There was still a gap in her tuition fees, so Song Wanyi decided to keep looking for part-time work.
She browsed through job listings in group chats and found a position for a server that night at a private club.
The pay was quite good.
After contacting them, she mentioned she was a college student—and surprisingly, they accepted her without even requiring an interview.
After finishing work, Song Wanyi headed to the club located on the outskirts of the city.
That area was known as a wealthy district, filled with the most expensive villas and estates in the city. She had never been there before, only heard classmates talk about it.
After getting off the bus, she checked her phone for directions but struggled to find the way.
Walking for another kilometer, she finally spotted a castle-like estate—it had to be the place.
Security at the entrance was tight. Song Wanyi explained she was there for work.
After making a few calls to confirm her identity, the guards let her in.
“Are you Song Wanyi?”
A man in uniform approached her as soon as she entered.
“Yes.”
“Follow me.” He turned and walked ahead. “This place is big—don’t wander around. If you scare the guests, you won’t be able to afford the consequences.”
Song Wanyi followed behind him, taking in the courtyard. The lawn was meticulously maintained, and the swimming pool water looked freshly changed and crystal clear.
Under large parasols on the grass sat several glamorous women in revealing bikinis, laughing and flirting with a pot-bellied man.
Song Wanyi quickly averted her gaze, not daring to look any longer.
They walked into a room behind a side hall on the first floor. Inside, a few young women were already seated—likely other part-time servers.
“Hand over your phones. You’ll get them back after your shift,” the man in charge ordered. “Go do your makeup, then change into the uniform.”
The girls exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t move.
Song Wanyi looked at the neatly arranged cosmetics on the dressing table and the identical maid outfits hanging on the rack.
After a brief hesitation, she stood up first.
She sent a message: if she didn’t call Shuqing by 10 p.m., she should report it to the police.
Then she handed over her phone and sat down at the mirror to start doing her makeup.
Seeing her take action, the other girls followed suit.
“I thought this was just a server job. Why do we need makeup?” one short-haired girl muttered.
“Forget it—just do what they say,” her companion replied while applying makeup.
Half an hour later, the uniformed man returned.
“Ready? Follow me.”
He looked them over and selected Song Wanyi and the short-haired girl to go with him, while the others were sent to the kitchen.
“Hey, why are just the two of us going?” the short-haired girl whispered nervously to Song Wanyi.
“I don’t know,” Song Wanyi answered honestly, though she forced herself to stay calm despite her unease.
The corridor was covered in Baroque-style carpet, muffling their footsteps.
Paintings lined both sides of the walls. Song Wanyi recognized one—Girl Among the Flowers by Daniel Fjetthaz. It was said the painting had disappeared after being bought by a wealthy collector. She never expected to see it here.
The girl in the painting wore a pale yellow dress, sitting among flowers with a melancholic expression, idly twirling a yellow blossom—present in the scene, yet not admiring it.
Seeing the original piece, Song Wanyi slowed her steps, tilting her head as she studied it.
“Walk faster. The guests are already here,” the man urged impatiently.
She snapped out of it and hurried to catch up.
After winding through the corridors, they finally stopped before an arched bronze door engraved with ornate patterns. The entire mansion exuded a strong vintage American style, with furniture mostly in deep brown and black tones.
Warm yellow light seeped through the doorway. As soon as it opened, the noise inside spilled out.
“Hurry in and pour drinks for the guests,” the man said, stepping in first and leading them inside.
“Come on, pour for President Shen first,” a male voice called out.
Song Wanyi looked up—it was the greasy man from the lawn earlier. Though now dressed in a suit, he still carried an air of vulgarity.
Beside him, seated at the very center of the room, was another man—elegant and composed.
It was Shen Yuxun.
He was still dressed in a shirt and trousers, no tie, collar open, sleeves rolled up. A black Piaget watch rested on his wrist.
His face was calm and expressionless as he sipped tea.
Song Wanyi hesitated, unsure whether to step forward.
She hadn’t expected to run into Shen Yuxun here—and didn’t know if he recognized her.
Or if he even remembered her at all.
“Why are you standing there? Pour the drinks!” the supervisor urged anxiously.
