3 – Wen Yanchuan, Top Mogul
Wen Man’s hand paused, and it wasn’t until Wen Yanchuan disappeared into the night that she gradually snapped back to reality.
In the car.
The assistant wiped Wen Man’s hair with a towel dampened with mineral water, her tone filled with disbelief.
“Wen-jie, what happened? How did you end up with eggs all over your head just from attending a fashion week? And just now…”
At this point, the assistant lowered her voice: “How come it was Wen Yanchuan who brought you back just now?”
Wen Man looked up, frowning slightly: “You know him?”
The assistant widened her eyes at Wen Man: “Who doesn’t know Wen Yanchuan? The second son of the Wen family, young and accomplished, a top-tier billionaire with immense influence.
Don’t play dumb, I don’t believe you don’t know him!”
Wen Man’s expression shifted slightly.
Of course, she had heard the name Wen Yanchuan, but it was from another woman.
She had once starred in a film where the leading actress constantly mentioned ‘Wen Yanchuan’ on set. Even the director privately said that Wen Yanchuan was that actress’s patron.
In the entertainment industry, it was common for patrons to keep their “canaries.”
Wen Man glanced at the black overcoat lying beside her, her breath catching slightly.
She hadn’t expected that man to be Wen Yanchuan.
The faint scent of cedar that had enveloped her earlier vanished in an instant, and the car returned to the familiar smell Wen Man was used to.
The assistant looked at Wen Man and asked cautiously, “What should we do with this coat?”
Wen Man closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat, her voice calm and steady.
“Throw it away.”
…
The night in Paris was almost unreal in its beauty, with towering skyscrapers and flickering neon lights, carrying its own unique charm.
On the top floor of the hotel.
Wen Yanchuan, dressed in a black sweater, sat in a chair, scrolling through his phone.
The bedroom was dimly lit, with only the faint glow from the phone screen illuminating the space.
[#Wen Yanchuan spotted at fashion week# Didn’t they say Wen Yanchuan didn’t go? The reporters didn’t even manage to get a clear shot of his face. Disappointing.]
[#Wen Yanchuan spotted holding what appears to be his new girlfriend# No face shown, so it’s unlikely to be a new girlfriend. Probably still that drama queen Xia Yao from before.]
[Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions. The Wen family probably wouldn’t accept someone like Xia Yao, a fading star in the entertainment industry, right?]
[Didn’t Xia Yao also not attend the fashion week? Who is Wen Yanchuan accompanying then?]
[That dress looks somewhat familiar… I think I saw it during the live stream. Can anyone dig up more details?]
Wen Yanchuan scrolled through the screen, his narrow eyes narrowing slightly.
For some reason, Wen Yanchuan’s mind drifted to Wen Man’s doe-like almond eyes.
They were clear and bright, yet accentuated with long, sweeping eyeliner, creating an unexpectedly perfect match—utterly captivating.
Wen Yanchuan’s fingers twitched slightly before he exited Weibo and dialed a number.
“Handle the news online.”
Wen Yanchuan’s voice was calm, tinged with a hint of hoarseness, making it particularly magnetic.
In less than five minutes, all mentions of Wen Yanchuan’s name online were completely cleared.
On the other side.
Wen Man lay on the large bed, pulling the covers up to her chin as she scrolled through the trending comments.
The next second, nothing showed up.
Wen Man refreshed twice, but it was still the same. Without a doubt, she knew Wen Yanchuan had ordered the removal of the trending topics.
He seemed to be like that—never allowing his name to appear in entertainment gossip.
At least, Wen Man had never seen it before.
Wen Man glanced at the trending list and suddenly let out a puzzled sound: “Huh?”
She sat up and carefully scrolled through Weibo.
All the hashtags containing her name had completely vanished.
Even the posts from marketing accounts mocking her for supposedly acting like a diva during her grand finale appearance at Fashion Week had disappeared without a trace.
Wen Man blinked, feeling a bit puzzled. When had Chen Yue ever been willing to spend that kind of unnecessary money on her?
It seemed like an overly extravagant gesture.
Outside the window, a light drizzle began to fall, tapping gently against the glass, accompanied by a soft, rustling sound.
Wen Man got up and walked to the window. She pulled back the curtains, knelt on the chair, and rested her hands on the windowsill as she gazed out at the rain.
The room was comfortably warm. Wen Man, barefoot, swayed slightly, her fingers tracing patterns on the glass while her lips curled downward.
“What a perfectly good person,” she muttered with a hint of dissatisfaction, “why bother keeping a canary?”
Wen Man pressed her lips together tightly, as if struck by a sudden thought. She stood up abruptly and yanked the curtains shut, her eyes clouded with frustration.
She ruffled her hair haphazardly and mumbled to herself, “Time to sleep, you silly fool.”
The rain gradually grew heavier, blurring the view outside the window and creating a hazy mist.
Wen Yanchuan stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, his feet sinking into the plush, dark wool carpet. The room was pitch black, without a single glimmer of light.
He watched the neon lights outside, the silence so profound that not even the sound of the rain could be heard.
Between his fingers, a cigarette burned halfway, its ember glowing faintly. Wen Yanchuan parted his thin lips and exhaled a slow, thick cloud of smoke.
The ash fell, landing in the glass ashtray, its spark extinguished. He took another deep drag.
His gaze was deep and contemplative. After a long moment, he uttered in a low voice:
“Petit con.”