold onto his reason any longer.
“If only I really were what you said I was, Gu Heng,” he said hoarsely, “a shameless playboy like my father. Then I could’ve gone on with the engagement banquet without a care. But—of course—you just had to show up…”
He looked up at Gu Heng, gaze complicated and unreadable, and his tone turned bitter. “If I didn’t care about you, if I didn’t worry about you, if I didn’t even… love you—?”
“I probably never told you that, because even I don’t know if this feeling counts as love. But ever since I accepted the reality of the arranged marriage, every time I saw you, I began to waver. I started to resist the fate that had been set for me. I even thought about running away—leaving the Zuo family, escaping the marriage. I stopped weighing pros and cons rationally, lost control of myself completely. I let you break into my world, overturn everything, until I couldn’t even recognize myself anymore.”
Gu Heng froze, the gloom and fury in his face faltering. His dark eyes lifted to Zuo Shihuan, as if he couldn’t tell whether he’d heard right—or if his ears were deceiving him.
Had he just heard Zuo Shihuan say he loved him?
Zuo Shihuan—love him?
It felt like something he’d longed for, something out of reach for so long, had suddenly appeared before him just when he’d already given up hope.
But Zuo Shihuan had truly said it.
A faint light stirred in Zuo Shihuan’s eyes. He curved his lips into a small, unreadable smile and said softly, “If this isn’t the kind of dizzy, foolish love you mean, then I can’t explain everything I’ve done—the sacrifices, the choices, the irrational things I’ve done for you. It’s so absurd, even I find it terrifying. Unless I’ve really been possessed by some demon… Too bad the priests I know aren’t very reliable—guess none of them could exorcise it for me.”
He was making a joke for once, but there wasn’t a trace of laughter in his light brown eyes—only bitterness and self-mockery. His gaze fixed on Gu Heng, steady and unblinking, as though pulling him into the depths of his heart. His voice lowered to a murmur.
“If there really are demons in this world, the only one would be you, Gu Heng. Even if you dragged me down to h*ll, I’d still let myself be ensnared and follow you willingly—just like I’m doing now.”
Suddenly, Zuo Shihuan grabbed Gu Heng by the collar. His pale brown eyes looked like a forest veiled in heavy fog—cold, dim, and desolate. But only someone who stepped into that lonely forest would see the tenderness buried deep beneath the roots of the trees, the devotion that had quietly taken root there for Gu Heng.
It was as if he had finally run out of ways to resist—and was surrendering to the man who had refused to give up on him.
A flicker of shyness crossed Zuo Shihuan’s eyes; his palms clenched nervously. Yet his gaze remained firm as he looked at Gu Heng. The next second, his voice softened near Gu Heng’s neck, carrying a faint, helpless smile.
“The only one I’ve ever wanted—the only one I will ever want—is you.”
Before Gu Heng could react, Zuo Shihuan tilted his chin upward, trembling slightly with nervousness, and tugged on Gu Heng’s collar to pull him closer. His heart thudded wildly as he leaned in and, hesitantly, brushed his lips against Gu Heng’s.
The warmth of it made his heart skip a beat.
Making sure he hadn’t missed the mark, Zuo Shihuan followed instinct and memory, deepening the kiss little by little, tracing the curve of Gu Heng’s lips. His breathing quickened, the air between them heating.
Then came the sound of harsh, rapid breaths— like one of them had been startled.
Soon their hot breaths tangled together—impossible to tell who was breathing, who was gasping.
Zuo Shihuan tried to go a bit deeper, but clumsily bumped teeth. A sharp taste of blood spread between their lips, and in the fevered tangle of their kiss, neither could tell who had bitten whom.
When they finally parted, Gu Heng’s lip was bleeding, pressed tight in pain—it looked pretty bad.
Anyone who saw would’ve thought Zuo Shihuan had bitten him on purpose out of spite.
But it hadn’t been on purpose. And yet, Zuo Shihuan couldn’t help laughing, as if teasing a poor thing that had just been bullied.
