In an instant, every eye in the room turned to her, some scrutinizing, others filled with a cruel amusement. A cold sweat prickled Xiang Wan’s palms, but her expression remained a placid mask. Then, someone shouted, “Holy shit, isn’t that the Xiang family heiress, Xiang Wan? I heard she went to prison for attempted murder. Is that really her?” The moment the words fell, the room erupted. A satisfied smile played on Song Qiao’s lips as she nudged Xiang Wan’s shoulder with her elbow. “Go on, say hello to everyone. What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Staring into the sea of mocking eyes, Xiang Wan bit her lip. “I am Xiang Wan.” Beside her, Jiang Qifeng glanced over, his brow furrowing slightly. The distant neon lights flickered, casting a cold indifference over the glittering city. Inside an office, Li stood cautiously, glancing toward the large desk. “About the club… Meng Lan is asking if she should intervene.” He Hanchuan reclined in a leather executive chair. The sharp lines of his bespoke grey suit seemed to accentuate the devilish aura that clung to him. After a long pause, his voice emerged, low and resonant. “Is Jiang Qifeng there?” “Yes.” With a sharp *click*, the lighter in his hand sparked to life. He lit a cigarette, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. “Since Jiang Qifeng is there, let them have their fun. Tell Meng Lan to stay out of it.” An image of the woman he once knew—the one who quietly endured every hardship—flashed through his mind. He Hanchuan closed his eyes. He refused to believe that a mere two years could transform her into someone else entirely. The cigarette between his fingers burned slowly, its smoke curling into the long night ahead. Xiang Wan had lost count of how many drinks she’d been forced to down. A fire raged in her stomach. But she couldn’t beg for mercy, because not a single person here would grant it. Beside her, Song Qiao sat with her back ramrod straight, watching Xiang Wan’s pathetic state with the glee of a triumphant peacock. Just as she mixed another glass of hard liquor and pushed it toward Xiang Wan, Jiang Qifeng finally moved. His brow tightened as he reached over, snatched the glass, and downed it in one go. Song Qiao’s face turned livid. “Qifeng? What are you doing? That was for Xiang Wan.” Jiang Qifeng shot her a glare but said nothing. Instead, he rose and strode over to Xiang Wan, hauling her up from the sofa. “You’re coming with me.” Before Xiang Wan could react, a sharp pain shot through her wrist from his grip. “Jiang… Jiang Qifeng, where are you taking me?” He ignored her, dragging her wordlessly out of the room, down the stairs, and into the cool night air outside the Meng Club before finally letting go. Her legs, already unsteady, gave way. He released her so abruptly that she crumpled to the ground. “Having fun, debasing yourself like this?” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, Xiang Wan just stared, stunned.