Chapter 87 If there must be a reason, then it is this: I, Song Mi, am simply not the one destined for you.

Not early.

He had already been standing at the door for over an hour.

Because she had changed the password, he couldn’t open the door.

Wen Yanli raised his eyes to meet the woman before him, his gaze deep and unfathomably cold.

Before him, the woman wore a black suit, her skin fair as snow. Her eyes, still those exquisitely beautiful almond eyes, now held none of the flirtatiousness, allure, admiration, or pursuit they once did.

All that remained was an aloofness, unattainable, cold, and distant.

He did not feel aggrieved.

He knew well that she had already made up her mind to push him away.

Not only during that hour, but ever since he made his decision, he had also prepared himself for rejection.

Song Mi watched as the man's long, deep eyes shifted from quiet to turbulent, now softened before her.

Yet, she did not understand.

He had rushed back, sleepless and weary, only to find she had changed the password and, without a word, shut him out. Was he not angry?

He still bore wounds!

Wounds sustained for her!

In that instant, Song Mi felt as if a tide surged within her.

Quickly, the man handed her the bouquet, his handsome lips curling as he spoke, “I bought the flowers at the airport convenience store. It’s too early—the jewelry stores hadn’t opened, so the ring…”

His gaze locked onto her, Wen Yanli’s lips curved, “The ring will come later.”

Song Mi’s heart pounded wildly, relentless.

Even before he uttered ‘ring,’ she had already guessed what he intended.

Dressed in a suit, holding flowers.

He was actually about to propose?!

For a moment, Song Mi could hardly distinguish her own emotions.

A bit of regret, a bit of wanting to flee, and the rest was nothing but confusion.

Because she had never imagined such a moment would appear in her life.

Wen Yanli clearly saw the shock on her face, the bewilderment in her eyes.

Then, he knelt, “Mi’er, will you marry—?”

“Wait!” Song Mi instinctively stepped back, face cold and questioning, “Attorney Wen, what are you doing?”

“As you can see, I’m proposing to you.” Despite her interruption, the man completed his gesture, kneeling with flowers still in hand, “Song Mi, marry me.”

He once more handed her the bouquet.

On the fiery, slender petals of the bird-of-paradise, dewdrops sparkled, dazzling.

Song Mi had previously looked up the flower’s meaning—lifelong harmony, conjugal love to old age.

But there was another meaning—waiting for love, representing deep anticipation.

Very fitting.

But she was not.

She was not the right person!

One kneeling, one standing.

One resolute.

One refusing to yield.

In this silent pursuit, Song Mi’s heart tangled and confused, yet outwardly she acted decisively.

In the midst of such turmoil, she forcibly swept away all emotions, her lashes falling and rising, sarcasm coloring her eyes and brows, “So the legendary invincible god of the profession, the all-conquering Attorney Wen, is just a hopeless romantic after all!”

“A few times in bed, half a month of cohabitation, and you want to rush straight to the altar with me?” She crossed her arms, her tone increasingly mocking, “Attorney Wen, did you realize I’m growing bored, so you want to trap me with this?”

Song Mi stepped forward and took the flowers, her expression playful, “But what to do?”

“I already have a new target!” She smiled, her words growing more blatant, “If Attorney Wen really can’t let me go, I wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a while!”

As soon as she uttered ‘new target,’ the man abruptly stood.

He said nothing, only fixed her with those ancient, icy eyes, never blinking.

Seeing him rise, Song Mi smiled with satisfaction, “I’ll keep the flowers.”

“I missed a lot of work these past two weeks, so my schedule is full every day now. Your arm is injured; once you’re healed, once I have free time, then I’ll—”

“What’s your reason?” Wen Yanli didn’t believe her. These past two weeks, she had been recovering in the apartment, sleeping in the same bed with him every night. When could she have found a new target?

“Why are you suddenly avoiding me?” His eyes bore into hers, stepping closer, “What are you afraid of?”

Even after a sleepless night, after rushing back and waiting over an hour outside, after being rejected so formally, the man remained utterly composed.

Just like his crisp, immaculate suit—nothing out of place, refined to the core.

As he drew nearer, Song Mi instinctively stepped back, “Attorney Wen, what could I possibly be afraid of, hmm?”

She curled her lips, coldness seeping into her eyes, “But if you keep pestering me, then I really will be afraid.”

“Afraid I’ll be hurt for you, afraid something like what happened to Wang Lisa will happen again?” Wen Yanli’s gaze lingered on her lips, “Afraid the Shen family will come after me?”

“Mi’er, why did you come to Jinzhou?”

“What are you doing here that makes it impossible for you to promise me a future, to marry me?”

The man’s handsome nose, sculpted brows, and gently moving lips drew closer, enlarging before her eyes.