Everyone at the table was clearly influential—offending any of them could cost her not just her job, but possibly her livelihood.
Especially the man seated at the head. Though silent, it was obvious everyone was waiting for his lead.
“Serve President Chen first,” Shen Yuxun said calmly, his deep eyes fixed on her like a still, clear lake.
Under his gaze, Song Wanyi walked over to the greasy man beside him, holding the wine vessel carefully.
Clear liquor flowed into the man’s glass.
The strong smell of alcohol hit her nose—it was unfamiliar and overwhelming.
Though her face remained composed, the slight tremble in her hands betrayed her nerves.
“What’s your name?” the man asked, his eyes roaming over her body. Her fitted shirt and skirt accentuated her figure—slender waist, long legs.
A wave of disgust rose within her, but she forced herself to stay calm and continue pouring.
The sooner she finished, the sooner she could leave.
“Song Wanyi,” she replied evenly.
“Wait—you’ve poured too much,” the man chuckled, suddenly grabbing her slender wrist to stop her.
Startled, Song Wanyi tried to pull away, but accidentally spilled some wine.
“Such fine liquor—don’t waste it. You couldn’t afford to pay for it even if you sold yourself,” he sneered, gripping her wrist tightly.
Everyone at the table watched, yet no one intervened.
Her eyes reddened with anxiety as she fought back nausea and panic.
Ignoring her embarrassment, she struggled to break free.
“President Chen, isn’t it a bit inappropriate to make things difficult for a young girl?” a deep voice spoke calmly, carrying quiet authority. It was Shen Yuxun.
Chen Zhang immediately loosened his grip.
Still struggling, Song Wanyi lost her balance and stumbled sideways.
In a dizzy blur, she found herself landing awkwardly—half-sitting on Shen Yuxun’s lap.
Her hands instinctively rested on his shoulders. Her dark hair fell over her face, partially hiding her flushed eyes. Dressed in the maid outfit, she looked small and delicate—like she had fallen into a lover’s embrace.
Her face burned red as she hurriedly stood up.
“I’m sorry,” she said, hands clasped in front of her like a child who had done something wrong. Her soft voice carried a trace of grievance.
Shen Yuxun’s calm gaze shifted slightly. He raised a hand and said to the stunned supervisor at the door, “Replace them with male servers.”
“O-Okay…”
At the supervisor’s signal, Song Wanyi quickly left the room.
She let out a quiet breath of relief.
Without stopping, she hurried back, afraid she might be called again.
“The guy sitting in the center just now was insanely handsome,” the short-haired girl whispered in awe. “If it weren’t for him, we’d have been in serious trouble tonight.”
Song Wanyi felt a lingering wave of fear after everything that had just happened.
“I already told my friend—if I didn’t respond by a certain time, she should call the police,” she said. Even though things had nearly spiraled out of control earlier, all she could do was stall for time.
After that, they were reassigned to the kitchen to serve dishes.
Until the end of the shift, they weren’t called anywhere else.
The supervisor handed each of them an envelope—inside was their pay.
After retrieving their phones, they all left the club.
The night air in the hills was chilly. Song Wanyi hadn’t brought a jacket and felt a faint coldness.
There were no taxis around, so she could only walk out and try her luck catching a bus.
Alone in the dark, she walked along the dimly lit road. The faint glow of the streetlights stretched across the ground, giving the surroundings a lonely, desolate feel.
Bushes by the roadside swayed in the wind, making soft rustling sounds.
Song Wanyi lowered her head, stepping on her own shadow—something she had loved doing since childhood.
Unconsciously, she drifted into memories of her distant, hazy past.
Just then, a beam of headlights cut through the darkness ahead.
As the car moved, the shifting light flickered like scattered shooting stars, briefly illuminating the night sky.
Under the glow, tiny dust particles floated in the air, fluttering aimlessly as if wandering through the world.
The car slowed and stopped beside her.
The rear window of a Bentley rolled down, revealing that refined, handsome face.
Perhaps because of the alcohol, there was a faint flush on his cheeks—something she hadn’t noticed before.
The license plate was a rare repeating number sequence.
“Get in. I’ll give you a ride,” Shen Yuxun said, his dark eyes fixed on her, his thin lips parting slightly.
