Crisis

Cheng Cheng said nothing. He only took a few steps forward and closed the dressing room door behind him.

Shen Ranxin stood where he was, his brows knitting slightly as he called out, "Say something, Cheng Cheng."

"You'll never like me the way you like Lu Zhi, will you?" Cheng Cheng leaned against the dressing room door, his head lowered. The loose strands of hair hanging down obscured his eyes, and Shen Ranxin could not make out the emotions within them.

Perhaps he had never truly seen the person before him clearly.

Shen Ranxin tilted his head, one hand in his pocket. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Cheng Cheng raised his eyes. "Ran, could you like me? Lu Zhi already has so many good things. At the very least, can't I have one too?"

Shen Ranxin held out a hand. "Stop. I don't want to hear that theory of yours where you turn everything into an object. It's like, in your eyes, everything can be traded—whether it's me, Lu Zhi, or even your mother. The lives of these people have never been something worth cherishing to you."

Cheng Cheng froze for a moment, then curled his lips into a smile. "Did Lu Yeshan tell you that? He must have said I'm heartless, selfish, and cold-blooded, right?"

Shen Ranxin looked at him. "Aren't you?"

"Was I born selfish and cold-blooded?" Cheng Cheng's emotions instantly flared. He took two steps toward Shen Ranxin, grabbed his wrist, and rasped, "I was nothing but a tool. My mother secretly gave birth to me only so she could use my existence to become the mistress of the Lu family."

Shen Ranxin watched Cheng Cheng in silence.

"No one except my mother ever expected me to be born."

A dark look passed through Cheng