Gu Heng, flushed with both pain and indignation, leaned down suddenly, kissing him back in retribution—biting lightly at those lips that had just said things that broke his heart, hurt his pride, made him ache, and were now laughing at him.
What started rough and impulsive gradually softened—turning slow, tender, and full of feeling.
Unspoken affection flowed between them.
Afterward—
Zuo Shihuan, his ears burning red, finally let go of the stiff, unmoving Gu Heng. He didn’t speak for a long while, just lowered his trembling lashes, lips pressed tight as he tried to calm his racing heart and the heat on his face.
Initiating a kiss in front of people—this had shattered the limits of his shame. He’d never imagined himself being this impulsive, this reckless. Yet every time, when it came to Gu Heng, he found himself breaking one boundary after another.
He didn’t even need a thermometer to know his face was burning. But seeing Gu Heng’s stunned, red-faced expression—so rare for him—made it all feel worth it.
He couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.
“Now do you understand?”
Zuo Shihuan smiled at him. The light brown of his eyes shimmered like starlight, and his handsome, refined face seemed almost dazzling. A small dimple appeared as he smiled softly—clear, warm, and sweet enough to seep straight into the heart.
Someone usually so composed and restrained, smiling like that— the warmth and tenderness in his eyes felt like they were meant for Gu Heng alone.
It made one’s defenses crumble.
Gu Heng’s did.
His dark, stormy eyes turned soft, uncertain. His ears flushed red, and he raised a hand to cover his face, frowning as if deep in thought—but through the cracks between his fingers, he was secretly peeking at Zuo Shihuan’s smiling face.
The anger that had been bubbling inside him popped like a pricked balloon.
Even though Gu Heng still had some lingering doubts — worried that Zuo Shihuan might only be kissing him out of expediency, doing it just to appease him rather than out of genuine feeling — he still couldn’t stop the wave of joy and smug satisfaction welling up inside.
Gu Heng kept up the appearance of being stern, glaring seriously at Zuo Shihuan, but his hand over his mouth couldn’t hide the curve tugging higher and higher at the corners of his lips. His elegant black eyes gleamed — bright as the most dazzling star in the night — and yet, still greedy and unsatisfied, he said, “I still don’t understand.”
Now it was Zuo Shihuan’s turn to freeze, at a loss for how to make Gu Heng understand.
He’d already pushed himself far — kissing Gu Heng in front of everyone and confessing his feelings — it had taken him a lot of mental preparation. If even that couldn’t get Gu Heng to realize how he felt, he truly didn’t know what else he could do to prove it.
A little flustered, Zuo Shihuan cautiously looked up at him and asked, “Then… how should I explain it so that you’ll understand?”
“No need to explain,” Gu Heng said flatly.
Half the light in Zuo Shihuan’s eyes dimmed at once. Guilt and frustration churned in him — had Gu Heng gotten so angry that he wouldn’t listen to any explanation at all?
But in the next moment, Gu Heng’s teasing, amused voice sounded again.
“You just need to kiss me a few more times, that’s all. No need for explanations. That last one was too short — I barely had time to react before it was over. This time, I want to properly and carefully savor the day when the great young master of the Zuo family takes the initiative to kiss me.”
Gu Heng arched a brow; the sharp, bright gleam returned to his eyes, brimming with energy, mischief, and anticipation. He even leaned forward slightly, thick black lashes so close they almost brushed Zuo Shihuan’s cheek.
That shameless look of his — paired with the familiar, wicked smile tugging at his lips — made Zuo Shihuan’s face darken. His fists clenched tight, knuckles cracking audibly.
He felt like an idiot for actually worrying just moments ago — as if he still didn’t know what kind of person Gu Heng was.
Zuo Shihuan wanted to refuse seriously, to put a stop to this.
But the moment his gaze met Gu Heng’s anxious, expectant eyes, the words of righteous refusal died on his tongue.
