DaoistgLEwUX

Zhong Shuning, the adopted daughter of the Zhong family, was ousted from her home on the very night her fiancé arm-in-arm with a new lover topped entertainment headlines.
 
Scandals swirled around her as she later became entangled with the most powerful man in the city. Society mocked her as nothing more than a passing plaything for Mr. He's whims.
 
But what none realized was this:
 
The moment he laid eyes on her,
 
he conceived a scheme as audacious as moonlight poaching —
 
to steal the moon that rightly belonged to the heavens.

Orchestrated Romance

The monsoon season drenched Qingzhou in relentless downpours.

Inside the ballet studio, young dancers in form-fitting bodysuits repeated drills under their instructor's watchful eye. Zhong Shuning demonstrated perfect posture - elbows curved like willow branches, palms cupping invisible orbs, her limbs moving with practiced grace.

Parents exchanging gossip outside the studio didn't notice her precision.

"Did you hear? The Zhongs found their lost daughter after twenty years!"

"So the dance teacher isn't a blood Zhong? No wonder she doesn't resemble them."

"Apparently adopted from an orphanage. Now that the real heir's returned, she's just..."

The word hung like raindrops on glass.

They stared at the woman they'd always pitied - tall, porcelain-skinned, with eyes like ripe lychees glistening under drizzle. Her legs, snow-white and shapely even in black leotards, moved with feline elegance that drew unwanted attention despite her modesty.

Colleagues approached as classes ended.

"Better." She smiled, massaging the swollen joint through damp tights. The old injury flared in damp weather, ending her ballet career. Now teaching was her penance.

Her smile didn't reach eyes shadowed by memory. The man who'd courted her with orchids and limousines now only sent cold texts. Since the Zhong family reunion, his presence had vanished from her doorstep.

As rain thickened to needles, she started walking toward the bus stop through swirling mist.

Black tires hydroplaned inches from her heels before skidding to a halt. The car door opened, releasing cologne that cut through the damp air - sandalwood and bergamot, expensive and forbidding.

He emerged like a storm embodied. Tall, broad-shouldered, his tailored suit defying the weather. Eyes like glacial peaks met hers, unreadable.

"Miss Zhong?" His voice matched the chill.

Recognition dawned. The man from last month's charity gala - the one who'd made financiers tremble serving canapés. Now he loomed over her, umbrella tilting protectively.

His gloved hand brushed her arm to steady her. Electric current surged where his skin contacted hers.

"Thank you." Her whisper barely audible.

"No need for thanks." He withdrew smoothly. "My driver's fault. Need medical attention?"

Before she could refuse, the chauffeur added, "Sir's orders. We'll take you."

The limousine interior smelled of aged leather and power. As rain drummed against windows, her phone rang.

"Again? When will you resign this ridiculous job? Do you think we need your salary?" Zhong Zhaoqing's voice crackled through the line.

Silent beside her, Mr. He's fingers whitened around his phone. Through rain-streaked glass, streetlights blurred into golden streaks as the car sped toward the hospital.

chapter 1