CHAPTER 35: CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: DREAMS INTO NOTHING

The morning began with chaos.

No warning, no official statement—just a flood of headlines that hit every major outlet all at once.

AN FAMILY SCANDAL: BROKEN ENGAGEMENT, COUSIN TO MARRY FIANCÉE IN HIS PLACE.

Within an hour, it was everywhere—on the morning news, on gossip feeds, and on every trending tag across social media.

After all, one should never underestimate the public’s appetite for gossip—especially when it involves the rich and the powerful.

The public was no longer merely watching—they were investigating. And this scandal? Their newest case.

Within hours, the internet turned into one massive investigation bureau.

Old photos resurfaced—class pictures from high school, snapshots from charity galas, even grainy shots from business events where the two had once appeared in the same frame.

Someone discovered that Song Qingwan and An Yanming had attended the same high school—they’d even in the same class.

Someone else unearthed an alumni newsletter where their names appeared on the same page.

And that was all it took. The truth no longer mattered.

The public just wanted to be part of the story. And in the age of endless scrolling, stories like these didn’t fade—they multiplied.

Everyone had a theory, and every theory demanded to be heard. Screenshots were circled, timelines were drawn, and anonymous "sources" began to emerge out of nowhere—each claiming to know what really happened behind closed doors.

"They must’ve been together long ago."

"So the engagement was just a cover-up?"

"This feels like some internal power struggle."

"It’s always the rich ones. No shame, no limits.

Posts multiplied faster than anyone could verify them. A few users even began connecting dots that didn’t exist—charting supposed "sightings," comparing Song Qingwan’s outfits from old events, claiming her accessories hinted at a "secret understanding" with An Yanming.

Every vague coincidence became "evidence."

Every silence became "confirmation."

Whether it was true or not no longer mattered. The story had momentum—and the internet never paused once it started running.

By noon, major outlets had picked up the frenzy, adding their own polished spin:

"Business Empire in Turmoil — Internal Betrayal or Family Alliance?"

"The Engagement That Shook the Boardroom."

The entire situation, once confined within the walls of the An family, had spilled into the streets, into people’s breakfast conversations, into memes, comment threads, and livestream gossip segments.

*****

On an ordinary morning, An Yancheng would have been reviewing contracts or going through documents that needed his attention.

His mornings were precise—finance reports, project drafts, a steady rhythm of control. But today, the neatly stacked documents on his desk remained untouched.

Instead, his attention was fixed on the screen in front of him—social media, of all things.

He was scrolling through the news—or rather, the gossip threads about his broken engagement, nodding his head in satisfaction.

The little push he’d given to make the news of his broken engagement widespread had worked better than expected.

Every outlet had picked it up, every gossip account was spinning their own version of the story—and every version pointed toward one simple truth: the engagement was over.

Exactly as he intended.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes skimming the flood of comments and speculations. Some pitied him. Others sympathized. But most were too busy drawing their own conclusions, weaving conspiracies out of half-truths and assumptions.

He didn’t care what they believed, only that they believed it.

If the news spread fast enough, the wedding could no longer be postponed—it would have to proceed, whether the families liked it or not.

After all, he wasn’t doing this to save face. He was doing it to make sure things went exactly the way he wanted them to. He was doing it to corner the second branch.

With public watching and the An name already in the spotlight, they wouldn’t dare back out now.

The marriage would have to go through—one way or another.

He and An Yanming had been rather close when they were younger.

Back then, there were no titles, no branches—just two boys growing up under the same roof, sharing tutors, meals, and the quiet discontent that came with being born into the An family.

Yanming used to follow him everywhere, asking questions, eager to learn. Yancheng had even thought of him as a younger brother once.

He didn’t know when things began to change. Maybe it was gradual—the way conversations shortened, or how Yanming’s laughter became polite instead of genuine.

But somewhere along the way, that closeness turned into distance.

And that distance... into quiet hostility.

Perhaps it was inevitable. One was born heir, the other destined to remain a shadow.

Still, he never expected the rift to run this deep.

The day he discovered what Yanming had been plotting—what he had risked the company, the family name, and even Yancheng’s own engagement for—whatever remained of their bond shattered completely.

There was no going back after that.

So if forcing the second branch’s hand now was ruthless, then so be it.

He wasn’t doing it out of spite. He was simply making sure those who had tried to use him were trapped by the very web they’d spun.

Now everything was set in stone, he just had to wait for the ending. And endings, he’d learned, came faster when pushed.

Outside his office window, the city kept moving as if nothing had changed. But for the second branch of the A family, the countdown had already begun.

*****

In another part of the city, the atmosphere was far less composed.

An Zhiguo’s face was drawn tight as he set his phone down on the table. The headlines had spread faster than he’d expected—faster than they could contain.

"The wedding can’t be postponed any longer," he said at last, his voice low but absolute. "We’ll proceed as planned. The sooner, the better."

Across from him, Liu Yufang let out a quiet sigh. She didn’t argue—there was nothing left to argue about. The decision had already been made, not out of celebration, but out of necessity.

"This isn’t the time to think about appearances," he added, glancing at his son. "We clean up the mess first—then we talk about everything else."

An Yanming stood wordlessly beside them. His expression was unreadable, the fatigue in his eyes dull rather than defiant.

Once, the idea of marrying Song Qingwan might have meant something. But now, with everything that had come before—exposure, disgrace, the public’s jeering fascination—it felt less like a wedding and more like a sentence.

There was no joy in being the groom; only the quiet acceptance of a man cornered by his own choices.

Liu Yufang’s sigh deepened. "Then I’ll start the arrangements," she said softly. "It’s no use delaying what can’t be undone."

*****

At that same hour, in the Song residence, Song Qingwan sat opposite her father in the living room.

Her father’s expression was grave, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The A family has requested to move the wedding forward," he said evenly. "The ceremony will take place within the week."

For a moment, she could only stare at him. "Within the week?"

"It’s already been decided."

The words were final, businesslike. It was simply to inform Song Qingwan of the decision—nothing more, nothing less.

Her lips moved before her thoughts could catch up, a quiet, obedient "I understand" slipping out.

She had always imagined this moment differently—that she’d be glowing with happiness because wasn’t this what she had wanted?

But everything was felt different from what she had imagined.

She looked down at her hands, perfectly manicured, trembling faintly against her lap.

This was what she wanted, isn’t it?