The door opened, then closed.
Only Xi Yu remained in the living room.
He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the lights in the courtyard were still on, the branches of the plane trees swaying gently in the breeze.
His reflection was cast upon the glass—impeccably dressed in a suit, expressionless, appearing flawless.
He stood there like that for a long time.
The grandfather clock chimed ten times, then eleven, yet he remained rooted in place.
Finally, he walked to the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of whiskey, and poured a small half-glass.
The amber liquid swirled against the sides of the glass. He lifted it and took a sip, the sharp taste burning its way down his throat.
He poured another glass.
His personal phone had been placed by Assistant Lin on the console table in the entryway, screen facing down, silent and still.
All those missed calls and unread messages were sealed off by that tiny mute button.
Only The Old Master’s words echoed in his mind.
Xi Yu downed the second glass in one gulp, setting it on the countertop with a soft clink.
The phone vibrated again.
Xi Yu frowned, picked it up, and saw it wasn’t a call but a news notification.
The headline read: “Exclusive: Xi Group Holds Emergency Shareholders’ Meeting, Xi Yu Declines to Comment.”
He glanced at it and was about to set it down when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the second notification.
“Wen Family Heiress Wen Yining Photographed Leaving Hotel, Scene Briefly Descends into Chaos.”
His finger hovered over the screen, pausing for two seconds.
Then he tapped in.
The article featured a photo taken at the hotel’s revolving door entrance. Wen Yining was surrounded by three or four reporters, the camera flashes illuminating her face to a ghostly pallor.
She had raised a hand to shield her eyes, her expression unclear, but it was evident she was trembling.
When Wen Yining stepped out of her room, the hallway was quiet.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for the first floor.
Arriving in the lobby, people came and went, no one sparing her a second glance.
Wen Yining kept her head down and hurried toward the exit, but as soon as she pushed open the revolving door, a flash of white light burst before her.
Instinctively, she raised a hand to shield her eyes.
Click.
Click, click.
Cameras seemed to materialize from nowhere, their shutters firing in rapid succession, like a flock of noisy birds.
Wen Yining was trapped at the revolving door entrance, facing three or four people aiming long lenses at her. Someone even shouted, “Miss Wen, look this way!”
Blood rushed to her head, and her entire body froze in place.
Camera flashes exploded before her eyes, a blinding white haze. She couldn’t see anything clearly, only hearing the shutter sounds raining down like a downpour, so dense it stole her breath.
Instinctively, she took a step back. The glass of the revolving door bumped against her back, pushing her back into the lobby.
“Miss Wen, what is your relationship with Xi Yu?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Was last night a date or a chance encounter?”
Questions fired at her like a rapid volley. Wen Yining couldn’t answer a single word.
Her lips trembled, and her mind buzzed with noise.
She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t obey.
She wanted to say something, but her throat felt strangled.
Just as she felt she was about to be swallowed by those camera lenses, a hand reached from behind, firmly grasping her shoulder and pulling her aside.
Wen Yining stumbled a step and collided with someone’s chest.
“Sorry, excuse me.”
The voice was not loud, but steady, carrying an undeniable certainty.
Wen Yining looked up and saw the face of a strange man.
She didn’t know him.
But this man had one hand protecting her shoulder while the other shielded her in front, turning sideways to guide her into the lobby.
His movements were neither fast nor slow, as if performing a very ordinary task.
The reporters were clearly also taken aback by this sudden intervention; the sound of shutters paused for a moment before someone reacted and raised their camera to aim at them again.
“Who are you? What’s your relationship with Miss Wen?”
The man didn’t answer, not even glancing at those people, simply protecting Wen Yining as he quickly led her through the lobby and turned into the emergency stairwell next to the elevator bay.
The door to the emergency stairwell closed behind them, shutting out the sound of shutters and shouts, and the corridor suddenly fell quiet.
Wen Yining leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, her heart pounding as if about to leap out of her throat.
The man released her shoulder, took a step back, looked her up and down, then pulled an unopened bottle of mineral water from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her.
“Have some water first.”
