On the same night, similar scenes unfolded in different places. In a small villa near Bai Ya’s home, a young man with golden short hair sat alone at the head of a long dining table. The opulent dining room felt so desolate that the sound of water from the outdoor pool seeped through the window. A brief silence hung heavy in the air.
Long ago, he had broken away from his family and remodeled this house to his liking. He didn’t mind living here with just one or two others. Reaching the second-highest position in the Organization’s research department at his age couldn’t be explained by mere “family legacy.” Looking back, the path was paved with solitude.
Undeniably, he was a true genius—even if his brilliance was mostly eclipsed by Bai Ya’s shadow. Everything he’d earned and took pride in was won by his own hands. The journey had been a little twisted, but nothing too significant.
People were plentiful in this world. Anything blocking his way turned to dust beneath his feet. No doubt, no hesitation—just march straight ahead. Yet even he faced an insurmountable hurdle. He’d once dreamed of shining like the midday sun, but couldn’t outshine a single full moon.
He remembered starting at the research department at seventeen. That year, the Organization’s turmoil had just ended. Bai Ya took over the entire department, launching her ruthless overhaul. Admittedly, without her sweeping reforms and promotions of newcomers, he’d never have reached this position so young—even if it was a compromise.
To build absolute authority, Bai Ya’s methods back then weren’t as gentle as now. Anyone who recalled those days would never repeat today’s mistakes.
That year, Bai Ya was only fourteen. Her ever-present white lab coat hung loosely on her small frame. Yet she rebuilt the research department like a queen, turning it into her domain. Her bloody reign and unshakable poker face forced every dissenting soul to submit—including him. Until Bai Ya left, her voice was the only one in the department. Overwhelming talent, unshakable backing, and iron-fisted tactics far beyond her years—she eclipsed everyone like a full moon.
Just as his father had said: some are born to steal the spotlight. No matter how brilliant others are, they’re mere supporting actors. And he’d played that role for a long time now.
But he didn’t care. His goal had never been that throne. When his pride and dignity shattered completely, his gaze shifted elsewhere. Trained in power plays since childhood, destined to be a “king,” he willingly hid in the shadows. For this, he even betrayed his entire clan. His father was utterly disappointed; his mother gave him cold stares. That’s when he moved here. Now, only one person stayed with him. Servants were never allowed near the dining table.
To him, bonds were just burdens. The path of a king always ended in loneliness.
Yet even he now wavered deeply. Habit kept him calm—no anger, no hysteria, just a deathly stillness. Half an hour had passed since dinner was served, but he hadn’t glanced at the feast. Propping his head up, he gently swirled his wine glass, as if waiting.
Then, a soft knock came from the already-open door. Someone stepped quietly behind him. A girl in a maid’s uniform, her long black hair tied back neatly—nothing like ordinary servants.
“Confirmed?” Wang Ming stopped swirling, drained his glass in one gulp. An unnatural flush spread across his face. Normally, he’d never act so boorishly, but his mind was chaos. Only this could suppress the violence rising inside.
“Confirmed,” Ni Lin replied, her voice flat as she slightly lowered her head.
“I see…” He handed the empty glass to her behind him, whispering, “Ni Lin, do people really change?”
She stayed silent, refilling his glass like a statue. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him this shaken. Yet his pride forbade any sign of weakness. This wasn’t a question for her—just self-talk. She shouldn’t answer. Couldn’t.
“By the way, is it still the same over there?” Wang Ming set the glass down casually.
“The patriarch’s message: win or lose, he’ll claim double the price,” Ni Lin said.
Wang Ming snorted. “Ignore him. He has no leverage to bargain. As long as I control the territory, he can have the rest.”
“Understood.” Ni Lin nodded.
“You really have regressed with age,” Wang Ming murmured, staring at the wine. A chilling smile crept onto his lips. “I wonder how much of your old teachings you still remember.”
“And…” Ni Lin unusually spoke up, “the matriarch asks when you’ll marry that young lady.”
“Don’t bring that up again.” Wang Ming waved dismissively.
“But the matriarch—” Ni Lin hesitated.
“Come here.” He cut her off.
“Yes.” She fell silent, stepping beside him.
Wang Ming lifted the glass, slowly pouring every drop onto Ni Lin’s chest. Then he smiled again, shaking the empty glass lightly. “Change your clothes. Lin, never forget your place.”
“Yes… Master.” Ni Lin pressed her lips together, slowly leaving the dining room.
“Oh, and after changing, have them bring a fresh meal. This one’s cold.”
“Yes.” Her steps faltered slightly before she hurried away.
Alone again, Wang Ming stood and turned to the window. Just two streets away stood Bai Ya’s house—he’d chosen this spot deliberately. He couldn’t see it from here, but that didn’t matter.
Outside, the bright moon hung in the clear night sky.
His fingers traced the rim of the wine glass as he whispered:
“It’s fine… because I’ve always been watching you. Always… watching… You can’t escape.”