“It’s hard to find a taxi here,” he added.
Song Wanyi hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and got into the back seat.
Uncle Chen was still driving.
Shen Yuxun leaned back against the seat, a faint scent of alcohol lingering on him.
Mixed with his usual clean fragrance, it wasn’t unpleasant.
His eyes were gently closed—she guessed he must have drunk quite a bit that night.
With his eyes shut, his usual imposing aura seemed softer. Half his face was hidden in the shadows, making his expression unreadable.
Only his slightly heavy breathing could be heard in the quiet car.
He might have fallen asleep.
Song Wanyi quietly turned her head to look out the window.
Bright streetlights lined the elevated roads, while in the distance, rows of red brake lights stretched endlessly.
The evening rush hadn’t yet faded.
Suddenly, a cheerful ringtone broke the silence inside the car.
It was Song Wanyi’s phone.
Startled, she quickly took it out of her bag, afraid of disturbing the man beside her.
She answered—it was Shuqing. She had forgotten to tell her she was safe.
“Hello? Song Wanyi, are you okay?” Shuqing’s voice sounded loud and clear in the quiet space.
“I’m fine. Everything’s okay now,” Song Wanyi replied briefly, not daring to say much.
“You told me to call the police—I was terrified! I thought something had happened to you,” Shuqing said, her worry evident even through the phone.
“It’s fine. I’m on my way back. I’ll hang up now.” Afraid Shuqing might say something alarming, Song Wanyi quickly ended the call.
Looking at her phone, she let out a quiet breath.
She hoped the man beside her hadn’t heard anything.
“Miss Song, were you planning to call the police?”
A low, slightly hoarse voice—softened by alcohol—broke the silence.
He had heard.
“No, it’s not like that… I was just worried about being alone out here at night. So I told my friend, if I didn’t check in… she should call the police for me.” Her voice grew softer as she spoke, lacking confidence, as if she felt guilty.
“Then wouldn’t that make me your prime suspect?”
“No, no! I’m grateful that you’re giving me a ride,” she quickly explained.
“Hmm. Not too foolish after all,” he said with a faint chuckle, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. “At least you know how to protect yourself.”
Was that… a compliment?
“Get me a bottle of water,” Shen Yuxun said. His voice in the darkness carried a subtle, almost alluring tone.
Song Wanyi wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her.
She glanced at Uncle Chen, then noticed the bottled water on the armrest.
She picked one up—a glass bottle—but couldn’t quite open it.
The man beside her rubbed his forehead, then reached out and took it from her.
His fingers brushed lightly against her palm.
The brief contact made her flinch, as if shocked by electricity, and she quickly pulled her hand back.
The memory of sitting on his lap earlier—her hands resting on his broad shoulders—flashed through her mind.
Her face instantly flushed, even her ears turning red.
“Miss Song, did you forget something of mine?” Shen Yuxun asked after taking a sip of water, his voice clearer now.
“Your towel and umbrella? I remember. I’ve already washed and dried them,” she replied.
“Good. Contact me when you’re ready to return them,” he said, as if reminding her.
By then, the car had arrived at the entrance of Hucheng University.
“Good night… sir,” she said softly before stepping out of the car.
Outside, the air was still chilly, carrying the dampness of early autumn.
Song Wanyi walked into the night, facing the wind.
Shen Yuxun watched her figure disappear around the corner before telling Uncle Chen to drive.
Tonight’s gathering had been deliberately arranged at that private club—a location he had carefully chosen.
There were still a few connections he needed to manage regarding the eastern district project, and he had to appear in person.
For privacy, he usually requested no servers.
But with Chen Zhang present, someone must have arranged for female students to be brought in.
Before seeing Song Wanyi, he hadn’t known.
She was quite bold, daring to come alone to a place like that.
If he hadn’t intervened earlier, given Chen Zhang’s nature, she likely wouldn’t have walked out so easily tonight.
Even if the police had come, it might not have changed anything.
There were always unspeakable dealings in circles like this.
Shen Yuxun simply chose not to involve himself.
But when he saw the redness in her eyes, something in him shifted.
After all, when he spoke—no one present would dare disobey.