On her birthday, Duan Zhuo drove to the studio to pick up An Li.
Although she and Duan Xingning had argued, her work hadn’t fallen behind. She was only handling routine business matters and wasn’t coordinating with Duan Xingning.
By 7:30 p.m., the city lights washed over the buildings, car headlights shimmered like stars, and the streets buzzed with energy.
Duan Zhuo often changed cars, and this time he drove a Koenigsegg—flashy and domineering.
When An Li arrived, the silver gull-wing doors lifted slowly, the mechanical hum breaking the surrounding quiet. On the other side, Duan Zhuo leaned casually against the car, long legs crossed, sleeves rolled to his elbows revealing a metallic mechanical watch. His relaxed movements exuded a lazy charm.
The night wind ruffled his dark hair slightly, and he casually pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. His perfectly sculpted features were accentuated, and his peach-blossom eyes glimmered with allure.
The entire city seemed like a backdrop for his entrance.
Duan Zhuo had always been known for his looks—and he knew it.
Even standing casually, he was captivating. His low, magnetic voice carried a hint of seduction as he made a gentlemanly gesture toward An Li. “Princess, please get in.”
Anyone who didn’t know better might think it was her birthday.
He drove An Li to a private entertainment club, Jingbei’s most extravagant gold-spending den.
It was her first time in such a place. The corridor was lined with gilded, framed artwork, and the velvet carpet muffled every step, soft and plush underfoot.
Duan Zhuo gently held her pale wrist and spoke quietly to calm her. “Don’t be nervous. They’re all friends—you’ve met them before.”
When they entered the blackwood private room, the sunken design revealed leather sofas against the walls, marble tabletops, and LED lighting with subtle shifts in brightness. Unlike other smoky, alcohol-laden rooms, this one felt upscale and clear.
Sure enough, An Li recognized several familiar faces: He Nian, a young master of the He Family, and Lu Jinghuai, a young master from the Lu Family, long-standing friends of the Duans.
The Duan Family excelled at socializing. With constant parties and events, Duan Zhuo’s friends were all from prominent families, so frequent visitors were well acquainted.
No sooner had they entered than He Nian shouted, “Finally, the birthday star has arrived! Where have you been? You owe yourself three penalty drinks!”
An Li stepped back awkwardly. Duan Zhuo had been late because he had picked her up.
She was petite, but her face was striking—impossible to avoid He Nian’s gaze. “Master Zhuo, who did you bring? Isn’t this An Li?”
Such a gentle and soft-spoken girl felt out of place in this scene.
“She’s your sister?” He Nian asked.
Duan Zhuo approached and lightly tapped the young man’s head. “Call her my wife.”
“…Huh?”
“She is my wife.”
He Nian’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what? What’s going on?”
Although Duan Zhuo had many female companions, he had never openly acknowledged one as his partner. Usually, they just accompanied him to parties, meals, and entertainment.
Now that he had admitted it, everyone stared at An Li.
“Has Master Zhuo’s taste changed? Before, his companions were either sexy, mature women or pure, innocent girls.”
“Now he likes cute girls?”
“Not gonna lie, she really is beautiful.”
Seeing the situation about to blow, An Li panicked.
“N-no, he, he’s joking,” she said nervously, tugging at Duan Zhuo’s sleeve. “I’m just his sister.”
How could he say this?
Hadn’t they agreed to keep it a secret?
“It’s fine,” Duan Zhuo said easily, smiling. “They won’t say anything.”
They were all friends—and besides, no one fully believed it.
An Li’s gentle appearance was a stark contrast to Duan Zhuo’s usual taste.
Even He Nian, who was closest to Duan Zhuo, was skeptical.
He nudged Lu Jinghuai. “Brother Huai, do you think Master Zhuo and An Li are real?”
Lu Jinghuai, in a suit and checking emails on his business tablet, didn’t even look up. “They’re real.”
“Impossible. I think it’s fake. An Li is too young; she’s definitely not Master Zhuo’s type.”
“You’re blind.”
He Nian, confident in his judgment, persisted. He had known Duan Zhuo since childhood, even wearing split-crotch pants together. How could he not understand him?
“I’m serious. Maybe Master Zhuo just sees her as a little sister,” He Nian argued.
Lu Jinghuai snapped back, “Do you call a sister ‘wife’?”
“Calling her wife proves nothing.”
“It proves they’re either married,” Lu Jinghuai said coldly, “or they’ve slept together.”
“Impossible,” He Nian insisted. “Master Zhuo may seem fickle, but he’s actually innocent… maybe even—”
“Stop spreading rumors,” Lu Jinghuai said, returning to his emails.
He Nian persisted. “How about a bet?”
“On what?”
“On whether they’ve hooked up. I bet they haven’t. If I win, you let me borrow your Gulfstream for a spin.”
“And if you lose?”
“I won’t lose,” He Nian declared. “If I do, I’ll do a handstand for three hours.”
At that moment, Duan Zhuo’s low, magnetic voice sounded beside them: “Baby, why are you sitting so far away? Want to sit on my lap?”
He Nian turned to see the usually arrogant young master coaxing a little girl like a child, his tone soft and gentle as if bewitched.
It had to be an illusion.
An Li felt out of place, even though the faces were familiar. She hadn’t spoken much with them.
The private room was full of friends, both male and female, all lively and cheerful, giving her birthday gifts and well-wishes.
Lu Jinghuai’s gift was the most expensive: a newly modified sports car. Others brought luxury limited editions.
He Nian, still skeptical, asked boldly, “What did An Li prepare for Master Zhuo?”
Seeing An Li flustered, Duan Zhuo guessed she hadn’t prepared anything. But he wasn’t disappointed; he shot He Nian a glance. “She doesn’t need to prepare anything. Being with me on my birthday is the best gift.”
“I-I prepared…” An Li whispered.
At that moment, a server knocked and brought in a birthday cake.
It had a name on it.
It was ordered by An Li.
She hadn’t known what to give, but a cake was always a safe choice.
The cake was small, two layers, with a little prince figurine and rose candles on top.
“Happy birthday,” An Li said, handing the cake to Duan Zhuo.
Duan Zhuo’s eyes lit up, sparkling like stars. “You got me a cake?”
“Yeah… I didn’t know what you like, so I picked a simple cream cake,” she said, pressing her lips together. “Do you like it?”
“Of course I like it. Even if you gave me a rock, I’d like it,” he said, casually resting a hand on her slender waist.
Duan Zhuo’s lips were warm and close. With so many people watching, An Li’s cheeks burned bright red. She was too embarrassed to pull away.
So she let him hold her, and together they blew out the candles.