The city of A was bathed in the glow of festive lights, its streets bustling with crowds where joy and sorrow walked side by side.

Lu Kun pulled up in front of Huayu International Club. The moment he stepped out of his car, he drew the attention of several socialites nearby, their whispers trailing after him. As he shut the car door, he accidentally bumped into a woman who seemed lost in her own world. "Sorry," she murmured absently, brushing past him without even glancing up to see who she had collided with.

Lu Kun watched her lonely figure disappear into the club. He could tell he’d hurt her—his solid frame wasn’t exactly forgiving. The slight wince on her face had given it away.

The thirtieth floor of Huayu was reserved for VIPs, an elegant space where classical décor reigned. The tearoom, in particular, was a scene straight out of Tang Dynasty royalty—soft melodies from a pipa-playing beauty, servers in traditional attire, all evoking the grandeur of a bygone era.

Amidst this refined setting, the woman stood out like a sore thumb. Dressed in casual clothes, her high ponytail starkly clashed with the ancient charm of the tearoom. She sat at a semi-private table tucked in the far corner, facing a strikingly handsome yet icy-faced man.

"Been well?" the man asked, his voice low and measured.

"Whether I have or haven’t, it’s none of your concern," she replied flatly. "You’ve been insisting on meeting me. Spit it out."

Some things never changed—she was as blunt and unapologetic as ever.

"You still hate me," he observed, pouring her a cup of tea.

"Lü Fei, don’t flatter yourself. Hate comes at a cost, and I, Li Yetong, am not that foolish." A faint smirk played on her lips.

Lü Fei’s brow twitched. "I know I wronged you. Today… I just wanted to talk. To say what’s been on my mind. It’s a special day—don’t you remember?"

Li Yetong pressed her lips together. "That’s all in the past. I don’t recall."

Suddenly, the sharp click of high heels shattered the serene atmosphere. A woman stormed in, fury radiating off her like a heatwave. The three men at the neighboring table scowled at the intruder, their expressions turning icy—this looked like a battlefield in the making.

**"Smack!"** A resounding slap sent stars exploding across Li Yetong’s vision. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and her nose.

"You shameless bitch! How dare you seduce my husband in public?" The attacker was none other than Lü Fei’s wife, An Ya—heiress to Anshi Real Estate. The three had been university classmates, and An Ya and Li Yetong had once been roommates and close friends. But An Ya’s friendship with the meek, penniless Li Yetong had only ever been a ploy to steal her Prince Charming, Lü Fei.

Today marked the anniversary of Li Yetong and Lü Fei's first official date as a couple. Truth be told, Li Yetong had completely forgotten about this date, but Lü Fei had pestered her relentlessly, insisting with great urgency that he had something important to discuss. He even threatened to wait outside her house if she refused to meet. Worried he might make a scene in the bustling Poplar Street and embarrass them both, Li Yetong agreed to meet him for tea—only to find herself caught in this absurd drama of an ex-girlfriend trying to win back her former boyfriend.

Lü Fei, furious at the insult to his dignity, slapped Anya right back with a sharp *crack*. "Have you lost your mind?"

Anya clutched her stinging cheek, her eyes wide with shock. "Lü Fei, you actually hit me—for *her*? You’re still hung up on that bitch, aren’t you?"

"Apologize," Lü Fei growled through gritted teeth.

Anya’s voice trembled with hurt. "Lü Fei, you’re heartless!"

Grabbing her arm, Lü Fei forced her to face him, his grip unyielding. "Listen carefully. There’s nothing between me and Li Yetong—we’re just old classmates having tea. If you keep making a scene, you can either walk away, or I will. Your choice."

Defeated, Anya wilted like a flower battered by rain, her pitiful expression tugging at Lü Fei’s heart. His voice softened. "Apologize to Yetong, and we’ll go home."

Anya looked up at him in disbelief, but his steely gaze left no room for negotiation.

"Sorry," she muttered, her voice barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.

Lü Fei’s face was stormy as he pulled Anya away, throwing a curt "Sorry" at Li Yetong before stopping at the counter to settle the bill. Then, dragging a sulking Anya—her face flushed with humiliation—he stormed out of the Huayu Club.

Li Yetong didn’t know whether she was stupid or just plain foolish for agreeing to this godforsaken meeting.

For a moment, she forgot about the other patrons around her. Propping herself against the table, she stared blankly at the neon lights flickering outside the window, wishing she could slap herself harder than Anya had.

Her cheek still burned from the impact, the five distinct finger marks throbbing under her skin. She tilted her head back, exhaling deeply before heading to the restroom. Staring at her reflection, she traced the angry red streaks with her fingertips, then returned to her seat.

"Waiter," she called, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "A bottle of the '73 oak-aged reserve, please."

The cheerful waitress beamed as she brought over the bottle. "Here you go, miss!"

At the neighboring table, three men had long abandoned their business discussion, now thoroughly entertained by the soap-opera-worthy drama unfolding before them. Watching a beautiful woman drown her sorrows in wine? Not a bad way to pass the time.

Li Yetong downed several large glasses in quick succession. She didn’t collapse into a drunken stupor, but the world spun around her as she slumped over the table, too dizzy to lift her head.