Those obsidian-bright eyes left her nowhere to hide.

Song Mi’s heart skipped a beat, clear and unmistakable.

But only a beat.

Quickly, she reached out, tracing his jaw with a light touch, then placed her finger on his lips, “Attorney Wen, do you know what I like most about you?”

“When masters meet, it’s a worthy match!”

With that, Song Mi laughed, “Attorney Wen, you’re strong and skilled, and so am I. Between man and woman, we were equally matched. We’ve burned hot, been crazy, and enjoyed ourselves—that’s enough!”

She withdrew her hand without hesitation, her smile turning cold, “Now I’m tired of it, and even if you can’t accept it, there’s no need for melodrama.”

“Excuses? Reasons?” Song Mi scoffed lightly, “If there are any, it’s simply that I, Song Mi, am not your ideal partner.”

Even prepared as he was, Wen Yanli could not remain unmoved at this moment.

The heart he offered, overturned by Song Mi herself, wounded, still hurt.

Seeing the turmoil in his deep eyes, his face growing colder, Song Mi felt something boiling within, ready to overflow.

Yet her expression betrayed nothing, lowering her gaze, she turned to leave.

“Mi’er!” Wen Yanli reached out to stop her, “Don’t deceive yourself!”

Song Mi frowned heavily, her gaze pausing on the wound in his arm caused by Tang Lishi.

It wasn’t just his arm. He’d used this hand to smash a mirror earlier.

Even before, when he’d beaten Huang Weiguo, several wounds had landed on this hand.

Did he not know how to take care of himself?

Irrevocably, Song Mi became angry!

Seeing she didn’t resist, the man perhaps thought her attitude had softened, so he lowered his head to kiss her.

Just as his lips touched hers, Song Mi forcefully pushed him away, “Ye Zhao!”

Wen Yanli hadn’t noticed Ye Zhao was already waiting nearby.

As soon as he grabbed her, she stopped in her tracks. He didn’t expect to persuade her so easily, but any hesitation was an opportunity for him.

Kissing her was both his impulse and his helplessness.

But after she called Ye Zhao, her expression and tone changed completely, impatient and unmistakably warning, “Attorney Wen, you’ve gone too far!”

With that, she refused to look at him again, walking away without a backward glance!

…

Because of this delay, even though Ye Zhao kept increasing speed on the way, Song Mi was still late.

Everyone in the conference room was waiting for her.

After the meeting ended, she had just sat down in her office when Huo Qingjue called.

He had a flight to the capital that evening and wanted to ask her to lunch.

Song Mi agreed.

The restaurant was once again Tianxiang Tower.

Around noon, she left the office and had just gotten into her car when Shen Yanye called.

It was about Attorney Wen serving as defense lawyer for Weng Yuying. Shen Yanye’s intentions were clear: “Have your boyfriend drop this case, and the IOU issue will be wiped clean.”

Song Mi scoffed, “Do you think Weng Yuying won’t be able to sue you then?”

She had already received word from Wen Yuan—Weng Yuying was legally savvy. After Shen Yanye assaulted her, she preserved all evidence and the police had already collected it yesterday.

Weng Yuying was prepared.

In other words, as long as she pursues the case, her chances of winning are high.

So Shen Yanye now faced not only ruin, but also the loss of family.

He was utterly cornered.

Still, Shen Yanye was making a desperate last stand, “Song Mi, don’t you want my shares?”

“If you make Wen drop Weng Yuying’s case and help me instead, I’ll agree to divorce, but custody of my daughter must stay with me.” He gave a dry, cold laugh, “You probably don’t know, but Weng Yuying’s lover is Lin Shuxiang’s eldest son. I bet you’re eyeing Lin Shuxiang’s shares too!”

“Guess if I have evidence of Fang Chengyan’s affair with my wife?” Shen Yanye continued, “He’s up for a professorship. If it’s exposed that he’s involved with a married woman, he won’t get the title, and being expelled from the university would be the least of his worries. After that, he’d be finished in the academic circle!”

Weng Yuying and Fang Chengyan?

That surprised Song Mi.

But if Shen Yanye had evidence, why not go directly to Weng Yuying? Why come to her?

Either he already had, and the other party wasn’t threatened.

Or he had no real proof, and was bluffing.

After thinking it over, Song Mi said coldly, “You have the IOU, you can talk directly to Attorney Wen. You have evidence of your wife’s affair, you can talk to them directly.”

“Yet you called me?” She sneered, “Shen Yanye, are you so desperate you’ve lost your mind? Why should I help you? Just for those measly shares?”

“Who said I only have my own?” Shen Yanye had his bargaining chip. He called not just to settle the lawsuit, but to inquire about the price, “Eight hundred years ago, I had more than one. But due to the old man’s rules, everyone pretended to hold only their own.”

