By the time Meng Ze was eight, he knew his father had a mistress.
That mistress had even given birth to a son—just one year younger than him.
That day, he hid in the study and listened to his parents’ furious argument.
From then on, he understood just how crucial power was.
And from that moment, he stopped resisting the arranged marriage with Ye Shaohua.
Many people saw her as flawless, envying him for having such a fiancée. But Meng Ze never once took Ye Shaohua seriously. She lived too artificially—so much so that she hardly seemed real.
He also knew she genuinely liked him. Maybe because of that affection, he never truly considered her.
Not until her mother died, and she spiraled into ruin.
Yang Qin took her place.
Only then did Meng Ze shift his attention elsewhere.
He understood his current predicament—the only reason he and his mother were still tolerated in the Meng family was because of his engagement to Ye Shaohua.
But now that Yang Qin was pregnant with a son, marrying Ye Shaohua wouldn’t change anything.
His entanglement with Ye Yun was something he never expected.
She, too, seemed perfect—but unlike Ye Shaohua’s aloofness, she felt reachable. Though just a stepdaughter, Meng Ze knew her younger brother would inherit the Ye family’s empire.
So, things unfolded naturally.
He finally succeeded in breaking off the engagement with Ye Shaohua. Seeing the relief on his father’s face—mirroring his own—he smirked in self-mockery.
This was what Meng Ze had wanted most, and he’d finally achieved it.
Yet, at the time, he had no idea what he was truly throwing away.
Ye Yun and Yang Qin had long since fallen from grace.
But by then, Meng Ze no longer needed them. After years of careful maneuvering, he finally wrested control from his father’s hands.
“Those were my most wasted three years. But I’m grateful for them—they made me who I am today.” Meng Ze stared unblinking at a viral video circulating online.
His business partner, who didn’t follow the tech world much, still recognized Ye Shaohua’s name.
“Meng Ze, did you know she proposed the Seven-Dimensional Space Theory?” The man gazed eagerly at the figure on the screen. “My cousin says her work is even in textbooks now. Who would’ve thought? It’s just a shame…”
Ye Shaohua was a legend—juggling business and academic research effortlessly.
She wasn’t some celebrity, but every step she left behind was unforgettable.
A renowned researcher from M once said: “Anyone who meets her can’t help but be drawn in. It’s a fatal kind of magnetism.”
Before his partner could finish, Meng Ze was already walking away.
“Hey, Meng Ze! We haven’t signed the contract yet—”
He called out several times, but Meng Ze didn’t look back.
Driving aimlessly, unsure where to go, he eventually stopped by the psychiatric hospital to see Ye Yun.
She didn’t recognize him anymore, muttering endlessly about “starting over.”
Clearly, she’d lost her mind.
Finally, he parked at the southern cemetery and climbed to the highest plot, stopping before a gravestone.
It was impeccably clean.
Fresh flowers, still dewy, lay at its base.
“Mr. Su.” He addressed the man standing up.
Su Qin was now in his thirties, but time had been kind—leaving almost no trace on him.
“Mr. Meng.” Over the years, their paths had crossed often enough for Su Qin to know who he was.
They occasionally met here.
“Can I ask you something? I heard you were the one who first proposed breaking off the engagement. Is that true?”
At those words, Meng Ze’s fists clenched involuntarily.
He’d spent three years scheming to end that engagement—only to spend the rest of his life trapped in regret.
Seeing his expression, Su Qin seemed to understand. But he didn’t press further, merely nodding before walking away.
