Have you ever seen a leopard? Slender, forbearing, yet as swift as lightning.
Huo Yan
When Lan Su saw the stylist, four words were plastered across that face: emergency assembly.
Eyes, nose, mouth—the facial features seemed desperate to fuse into one.
“My dear, tell me.”
Adora lifted an index finger and dramatically drew a circle in front of Lan Su’s dress.
“Has this dress offended you? Must you destroy it?”
Lan Su clumsily turned her head, her fragmented hair covering her eyes and half of her expression.
“Pink is more youthful.”
This dress was a gift from the eldest daughter, Lan Shan, last year when they went overseas together for a project.
The pink-beige color was tender and fresh, the skirt was very voluminous, and its length extended past her knees, revealing her long, straight calves. The halter neck featured a cowl collar and a water-drop-shaped cutout at the chest, which was sensual but was completely covered by an inner garment.
“Why are you wearing something underneath?”
Adora’s eyes were practically on fire.
Lan Su lowered her gaze and subconsciously covered her chest: “I’m not used to wearing revealing clothes.”
Adora’s eyes narrowed: “Revealing? It’s the 21st century now. Are you taking it off or not? If you don’t, I will.”
Lan Su quickly backed away: “I’ll do it myself.”
She had heard before that the stylist Adora was bad-tempered and extremely impatient. Now, it seemed the rumors were true.
Lan Su nervously stepped into the fitting room. Even she didn’t realize then that the person who grew up in the bloody turmoil, the one who only knew how to use a knife, would one day be completely reborn and become the daughter of a wealthy family.
Her short hair hung loose, draped over her shoulders like a wolf’s tail, covering half her face and her slender neck. Adora swept it up, twisting it into a hair bun at the top of her head, and at the same time, combed the mop-like hair from her forehead back, leaving only a few wisps.
Her smooth forehead was revealed: delicate eyebrows, a relatively narrow nose bridge, and a contour that exuded the clarity of the Jiangnan region. Her eyes, which had been ignored for years, were bright and beautiful, carrying a natural tenacity. Coupled with a tear mole at the corner of her left eye, it was the perfect finishing touch—absolutely stunning.
“Styling beautiful people is simple,” Adora said, looking satisfied in the mirror. “Just reveal the face.”
However, the injury on her forehead was too conspicuous.
“Did you get hit?” Adora asked.
Lan Su looked away: “I fell.”
Adora stared at the person in the mirror, did not press the matter, and tacitly removed the gauze. She replaced it with a thin medical patch that just covered the wound without being too prominent. With foundation and concealer, it looked no different than normal.
Lan Su then stood back in front of the full-length mirror.
The previously awkward dress was suddenly transformed. The halter neck exposed her delicate shoulders, and the water-drop cutout at the chest offered a hint of her cleavage. The tight waist hugged the fabric, and the skirt swayed slightly as she walked.
The final step was a wristband tied to her right wrist, meant to conceal a scar.
She was clear and elegant, like a plantain lily spreading its petals in late autumn.
“The scars must be hidden; don’t let anyone know where you’re hurt,” Adora had instructed her at their first meeting.
Two hours later, Lan Su arrived at the cafe.
At the front desk, she happened to run into the servants who were buying coffee for the eldest daughter, Lan Shan. One of them was Xiao Hong, who had almost been stabbed by a flying knife yesterday. She hated Lan Su but merely allowed her to walk past, not recognizing her.
“That person just now looked a bit like the Third Miss,” the new maid beside her said hesitantly.
“Lan Su?” Xiao Hong turned her head, only catching a glimpse of the slender and upright figure from behind. She confidently waved it off, “How could it be? She only wears hideously unfashionable black suits. How could she wear a dress?”
Who could have guessed?
Who could have guessed that Lan Su, who wore black suits all day and whose hair looked like a mop, was actually the graceful, elegant, and charming young lady standing before them?
At 2:00 PM, Huo Yan appeared precisely at the door of the private room.
Just as in the news, she was seated in an intelligent wheelchair. She wore a white suit, with a lead-gray cashmere blanket covering her legs. Her semi-long hair was tied back, with one strand falling down the left side. Her demeanor was relaxed and languid, as if everything was within her control.
