Zi Qiang, the younger cousin of Zi Haoran, stood by Han Xue’s bedside, his presence a blend of warmth and strength. Dressed in a simple shirt and pants, with his white doctor’s coat draped over his broad shoulders, he looked every bit the calm and reassuring figure that so many in the hospital admired. There was something about him that radiated comfort—an aura of warmth that seemed to envelop anyone he looked at. And now, as his gaze settled on Han Xue, that warmth shone through, though beneath it, there was also concern.
Though desired by many women, doctors, and nurses alike for his handsome face and sweet personality, Zi Qiang kept his life simple, never letting wealth or status define him. He could easily be mistaken for any other hardworking man, if not for the elegant aura that naturally exuded from him, setting him apart.
He watched her closely, waiting for her to speak. He didn’t push, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth for long—he was her husband’s cousin after all.
Ex-husband now...? she wondered, feeling the weight of those words.
In a barely audible voice, Han Xue finally said, “He gave me divorce papers…” Her voice trembled, betraying the overwhelming helplessness she was feeling. She closed her eyes, as though shutting out the world could make the reality disappear.
Zi Qiang sighed softly, his heart aching for her. He had never seen her look so broken, so lost. Without saying another word, he quietly moved toward the door, understanding her need for space. But before leaving, he offered a gentle reminder, his tone as warm as his gaze, “The drip will finish in about 30 minutes. Don’t go before it’s done.”
A half-hour later, Han Xue woke again, her face now masked in cold indifference. She stood, disconnected from her surroundings, and exited the room. Aunty Yang was waiting outside, eyes filled with worry.
After a brief reassurance to Aunty Yang that she was fine, Han Xue made the payment at the hospital. Despite Aunty Yang's hesitation, she insisted on being left alone. The older woman, sensing Han Xue’s need for solitude, relented, though her heart was heavy with pity.
Han Xue left the hospital and hailed a cab, directing the driver to Kang Shilin’s grave. The drive was quiet, her mind filled with numbness. When she arrived, she stood for a moment before kneeling in front of the grave, her eyes reflecting nothing but emptiness.
In a trembling voice, she began to murmur, “I’m sorry, Shilin... even after your death, I couldn’t change his perception of me.”
Her voice quivered as she continued, “You were right... he’ll never like me. He’s gone mad, incapable of understanding people like us. To him, we’re nothing. He’s superior, and people like me… we don’t matter.”
She sighed, her voice faltering as she poured out her frustrations, regrets, and shattered hopes—the hopes she had once clung to, now crumbled into dust.
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“You died because of me... If only I had stopped him...” she whispered, her words fading into the wind.
Her cries became hollow, her eyes dry as she knelt in silence. The tears she had once shed so freely were gone, leaving behind only emptiness. There were no more tears, no more emotions—just a suffocating void that seemed to stretch endlessly. Han Xue remained there, motionless, her grief witnessed only by the cold, unfeeling wind.
Zi Softech HQ
The atmosphere at Zi Softech was stifling. Zi Haoran, known as the company’s "devil king," sat behind his massive desk, colder than usual. His relentless, almost manic focus on work since the morning had everyone on edge. He was a man possessed, tearing through tasks without a break, leaving no room for mistakes.
And when the devil was in a bad mood, the entire company felt his wrath.
Shen Mu, suffering the most, hadn't had a wink of sleep the previous night. Now, he had been running back and forth, attending to Haoran’s endless demands, barely keeping up with his boss’s fury.
"Sales analysis for the past three years," Haoran growled.
"Growth analysis of the New York subsidiary."
"Report on the company’s new investments."
The orders came in rapid succession, each command heavier than the last, with no signs of stopping.
A few minutes later, the tension was interrupted by a phone call. It was from one of the men assigned to keep an eye on Han Xue. Haoran hesitated for a moment before finally picking it up, bracing himself for whatever news it might bring.
“Sir... Madam collapsed,” the voice on the other end reported.
Haoran’s brow furrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing his cold expression.
“Madam received treatment from Dr. Zi Qiang, but she sent everyone away and went out alone afterward…” The caller’s voice faltered, unsure of how much to reveal.
Haoran’s voice, icy and sharp, cut through the hesitation. “Where?”
A tense pause followed before the man replied, “Madam visited Kang Shilin’s grave.”
For a moment, the room seemed to freeze, Haoran’s already cold demeanor turning even more glacial. The devil king sat in silence, his thoughts hidden behind his unreadable expression.
Kang Shilin’s grave
The desolate lady sat by the grave for what felt like hours, lost in her thoughts and grief. The quiet was interrupted by the sudden ring of her phone, pulling her back to reality. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was Grandpa Zi.
Han Xue took a deep breath, calming herself, quickly wiping her face and clearing her throat before answering.
“Hi, Grandpa,” she said, trying to sound composed.
“Xue, where are you? Come to Zi Mansion,” his voice was filled with concern, an unusual softness lingering in his tone.
“I’ll be there soon, Grandpa,” she replied, her voice steadying despite the heaviness in her heart.
“Come quickly, have lunch with me,” Grandpa insisted, his concern lingering.
Han Xue collected herself, rising from the ground as she took one last look at the grave. Before leaving, she whispered a few final words to Kang Shilin, her voice filled with sorrow and regret.
With that, she hailed a cab and headed toward Zi Mansion, her expression masked, emotions buried deep inside as she prepared to face yet another storm.
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