Chapter Eight: Brother, Let Me Help You

Mai Xijun returned to the company with her design drafts, proposals, concepts, and intentions. After being away for several days, He Jingjing looked even more radiant, while that cheating scoundrel occasionally swaggered around in front of her, as if to see whether she was suffering utter despair from losing him.

Watching the two of them flaunt their affection before her, Mai Xijun curved her lips into a wry smile, let out a soft laugh, then turned and stepped into the elevator.

As the elevator doors closed, her wide eyes brimmed with tears that slid down her cheeks, clear and sparkling.

She had thought giving her most precious first time, on her wedding night, to that stranger in the Night of Venice was the end of the world—but it wasn’t. It was liberation.

She knew she must have been out of her mind at the time, but she had accepted it willingly. Her childhood was lonely, companionless; she had so few people by her side, and even those seemed to drift away. She told herself that it was before Xue Lizan had clearly told her he wanted to break up, so really, it was she who abandoned him.

Even now, as an adult, she was still afraid of being left behind.

She wiped away the tears from her face with her hand, like a child who had done something wrong, but there was no one to comfort her, no warm embrace to hold her tight and let her pound her fists in sorrow.

* * *

Taking her usual bus home, Mai Xijun stopped at a small restaurant near her apartment, ordered dumplings and grilled meat, and drank a few cups of soju. Yet the sharpness of the liquor couldn’t numb the ache in her heart. Tears flowed as though a dam had burst—no matter how she wiped, they wouldn’t stop.

At this hour, the little restaurant was almost full, and a few eyes turned her way.

She never noticed, from the moment she entered, that a man in a black suit had followed her inside. He pulled a large bill from his wallet and, in a low, rich voice, told the staff not to let anyone disturb him. He didn’t order food or drink—just sat quietly, composed and inscrutable.

He belonged to the upper echelons of society; every gesture radiated a magnetic aura, his gaze cold and unruly, completely out of place amid the din of the restaurant and the smell of burnt pork belly.

He sat in silence, watching her every move, his eyes glinting with a chilling intensity as she raised her glass and drank heavily.

When she suddenly stood, unsteady and nearly falling, Shen Yanlie could no longer restrain himself—he rose to approach her.

“Boss, the bill!” she called out, her voice ringing clear. Shen Yanlie halted abruptly. Why was he worrying about her? How could he forget his purpose here? All he wanted was his necklace…

He only wanted to retrieve the item he’d left with her, but why couldn’t he openly state his intent? Shen Yanlie frowned, strode out of the restaurant, and returned to his car, his mind in turmoil.

If their connection had been only a brief encounter—if she hadn’t saved him in Venice—he could have given her anything in gratitude, even a city. But… more than ten years ago, she was the little girl who had helped him before he’d had a chance to ask her name, softly calling him, “Big brother, let me help you.”

If it weren’t for that moment over a decade ago, if she had never appeared in his life, if he hadn’t seen her now so desolate and forlorn, would today have been different?

Would he not have to go to such lengths, using every means necessary, just to take back what was his?

His thoughts grew ever more tangled, roots and vines knotting together. He found he truly couldn’t bring himself to reach out, take her by the arm, and make her meet him again—right here, right now.