He Hanchuan glanced up at the woman, a smirk twisting his lips. “Ms. Meng Lan of the Dream Club. Since when did you grow such a charitable heart, speaking up for a complete stranger?” Meng Lan arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, but just as she opened her mouth to reply, a knock sounded at the door. She hesitated, then set down her teacup. “I wouldn’t call it compassion. It’s just that the girl knows how to work hard. It would be a waste to have her die on my doorstep.” With that, she rose, her hips swaying as she went to answer the door. He Hanchuan’s eyes narrowed as he watched her leave, but his thoughts drifted to Xiang Wan, kneeling and speaking those words. The woman had certainly changed. He lifted his own cup and took a sip. A faint bitterness touched his tongue. After a brief exchange at the door, Meng Lan returned to the office. She stopped for a moment, looking at the imposing figure seated before her, then said softly, “She passed out.” His hand, lifting the teacup, froze mid-air. “And Jiang Qifeng?” “Word is, he panicked and rushed her to the hospital himself.” He Hanchuan’s lips tightened, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he said, “Send two men to follow.” Xiang Wan was trapped in a dream, a nightmare that dragged her back to prison. The burly prison matriarch was pummeling her, and unable to bear it any longer, she’d set a fire. The flames consumed everyone who had tormented her, and she let them consume her too. But just as a sense of release washed over her, her eyes fluttered open, and reality crashed back in. Her gaze fell on the IV bag hanging above her, and her brow furrowed in disappointment. “Awake?” A deep voice sounded from beside her. Startled, Xiang Wan turned her head, her eyes landing on He Hanchuan. He was lounging on a nearby sofa, his long legs crossed with an air of casual indifference. “So, Xiang Wan. Two years in prison and you learned nothing, it seems, except how to play the victim…” He arched a brow, his elegant eyes glinting with ridicule. Xiang Wan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She closed it again. What was the point of arguing? In his mind, her disgrace was already set in stone. Her silence, however, only seemed to stoke his anger. “Nothing to say?” Xiang Wan moistened her parched lips and turned her head to face him. “You’ve already made up your mind about me, Mr. He. What’s the point of me saying anything?” He Hanchuan’s brow furrowed. This Xiang Wan seemed submissive on the surface, but he could feel the defiance simmering underneath. He rose from the sofa and crossed the room toward her. Before Xiang Wan could process his movement, his tall frame was looming over her, casting her in shadow. The next second, his hand shot out, his fingers clamping around her chin. “This act of yours, Xiang Wan,” he snarled, “it’s nauseating.” A sharp pain shot through her jaw, but she couldn’t speak. The tension in the room was suffocating. Thankfully, a sudden knock on the door broke the spell. With a flash of annoyance, He Hanchuan released her and sank back onto the sofa. “Come in,” he bit out. Xiang Wan dragged in a ragged breath, assuming it was a nurse on her rounds. But the man who stepped into the room was Jiang Qifeng.