She had a mixed-race face—it was said her mother was Russian—with deep-set eyes and a prominent nose bridge. She wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, and every gesture carried an air of sharpness and fierce aggression.
“Miss Lan Er, it’s a pleasure.”
That was the second time Lan Su had heard that seductive, smoke-like voice.
She rose from her seat and, following the etiquette taught by Aunt Zhang, stood with her feet together, shoulders back, and slightly nodded her head.
“Miss Huo.”
Huo Yan scanned her from top to bottom, her expression blank. Her gaze fell on the hands slightly clenched out of nervousness and the pink wristband tied to her right wrist. She moved her eyes away, pressed a button on the right armrest of the wheelchair, and slowly stopped opposite the dining table.
“Please sit. We’ll be family soon, no need to be so formal.”
Lan Su’s heart constricted. She took a deep breath and cooperated by sitting down for the time being.
Family. Huo Yan clearly assumed the Lan family would agree to this marriage.
“What would Miss Huo like to drink?”
She handed the menu over.
Huo Yan took the menu with one hand, browsing it while speaking coolly, without raising her head: “You may call me ‘President Huo’.”
Lan Su choked. Although she tried hard to calm herself, the hands beneath the table seemed to have a mind of their own, clenching one finger at a time.
After about three seconds, she countered: “Didn’t you say we’d be family? Calling you ‘President Huo’ seems far too distant.”
The eyes browsing the menu paused, and the fingers pinching the edge of the page stopped. She slowly raised her head. This was the second time she looked Lan Su directly in the eye. Her gaze landed on the tightly pressed lips, and in an instant, her eyes, filtered through the lenses, shone with a bright light—as if she had spotted a rabbit in the cold depths of a forest, in a dark and desolate wilderness.
Interesting.
Her thin lips moved: “You can also call me ‘A-Yan’.”
Lan Su choked a second time. Her fists underneath the table relaxed then clenched again; she nearly ground her back molars to dust. She recalled Lan Xiaoyu’s tear-streaked face from the previous night and suppressed her rising temper.
“President Huo.”
She compromised.
Huo Yan ordered a cup of black tea. Including the coffee and pastry Lan Su had already ordered, she signaled the server to hold off.
The room fell silent, leaving only the two people who were meeting for the first time.
Lan Su placed both hands under the table. The water-drop cutout on her chest subtly exposed her cleavage, but unaccustomed to the dress, she subconsciously hunched her shoulders.
Across from her, Huo Yan was accustomed to the negotiating table. She leaned back languidly against the chair, her hand resting on the table’s edge, her long fingers naturally curved, composed and calm.
“Miss Lan Er, I presume you arranged this meeting for more than just an afternoon tea.”
Lan Su secretly inhaled and spoke the lines she had rehearsed countless times in her mind: “I hope, President Huo, you can reconsider this marriage.”
Huo Yan looked at her, her calm eyes behind the glasses revealing no emotion: “Reason.”
Lan Su had already prepared her answer: “We don’t know each other. You don’t understand me, nor do you understand the Lan family.”
Huo Yan’s eyes flickered, showing the patience she reserved for prey, and she opened her lips: “Marriage doesn’t require emotion. It is a business deal. And I am a businesswoman. If Miss Lan insists on stopping my business, she must provide a justification.”
Lan Su’s gaze lowered slightly, her thick lashes trembling. She then shifted her argument:
“The antiques industry has been sluggish lately. The Lan family has lost several major contracts. A rash marriage might affect your company, President Huo. Moreover, the stock price of a listed company is crucial. I worry that even the slightest disturbance could cause you to lose everything in the stock market.”
Huo Yan quietly listened to her finish. Beneath the glasses, her beautiful eyes moved, and she slowly said, “I thought Miss Lan had been unconscious for so many years and was unfamiliar with the outside world. I didn’t expect you to be so well-informed about the industry.”
Lan Su stiffened, her hand under the table gripping the skirt—
She was indeed unfamiliar, but that was the real Second Miss Lan. She had suffered an accident at the age of nine and became a vegetable, passing away two weeks ago in the hospital.