Now, he could sell those shares to anyone. The old man never treated him as a real son, so why cling to whether the Sihai Group bears the Shen name?

Besides, his ambition for the position Song Mi now holds was never about the view from the 66th floor; it was always about money.

Blame the old man—before Song Mi appeared, he’d suppressed them for five years. After the eldest son was killed, he changed, clearing them all out.

No power, no status—for five years, who would listen to them?

Now, he’d come to terms with it: even blood ties can’t compare to cash in hand. “…Well, isn’t it a lot?”

Song Mi stayed silent.

Sure enough, Shen Yanye wanted to sell shares.

But intuitively, something felt off.

Those shares were his last security; if he really wanted to sell, wouldn’t he wait until she needed them most?

Revealing his cards so early wasn’t normal.

As expected, seeing her unmoved, Shen Yanye quickly spoke again, “Song Mi, there are no secrets that don’t leak. Does the old man really think he can cover everything up?”

“Some things—whether they’re golden opportunities or ticking time bombs—I’m not blind.”

With that, Shen Yanye hung up.

His meaning was clear: he knew something. But how?

While pondering, her other phone rang—it was Qiao Weiwei. “Mi’er, are you coming to see my brother today?”

Song Mi’s brow furrowed, “You’re at the hospital?”

Qiao Weiwei replied quickly, “Yes, my sister-in-law already visited and left for the capital.”

He sounded confused.

“Mm,” Song Mi acknowledged, “For you at least, one problem is solved.”

“But I don’t feel good about it.” Qiao Weiwei recalled how Fu Sisi looked before leaving the ward—he felt uneasy, very uneasy. “I think something bad is about to happen.”

“Something big.”

Song Mi said nothing.

After all, it was their family affair; she was an outsider and didn’t know the specifics—what could she say?

After a few more worried words, he remembered the other reason for his call, “So, are you coming to see my brother or not? He was just teasing me about it!”

Song Mi rested her elbow on the car door, subconsciously pressing her temples, her tone impatient, “I’m very busy.”

Qiao Weiwei paused, then gave a soft “Mm,” and added, “By the way, Attorney Wen just called, said he’s coming to Meise tonight to see me.”

At this, Qiao Weiwei grew uneasy, “Mi’er, what does he want from me?”

“Is it to help his buddy—?”

Still stumbling over his words, Song Mi cut him off, “No.”

“Huh?” Qiao Weiwei asked, “You’re so sure? Did Attorney Wen tell you something?”

“Then what does he want?”

Song Mi didn’t reply immediately.

Qiao Weiwei quickly guessed, “Did you two have a fight?”

“He’s using me to patch things up with you?”

“Tell me, how did he upset you?”

…

As Qiao Weiwei kept talking, Song Mi’s brow involuntarily furrowed.

A pale crease lingered, refusing to fade.

The morning scene at the apartment door—his knee on the ground, proposing to her—replayed in her mind, slow-motion.

Again and again.

As if his knee hadn’t landed on the ground, but on her heart.

A heavy thud, jolting her soul.

She—

She didn’t know how long had passed; Qiao Weiwei must have called her name several times, “Mi’er, why aren’t you saying anything?”

“What happened between you two?”

Song Mi hadn’t intended to speak, but somehow, as if beyond her control, she said, “He proposed to me, and I refused.”

On the other end, Qiao Weiwei exclaimed, “Really? Attorney Wen moves so fast?”

“How did he propose?”

“…Wait, you said you refused? Why?”

Question after question, her eardrum vibrated until she finally hung up.

Unbeknownst to her, Ye Zhao in the driver’s seat had glanced at her through the rearview mirror, again and again, after hearing her words.

…

More than twenty minutes later.

Song Mi pushed open the private room door and entered.

Seeing her, Huo Qingjue immediately stood, picked up a bouquet from the seat beside him, and walked over, “For you.”

A large bouquet of snow mountain roses.

The snowy petals tinged with pale green and yellow—clearly an imported variety flown in.

After a pause, Song Mi took it, “Thank you.”

Huo Qingjue noticed her lack of enthusiasm; perhaps it wasn’t just that—her mood seemed lower than usual, subtly downcast.

—Did something upset her?

Following his gesture, Song Mi walked to the table.

Before sitting, she placed the bouquet on the nearby chair.

She never cared for flowers.

Except for bird-of-paradise.

Ironically, the bouquet he had given her today lay abandoned in the car.

Across from her, Huo Qingjue felt a clear, delicate impression—every time he saw her, she was different from the last.

As they sat and dishes were served, Song Mi’s phone rang—a strange number.

She glanced at Huo Qingjue, then walked to the window to answer, “Hello?”

“Song Mi?” It was a female voice, vaguely familiar and not young.