Empire of Desire: An Alpha’s Financial Reign - Chapter 10

Ni Jia returned from the United States with a carefully chosen gift—a gray Thom Browne cardigan that embodied understated elegance, effortlessly blending sophistication with simplicity.

She posted a photo of it on Instagram with the playful caption: “A gift for a fool, Happy New Year.” The post carried a flirtatious tone, the kind that hinted at something more than casual friendship.

When Han Zaijing saw the post, her heart fluttered with warmth. She immediately recognized herself as the “fool” in the caption. Over the winter break, she had missed Ni Jia dearly, and the thought of being on her mind—enough to receive a thoughtful gift—made her cheeks flush with anticipation.

She couldn’t wait to see her again, to accept the cardigan, and perhaps to let slip a few words she had kept guarded for too long.

But reality had a cruel way of rearranging expectations. That afternoon, she saw Chen Rui from the International Trade Department wearing that exact same gray cardigan.

Her heart, so full of eager hope just moments before, sank into a cold void. Chen Rui—Ni Jia’s childhood companion, fellow alumnus of an elite preparatory school, and ever-present shadow in her life—was wearing the gift she thought was hers.

Chen Rui knew Ni Jia inside and out. He had been there through every stage of her life, quietly memorizing her quirks and habits—her love for sweets and coffee, her passion for travel, her sharp sense of style, and the way she always smiled when someone complimented her photography.

He even remembered how exhausted she got after every school fitness test, her irrational fear of insects, and her determination to never gain weight. He collected these details not with the obsession of a stalker but with the hopeless affection of someone in love, too afraid to say it aloud.

When Chen Rui saw Ni Jia’s post, jealousy twisted inside him like a storm. It wasn’t like her to mention someone so openly, especially someone who wasn’t family. He panicked. Without hesitation, he bought an identical cardigan and wore it publicly, then confidently told Han Zaijing that the person Ni Jia had referred to was him.

He wanted to send a clear message: back off. To him, Han Zaijing’s friendship with Ni Jia had long blurred the line into romance, and now he believed it had crossed it.

Han Zaijing, stunned and disillusioned, felt the weight of disappointment settle in her chest. The cardigan hadn’t been meant for her after all. Worse yet, it seemed Ni Jia’s affections were already spoken for—by someone who had stood beside her since childhood. The heartbreak was too heavy to process in the confines of her dorm room, so she went where people often go to forget: a bar.

The atmosphere was dark and hazy, with pulsing music loud enough to drown thoughts. Han Zaijing sat at the counter, glass after glass emptying into her growing haze of sadness. Ni Jia’s laughter, once a sweet sound, now echoed cruelly in her mind. Chen Rui’s claim repeated like a curse.

She couldn’t understand why someone like Ni Jia would choose him, someone who seemed to fit her so perfectly on paper, over someone like her.

“Another,” she muttered, her voice rough with the sting of liquor and sorrow.

The bartender handed her the drink with a weary sigh. He had seen her type too often—those trying to drown what couldn’t be silenced.

As she drank, the alcohol dulled everything except the ache in her chest. “Why doesn’t she like me?” she whispered to no one, her voice catching with emotion.

Across the bar, Jiang Wan noticed her. She hadn’t intended to see anyone from campus tonight, only come to unwind from her grueling schedule of studies and part-time work. But seeing Han Zaijing like this—slumped over the counter, red-eyed and lost—struck something in her. She walked over and placed a gentle hand on Zaijing’s shoulder.

“Zaijing, stop drinking,” she said softly but firmly.

Han Zaijing turned, her vision blurred, and scoffed, “Who are you to care?”

“I’m Jiang Wan,” she replied calmly, though there was a hint of tenderness in her voice. She quickly sent a message to Ni Jia: “Your drunk kitten’s with me. Come now.”

Ni Jia arrived soon after, her eyes scanning the crowd until they found Zaijing. She rushed to her side, anxious. “Why are you here drinking alone? What happened?”

Han Zaijing looked up. In her drunken state, she no longer had the filter she always relied on. The pain in her heart broke through the walls of logic and self-control. She smiled foolishly, then her eyes fixed on Ni Jia’s face—unblinking, unguarded.

She reached out and traced the senior’s brows and lips with trembling fingers. “I might be drunk,” she murmured, “so don’t remember me looking at you like this—with such longing.”

Ni Jia’s heart twisted. From worry to surprise, then to something she couldn’t quite name. Her breath caught as Han Zaijing whispered her name—once, twice. Her gaze was raw and real, and it shook Ni Jia more than any confession ever could.

Then, without thinking, Ni Jia leaned in and kissed her. She kissed her like she had been holding it in for years, like all logic and decorum had vanished. The kiss was soft, desperate, and reckless.

The next morning, Han Zaijing awoke with a pounding head and no clear memory of how the night had ended. But when she opened her phone, everything came rushing back.

Photos. Videos. Comments. The internet had exploded overnight.

Lin Qianyang had posted a thread that garnered tens of thousands of comments. There were endless reposts, tags, and gossip. The biggest shock? Ni Jia had claimed her publicly.

On Instagram, Ni Jia had written: “My alpha.”

To which Han Zaijing—feeling every bit like a golden retriever who just won the lottery—replied: “Okay, my girlfriend.”

And just like that, Han Zaijing realized—some love stories aren’t quiet. Some blaze across the sky like fireworks.