Walking side by side, Vivian Wen pressed her lips into a small smile and glanced up at the man beside her.
“Mr. Min, I don’t know why,” she said lightly, “but when I’m with you, it feels like my luck suddenly gets better.”
Simon Min paused mid-step.
Lowering his gaze, he met her crescent-shaped eyes that shimmered like the moon, and for a moment, something within him stirred.
The setting sun bathed his profile in gold, softening his usually cold features. For the first time, his expression carried a trace of warmth—almost tenderness.
“Should I take that,” he murmured, his deep voice calm but teasing, “as your reason for wanting to stay with me?”
His obsidian eyes glimmered with quiet mischief.
Vivian’s face flushed instantly. She lowered her head, brushing her hair behind her ear, even her earlobes burning red.
Simon couldn’t help but remember that night in the hotel—the way she’d clung to his neck in the dark, her voice soft and slightly hoarse as she asked if he was handsome.
The faint scent of lilies on her skin had lingered, not the least bit cloying.
She had been so bold then… yet now, a single teasing remark made her blush like a schoolgirl.
Vivian suddenly smiled and looked up at him.
“Well, since you put it that way,” she said playfully, “can I treat you to dinner tonight?”
Just as her words fell, Simon’s phone began to ring.
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping a meter away to answer.
“Hello, Mr. Min,” came a voice over the line. “The video conference is about to begin.”
“I know,” he replied curtly.
After hanging up, he returned to Vivian with a faintly apologetic expression.
“I’m afraid I have something urgent tonight, so…”
Vivian waved her hands quickly. “It’s okay! We’ll have dinner another time. Go take care of your work.”
Simon nodded once, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Watching his retreating back, Vivian felt a small pang of disappointment.
But she quickly shook it off, forcing a smile as she headed in the opposite direction.

When the girl was finally out of sight, Simon Min took out his phone and called Henry Zhang.
The moment he got into the car, Henry turned around with a proud grin.
“Boss, I did a great job today, didn’t I? You wouldn’t believe it—when the general manager of Wanrun International heard you were coming, he wanted to rush over personally! Good thing I stopped him before he caused a scene.”
“Not bad,” Simon replied flatly, his fingers flying across his laptop keyboard. “But next time, pay attention to the details. The handwriting on the lottery slips was sloppy.”
Henry froze, then stammered, “It was… uh, a last-minute setup, so I just—”
Catching the sharp glint in Simon’s eyes through the rearview mirror, he swallowed his words and corrected himself immediately.
“You’re right, sir. I’ll make sure it’s perfect next time.”
Simon didn’t respond.
After a moment, Henry ventured cautiously, “But… why did you want to give Miss Wen that dress, anyway?”
Simon snapped his laptop shut and turned his gaze toward the window.
“This,” he said quietly, “is my return gift to her.”

The next morning, Vivian Wen returned to campus.
After class, she stopped by her counselor’s office to submit the documents she had prepared.
Z University was one of the top schools in Haishi.
Every year, it selected an “Outstanding Graduate Representative” from each department—a prestigious title that served as a golden ticket into top-tier companies.
Competition was fierce.
But Vivian was determined to win.
She had maintained the number-one ranking in her department for years, published numerous papers both domestically and abroad, and participated in countless social projects.
By all measures, she was the most qualified candidate.
Just as she stepped out of the academic building, a gratingly familiar voice rang out behind her.
“Well, well—trying to be the top graduate again this year? Keep dreaming!”
Vivian turned to see Bianca Fang, teetering on high heels with perfectly styled curls cascading over her shoulders.
Her arms were crossed, her chin tilted arrogantly.
“Do you know why I win the national scholarship every year,” Bianca sneered, “while you’re stuck as the eternal runner-up? Because it’s not just about grades—it’s about character. And yours, darling, is sorely lacking.”
They were in the same department, different classes.
Back in freshman year, both had joined the student union and been appointed as group leaders.
From then on, Bianca had seen Vivian as her rival.
Every semester, Vivian’s grades easily surpassed hers—but when it came to the coveted National Scholarship, Bianca somehow always walked away with first place, leaving Vivian second.
Rumors spread across campus—whispers that Vivian’s “character issues” had cost her the award.
For three years, she had tried to reason with the department heads, only to be brushed off with vague excuses.
But that was before.
After everything she’d been through—betrayal, manipulation, and humiliation—Vivian Wen was no longer the timid girl who tolerated being stepped on.
Her lips curved into a faint smile as she looked at Bianca.
“Bianca Fang, you say I have character problems. Do you have any proof?”
Her tone was calm, almost gentle, but her gaze was razor-sharp.
“If you spread false rumors without evidence, that’s defamation—and an invasion of my reputation and dignity. Believe it or not, I could sue you right now.”
Her words were soft.
Her expression serene.
But in her eyes—there was the cold gleam of a blade.