Fighting side by side
The rain outside the window was getting heavier and heavier, and the large raindrops hitting the glass sounded like a silent accusation.
Today is the third day, and the online criticism is becoming increasingly unbearable for her.
In Xu Ying's apartment, only a warm yellow desk lamp was on, casting a dim light that illuminated her pale face. The blue light from the computer screen stung her eyes, but she dared not close them—if she did, the vicious comments, the questions from company executives, and the withdrawal notices from partners would flood in like a tidal wave, overwhelming her.
"Xu Ying, are you sure this is your original design?"
"The company's 20-year reputation cannot be ruined in your hands!"
She bit her lower lip, her nails unconsciously digging into her palm until a sharp pain shot through her.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
She didn't move.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a loud "bang"—someone had simply opened the door with a key.
A cold wind, carrying the damp scent of rain, rushed in. Xu Ying turned around abruptly and saw Zong Heng standing at the door, his suit jacket soaked by the rain, his black hair disheveled and plastered to his forehead, his eyes swirling with emotions she couldn't understand.
"How did you get in?" she asked, her voice tense.
He shook the keys in his hand, a half-smile playing on his lips: "You gave them to me, forgot?"
Xu Ying was taken aback.
Zong Heng strode in, tossed a document onto the coffee table, and water droplets dripped from his hair, leaving a dark stain on the paper.
"See for yourself," he said in a low, hoarse voice.
Xu Ying reached out to take it, her fingertips accidentally brushing against the back of his hand, and she recoiled as if electrocuted. Zong Heng's eyes darkened, but he said nothing.
The document shows the equity structure of the brand that accused her of plagiarism—the latest investor is none other than the Zong Group, and the signatory is Zong's father's personal assistant.
"Your father..." Her throat went dry, "...does he hate me that much?"
Zong Heng sneered, took out a cigarette from his pocket, pulled one out and bit it between his lips, but didn't light it. Xu Ying remembered that he used to do this when he was upset, but five years had passed, and his features were sharper, and when his jaw was tense, even the shadows exuded coldness.
“He doesn’t hate you,” he suddenly said, his voice like sandpaper. “He hates anyone who can affect me.”
Xu Ying suddenly looked up.
Zong Heng's gaze fell on her face, dark and brooding, as if he wanted to nail her to the spot.
“Five years ago, when he strapped me to the plane, he said something,” he said with a smirk. “‘That girl will only make you weak.’”
Xu Ying's heart clenched painfully.
She always thought that he had chosen to give up.
turn out to be……
Her computer suddenly beeped, and a new email popped up. She opened it; it was a design draft—the very work she was accused of plagiarizing, but the timestamp showed it was completed three years ago.
"That's impossible!" She jumped to her feet. "I just finished designing this last month—"
“It’s fake.” Zong Heng interrupted her, slamming his laptop shut. “They even tampered with the database logs.”
Xu Ying clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Without the original manuscript, she had no way to prove her innocence.
The room was eerily quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the window.
Zong Heng suddenly stood up and grabbed his coat from the sofa.
"Where are you going?" Xu Ying asked instinctively.
He turned to look at her, a familiar ruthlessness flashing in his eyes: "Stealing evidence."
Xu Ying's pupils contracted: "Are you crazy? That's a crime—"
"Then what are you going to do?" He suddenly raised his voice, throwing his coat to the ground. "Wait for them to ruin you? Just like five years ago?!"
His outburst came suddenly, and Xu Ying was so shocked that she took a step back and her back hit the bookshelf, causing several books to fall down with a clatter.
Zong Heng seemed to suddenly realize that he had lost control. He took a deep breath and raised his hand to press his throbbing temples.
"I'm sorry," he said in a hoarse voice.
Xu Ying didn't say anything.
A silence spread between the two, like an invisible crack.
After a long silence, she spoke softly, "Zong Heng, we can't go on like we used to."
He suddenly looked up.
“Five years ago, you were willing to fight the whole world for me, and then what?” Her voice trembled. “You disappeared, and I didn’t even get a reply.”
Zong Heng's face turned pale instantly.
“This time is different.” He said this almost through gritted teeth.
