Hua Rong wiped the back of her hand across her forehead as she shifted the heavy cardboard box from one shelf to another. Her dress clung slightly to her skin from the effort, but she kept her pace steady. The storage room was dim and filled with the earthy scent of dust and old paper, its silence only broken by the occasional rustle of cartons and her own quiet breathing.
"So, you really work here," a voice echoed from behind.
She turned, startled. A girl stood at the doorway, bathed in the soft light streaming through the high window. She wore a fitted modern blouse tucked into a sleek beige skirt, her polished heels tapping lightly against the floor. A designer purse swung lightly by her side.
"Tang Moyu?" Hua Rong blinked, surprised.
"I've heard Xu Lingwei was able to go for that audition," Moyu said as she stepped into the room, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Thanks to you."
Hua Rong tilted her head slightly, unsure of where this was going. "He deserved the chance."
"Oh, spare me the heroics." Tang Moyu's heels clicked louder now as she took another step forward. "If you think doing noble little things like that will help you win him over, you're mistaken."
Hua Rong's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't act clueless." Moyu's lips curled. "You know exactly what I mean. And whatever you're planning, I suggest you forget it. Xu Lingwei is going to marry me. That's already been decided by our parents."
For a moment, Hua Rong just stared at her. Marry?
She let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Marrying? We're still in school."
"You can laugh all you want." Moyu's voice sharpened. "But when the time comes, and we're married, you won't even see him again."
That—strangely—landed. A hollow feeling bloomed in her chest. Not being able to see him? The thought made her hands unconsciously tighten around the edge of the box.
"You've heard me right," Moyu said, eyes gleaming now with cold certainty. "He's Xu Qingshan's son—the heir to the Xu Conglomerate. Of course, he'll marry someone who matches his status. That's me. Not some... poor scholarship student working part-time jobs."
But Hua Rong wasn't listening anymore.
The room seemed quieter somehow, as though the very air had thickened. She wasn't hurt because of Moyu's status or cruel words—no, it was that strange ache growing in her chest at the idea of being cut off from him. It was the first time she realized just how much he had come to mean to her.
Tang Moyu's voice became distant, like background noise in a storm.
Hua Rong stood there, her fingers trembling slightly around the box, trying to shake off the growing weight in her heart
Still dazed by Tang Moyu's harsh words, Hua Rong stepped outside the storage room. Her head swam with thoughts of Xu Lingwei, of the growing distance, of everything she hadn't said. But just as she crossed the corridor that overlooked the cafeteria, her eyes caught something odd—a man, clad in a dull hoodie with his cap pulled low, standing at the edge of the entrance, peering through the cafeteria's side window like he didn't want to be seen.
Her instincts flared.
She narrowed her eyes and, without a second thought, dropped the clipboard in her hand and bolted toward him.
"Hey!" she shouted, feet pounding the floor.
The man flinched, turning to run, but she was faster. She grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him down hard onto the ground. He hit the floor with a thud, groaning as he tried to get up—but she straddled him in a second, her fist already cocked back.
"Who the hell are you?" she snarled, eyes blazing as she gripped his collar.
The man squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but she pressed her knee into his chest, pinning him.
"I said talk—before I ruin your face!"
And then—crack—her fist connected with his cheek.
The man yelped, blood at the corner of his lip. "Wait—wait!"
"What's going on?!" Tang Moyu's voice rang behind her, horrified. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Shut up!" Hua Rong snapped, not taking her eyes off the man. She shook him again. "You were spying—who sent you?!"
"I—I was just looking—!"
"Don't lie to me!"
Tang Moyu gasped again, stepping back, clutching her purse like it could protect her. "You're completely insane! You're actually attacking people now?"
"Go away," Hua Rong growled without turning, eyes still locked on her target.
Then, finally, under the threat of another blow, the man spat, "Zhao Mingyu! Zhao Mingyu sent me!"
Time stopped.
The name hit her like a slap. Her hand loosened. That name. That man.
"You—" she whispered.
But before she could process anything else, the man shoved her with sudden strength, knocking her off-balance. He scrambled up and sprinted down the hallway before she could catch him again.
"Damn it!" she cursed, slamming her palm against the floor and quickly pulling herself up.
Tang Moyu stared at her like she was looking at a rabid dog. "You're not just a poor girl—you're a delinquent!"
Hua Rong turned to her, her chest rising and falling with fury, her jaw clenched. "Leave. Me. Alone."
And she walked off, not waiting to hear another word.
The echo of the name "Zhao Mingyu" was still pounding in her head, like a warning bell that refused to quiet.