He glanced left, then right — a thief’s guilt flashing through him. Well, a kiss is a kiss. Once or twice, it wouldn’t make a difference. He could already imagine how tomorrow’s rumors would explode, how unbearable they’d sound.
To h*ll with it — things couldn’t get any worse anyway.
Zuo Shihuan glared with those light brown eyes of his at the eager Gu Heng hovering before him, then gritted his teeth and kissed him again, this time grabbing his collar so he wouldn’t move.
He’d expected Gu Heng to make some teasing or over-the-top move again.
But to his surprise, Gu Heng stayed uncharacteristically still and well-behaved the whole time.
When Zuo Shihuan finally pulled back, puzzled, he saw Gu Heng — red from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. His pupils were wide in shock, and the usually proud, haughty face was dusted with a shy, bashful flush. His gaze darted away, unable to meet Zuo Shihuan’s directly.
His whole face was so red he looked like a pure, well-behaved high school boy having his first kiss.
Pure?
Well-behaved?
Gu Heng?
Zuo Shihuan almost couldn’t believe his eyes.
After a long moment, Gu Heng finally came back to his senses, frowning in self-annoyance, clearly displeased with his own dazed reaction. Yet he couldn’t help replaying Zuo Shihuan’s confession in his mind over and over — and the more he thought about it, the more his lips curved upward, the higher the corners rose. His deep black eyes sparkled like bright lightbulbs glowing in the dark.
Every now and then, he’d sneak a glance at Zuo Shihuan again and again — nervous and disbelieving, but each time his eyes shone brighter, his joy pure and irrepressible, spilling over his face.
Gu Heng cleared his throat twice, seemingly annoyed with himself for looking so foolish, and tried to sound calm and mature: “I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. Well… fine. I believe you now.”
Zuo Shihuan raised a brow, a strange thought flashing through his mind.
Could it be… that Gu Heng had never actually been in a real relationship before? Never had a boyfriend or girlfriend?
It didn’t seem possible — Gu Heng looked every bit the kind of person who’d have no shortage of admirers. From the very first time they met, his teasing and flirtation hadn’t stopped, his kissing skills were unexpectedly practiced, and he’d even once, half-jokingly and half-arrogantly, propositioned Zuo Shihuan for a one-night stand.
But now… it seemed that Gu Heng really had never been in a serious relationship before. That was why he looked so awkward — and so genuinely flustered.
Even Zuo Shihuan was handling this better than he was.
Though Zuo Shihuan had never been in a serious romance either, he’d never lacked suitors. Growing up in the slums, fighting to survive like a lone wolf, his youthful sharpness and quiet strength had drawn plenty of Beta peers to him.
When he’d started fighting underground to earn tuition money, just past twenty, he’d fully grown into his features — inheriting his mother’s beauty and that compelling mix of hardness and allure that drew people in.
He’d never imagined that he, beyond selling organs, could be worth that much — that so many wealthy spectators would want to buy him, even after learning he wasn’t for sale. Some offered fortunes for a night, a fling, a brief affair.
If not for the psychological scars left by his parents’ mess — his deep aversion and disgust toward such murky relationships — he might have ended up like most others from the bottom: giving in to indulgence, chasing pleasure, money, and lust without shame.
When he finally made it into Federation Academy, it was like stepping into an ivory tower — clean and bright. He no longer had to breathe the slum’s air, heavy like burning trash and diesel fumes. The students there wore crisp clothes, carried books, hurried to class — it was the youthful campus life he’d never known.
He could finally start a new chapter of his life. Even if he did fall in love someday, he wouldn’t have to worry about ulterior motives or survival.
But in order to keep his full scholarship at Federation Academy, Zuo Shihuan had to work harder than anyone — with no time left for love.
Even though he often saw couples on campus looking happy and in love, it wasn’t that Zuo Shihuan never felt any faint, hazy curiosity about it himself. Quite a few people had confessed to him or handed him love letters — all of which he politely turned down.
Only one pursuer remained persistent.
At first, that person slipped him little notes in the library, hoping to get to know him.