"How is it different?" She smiled, but her eyes glistened with tears. "Is your father's method more sophisticated? Or do you think I'm now capable of standing up to you?"
Zong Heng strode over and grabbed her wrist. His palm was burning hot, as if it were on fire.
“This time,” he said, staring into her eyes, “I will never let go, even if it kills me.”
Xu Ying was stunned.
Zong Heng's breathing was heavy, his chest heaving violently, as if he had just finished a long marathon. His fingers trembled slightly, yet he gripped her tightly, as if afraid that if he let go, she would disappear.
A bolt of lightning flashed past the window, illuminating his sharply defined profile and the unfathomable obsession in his eyes.
She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips touching his cheek.
Zong Heng froze.
"Two hours," she said softly. "If you don't come back within two hours, I'll call the police."
His pupils dilated slightly, and then a genuine smile appeared on his lips.
"Yes, Director Xu."
He released her, turned and walked towards the door, but turned back just before stepping out.
“Oh, right,” he said, taking a pen out of his pocket and gently placing it on the cabinet in the entryway, “returning it to its rightful owner.”
The door closed.
The rain is still falling.
Standing in the quiet room, she suddenly felt that the rift that had stretched across the room for five years seemed... not so difficult to cross anymore.
Rainwater slid down Zong Heng's neck and into his collar, the cold touch bringing him back to his senses. He stood at the fire escape at the back of the office building, glancing up at the dimly lit window on the third floor—his target location.
The phone screen lit up, and Xu Ying's message popped up:
"Don't go! We can find a lawyer!"
He hovered his thumb over the screen for a second, then ultimately didn't reply, simply shutting down the phone and stuffing it into the inside pocket of his waterproof jacket. A lawyer? Too slow. Public opinion had already taken hold, and every hour of delay increased the risk to Xu Ying's career.
Besides, he knew his father's style all too well—evidence wouldn't stay on official servers, but would only be hidden on certain people's private devices.
Zong Heng cracked his knuckles slightly as he moved them. Rain dripped down his brow bone. He raised his hand to wipe his face, his eyes cold and sharp.
“Five years, old man,” he muttered to himself. “This time you’ve messed with the wrong person.”
The iron gate to the fire escape was old and dilapidated, its lock cylinder long since rusted. Zong Heng pulled a multi-functional military knife from his pocket and pried it open in a few quick movements. The stairwell was filled with dust and a damp, musty smell, and the motion-sensor lights flickered due to unstable voltage.
He silently ascended the stairs, deliberately making each step light. At the end of the third-floor corridor was the target studio, with a sign on the door reading "Design Director's Private Area".
"Tsk, you know how to enjoy yourself." Zong Heng sneered.
The door lock was an electronic combination lock; he tried several common combinations without success. Just as he was pondering this, footsteps suddenly came from the end of the corridor—it was a security guard patrolling.
Zong Heng quickly slipped into the adjacent cleaning room, holding his breath. The beam of a flashlight swept across the crack in the door, footsteps approached, then slowly faded away.
He breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the door. This time, he directly removed the fire hydrant panel next to the door, found the circuit board, and shorted two wires with his saber.
"Beep—" The electronic lock malfunctioned, and the door opened.
The room was pitch black, with only the computer screen's sleep light flickering faintly. Zong Heng put on gloves and quickly rummaged through the drawers.
The first drawer—a copy of the contract—is unimportant.
The second drawer—the design sketches—was still not what he wanted.
The third drawer—locked.
He narrowed his eyes, pressed the tip of the knife into the lock, and pried it open forcefully.
Click.
The drawer slid open, revealing a folder labeled "Project XY". Zong Heng opened it, his pupils shrinking sharply—
The "Creative Buyout Agreement" was signed with the name of the father's assistant, and the recipient was the very brand that accused Xu Ying of plagiarism. The date indicates that the agreement was signed a week before Xu Ying released her design.
"Just as I expected." He sneered and quickly took pictures of each page with his phone.
Just as he was about to close the file, he caught a glimpse of a USB drive deep inside the drawer. He picked it up and plugged it into the computer in his studio.
