Morning light slipped quietly through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a soft glow across the dim room. A stray streak brushed against Wang Zi Rui's face, drawing a faint furrow between his brows as he slowly opened his eyes. His long lashes fluttered as the blur of his surroundings gradually sharpened into focus.
Sitting up, he scanned the familiar bedroom before his gaze settled on the door—and, almost instantly, last night's events came rushing back to him.
Song Meiqi groaned softly as she struggled to support him toward the living room.
"Mr. Wang… are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" she asked, carefully helping him onto the couch.
Wang Zi Rui shook his head. "No need."
"Then let me call a doctor, or at least someone to take care of you," Song Meiqi answered.
Another wave of pain lanced through Wang Zi Rui's head. Gritting his teeth, he replied, "My assistant will come later. There's no need to trouble yourself."
At his words, the tension on Song Meiqi's face eased slightly.
"Then tell me what you need. Until your assistant arrives, I can help you."
Wang Zi Rui met her gaze. "Again… you don't have to trouble yourself, Ms. Song."
"You're not a trouble," Meiqi said with a faint smile. "We already shared a drink and listened to each other's worries."
She paused, then added softly, "A rare bond like that doesn't happen often. So… we can at least consider each other friends, can't we?"
Zi Rui studied her in silence. Under the soft ceiling light, her round eyes glimmered gently, yet her gaze remained steady—as if she truly meant every word.
The memory faded, and Wang Zi Rui returned to the present. A faint smile lingered on his lips before the quiet sounds from the kitchen drew him fully back.
He then walked over to where the noise came from and saw Si Qi busy preparing food.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Si Qi turned. "Boss! You're awake." He hurried over. "You haven't rested properly these past few days. You should sleep more."
"No need. There's still a lot of work waiting," Wang Zi Rui replied, his gaze drifting toward the table. "Did you cook this?"
"No… someone else did," Si Qi said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Wang Zi Rui frowned faintly. "Who?"
"Ms. Song," Si Qi answered.
For a moment, Wang Zi Rui only stared at the dish. The delicate custard trembled beneath rising steam, minced chicken scattered lightly across its golden surface—simple and warm, suited for someone sick.
His expression remained unreadable, but his gaze softened slightly as he quietly took his seat. Across from him, Si Qi lowered his head, hiding the knowing smile forming on his lips.
Perhaps, at last, something had begun to bloom.
…
When Wang Zi Rui finished eating, he picked up his phone and found Song Meiqi's number. His fingers hovered before he typed:
"Thank you for taking care of me last night. I owe you, Ms. Song."
Moments later, she replied:
"Then let's grab another drink… when you're feeling better."
Wang Zi Rui smiled slightly as he read it, the reaction coming almost too quickly for anyone to notice.
At that moment, Si Qi's phone rang.
"What?!" he blurted, his voice rising as he listened. His expression shifted instantly, the earlier lightness gone. He glanced toward Wang Zi Rui, who was still seated calmly at the table.
"Boss… something's happened to the company."
…
Meanwhile, at the other end of M. City, purple lights sliced through the haze, flooding the stage in brilliant lavender. Five stunning women stepped onto the platform in pastel-colored outfits, instantly sending the crowd inside Grande Hall into a frenzy.
"Lina!"
"Little Si Yu, you're so cute!"
"Husband Xiuying!"
Cheers echoed from every corner of the venue, soon followed by chants for Mengyao, the group's visual queen. But above them all, one name rang the loudest.
"Song Meiqi!"
Dressed in a simple white dress that hugged her figure elegantly, Song Meiqi stood beneath the lights like she was born for the stage. Her round midnight eyes carried a quiet charm that made it impossible to look away.
It was easy to understand why she was called the "It girl." Then, the slow beat of music pulsed through the hall. Bloomis held their breath as anticipation built with every second. Then—
The crowd erupted.
Fan chants thundered in perfect rhythm, voices merging with the performance until stage and audience blurred into one.
Everbloom performed their hit "Shout Out," followed by a medley of three more tracks from their album Shout.
After the performance ended, the members gathered beside the emcee for a short interview promoting the brand sponsoring the event.
"Glamor is truly an amazing brand," Zheng Mengyao said with a smile. "Even after four songs, my makeup still looks flawless with their newest foundation."
"Yes," Song Meiqi added softly. "It doesn't just look good on stage—it's perfect for everyday wear. It feels lightweight, blends seamlessly, and stays beautiful all day."
Their answers sounded natural and sincere, drawing even louder cheers from the crowd. Off to the side, Glamor's executive watched with a satisfied smile. Sales would surely rise even higher.
Soon after, the fan signing event began, giving fans the chance to speak with the members up close, receive autographs, and share brief but treasured moments with them.
Moments later…
A man limping on one leg, dressed in a bright rose-colored jacket impossible to ignore, approached Song Meiqi's table. He lowered himself into the seat across from her, a wide grin already on his lips.
Song Meiqi looked at him. The dark circles beneath his eyes made him seem older than he probably was, yet the bright jacket gave him an oddly approachable air. Her gaze then shifted to the shirt beneath it, and she smiled faintly when she recognized Everbloom merchandise.
"Hi… it looks like you bought our limited edition shirt. It must be expensive," she said softly.
"N–no… not expensive at all," he replied, stuttering.
She lowered her gaze, assuming he must be well-off.
"A–actually… I brought this for you."
He pulled out a brown-and-beige stuffed dog and a letter, his hand trembling as he held them toward her.
Song Meiqi's eyes widened. It looked exactly like the crochet keychain she once kept on her phone case—the one she never hung there again.
"I know you like this kind of stuff," he said, voice lowering as he leaned slightly closer, "so I went looking for it… I just didn't get to give it to you earlier. Don't be upset with me, okay?"
His tone, once quivering, settled into something calmer—almost too familiar, as if he were speaking to someone far closer than a stranger.
Song Meiqi's brows knit faintly. The familiarity in his voice felt strange, but she kept her gentle smile. It wasn't the first time a fan had acted like this.
Just then, one of the managers reached for the stuffed animal, intending to take it and return it to him.
But the moment his fingers neared it, the man's expression shifted.
"Don't touch it," he snapped.