Yet, the Lan family never announced her death; instead, they announced that the Second Miss had successfully woken up.
This news secured the Lan family a Song Dynasty porcelain contract. But it also played right into Huo Yan’s hands.
To hide the death, the Lan family was forced to find someone to impersonate the Second Miss. Otherwise, if the news leaked, they would offend not only Huo Yan but the entire business world.
“Since I was going to find you, of course I would first learn about you,” Lan Su cleverly smoothed over the conversation. “I just can’t figure out what you stand to gain by marrying into the Lan family.”
Knock! Knock!
As she spoke, the door to the private room was knocked open. A server entered with a tray, placing the black tea and coffee on the table.
Finally, a round plate containing Tiramisu was set down.
Clink.
As the porcelain plate hit the tabletop, Lan Su’s eyes fell upon the server’s hands. At the joints, there was a thick layer of yellow calluses. Normally, an ordinary server should not have such heavy calluses.
The hand beneath the table slowly rose, her index finger hooking the handle of the teacup as she secretly held her breath.
Whoosh!
In a flash, the server grabbed the small knife from the tray and swung it backward, stabbing toward Huo Yan.
“Watch out!”
Lan Su hurled the teacup. It was almost lightning fast, but the server dodged it.
Huo Yan reacted quickly as well, pressing the button the moment the knife struck, moving sideways to avoid the blade.
The assassin rushed forward like a wild beast. Swoosh! Swoosh! The dagger fell again and again, and Huo Yan dodged again and again until she was backed into the corner.
The incident was sudden. Lan Su subconsciously reached for her knife, ready to pierce the server’s bone, just as she had shattered the champagne tower yesterday. But when she felt along her calf, the spot where her small knife was tied every day was empty.
Meanwhile, the assassin pounced on Huo Yan like a beast, the knife tip thrusting straight for her heart.
Swoosh!
The round plate from the dining table flew through the air like a bullet, its speed so fast that it left a flashing afterimage. It struck the assassin’s knee. With a muffled thud, the assassin fell to her knees. The raised dagger paused, veins bulging, and she stabbed toward Huo Yan with greater force.
This two-second delay gave Lan Su the opening she needed. She lunged forward, tackling the assassin to the side.
Lan Su had seen many assassins of this caliber.
But she was currently the “Second Miss Lan,” a socialite who had just woken up from a coma, and she was supposed to be delicate, weak, and utterly helpless.
Thus, when Huo Yan looked over, she delicately let go, allowing the assassin to break free and cut her arm.
“Ugh!”
The tender skin broke open, and large gushes of crimson blood flowed down.
The next moment, the assassin charged again with the knife. Lan Su retreated gracefully, mimicking the way people had dodged the rioters she had seen years ago in Southeast Asia.
“Die—” the assassin roared, raising her hand and bringing the knife down. The sharp blade aimed at the position of the heart, striking directly.
Lan Su covered her face, feigning extreme fear, but in reality, she was listening to the sound of footsteps on the floor, secretly counting down—
Three, two, one.
Instantly, the bodyguards rushed into the private room.
“President Huo!”
“Who are you!”
“Seize her!”
Roaring, grappling, fighting, people overturning.
In the corner, Lan Su, in a pink dress, sat helplessly. Her long legs were tucked to the side, her toes curled up into the hem of her skirt. She leaned against the wall, covering the wound on her arm with one hand. Blood seeped through her fingers, soaking the silk wristband.
The wheelchair silently stopped in front of her, precisely one centimeter away from the bloodstains.
“Miss Lan, you have quite the moves.”
Huo Yan spoke, her surface praise concealing a dangerous probe.
Lan Su knitted her brows and slowly raised her chin. A strand of hair fell from her bun, sticking to her blood-splattered right cheek, perfectly framing the tear mole at the corner of her eye. Her features were naturally delicate, and in that moment, the expression of enduring pain made her look even more fragile.
“It hurts.”
Surface meaning: I am just a pampered hothouse flower who is afraid of pain; what you saw was a hallucination.
Deeper meaning: I was stabbed and injured to save you, and you still want to test me?
The scarlet blood splattered all over the floor, and the sunlight hitting the blood defined their first meeting.