By the time Qin Rulan, Mrs. Qin, and Mrs. Fu arrived at the Yellow Garden, the sky had already begun to change colors.

The setting sun spilled its golden light across the horizon, gliding over the sea of yellow blossoms that surrounded the villa. The flowers swayed gently in the evening breeze, their vibrant petals catching the sunlight and making the entire place shimmer like a dreamland. From a distance, it looked as though the villa had been built inside a golden ocean.

Qin Rulan’s heart raced faster with every step closer. She clutched the fruit basket in her hand tightly, her palms damp with sweat. This was the first time she was going to see Fu Jingrong again after so many years. Her mind kept replaying the image of him from their college days—tall, aloof, and impossibly handsome. Just the thought of meeting him now, in such an intimate setting, made her cheeks flush and her pulse beat erratically.

As they reached the gate, the security guard blinked in surprise. Mrs. Fu rarely visited this place, but of course, no one dared stop her. With a respectful nod, he let them through. The car rolled smoothly down the long driveway, the evening light casting shadows of the tall trees that lined the path.

When they finally parked before the grand house, the sky had already darkened into shades of violet and crimson. The sprawling villa stood silently, its lights flickering on one by one, adding to the serene beauty of the Yellow Garden.

Qin Rulan stepped out of the car, carefully lifting the basket of fresh fruits she had prepared. Her mother followed, but halfway up the steps, Mrs. Qin suddenly pressed a hand to her chest. "I’m not feeling very well," she murmured, her voice weak yet deliberate. "Rulan, you go ahead. I’ll rest here for a while."

She gave her daughter a subtle wink, one that Mrs. Fu did not catch, but Qin Rulan understood perfectly. This was her chance. Alone with Mrs. Fu, she would be able to make an impression.

Nodding obediently, she tightened her grip on the basket and hurried after Mrs. Fu, who was already walking ahead.

But just as she was about to catch up, Qin Rulan realized Mrs. Fu had come to an abrupt halt. Her figure stood rigid, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.

Confused, Qin Rulan quickened her pace. "Madam Fu?" she called softly, her heels clicking against the stone path.

And then she looked up.

Her breath caught in her throat.

What she saw made her entire body freeze on the spot.

It was a scene she had never thought she would ever witness in this lifetime.

From a distance, faint giggles drifted down the hillside.

The Yellow Garden was perched on a slope, and from where Mrs. Fu and Qin Rulan stood, they could clearly see the open stretch of flowers above. The fading sunlight poured over the garden, painting everything in soft gold, and in the middle of that golden glow was a scene that made Qin Rulan’s blood run cold.

Her face turned pale as her eyes fixed on the figure up there.

Fu Jingrong.

He was standing among the yellow blossoms, the sun outlining his tall frame. His expression—soft, radiant, overflowing with warmth—was unlike anything she had ever seen on him before. He wasn’t alone.

In his arms was a woman.

The woman’s laughter rang out clearly, light and sweet, carried by the breeze down to where they stood. Against the light, Qin Rulan could not make out her face, only the graceful outline of her figure and the way she clung to Fu Jingrong’s shoulders as if she belonged there.

What struck her most wasn’t the woman—it was him.

The happiness in Fu Jingrong’s eyes was undeniable. He looked alive, unguarded, completely consumed by joy. His lips curved into a smile so dazzling that Qin Rulan felt as though her heart had been struck by lightning.

This was the same man who, during all their years in college, had never once smiled at her. He had always been polite, distant, keeping everyone at arm’s length. She had longed for even the smallest warmth from him, but he had never given it.

Yet now, for this woman, he was smiling as if he had been born only for her.

Her chest tightened painfully.

Fu Jingrong carried the woman easily, the way a man carried his most precious treasure. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t even notice the two figures watching from below. His gaze never wavered—there was no one else in his world, nothing else in his eyes except her.

Not even once did he glance their way.

Qin Rulan’s hands trembled violently. The fruit basket she had been holding slipped from her grip and fell to the stone path with a dull thud. Apples rolled out, scattering across the ground, but she barely noticed.

Her heart was in her throat, her entire body frozen, while her mind screamed the same desperate thought—

Who is she?

Mrs. Fu had caught the change in Qin Rulan’s face almost instantly.

The girl looked as though the life had drained out of her. Pale, frozen, her lips parted but no words coming out. For a fleeting second, pity pricked Mrs. Fu’s heart. But she didn’t let it show. Her expression remained calm, almost indifferent, as she turned to the girl and asked softly, as though they were merely passing time in a garden,

"Shall we go?"

She acted as if what they had just witnessed had nothing to do with her, nothing to do with the Fu family at all. But inside, her thoughts churned.

Fu Jingrong was someone who had always kept others at arm’s length. Even as a child, even as a man, he never let anyone too close. Mrs. Fu had long thought that he would end up alone because of this—cold, distant, untouchable.

And yet... now.

Now she had seen him holding a woman as if that woman was his entire world. Carrying her with such ease, smiling with such warmth. It was a side of him she had never expected to see, and it stirred something cold in her eyes for just a moment before she forced the emotion away.

Beside her, Qin Rulan finally managed to force out broken words. "When... when did... when did the two of them...?"