Beijing, Lei Family Estate
Lei Qiuping stood before Patriarch Lei Yunbao, his face flushed with embarrassment, the sting of his defeat still fresh.
"I sent you to bring Zhengyang back, and you tell me to leave him be? That he'll handle the Song family himself?" Lei Yunbao's voice was calm, but its icy edge betrayed the storm brewing within. Those who knew him recognized the prelude to fury. "Old Third, are you sure you're speaking truth, or has some ghost possessed you?"
Lei Chunping, ever observant, caught the bruise blooming on Lei Qiuping's face. "Old Third, what happened to your face?"
As the brothers stared, Lei Qiuping dropped the hand shielding his cheek, his voice heavy with resignation. "Fine, I'll come clean. Those weren't my words—not really. The truth is, Zhengyang beat the crap out of me. He sent a message for Grandpa: don't worry about him. He'll deal with the Songs himself."
"You got beat by Zhengyang?" Lei Xiaping gaped.
"He hit you?" Lei Dongping echoed, incredulous.
"No respect for elders!" Lei Chunping barked. "Why didn't you thrash him? You're his senior!"
The brothers' voices overlapped, piecing together their shock.
Lei Yunbao's brow furrowed, his bony hand gripping the armrest tightly. "Old Third, explain yourself. What happened?"
"Simple, Father," Lei Qiuping said, wincing. "Zhengyang's a new man. Don't know where he picked it up, but he's got skills now—skills I can't match. He laid me out. I took a few punches and came back. Did you want me to limp home looking like a pig's head? With his strength, no one's touching him."
"Is this true?" Lei Chunping asked, a flicker of pride in his eyes. Zhengyang was his son, after all. Any spark of achievement warmed his heart, despite his earlier resolve to prioritize the family over him. He'd never stopped caring—just chosen duty over sentiment.
"Old Third, you drunk?" Lei Xiaping teased. "I told you to lay off the booze. Used to cause trouble tipsy—now you're spouting nonsense."
Lei Dongping chuckled. "Third Brother, you're getting old. The new wave's pushing you out. I get it, I believe you."
"Damn it!" Lei Qiuping slammed his palm on the table, the bang echoing. "Shut your traps, you jabbering idiots! I'm telling the truth—Zhengyang whipped me. No joke. You think I'd make up something this humiliating for laughs?"
His outburst silenced the room. The brothers exchanged glances, then looked to their father, skepticism lingering.
"Where's Zhengyang been this past year?" Lei Yunbao asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. Of his four sons, Old Third's brashness mirrored his own, and the rough language stirred a strange fondness. "Any of you know?"
The brothers shook their heads. They'd scoured the earth for Zhengyang, mobilizing every resource. All they knew was he hadn't left the country. Until his sudden appearance in Tianhai, he'd been a ghost.
"If no one knows, we'll ask him when he returns," Lei Yunbao said. "He's likely had some extraordinary encounter. Regardless, Old Third, have your men watch Tianhai. If Zhengyang needs help, act immediately. Understood?"
"Got it, Father," Lei Qiuping replied.
Lei Yunbao nodded. "If Zhengyang can resolve this, and the Leis and Songs find peace, that's the best outcome. Frankly, I don't want this feud tearing us apart. The stakes are too high, the consequences too grave."
Lei Chunping spoke up. "If the Song girl is willing, a marriage alliance could settle things. It's the only way to mend this mess."
Lei Qiuping snorted. "Big Brother, that's a pipe dream. Song Yingfei's a rare talent. I like Zhengyang, but let's be real—strip away his Lei name, and he's no match for her. Especially after using such underhanded means to wrong her. It's not happening. But don't lose hope—he's got a girlfriend in Tianhai. I checked her out: solid woman, genuinely cares for him, even without knowing who he is. She's a keeper."
Lei Xiaping scoffed. "That kid's neck-deep in trouble and still chasing skirts? When he's back, I'm whipping him into shape. Of all our nephews, he's the least promising. He dodged this time, but he'd better start acting like a man."
Lei Dongping sighed. "Can't blame him entirely. His mother spoils him rotten. Big Sister-in-law's got Zhengxing and Zhengchen too—why's Zhengyang her golden boy?"
Lei Chunping bowed his head, shame creeping in. His wife's favoritism had roots: Zhengyang, frail from birth, had spent years in hospitals, sustained by medicine. Even after his recovery, her overprotective love had taken hold, unshakeable.
Word of Lei Qiuping's clash with Zhengyang reached Xu Luoyan swiftly. For days, she'd kept her distance, tracking him through her agents but resisting the urge to meet. She needed to understand: why was he risking everything by staying in Tianhai?
The Song-Lei engagement loomed next week. Was he lingering for Song Yingfei?
Xu Luoyan's mind raced, her knowledge of Zhengyang clashing with the enigma he'd become. He'd never been this bold, yet here he was, defying danger. How could she reconcile it?
"Miss, the Leis have stationed heavy forces in Tianhai," Cold Heart reported. "No one will touch him easily. Should we leave?"
Cold Heart sensed trouble. Xu Luoyan's renewed interest in Zhengyang was a dangerous distraction, one she feared would derail her mission.
"Cold Aunt, give me one week," Xu Luoyan said firmly. "I need to confirm something. After that, I'll return with you."
Cold Heart's lips parted, but no protest came. Xu Luoyan's resolve was ironclad—she was the Hidden Sect's true master, her authority absolute. "Very well," Cold Heart said reluctantly. "One week. I hope you keep your word."
Lei Zhengyang faced no direct threats, despite the chaos his actions a year ago had unleashed. Armed with forty years of memories, he saw the bigger picture, grasping the threads of this tangled web. He wasn't afraid of what lay ahead—perhaps he even welcomed it.
The conflict had begun as a Lei-Song feud, but the Yang family's involvement raised the stakes. Before, it was a bare-knuckle brawl; now, both sides wielded blades. The Songs and Leis were no ordinary clans—their clashes were brutal, each move drawing blood.
The Yangs? Lei Zhengyang dismissed Yang Yikun and his father, Yang Juchao, as minor players. The Yangs' southern dominance stemmed not from Juchao but from his brother, Yang Tianhao—a true titan, hidden so deeply most overlooked him. Without those forty years of insight, even Lei Zhengyang might've missed him.
Let Tianhao lurk in the shadows. The game began with Yang Juchao—and his son, Yikun, who'd ruined Song Yingfei in Lei Zhengyang's past life. This time, Lei Zhengyang wouldn't show mercy.
Sprawled on Liu Weiwei's couch, he watched her bustle about, an apron tied around her waist. Her curves were mesmerizing, and her occasional glances, soft and teasing, warmed the room with quiet intimacy. If married life tasted this sweet, he might not mind it.
Liu Weiwei wasn't just a stunning girlfriend—she'd make a devoted wife. Regret tugged at him. His path was too fraught, his stay too brief, to offer her more.
"Zhengyang, I'm leaving tomorrow," she said, setting a steaming bowl of soup on the table. Untying her apron, she wiped her hands. "The rent's paid for another half-month. I told the landlord you're staying. You're set." She paused, her voice softening. "You promised to visit me. In Beijing, I won't know a soul."
She'd repeated this plea before, and he'd agreed each time. Now, he nodded again. "No problem. Whenever I'm free, I'll come see you."
Her smile was gentle, almost wistful. "They say Beijing's dazzling. If it's as good as they claim, maybe I'll settle there for good."
She knew he was a Beijing man. Staying close, even as friends, was her quiet hope—a way to keep him in her orbit, if not her heart. She couldn't lie to herself: this man, who'd crashed into her life like a comet, had sparked something real.