The winter sun hung low and pale, casting thin light over the garden. The hedges were neatly trimmed but bare, their branches skeletal against the gray sky. Cold stone seeped through Zhao Mei's slippers as she walked slowly along the path, hands clasped in front of her, posture careful.
She moved like someone trying not to look like she didn't belong.
Because she still felt like she didn't.
Since Zhang Wei had ordered the staff to show her around, things had shifted. The maids smiled more easily now. They bowed a little deeper. No one ignored her anymore. No one whispered openly, at least not where she could hear.
A senior housekeeper had personally walked her through the east wing, the dining hall, and the private library, explaining schedules, rules, and household etiquette in a gentle, patient tone.
Still, when Zhang Wei wasn't home, the penthouse felt far too large. Too quiet.
The silence pressed in on her, heavy and suffocating, so she'd wandered into the garden where the air felt lighter. Out here, she could almost pretend she was just another woman enjoying the winter sun.
She stopped near the koi pond, watching the fish glide beneath the surface in slow, lazy circles. Their world seemed simple. Eat. Swim. Exist.
She drifted toward the rose bushes and bent slightly to examine a bloom when laughter shattered the calm.
Bright. Male. Completely out of place.
Zhao Mei straightened at once, startled.
Near the outdoor seating area, a tall man lounged casually against a table, sunglasses hooked onto his shirt collar, sleeves rolled up like he owned the place. His laughter rang freely through the garden, far too relaxed for a household that usually operated on silent efficiency.
Two maids stood nearby, clearly trying and failing to stay professional.
"You're telling me," the man said dramatically, one hand pressed to his chest, "that this place survived for months without me?"
One of the maids giggled. "Young Master Jun, we did our best."
Jun clicked his tongue. "Heartbreaking. Truly tragic."
He turned slightly, soaking in their reactions, clearly enjoying himself. He had the kind of charm that never asked for permission. His posture was loose, his smile warm, his eyes always dancing like he was sharing a private joke with the world.
As he talked, his gaze drifted across the garden.
Then it stopped.
By the roses stood a young beautiful woman.
She wasn't dressed fancy. A soft dress. Minimal makeup. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. Yet there was something about her stillness, the cautious way she stood, like someone who'd been dropped into luxury without being given the rules.
Jun tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face.
He leaned closer to one of the maids and lowered his voice. "New face?"
The maid followed his gaze and stiffened slightly. "Ah. That's Young Madam."
Jun blinked once. Then a slow smile curved his lips.
"So that's her," he said lightly.
He straightened, adjusting his shirt like a man about to greet a stranger at a party, and walked toward her with unhurried confidence.
Zhao Mei noticed him approaching and tensed.
"Good morning," Jun said easily, stopping at a polite distance. "I promise I don't bite. Much."
She blinked, caught off guard. "Good morning."
He grinned. "Relax. You look like you're deciding whether to run or scream."
"I was just walking," she said, gesturing vaguely.
"Excellent choice," Jun replied. "This garden is Wei's pride. He pretends he doesn't care, but trust me, he does."
Her brows drew together slightly. "You know him well?"
Jun laughed outright. "Unfortunately."
He extended a hand. "Zhang Jun. Zhang Wei's most handsome cousin."
Her eyes widened just a fraction. "His cousin?"
"The loud one," he confirmed. "And you must be…"
"Zhao Mei," she replied, barely audible.
Jun studied her openly, without leering or judgment. Just curiosity.
"You're prettier in real life," he said thoughtfully.
Zhao Mei stiffened.
Jun lifted both hands immediately. "Observation, not a threat. I flirt for fun, not trouble."
A faint smile touched her lips.
Jun noticed at once and chuckled. "There it is. You're not as scary as you look."
"I'm not scary," she said defensively.
"Exactly," he replied.
They began walking slowly along the garden path. Conversation flowed with surprising ease. Jun talked about Europe, about nearly getting arrested in Milan for what he called existing too beautifully, about how Zhang Wei had been born grumpy and never improved.
Zhao Mei listened, occasionally laughing, the tightness in her shoulders gradually easing.
For the first time since arriving at the estate, she didn't feel like she was walking on glass.
