Zhang Yi felt an unexpected warmth at Zhou Ke'er's initiative. He wasn't a man easily swayed by women, but after weeks of solitude the smallest affection felt like a lifeline. Zhou Ke'er — competent, composed, and quietly beautiful — naturally drew him in. A petty, vicious thought crossed his mind: how would Fang Yuqing react to seeing them together?
He seized the moment. Taking a selfie of Zhou Ke'er leaning against him, arm tucked into his, he sent it straight to Fang Yuqing with a teasing caption: "Qing, you were great to me once, but you're too late — I've found someone better. Bless us, won't you?"
The reaction was instantaneous. Fang Yuqing, Wang Min and Lin Caining all rushed to check Zhang Yi's messages; for them his attention was survival itself. Seeing the intimate photo — Zhou Ke'er's poise, her education and looks — it was obvious who would win. Fang Yuqing's jealousy erupted. "You were my lapdog for two years — how could you?" she screamed. Zhang Yi answered coldly: "We're in love. You're not qualified. Don't contact me — I'm afraid she'll misunderstand."
He knew exactly how to wound her. In a past life he had trusted and given everything to people like Fang Yuqing; they repaid him with betrayal. This was his revenge. Fang Yuqing's screams cut through the room; Lin Caining and Wang Min only taunted her. Satisfied, Zhang Yi blocked her number and sat back with a small, cruel smile.
Zhou Ke'er clung to him in a way that was equal parts fear and relief. "Do you think I'm cruel?" she asked softly. He shrugged and said, simply, "You have your reasons." He didn't elaborate — the past was his burden, not hers.
That morning she made breakfast. Her cooking was plain but competent; Zhang Yi let her taste first — a private test that she passed. In the owner group Aunt Lin posted as cheerfully as ever: "The snow disaster is ending! My brother works for the province — obey me or I'll have you taken care of!" No one replied. Zhou Ke'er only murmured, almost to herself, "I used to bring supplies when I treated their kids." The words were small, but they hinted at a different kind of courage — the quiet, steady kind Zhang Yi had decided to keep close.