Cutting Off Peach Blossoms

Half an hour later, Ren Qian stood inside the elevator of Summit One.

The elevator ascended smoothly, yet her heartbeat raced uncontrollably.

She had been to Lu Chenyuan’s office at Lu Corporation countless times.

As for his office at Dragontech, Ren Qian was practically a regular visitor.

She had even been to his former home—the Lu family estate.

But today marked the first time she had ever set foot in his private residence here.

She adjusted her professional suit, took a deep breath, and tried to steady herself.

Today, she was only here to deliver a work report.

No unnecessary thoughts were allowed.

The elevator doors opened.

She walked to the tightly shut door and dialed Lu Chenyuan’s number.

The door opened almost immediately.

Lu Chenyuan stood there.

He wasn’t wearing a suit—just a simple gray loungewear set.

The usual aloofness and authority were softened, replaced by a relaxed, almost intimate domesticity.

Ren Qian’s heart skipped a beat.

“Come in,” Lu Chenyuan said, stepping aside to let her enter.

Ren Qian changed into slippers and walked inside.

The moment she stepped in, she was enveloped by the rich, warm aroma of food.

And then, she saw her.

A woman sat on the living room sofa, dressed in a silk robe, her long hair loosely cascading down her shoulders.

She lifted her head and looked toward the entrance.

That face—Ren Qian knew it all too well.

Mo Qingli, the queen of Mo Corporation.

Why was she here? And in a robe, in his home?

Everyone knew Dragontech and Mo Corporation were close strategic partners, but was that all they were?

How could this be?

Ren Qian’s mind went blank.

The folder in her grip nearly slipped from her fingers.

For years, she had nurtured a fantasy.

She knew Lu Chenyuan didn’t belong to her.

But she had stubbornly believed he didn’t belong to any woman.

He was like the moon—cold, distant, untouchable.

Everyone could admire him, but no one could possess him.

So she had been content to stand by his side as his most capable subordinate, his closest comrade.

She thought she was the star closest to the moon.

But today.

She had witnessed with her own eyes—the moon had already fallen into someone else’s embrace.

Become someone else’s warmth.

“Hello, Ren Qian,” Mo Qingli said, rising to her feet with a smile.

That smile—elegant, composed, radiating an undeniable air of ownership.

In that instant, Ren Qian understood.

This was no coincidence.

She was the intruder.

An unwelcome outsider.

“Have a seat,” Lu Chenyuan gestured toward the dining chair, his tone casual, as if she were just another colleague.

“The beef stew is ready. Join us.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Lu,” Ren Qian replied, her voice strained.

She forced herself to maintain the last shreds of professionalism.

She walked to the table, opened the folder.

“This is the acquisition proposal for StarLink. You’ll need to make a decision soon.”

She delivered the key points in the fastest, most concise manner possible.

The entire time, she avoided looking at Lu Chenyuan—and especially Mo Qingli.

She felt like a clumsy clown, performing a ridiculous act at a feast that wasn’t hers.

Once she finished, Lu Chenyuan nodded.

“Understood.”

“I won’t disturb your meal any longer,” Ren Qian said immediately. She couldn’t stay another second.

“I’ll walk you out,” Lu Chenyuan offered.

“No need, Mr. Lu.”

Ren Qian turned and nearly fled through the door.

She didn’t look back.

If she did, the tears would fall.

…

The door closed.

Silence returned to the apartment.

Lu Chenyuan walked back to the dining table.

Mo Qingli was leisurely ladling herself a bowl of beef stew.

She blew on the steam, took a small sip, then lifted her gaze to him, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“Lu Chenyuan.”

“Hm?”

“You did that on purpose.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Lu Chenyuan didn’t deny it.

He picked up a bowl and served himself some stew.

“Some things are better ended with a clean break,” he said calmly.

“If I told her directly, she wouldn’t believe me. She’d think it was an excuse.”

“Seeing it for herself is the only way she’ll truly let go.”

“This is the kindest way—for her.”

His voice was rational, composed, even cold.

Yet so brutally honest it left no room for argument.

Mo Qingli studied him.

This man always operated like this.

Calculated, precise, striking at the heart of the matter.

He solved every problem—even emotional ones—with ruthless efficiency.

A flicker of admiration mixed with irritation stirred in her chest.

Admiration for his decisiveness, for giving another woman the clearest rejection possible while leaving no doubt about where his loyalty lay.

Irritation that he had used her as a shield.

“So, I’m the blade you wielded to cut off your unwanted admirers?” Mo Qingli arched a brow.

Lu Chenyuan caught the teasing edge in her voice.

He quickly set down his bowl and raised his hands in surrender.

“My mistake,” he said earnestly. “Your Majesty, I await your punishment.”

Mo Qingli burst out laughing.

She shot him a look—one that was equal parts exasperation and affection.

“Eat.”

Watching Lu Chenyuan play the penitent, Mo Qingli suddenly found this version of him—so unlike the untouchable business titan—far more real.

Far more endearing.

The minor storm dissipated into the steam rising from their bowls.

…

Ren Qian didn’t know how she made it out of the building.

Her mind was chaos.

Lu Chenyuan in loungewear. Mo Qingli in a robe, smiling like she belonged.

The images replayed in her head like knives slicing into her heart.

She had thought she hid her feelings well.

She had thought they were the perfect team, the most seamless partners.

But it had all been her delusion.

He had known all along.

And so, he had chosen this method—polite yet cruel—to give her the answer.

Ren Qian sank onto a secluded bench in the complex.

The autumn night wind was biting.

It felt like icy blades against her skin.

She could hold back no longer.

Hugging herself, she buried her face in her knees and wept.

A decade’s worth of suppressed longing, resentment, and despair erupted at once.

She cried like a lost child, her sobs raw and unrestrained.

She didn’t know how long she sat there.

Only that her throat was hoarse, her body numb with cold.

When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were swollen, her vision blurred with tears.

Then—a warm suit jacket draped gently over her shoulders.

Ren Qian froze.

She whipped around.

Lin Yuan stood behind her.

In his hand was a bottle of warm water.

He didn’t speak, just watched her with quiet concern under the streetlight.

“Senior, drink some water.”

He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

The water was warm—clearly kept close to his body.

Ren Qian looked at him, at this junior who was two years below her in university.

From their college days, he had always been this way—

cautious, pragmatic, reliable.

Forever standing behind Lu Chenyuan, handling the most tedious tasks without complaint.

And always, without fail, appearing the moment she needed help.

She took the water, gripping it tightly in her hands.

The perfect warmth seeped from her palms, slowly thawing her stiff, chilled body.

"Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse.

"President Lu... was worried about you," Lin Yuan offered, choosing the least awkward reason he could think of.