The screen lit up, and the folder contained a surveillance video—the footage of Xu Ying's design being leaked to the brand in advance.
"Damn it," Zong Heng cursed, and immediately copied the document.
When the progress bar reached 90%, the sound of a key turning suddenly came from outside the door.
Zong Heng abruptly unplugged the USB drive; the computer screen was still lit, and there was no time to shut it down.
Turn the doorknob—
He dashed towards the floor-to-ceiling window, pushed open the ventilation window, and leaped onto the outer fire escape ladder.
"Who's there?!" came the angry roar from behind.
Zong Heng didn't look back, and quickly climbed down the iron ladder. The rain intensified, and the iron ladder became slippery. His palms were scratched and bled by the corroded metal, but he didn't slow down at all.
The moment I landed, I heard a jumble of footsteps and the beam of a flashlight behind me.
"stop!"
Zong Heng sneered and charged straight into the alley behind the office building. The narrow and winding alley was his advantage.
But the other party was clearly familiar with the terrain, and the footsteps were getting closer and closer.
At the corner, he slammed on the brakes and ducked behind a pile of discarded cardboard boxes. The security guard rushed over, cursing and chasing after him.
Zong Heng was panting, his ribs throbbing from the jump. He took out his phone, turned it on, and sent a message to Xu Ying:
"I have the evidence. I'll be at your house in twenty minutes."
Just as I was about to get up, a sharp pain suddenly struck my back—
"Well!"
An iron rod slammed heavily onto his shoulder. Zong Heng staggered two steps, turning around to meet a grinning face.
"Young Master Zong, isn't it inappropriate to steal things in the middle of the night?"
He was the patriarch's personal bodyguard.
Zong Heng spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed: "The old man even sent you out?"
Without a word, the bodyguard swung his iron rod again. Zong Heng dodged to the side and threw an elbow strike at the bodyguard's throat, but it was blocked. The two fought fiercely in the rainy alley, their fists and feet flying, mud and water splattering everywhere.
Zong Heng's old rib injury flared up, causing him to slow his movements slightly, and he was hit in the abdomen with a knee strike. He groaned, took two steps back, and his back slammed against the brick wall.
The bodyguard sneered, "Your skills have declined."
Zong Heng, panting, suddenly forced a smile: "Really?"
The next second, he suddenly pushed off the wall for leverage and delivered a sweeping kick to the opponent's temple! The bodyguard hastily raised his hand to block, but underestimated the force and was kicked backward.
Zong Heng seized the opportunity to snatch the iron rod and swung it backhand—
"Bang!"
The bodyguard collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Zong Heng, panting with his knees bent, blood mixed with rainwater streamed down his forehead. He pulled out the USB drive, made sure it wasn't damaged, and then staggered toward the alley entrance.
In the rain, he hailed a taxi. The driver looked at him in horror, his body covered in blood: "Brother, should we call the police?"
Zong Heng forced a smile: "No need, let's go to Jinjiang Apartments."
When the doorbell rang, Xu Ying was clutching her phone tightly.
She opened the door, her pupils shrinking sharply—
Zong Heng, soaking wet, leaned against the door frame, his face pale and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but he waved the USB drive in his hand at her.
"I told you, it's all taken care of."
Then, he fell directly into her arms.
The following day at noon, Xu Ying held a press conference.
Xu Ying stood backstage, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of her speech, the paper crumpling into tiny creases. Outside the glass door, the reporters' noisy chatter seemed to seep into her ears through a layer of mist.
"Ms. Xu, we'll begin in five minutes." A colleague from the public relations department handed her a glass of warm water, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you... alright?"
She took the water glass and forced a smile: "It's okay."
Warm water slid down her throat, but it couldn't suppress the burning, astringent feeling. Three days ago, she was a rising star designer in the industry, but now, the label of "plagiarism" is branded onto her name like a hot iron.
My phone vibrated; Zong Heng had sent me a message:
"look up."
She glanced instinctively towards the side door. A man in a black bespoke suit leaned lazily against the doorframe, his tie loosely draped around his neck, a tattoo on his left arm faintly visible on his cuff. Seeing her looking over, he raised an eyebrow and mouthed, "Are you an idiot?"
