Fate’s Rival

Lian Mei sat alone in her apartment, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of her coffee cup. The events of the previous night played on a loop in her mind—the kiss, the way Zhao Yan's grip had been firm yet careful, the way he had looked at her afterward, his gaze steady and unapologetic.

It infuriated her.

And yet, she couldn't forget the heat of his lips or the way her heart had betrayed her, skipping a beat despite her anger.

"This doesn't change anything," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to physically dislodge the memory. But her chest tightened as the words felt increasingly hollow.

Her phone buzzed on the table, jolting her from her thoughts. It was a message from Zhao Yan.

Zhao Yan: Meeting at 10. Don't be late.

She scowled at the screen. Typical Zhao Yan—straight to business, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't thrown her entire world into chaos with one impulsive act.

Lian Mei: Don't tell me what to do.

She sent the reply before she could second-guess herself, satisfaction blooming at the thought of him reading it.

By the time she arrived at the meeting, Zhao Yan was already there, seated at the head of the table like he owned the place. His sharp suit and composed demeanor gave him an air of unshakable authority, but Lian Mei wasn't about to be intimidated.

He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes flickering with something she couldn't quite place. Amusement? Annoyance?

"You're late," he said, his tone clipped but calm.

"By two minutes," she shot back, sliding into the seat across from him. "Don't act like the world's ending."

He didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. She refused to squirm under his scrutiny.

"Let's get to it," he finally said, handing her a document. "This is the proposal for the Cheng partnership. I've made a few adjustments to your draft."

Lian Mei scanned the pages, her irritation growing as she noticed the changes. "You rewrote half of it."

"I improved it," Zhao Yan corrected.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "You undermined me—again."

"It's called collaboration," he replied smoothly.

"No, it's called control," she shot back, her voice rising.

Their argument escalated quickly, drawing the attention of a few onlookers. Lian Mei could feel the tension in the room building, and she hated that he always managed to get under her skin so easily.

But then Zhao Yan did something unexpected. He leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You're cute when you're angry," he said.

Her mouth fell open in shock, her words momentarily lost. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying," he continued, his tone maddeningly casual. "Your passion is admirable, even if it's misplaced."

She glared at him, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, here we are," he replied, his smirk widening.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur, with Lian Mei doing her best to ignore the way Zhao Yan's presence seemed to fill the room. He was infuriatingly calm, his confidence unshaken, while she felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't quite name.

Later, as she packed up her things, Zhao Yan approached her, his expression unreadable.

"Lian Mei," he said, his voice softer than before.

She looked up, wary.

"About last night," he began.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked her reaction. "What about it?"

He hesitated, his gaze searching hers. For a moment, she thought he might actually apologize, but instead, he said, "You'll need to learn to control your temper if we're going to keep working together."

Her jaw tightened. "Unbelievable."

But as she stormed out of the room, she couldn't help but notice the faint smile playing on his lips.

And despite her best efforts, she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss—or the man who had turned her world upside down in more ways than one.