C3 Who is she??

"Ziyan... Ziyan... He’s here! Oh my God, he’s here! My prince charming has arrived!"

The high-pitched shrieks of women snapped Ziyan back to reality like a slap to the face. For a moment, he had lost himself in a world that no longer existed—ghosts of memories, of things unsaid and undone. He blinked, regaining composure, his cold eyes scanning the lavishly adorned party hall once more. Laughter, music, clinking glasses, and swirling lights surrounded him. He had seen someone—a girl and a boy—but now they were gone. Nothing remained except guests buzzing with excitement and the echo of his name like a chant.

He sighed quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Why her? Why now?

Why was the past creeping in again, stirring emotions he’d buried under seven relentless years of empire-building?

Before he could collect himself further, a familiar warmth enveloped him. Mrs. Qing, his mother, radiant and tearful, threw her arms around him. Her embrace trembled, a mixture of relief and joy flooding her elegant face.

"Don’t cry, Mom," Ziyan murmured, gently cupping her cheek. "Your son’s home now. You’re more beautiful with a smile than with tears."

His words were soft, but they held the weight of years.

After all this time, the mother and son had finally reunited. The moment was priceless to Mrs. Qing, who had endured countless lonely nights, flying to Nation A just to see him for a few hours. She had waited for this—for her son to return home, not just in body but in heart.

Ziyan never thought he’d step into this house again, let alone call it home. But here he was.

Seven years ago, his life shattered the night his father—Ryan Qing, the global titan of business—passed away. Ziyan had been only a teenage boy. But grief left no room for adolescence. Overnight, he had inherited not just an empire but the lives and livelihoods of thousands who depended on Qing Group. He didn't have time to mourn. He had to become a man.

In seven years, he didn’t just survive. He reigned.

He took the dying company and built it into a global powerhouse, expanding the Qing legacy across nations. And through it all, the one constant in his life—his anchor—was his mother.

She smiled through tears, running her fingers across his face as if making sure he was real.

"I still can’t believe you're here," she whispered before pulling him by the hand into the main hall.

People swarmed him like bees to honey. One by one, they came forward—businessmen, socialites, politicians—each with wine glasses and carefully rehearsed pleasantries. Every smile masked an agenda.

“Mr. Qing, your return is a blessing for the future of our economy.”

“I have a project in B City’s Meridian land I’d love to discuss with you.”

“Actually, my daughter came up with a marvelous business concept—”

Ziyan listened, impassive, his expression unreadable. He could see through them all. He had learned long ago that in this world, everyone came with a motive.

Then, a warm voice interrupted.

“Ziyan, my boy!”

His second uncle approached and hugged him tight. A rare, genuine smile touched Ziyan’s lips.

"You’ve finally returned home. I can rest easy now."

"Uncle," Ziyan replied with a small bow, "you’ve carried too much already. But I’m afraid retirement will have to wait. I’ll need you to watch over operations here while I expand our reach abroad."

His uncle laughed heartily. “You cold-hearted rascal! Still making your poor uncle work in his old age?”

“Absolutely.”

His third uncle chimed in with mock indignation. “Why should I keep running restaurants while he takes it easy?”

Their laughter broke through the formality of the evening like sunlight through clouds.

Then came the squeals of a cheerful girl—his cousin—who threw her arms around him.

“Brother! You’re finally home!” She immediately began snapping selfies.

Ziyan calmly snatched her phone and began deleting them one by one.

"No pictures."

“Come on, how else will I show off how handsome my brother is?”

"You don’t need to. The world already knows," one of the aunts teased, joining in to hug him.

One by one, family members surrounded him. He belonged. Here, he wasn’t the billionaire CEO of the Qing Group. He was simply Ziyan—the beloved son, the adored nephew, the family’s crown jewel.

Mrs. Qing took his arm and gently led him away from the group. Her lips curved into a secretive smile as she leaned in.

“I have a gift for you.”

Ziyan turned just in time to see a vision in white approaching. A woman with an hourglass figure and the kind of beauty that made men stop breathing. Her white gown shimmered under the chandelier’s light, and her smile was poised yet alluring.

Ziyan’s brows lifted slightly. He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her as whispers erupted around the room.

“Who is she?”

“She looks like a goddess.”

“They’re a perfect couple.”

Then someone gasped.

“Isn’t she Ziyan Qing’s girlfriend? The one from high school?”

Of course—Xia Denzong. The ramp queen. The top model of the fashion world.

He hadn’t expected to see her tonight.

“Weren’t you supposed to be in Paris?” he asked quietly.

She smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Your mother invited me. I was as surprised as you are. She never told me you were returning… but I’m glad you’re here.”

Before their conversation could continue, Ziyan’s phone vibrated. A call.

Unknown Number.

His eyes narrowed. No one—not a single stranger—had ever dialed this number. Only a few people even knew it existed.

His heart skipped a beat.

Could it be her...?

After all these years—

Could it finally be her?

He stepped away from the noise and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello... hello... Is that you?"