When Zuo Shihuan refused, the person didn’t give up. Instead, they started showing up at the library every day, sitting not too close yet not too far from him. Sometimes they would bring over a question to ask; after getting an answer, they would thank him and try to invite him out for a meal — which he again declined. So the person began bringing him small breakfasts and snacks as thanks.
They kept this steady rhythm of contact — not too fast, not too slow — for three months.
Gradually, Zuo Shihuan stopped rejecting their approach. Bit by bit, he learned the classmate’s name, major, and hobbies.
One day, while Zuo Shihuan was studying in the library, he received another note. It said the classmate wanted to get to know him better — to have his contact information.
This time, Zuo Shihuan didn’t refuse.
From then on, their relationship seemed to grow closer. Every day, he received messages from the other, often with funny little moments from daily life that made Zuo Shihuan smile when he read them.
Even Zuo Shihuan started to think that maybe he was about to begin a pure, innocent campus romance. But his time was always tight — far too busy.
When his professor once again brought him along to an out-of-town month-long mecha competition — not as a pilot, but as part of the maintenance crew — Zuo Shihuan accepted. As a student in mecha mechanics, he was responsible for repair and support, in exchange for a stipend and extra credits.
There were too many competitors. Every day, Zuo Shihuan was swamped tuning and optimizing the machines, though he didn’t really mind — he found it fulfilling.
At first, he still replied to messages, sometimes even sending photos from the competition.
But as the tournament grew fiercer — with some students’ mechas returning half-destroyed — he became so busy that each night he collapsed straight into bed. He stopped checking his communicator entirely, not realizing that the messages had gradually become fewer and finally stopped altogether.
When the month ended, they returned victorious — champions. Zuo Shihuan received praise from his professor and a bonus on top of the stipend, enough to cover a full year’s tuition.
But when he finally sent a message to share the news with that classmate, the reply he got was cold and perfunctory.
Puzzled, Zuo Shihuan went to find them in person.
He went to their classroom, called their name — only to see the classmate’s face turn frosty. They turned away to talk to someone else, deliberately ignoring him.
At that moment, Zuo Shihuan understood.
He simply said, “Sorry,” and didn’t disturb them again.
Though he felt a small pang of regret — he’d thought maybe their relationship could go further, yet now even friendship seemed impossible — he accepted that most of it was his fault, and let it go without dwelling.
The competition had given him valuable experience and ideas, and with the generous bonus, he decided to buy materials to improve his mecha designs.
He thought the whole matter was over.
But less than a month later, that classmate came to him — to confess.
They tearfully explained that they’d only wanted Zuo Shihuan to experience what it felt like to be ignored and left out — that they’d planned to give him the silent treatment for a while, make him anxious, make him realize what he’d lost and come coax them back.
But after waiting in torment for a whole month, they hadn’t received even one message.
They’d thought that as long as Zuo Shihuan sent a few more texts, they’d forgive him for being too busy with the competition. Yet Zuo Shihuan hadn’t sent a single word — cold and decisive, as if tossing them aside without a thought.
Finally unable to hold back, they came to him, unwilling to give up, wanting an answer.
After hearing everything, Zuo Shihuan looked at the once-familiar classmate — now a stranger — and felt no trace of the earlier regret that used to linger faintly in his heart.
He didn’t feel happy.
He didn’t feel sad.
Zuo Shihuan even began to wonder if the classmate was right — that he really was born cold and detached. That even after months of ambiguous closeness, even faced with a confession, his heart didn’t stir in the slightest — calm as still water, like a passerby.
“I’m sorry.”
He refused, as he always did.
Even when the other person broke down in tears, saying they couldn’t accept it, that they wanted more time together so he could fall in love with them for real — Zuo Shihuan only handed them a tissue, calmly, and firmly said again that they weren’t suitable.
Looking back now…
What “suitable” or “unsuitable” was there?
It only ever came down to whether he wanted to or not.
Zuo Shihuan lowered his head with a helpless smile, rubbing the ring on his finger, gazing at Gu Heng — whose ears and cheeks were uncharacteristically red — his heart full of helpless tenderness and affection.
