Chapter 3 I am

The car door clicked softly as it opened, the sound somehow louder in the stillness of the street.

A tall figure stepped out slowly, his silhouette framed by the car's interior light. The first thing Meiyu noticed was the way he stood-shoulders square, posture straight, like a man used to walking into boardrooms and not needing to raise his voice to be heard.

Then the light caught his face.

Sharp jawline. Eyes like shadows-deep, unreadable, but not unkind. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing toned forearms and the faint glint of a tattoo coiling around his wrist. He didn't wear a suit, just a black shirt tucked into slacks, but there was an undeniable air of wealth about him.

Li Zeyan.

The name barely formed in her mind before her vision swayed again. She blinked, her throat dry, still kneeling beside the spilled lunchbox.

Zeyan's gaze swept over the scene. The lunchbox on the floor, the torn strap of her purse, the faint red mark on her wrist. Then he looked at her.

He didn't ask what happened.

He simply took off his jacket and stepped closer.

"Miss Liang," he said, voice low but clear. "You shouldn't be here alone."

Meiyu tried to speak, but her mouth felt slow. "I didn't... I just-" Her voice cracked. She looked down, ashamed of how helpless she felt.

Zeyan crouched in front of her, close enough for her to see the fine stubble along his jaw and the way his brow furrowed-not in anger, but concern.

"You're not hurt?" he asked, his voice dropping just a little.

She shook her head, though her body trembled.

Zeyan nodded once. Without another word, he gently draped his jacket over her shoulders and glanced at one of his men. "Pick up the food. Make sure her things aren't left behind."

The bodyguard moved quickly. The others stood watch around them, silent but alert.

Zeyan turned back to her. "Can you stand?"

She tried, but her legs folded under her.

Zeyan didn't hesitate. In one smooth motion, he slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her, bridal-style, like she weighed nothing.

Meiyu gasped, her face flushed against the warmth of his chest. "You don't have to-"

"I know," he replied. "But I am."

He carried her to the car, not hurried, nor ashamed.

The car door opened, and he helped her settle into the leather seat. The jacket still hung around her shoulders, smelling faintly of expensive cologne and something sharper-like bergamot or black tea.

She looked up at him, dazed. "Why... why are you here?"

Zeyan didn't answer right away. He adjusted her seatbelt and closed the door. Then he circled to the other side and got in.

Only once the car began moving did he speak, eyes fixed ahead.

"You were stumbling past my car," he said simply. "I recognized your face. That's all."

Meiyu leaned her head against the window. The lights outside blurred into smears of gold and white.

She whispered, almost to herself, "I didn't think anyone would come."

Zeyan turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at her.

"I did."

That was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.