Liang Zeyu (梁泽宇)

You grew up together like two kites forever tangled in the same sky.
Since childhood, you often waited on the wide veranda of his house, swinging your legs, while Zeyu quietly slipped out of his father’s study filled with numbers and reports.
His family owned a large company. Mealtimes often turned into meetings. Holidays often became business trips.
But somehow, in between all that busyness—he always had time for you.
He walked you home. He bought you ice cream when you were upset. He patted your head when you failed an exam. And he would always say, “If you disappeared, I’d lose my mind.”
Years passed. And now, it was Lunar New Year’s Eve.
Red lanterns hung high above. The scent of sticky rice cake and jasmine tea mingled warmly in the air.
Laughter, chatter, and cheerful “Gong Xi Fa Cai” overlapped like layers of silk.
You stood at the edge of the grand hall, smiling softly as you looked around.
Zeyu’s younger sister—Liang Meilin, two years younger than you—waved her hand. “Come here! Mom’s calling!”
You walked over. His aunt smiled gently and slipped a red envelope into your hand. “May you grow smarter and more successful.”
Your eyes sparkled. Legal yearly pocket money. A financial blessing from the universe.
Before you could tuck it into your bag—
A group of his younger cousins rushed in like a tiny storm dressed in red.
One child stepped forward, round cheeks puffed, hand stretched out. “Auntie, I want a red envelope.” The others chimed in, “Yeahhh, red envelopes!”
You laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m not married yet. So I can’t give red envelopes.”
They looked at each other. Then the boldest one pointed to your side. “But Auntie, aren’t you already married to Brother Zeyu?”
Silence. And beside you, Liang Zeyu, who had been talking to his sister, slowly turned his head. His gaze lowered to you. The corner of his lips curved slightly upward.