Wen Yining took the water, her hands still trembling, spilling some onto the back of her hand.
She had intended to take a few sips but feared drinking the wrong thing like last night.
She didn’t drink.
“You… who are you?” she asked hoarsely.
The man pulled a business card from his coat pocket and handed it over.
Wen Yining glanced down.
The card was simple, white with black text, containing only one line and a name.
Xi Group, Chairman’s Office, Han Yan.
Wen Yining’s fingers stiffened.
Someone from the Xi Group.
The Chairman’s Office—that meant he was from Xi Yu’s grandfather’s side?
She instinctively took half a step back, eyeing the man before her warily.
Han Yan’s expression showed no change, neither warm nor cold, like a cup of lukewarm water, revealing no emotion.
“Chairman Xi sent me to pick you up,” Han Yan said, his tone flat. “The car is in the parking lot. We’ll take the side door; there are no reporters there.”
Wen Yining gripped the water bottle, her knuckles turning white.
“Chairman Xi?” Her voice tightened slightly. “Which Chairman Xi?”
Han Yan glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in what could be considered a smile. “The Xi Group has only one chairman.”
Xi Yu’s grandfather.
Xi Zhenshan.
Wen Yining’s mind raced.
Why would Xi Yu’s grandfather send someone to pick her up? Did The Old Master know about last night’s incident? What did he want? To make her disappear? To pay her off?
She thought of those clichéd scenes in dramas about wealthy families, where the matriarch or patriarch would slap a check on the table and say, “Leave my grandson, and this money is yours.”
Absurd.
But even more absurd things had already happened to her.
“Can I not go?” Wen Yining took a small step back, regretting following him to the parking lot.
Han Yan seemed to have anticipated she would say this, his expression showing no fluctuation. He simply pulled out his phone from his pocket, tapped a few times, then turned the screen toward her.
On the screen was a photograph of the Wen family villa’s main gate, with three black business vehicles parked at the entrance and a row of people in black suits standing beside them.
“There are at least fifteen reporters outside the Wen residence right now,” Han Yan said. “If you go back now, you’ll be walking straight into a trap. The Wen family can’t get out, and you won’t be able to get in either.”
Wen Yining stared at the photo, her lips pressed into a tight line.
Han Yan put his phone away, his tone still unhurried. “The chairman means no harm. He simply wishes to speak with you before the situation escalates.”
“About what?”
“You’ll have to go to find out.” Han Yan turned slightly and gestured with his hand. “The car is waiting, Miss Wen.”
Wen Yining stood rooted to the spot, two conflicting voices battling in her mind.
One told her not to go—the last people she wanted to face right now were the Xi family. The other asked, what other choice do you have now?
Returning to the Wen residence would mean facing a swarm of reporters; going back to the hotel would mean the same. She didn’t even have a safe place to retreat to.
She clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm.
“Let’s go.”
Han Yan nodded without another word, turned, and pushed open the door on the other side of the emergency exit, revealing a corridor leading to the parking garage.
Wen Yining followed behind him, her high heels clicking crisply against the tiled floor.
In a secluded corner of the parking garage, a black Maybach was indeed parked, its windows tinted with privacy film, making it impossible to see if anyone was inside.
Han Yan opened the rear door, and Wen Yining bent down to get in.
The door closed, the engine started, and the car drove smoothly out of the hotel.
Wen Yining leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
She wanted to call Mother Wen, but when she took out her phone, she saw the signal was full, yet she didn’t know what to say.
Should she ask what was in that glass of juice?
Or ask why she had done it?
As Wen Yining thought about these schemes, a wave of nausea churned in her stomach.
She flipped her phone over and placed it on her lap, not wanting to see any more news about the Wen family.
The car drove for about forty minutes, crossing most of the city, before finally turning onto a quiet, tree-lined avenue.
The lush leaves of the plane trees on either side filtered the sunlight into scattered golden fragments, casting them across the car’s surface.
Wen Yining looked out through the window and saw a large black iron gate, with only one character on the nameplate: Xi.
The iron gate slowly opened, and the car drove inside.