At the same time across the city, the air in the boardroom was thick with tension.
Men in tailored suits sat stiffly around the long table, tablets glowing before them, expressions cautious. Zhang Wei stood at the head of the table, hands resting calmly against the polished surface.
He didn't sit. He never did when something mattered.
"You've all seen the reports," he began, his voice level. "The speculation. The noise."
No one interrupted him.
"The situation has been contained," he continued. "Legally, publicly, and internally."
One director cleared his throat. "With all due respect, Chairman Zhang, the board requires clarification."
Zhang Wei's gaze flicked toward him, sharp. "You'll receive what's necessary. Not what satisfies curiosity."
Silence settled.
Then he spoke the words that stilled the room completely.
"I'm legally married."
The air seemed to freeze.
"The woman in the video is now my legal wife," Zhang Wei added. "Any claims beyond that are irrelevant."
Murmurs rippled briefly before being quickly suppressed.
Another director leaned forward. "Who exactly is she?"
Zhang Wei didn't blink. "That information will remain private."
"But…"
"I didn't ask for approval," he cut in. "I informed you."
His tone never rose. It didn't need to.
"The company's stock has stabilized. Investors are reassured. The narrative is closed."
He straightened slightly. "If there are further questions, submit them in writing. This meeting is adjourned."
He turned and walked out before anyone could speak.
Thousands of miles away in London, the city was still asleep when Zhang Jian rose.
From the top floor of his private townhouse, the Thames looked small and insignificant, like something that could be bent if he wished it.
He adjusted his cufflinks slowly, deliberately. Men like him never rushed.
Zhang Jian was the kind of man whose name never appeared in scandals, yet whose shadow hovered over every one of them. The architect behind empires. The hand that moved pieces without ever touching the board.
They called Zhang Wei ruthless.
But Zhang Wei had learned that word at his father's knee.
When the phone rang, Zhang Jian didn't glance at the screen. He already knew who it was.
He answered on the first ring. "Wei."
In his Beijing office, Zhang Wei straightened instinctively, his spine going rigid. "Yes, Father."
That single word still carried weight. Not fear, but something deeper. Respect sharpened by years of conditioning.
"You handled it," Zhang Jian said calmly.
"The board is stabilized. The narrative is sealed," Zhang Wei replied.
"Good." A pause, then softer but heavier. "You married her."
"Yes."
Another pause, longer this time.
"I didn't raise a fool," Zhang Jian said at last. "I raised a man who knows when to sacrifice for a greater cause."
Zhang Wei's jaw tightened. "The marriage won't last. I'll annul it when…"
"When the storm has passed," Zhang Jian finished. "You'll find a reason."
His voice sharpened, steel beneath silk. "But until then, she is Zhang."
The weight of that name settled heavily.
"Understood," Zhang Wei said.
"You've done well," his father added. "Better than I expected."
The call ended.
Zhang Wei remained still long after the line went dead.
Because no matter how powerful he became, there was still only one man whose approval mattered.
Back at the penthouse, Jun popped a grape into his mouth as he walked beside Zhao Mei along the garden path.
"So," he said cheerfully, "how's married life treating you?"
She nearly choked.
"It's quiet," she answered honestly.
Jun laughed. "That's Wei for you. Emotional range of a refrigerator."
Zhao Mei smiled.
Jun noticed immediately. "There it is. You smile when you forget to be careful."
He glanced toward the house. "He's not home, is he?"
"No. He's at work."
"Good," Jun said brightly. "Then I won't scare him away by existing."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Between us, don't take anything in this house too seriously. Especially me."
Zhao Mei nodded, unsure why his presence made the weight on her chest feel lighter.
Meanwhile, outside the Zhang estate gates, Xiao Lan stood on the sidewalk, bag clutched tight, heart racing.
The walls rose high. Cold stone. Steel accents. Guards watched from booths.
"Excuse me," she called to the nearest guard. "I need to see Zhao Mei. She's my best friend. She's inside."
The guard's face stayed blank. "No visitors without appointment."
"Please," she said, voice cracking. "She's in trouble. She needs me."
He shook his head.
Xiao Lan didn't move.
"I'm not leaving," she whispered, eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. "I'm not leaving without seeing her."
********