Only Gu Heng could move his heart so easily. Only Gu Heng’s words could make him lose his calm reason — make him impulsive, angry, sad, tearful; make him swing between joy and pain at a single glance.
Only Gu Heng could make his heart of flesh and blood truly feel — no longer numb and indifferent.
All that talk of being “unsuitable” was nothing but an excuse.
By his old standards, he and Gu Heng were the least compatible pair imaginable.
Even though Gu Heng had caused him no small amount of trouble, Zuo Shihuan couldn’t bring himself to blame him — only to find excuses for him, to shield him. He’d never imagined he could ever be so irrational.
Only Gu Heng was special.
And thank goodness there was only one of him — even this one alone was enough to give him endless headaches.
Zuo Shihuan reached out, gently brushing Gu Heng’s cheek. The other leaned in like a large, obedient wolfdog — eyes curving softly, gaze open and trusting as he allowed Zuo Shihuan to come close, those dark eyes full of affection.
Seeing such a gentle and obedient look, soft against his palm, it was hard not to have his heart melt a little and give in.
Someone with weaker self-control would have already fallen under the spell.
And sure enough—just as he expected—
The next second, the mask fell away.
Gu Heng tilted his head, gripping Zuo Shihuan’s wrist, and pressed a warm, lingering, possessive kiss to the center of his palm. His deep, dark eyes stayed fixed on him, refusing to let go.
Like a beast that, once it bit into its prey, would never release its hold.
So much for that gentle, well-behaved act—it barely lasted a few seconds.
In truth, it was all pretense.
Once he started something, no one could stop him.
Zuo Shihuan’s head ached. He couldn’t help but lift his hand to lightly pat Gu Heng’s head—only to see those dark, desire-filled eyes suddenly turn pitiful and aggrieved, as if he had done something terribly wrong.
What an actor.
Zuo Shihuan couldn’t help but laugh in exasperation, but still said, “Now are you satisfied? My engagement banquet has been completely ruined by you. In a bit, I’ll have to explain everything to all the guests and discuss it with my father. He’s definitely going to scold me, and it’s going to add a lot more work to my plate.”
Of course Gu Heng was satisfied.
He’d finally gotten the answer he wanted from Zuo Shihuan, and now the detestable engagement banquet had been wrecked—along with that Omega bride who could go wherever she pleased, so long as it wasn’t here. His heart was so full of smug delight that he nearly laughed out loud.
Though outwardly, he still had to act the part.
“Did I make things difficult for you? Even if you’re mad at me, at worst I’ll just mortgage myself to you. I’ll take responsibility and support you,” Gu Heng said earnestly, brows furrowed, still holding Zuo Shihuan’s hand.
But his seriousness didn’t last long.
The next moment, a shadow of red—dark, dangerous—flashed in Gu Heng’s black eyes. On the surface, his movements were tender as he kissed the tip of Zuo Shihuan’s finger, then curved his lips in a sly smile. “But even if I could do it ten thousand more times, I’d still do it. I’d have to be insane to let you marry another woman.”
Zuo Shihuan sighed, rubbing his forehead. “How could an Alpha like me possibly let you ‘support’ me… Forget it, I won’t argue with you.”
There were too many things he could be angry about—but somehow, he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry anymore.
Thinking about how, under Gu Heng’s fierce obstruction, the engagement between the Zuo and Yu families was probably beyond saving—
This engagement banquet had ended in pure awkward chaos. Soon, he’d have to figure out how to persuade his father to call off the alliance, how to handle the aftermath, and how to announce the dissolution of the engagement publicly.
Even if he had the confidence to face his father, there were still the tangled interests and political ties between the two families, and, as the one breaking the contract first, how much compensation and concessions the Zuo family would have to offer the Yu family—too many messy, complicated threads awaited him.
But none of that was what troubled Zuo Shihuan the most.
What truly made him feel conflicted and guilty was—if this false engagement was called off, what would happen to Yu Lizhu?
