His love for Jiang Qingran had twisted into a hatred for her, a hatred fiercer than that of Jiang Qingran's own brother. “What did you say?” He stopped, his gaze dropping to her. Xiang Wan looked up, her makeup streaked and ruined. “He Hanchuan, I truly regret it. If I had known back then that she was the one you loved, I never would have harbored any feelings for you. Loving you was the biggest mistake of my life.” “Is that so?” A moment passed before he let out a laugh, a sound more terrifying than his silence. “But what can you do, Xiang Wan? Regret, as it happens, is the most useless thing in the world.” … The winter in B City was exceptionally cold that year. Xiang Wan knelt at the entrance of the club, dressed in the short qipao of a hostess. Her face was ashen, and the ends of her hair, damp from spilled liquor, had even begun to frost over. The cold, combined with the pain in her legs, brought her to the verge of collapse. As midnight approached, the club grew busier. Guests, passing by, would cast mocking smirks in her direction. But she paid them no mind. She just kept her head down, staring at her own hands, now red and raw from the cold. It was a habit she’d perfected over the past two years, a way to shut out the world. In prison, when the bullying started, she used to fight back, but that only invited more savage beatings. After that, she stopped resisting. She would simply zone out, letting them beat her with all their might until they tired and left her alone. All she wanted now was for He Hanchuan, and for Jiang Qifeng, to finally leave her be. She didn't know how much time had passed before Zhou Miao secretly brought out a coat and tossed it to her. “Put this on,” she said, her brow furrowed. “It’s been two hours. Any longer and you’ll freeze to death.” Xiang Wan froze for a moment before reaching out to pick up the coat. Her lips, drained of color by the cold, parted. Her voice was hoarse. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t want to drag you into this.” “You’re worried about me?” Zhou Miao sighed, unaware of the full story of how Xiang Wan had offended such powerful people. “I told you to quit this job. You can’t just throw your life away. Wait here, I’ll get you some hot water…” Xiang Wan didn’t want to cause her any trouble. She raised a hand to stop her, but the sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness over her. With a dull thud, she collapsed. Her forehead struck the hard marble floor. Meanwhile, inside the club, He Hanchuan sat in the manager's office, his face grim. A woman with an exquisite figure was pouring a pot of tea beside him. She remarked, with pointed casualness, “I heard the low tonight is twelve below zero. I doubt the flowers I bought the other day will survive.” “They’re just flowers,” he said. “We can always buy more.” “But what about a person?”