The air inside the room was heavy, infused with the scent of regret and silent love. Zhen laid Anya on the bed with such tenderness, as if she were made of glass that might shatter at the slightest touch.
Anya averted her gaze, but Zhen had entirely different intentions. Without saying a word, he sat down on the floor near her feet. Anya froze. The "Emperor of Shenzhen" was now at her feet.
Zhen's long, steady hands slowly touched the straps of Anya's sandals. The tremor in his fingertips was something Anya could feel all the way to her ankles. When he removed the first sandal and placed it aside, Anya's breath hitched. Zhen took her bare foot into his palms; the warmth of his hands shot through Anya's cold body like electricity.
He removed the second sandal as well and then moved toward the table. Filling a glass with water, he returned to Anya's side.
Zhen (in a low, velvety voice): "Drink some water, Anya. Your lips are drying."
Anya wanted to refuse, but there was a plea in Zhen's eyes at that moment that was impossible to reject. She took the glass with trembling hands, but because of her weakness, her grip faltered. Zhen immediately placed his hand over the glass, supporting it, and slowly helped her drink the water.
For a moment, their eyes met. Along with the water, Anya had to swallow the pain that was clearly swimming in Zhen's eyes.
Downstairs in the hall, Qiyan and Huan Jing were alone. Between them lingered a restlessness that was difficult to put into words. Huan Jing sat on the sofa, twisting her fingers, while Qiyan stood near the window, looking outside.
Qiyan (turning): "She is safe now, Jing. You have to stop blaming yourself."
Moisture gathered once again in Huan Jing's eyes. She lifted her head and looked at Qiyan.
Huan Jing: "How can I stop, Qiyan? If something had happened to her… I would never have been able to forgive myself. And Zhen… I have never seen him break like this. He wasn't a man—he was stone. But today…"
Qiyan walked toward her. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on Jing's shoulder. The touch was a little more than friendship, but a little less than love.
Qiyan (seriously): "Zhen is finally realizing how close he came to losing everything."
Huan Jing: "Will he come again? Anya is still very weak."
Qiyan: "As long as Zhen and I are alive, no one will even be able to touch her."
Both their gazes shifted toward the staircase, where upstairs, in that quiet room, a silent battle and a deep pain were growing side by side.
Zhen went downstairs to Qiyan. The moment Zhen left, Huan Jing quietly slipped into Anya's room on soft footsteps. As soon as she closed the door, she let out a breath of relief and hurried to sit beside Anya's bed. Taking Anya's hand into hers, an unusual restlessness flickered in her eyes.
Huan Jing (in a low, serious voice): "Anya… I've been watching you. In front of everyone, you act like you're with Mr. Zhen, but your eyes say something else. I want to ask you something directly… do you truly love Boss Zhen?"
Anya's hands stilled for a moment. She looked out the window, where the moonlight was touching the ground. Taking a long breath, she turned back toward her friend. In her eyes swirled a storm of truth and pain.
Anya: "I cannot lie about this, Jing. Yes… I still love him endlessly. Even today, my heart forgets how to beat at the sound of his presence."
Huan Jing was about to speak, but Anya stopped her.
Anya: "But Jing… loving him doesn't mean I can forget everything he did to me. Every night of those two months, the humiliation and that loneliness… those wounds are still fresh. Love has its place, but it is necessary for him to realize his mistake. I don't want to make him suffer, but I want him to understand what he lost… and what he did to my soul. I want him to feel the pain that I endured."
Seeing Anya's strength, Huan Jing pulled her into an embrace. She understood now that Anya was no longer just a 'victim'—she had become a player in the game where victory was destined to be hers.The silence of the night echoed against the walls of the mansion. Under the soft yellow light of the kitchen, Shenzhen's most powerful man, Zhen Yan, was today accepting his defeat. The sleeves of his thousand-dollar Italian shirt were rolled up, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and the hands that signed massive contracts without hesitation were now trembling in front of a bowl of soup.
Upstairs, the room was filled with laughter and the noise of old memories, where Anya sat with her mother, Lu Feng, and her sister-in-law Fengning. Lu Wei sat holding his sister's hand as if he would never let her go anywhere again. But downstairs, Zhen was fighting a new battle of his own making.
Scene: An Unspoken Turn in the Kitchen
Lu Feng came down the stairs and stopped short at the kitchen doorway. She saw Zhen carefully stirring the soup with a spoon, as if it were the most complicated task in the world. Zhen noticed her and awkwardly tried—and failed—to hide the spoon.
Zhen (in a low voice): "Mom… you? I… I was just making something for Anya. Please go rest, I'll handle it."
A motherly smile spread across Lu Feng's face. She stepped forward slowly and gently took the spoon from Zhen's hand.
Lu Feng: "Learn to make this, Zhen. The world's deals are done with the mind, but the relationships of the kitchen and the heart… they run only on feelings."
Lu Feng began adding the correct amount of spices to the soup. Zhen watched her silently like an obedient student. Suddenly, the sweetness in Lu Feng's voice faded, replaced by a heavy gravity.
Lu Feng: "I know you will take care of her. The world calls you stone-hearted, but I have not forgotten the day five years ago when, during the kidnapping, you risked your life to save my daughter."
Zhen's hands froze. Before his eyes, dust, smoke, and the sound of gunfire suddenly echoed again. The terrifying past he had buried came alive once more.
Lu Feng (voice trembling): "You had already gotten your sister Fengning to safety, Zhen. You could have left. But you went back… for that frightened, innocent little girl—Anya. If you hadn't been there that day, Anya would not be with us today. I saw that fear in your burning eyes… that is why I never refused this marriage."
Behind Zhen's closed eyes, a hazy image surfaced—a small, trembling girl clutching his shirt in her tiny fingers like a frightened rabbit, crying against his chest. The Anya of that day and the injured Anya of today merged into one in his mind. His heart felt crushed under an unbearable weight.
Scene: An Incomplete Truth and a Deepening Secret
Lu Feng: "After Anya's father was gone, her world fell apart. She was completely broken inside."
Zhen's breathing grew heavy. He asked slowly, "Anya's father… how exactly did he die?"
Lu Feng's hands suddenly stopped. She let go of the spoon and stared out into the dark night beyond the kitchen window. The sorrow on her face shook Zhen to his core.
Lu Feng (in a trembling voice): "Death? If only we knew he was dead, Zhen. That day, a terrible incident happened… and he suddenly disappeared. No news, no evidence, not even his body. We searched everywhere for him, but it was as if he vanished into thin air."
Zhen saw Lu Feng's shoulders sag under the weight of grief. For the first time, he realized how many deep wounds and unanswered questions were hidden behind Anya's calm face. Her father's disappearance was a kind of death she had never been able to fully mourn.
Zhen picked up the bowl of soup. His fists were clenched, and a new, fierce determination burned in his eyes.
Zhen (in his mind): "Anya… every tear of yours, every pain you carry, now belongs to me. The past that haunted you—I will dig out its roots."
Without another word, he started walking upstairs. Now, there was no arrogance of the "Emperor of Shenzhen" in his steps—only the repentance of a husband who had realized far too late the depth of his wife's pain. The bowl of hot soup was in his hands, but within him burned a cold fire of vengeance and protection.