Even though Yu Lizhu had mentioned she was willing to end the engagement herself, Zuo Shihuan couldn’t just turn a blind eye. She had helped him many times. She was, in truth, the only friend he sincerely recognized among all those aristocratic Omegas.
If the engagement were truly annulled, the one truly abandoned would be Yu Lizhu.
Unlike him—an Alpha heir to the Zuo family’s main line, whose position couldn’t be replaced no matter what—Yu Lizhu’s situation was very different.
Though the Yu family’s precious Omega daughter, she was essentially a caged songbird, with no real say in anything. She couldn’t defy her parents’ arrangements, nor could she bear to leave her comatose sister. If this engagement failed, she would likely be forced into another political marriage soon after.
That would also mean she’d have to break up with Ji Shenwen. She couldn’t flee the Yu family with her vegetative sister in tow; if she wanted to escape, she’d have to abandon her.
Zuo Shihuan knew how deep Yu Lizhu’s feelings ran for her sister. No matter what she chose, it was something he didn’t want to see.
His original plan had been to help her reclaim her sister from the Bai family—her brother-in-law’s control—but that depended on the Zuo–Yu alliance staying intact, giving him a reason to involve himself in Yu family affairs.
Now, that chance was slipping away.
Zuo Shihuan’s expression grew heavy, guilt and hesitation flickering in his eyes.
He knew there were rarely perfect outcomes in this world.
Since he had chosen Gu Heng, he would have to give up certain things—and could only try to make it up to Yu Lizhu in other ways.
But stopping the engagement wasn’t something he could decide alone.
Meanwhile—
At the banquet, the guests had already erupted in chaos.
“What is going on—”
A sharp-faced, fussy-looking noblewoman screamed, her eyes filled with fury. She was wrapped in a brown fur shawl, wrists and neck glittering with jewels, lips painted a dark purplish red, her shrill voice cutting through the air.
“Zuo Zoujian, are you saying you no longer wish to unite with our Yu family?! Why is someone making a scene at the Yu–Zuo engagement banquet? Why aren’t you stopping that low-born troublemaker immediately?!”
Beside her stood a short, rotund middle-aged man, his broad face usually warm and shrewd—but now frozen stiff.
Father Yu could no longer smile.
When he saw the wrecked remains of the engagement hall, horror flickered in his eyes. His gaze shifted toward the unfamiliar, strikingly handsome man standing beside Zuo Shihuan—someone even Zuo Zoujian himself couldn’t subdue. After a moment of calculation, Father Yu decided not to provoke him.
Schemes glinted in his eyes as he turned instead to glare at Zuo Zoujian.
“Relative in-law,” he said coldly, “if my memory serves, it was your Zuo family that came knocking on our Yu family’s door seeking an alliance! And now the engagement banquet is in ruins—just what are you planning to do with the young lady we’ve raised and protected like a jewel in our hands?”
His tone hardened. “Zuo Zoujian, our daughter of the Yu family is a top-tier Omega—in talent, appearance, temperament, and ability, she is a refined lady we’ve cultivated with great care and cost. She hardly lacks Alpha suitors—certainly not from your Zuo family.”
For the first time, Zuo Zoujian found himself truly at a loss, unable to say a word in his own defense.
Back when Father Yu first heard that the Yu and Zuo families could form an alliance through marriage, his face had been all smiles and flattery—he couldn’t wait to marry his Omega daughter into the Zuo family.
Now, the tables had turned.
Zuo Zoujian, who’d caused his share of romantic scandals in his youth, had finally been dragged down by one of his own son’s affairs.
He was being accused and berated by that vulgar, jewelry-peddling Yu family, yet didn’t dare show even the slightest displeasure.
Swallowing his pride, Zuo Zoujian forced a smile, gritted his teeth, and said, “Of course not—how could that be? I’m very satisfied with the Yu family’s young lady. What happened tonight was just an unexpected accident, that’s all. Everything will soon return to normal.”
