Crossing the Line

*All blurbs are documented with dated screenshots.

Ying Wansheng, the youngest daughter of the Ying family in Hong Kong, was breathtakingly beautiful, with bright, lively eyes and skin as white as cream. She far outshone her two half-sisters in looks, but sadly, she was sickly and rarely appeared in public.

The Sheng family of the capital and the Ying family of Hong Kong were close, and the two families hoped to forge an alliance through marriage. Sheng Zeming, the eldest grandson of the Sheng family, accompanied his elders on a visit. Amid the profusion of flowers in an open-air garden, he happened to catch sight of a beauty.

Sheng Zeming fell for her at first sight and begged his elders to let him marry the Ying family's third young lady.

A marriage between close families should have been a happy thing, and the two got along well enough. Unfortunately, their good fortune didn't last. Just before the engagement, Sheng Zeming suddenly called it off and disappeared, leaving Ying Wan to face the crowd of guests alone.

The young woman was slender and frail, her head bowed. Her black hair partly hid her narrow shoulders, and her pale skin was like fine white jade. She looked timid and helpless.

The engagement banquet was on the verge of becoming a farce, making her the laughingstock of the entire city.

Then Sheng Qinghe, the new head of the Sheng family, suddenly appeared at the banquet. His gaze was cool, his bearing noble and aloof. In full view of everyone, he walked up to the young woman and casually ordered, “Continue the banquet.”

The entire hall erupted in an uproar, then fell deathly silent.

Everyone said that Sheng Qinghe, head of the Sheng family, was pure and clear-hearted, with a heart as bright as a mirror, like fresh snow on a distant cliff, impossible to reach.

But the world didn't know that fresh snow could melt against snow-white skin and turn to dew, or that hands long devoted to prayer and incense could stroke black hair and become absorbed in rubbing a delicate earlobe until it flushed red. His voice low and husky, he murmured, “Wanwan, why are you trembling?”

That year, spring rain fell in a fine drizzle, and the mist hung damp in the air.

She held an umbrella and made her way alone to an ancient temple, hoping to draw a lucky fortune stick. Unfortunately, she drew the worst one.

The girl was bright and beautiful, her brows furrowed. In a coy voice, she complained, “Why am I so unlucky? I don't believe in fate. I only believe in myself.”

That fleeting glimpse at Luocha Temple became the dream that haunted him day and night.

Content warnings: The heroine has a former fiancé, but they had no physical relationship.

The hero has no former partner.

Ten-year age gap.

A melodramatic tale of an old flame rekindled.

I just like this kind of story. I'm writing it for myself, so please don't hate on it.

Theme: Love is an equal embrace