Xu Ying took a deep breath, crumpled up her speech, and threw it into the trash can.
—She was never a weakling to be slaughtered.
The lights suddenly blazed on!
When Xu Ying stepped onto the stage, a blinding wave of flashes erupted from the audience. She was wearing a white suit of her own design, with a cherry blossom brooch pinned to her collar—Zong Heng had pinned it on that morning, saying it was some kind of "armor."
"Thank you to all the media friends present." Her voice was exceptionally clear through the microphone. "Regarding the Lareine brand's accusation of plagiarism, my response is only two words—"
The large screen suddenly lit up, and the projector displayed an email record in front of everyone.
A stir broke out in the audience. One reporter exclaimed, "This is a year and a half earlier than Lareine's announced creation date!"
Xu Ying clicked the next page, and the screen switched to the database backend logs.
“This is the operation log of Lareine’s internal server.” She pointed to the IP address. “Upon investigation, this address belongs to the legal department of the Zong Group.”
The entire audience erupted in uproar! The cameras all turned to the back row—Zong Heng had somehow taken up a seat in the press section, propping his chin up with his hand and laughing heartily.
Xu Ying opened the third document.
“This contract was signed last week.” She enlarged the official seal at the signature, “and yesterday, the Zong Group just completed its acquisition of Lareine.”
The audience erupted in chaos! One reporter raised his hand and shouted, "Does this mean that the entire plagiarism scandal was orchestrated by the Zong family?"
Before Xu Ying could answer, the side door of the venue was suddenly pushed open.
"This problem—"
A deep voice, tinged with laughter, rang out. Zong Heng had somehow walked to the front of the stage, casually loosened his tie, and snatched the microphone from Xu Ying's hand.
"Why don't you ask me?"
The flashbulbs went off like crazy. Zong Heng stood next to Xu Ying with one hand in his pocket and the other holding up his phone—a surveillance video was playing on the screen.
In the scene, the father's assistant hands a stack of drawings to Director Lareine, and the two shake hands and smile.
“My father is getting old,” Zong Heng sighed. “His business tactics are still stuck at the level of framing and slander from twenty years ago.”
A burst of laughter erupted from the press section. Someone shouted, "Is Young Master Zong going to sacrifice his own family for the greater good?"
He suddenly turned to face Xu Ying.
The entire room fell silent instantly.
The boy by the basketball court when she was seventeen years old overlapped with the man now, and the stubbornness she knew so well surged in his eyes.
“Five years ago.” Zong Heng unbuttoned his suit jacket and slowly rolled up his left sleeve—
The cherry blossom tattoo looked vibrant and fresh under the spotlight.
“My little girl embroidered a cherry blossom on her school uniform.” He ran his fingertips over the tattoo. “Later, my father burned that uniform.” He paused. “So I embroidered her here.”
Xu Ying's eyes were red.
Zong Heng suddenly pulled a yellowed piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it towards the camera—
"Xu Ying likes Zong Heng"
The handwriting was childish, and a crooked heart was drawn in the corner.
"The chain of evidence is complete." He leaned close to her ear, the phone still ringing with his whisper, "From school uniforms to suits, the evidence is overwhelming—"
Xu Ying subconsciously replied, "So?"
Zong Heng kissed her in front of the nationally televised cameras.
“So, Your Honor,” he murmured, “I request to be her life-long accomplice.”
#ZongHengTattoo# Explosion
#Real-life version of a domineering CEO protecting his wife# Explosive
#A fairytale romance that went from school uniforms to suits# (explosive)
The PR manager stared at the data in disbelief: "Do we... no longer need to buy trending topics?"
Backstage in the hallway, Xu Ying pinned Zong Heng against the wall: "You planned this all along, didn't you? From stealing evidence to the press conference—"
He chuckled and bit her finger: "Isn't the main point..." He suddenly lowered his voice, "Could Designer Xu personally apply the medicine to my back injury tonight?"
Xu Ying blushed and kicked him, but he picked her up in his arms.
Outside the window, the sunlight after the rainstorm pierced through the clouds, casting a small rainbow on the tiles.
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