This winter in Su Nan, small snowflakes mixed in the rain, damp and cold. It’s colder than anywhere, but the snow perched on the red plum blossom, added a touch of romance to the view.
Under the quiet eaves, glass wind chimes clinked against one another, jingling and tinkling. Zhang Qinghan slipped away from the banquet, hiding in the corner of a balcony. Her gaze drifted to the rain, aimlessly counting the thirty-ninth snowflakes that had melted on the cobblestones.
A continuous thumping reached her ears, the tempo was in disorder but steady and measured. The palm was softly punching his leg, like a hammer striking a piece of hard wood, the force was not great, but the thump along with the falling snowflakes melting into water landed right to her heart, making her shiver. She is not sure whether she was cold or bored, but she leaned forward, her upper body tipped against the railing, her palm was wet and cold from gripping a metal bar.
She opened the curtain and called out to the man, handing him her backscratcher.
“Use this to strike, it doubles the result with half the effort, much better than using your own hand.” She was here for a while now and the thumping kept repeating.
Looking at his posture, it must be leg pain from the cold, she is not sure why the man didn’t enter the warm room, but by the way he was striking his leg, even if his leg no longer hurt, it would have been numb. The heartless Zhang Qinghan rarely does good deeds, she was being kind, letting him numb his leg ASAP. She had only seen the man clearly after saying it out.
In the wide rattan armchair, the man leaned back, he stared at the distant mountain in mist. It was still early winter, but the temperature had dropped to minus five degrees. He wrapped himself in a thick cashmere overcoat, a navy-blue checkered scarf wound around his neck. She looked underdressed in comparison, wearing only a warm mustard-yellow turtleneck under a bluish grey wool coat for winter.
At this high-society banquet, where fine clothes and fragrant perfumes were everywhere, glasses clinked together, and everything reeked of money, the reflections revealed women’s bare shoulders and voluptuous décolletage. Amid all the glitter and ostentation, the man carried himself with effortless elegance and casual refinement. It was almost as though they were the ones who didn’t belong.
His hand, which had been pounding his right thigh like a hammer, came to a stop as she reached toward him with a little back-scratcher. He raised his head slightly and turned his eyes toward her.
Those icy eyes seemed to hold a chilling blade. His gaze shot toward her, sharp and piercing as a blade.
The melting snow on Zhang Qinghan’s hand felt a few degrees colder. She curled her lips and tried to hand the backscratcher over again, “This is better to use, it wouldn’t hurt your hand when you strike.”
Her new inner garment was unbearably itchy, she had just used her scratcher for a few minutes. Moreover, it was very hard to find a scratcher in the banquet.
She was being generous, and the man wasn’t surprised by the uninvited guest from the neighboring balcony. His hand stopped drumming his thigh and tapping a cane resting against his armrest.
It was a reddish rosewood cane, its fine grain clearly visible under its lustrous finish. It was a wooden stick of perfect length, if he had wanted to pound his leg, the cane would be much better than the scratcher.
It was a cane made of reddish rosewood, its fine, intricate grain clearly visible beneath its rich, lustrous finish.
Zhang Qinghan didn’t feel awkward, she threw the scratcher to him, “even if nobody comes to the balcony, it will look bad if others know that you use your cane to disable yourself.”
“Disable myself?”
Under the eaves had gone silent and cold for a few minutes before the man’s cold and detached voice rang. He sounded like icy cool mint.
Zhang Qinghan wasn’t the least bit intimidated, “Don’t tell me you are trying to heal yourself?”
She laughed teasingly, her gaze was roaming from his hand to his leg as she quipped, “Treating the problem from the source, huh? Looks like it is working. I used to pound my own arm with my fist when it hurt. fighting poison with poison, wasn’t it? It really did seem to ease the pain.
She pointed at her scratcher, “Lending this to you. It is easier on the hand. If you wanted to use your cane, I wouldn’t comment but you have to wait until I leave first. Or else, if something happened to you when we were in the same place, I couldn’t take responsibility.”
After saying this, she seemed to be genuinely afraid of the mess that would happen if the man couldn’t stand the pain and decided to smash his own leg, so she waved her hand and dashed off in a flash. She was definitely not the sort who would stick around and care whether the man was uncomfortable, in a bad mood or needed help.
Wind chimes swayed gently as sleet streaked across the glass, leaving crooked paths as it slid downward. Silence settled once more over the gloomy, chill balcony. Zhang Qinghan hurried down the staircase to make her escape but she was caught by Sang Liu, the host of the banquet, before she had reached the main hall.
“Where have you been? Didn’t you say that you wanted me to introduce you to talented young men? You disappeared right after you came in.” Sang Liu asked anxiously. He had a wine glass in one hand and squeezed her coat firmly on the other. “What did I tell you? Wear a formal gown! You wrapped yourself up like a bear, how can you compete with the other women here!”
“Tell me, how many men have chatted with you up until now?”
Zhang Qinghan thought, ‘ If these two flimsy layers she was wearing made her look like a bear, then the person back on the balcony must be a bear hiding inside a kangaroo’s pouch.
“There was.”
Sang Liu immediately beamed after hearing this.
“But I was the one who chatted him up.”
“What?” He was so excited that his wine glass was shaking. “You take the initiative? Who was it?”
If not because of the crowd in the hall downstairs, Zhang Qinghan believed he would have screamed.
Zhang Qinghan, “Someone who had leg pain because of your banquet. I lend him my scratcher.”
“Tsk.” Sang Liu looked a bit disappointed. “How can you blame me? The Qingshan area is famous throughout Su Nan for its breathtaking natural scenery, alright? Don’t be uncultured, like a pig turned off by fine grain! If not for this sudden sleet today, holding an outdoor banquet at the foot of Qingshan Mountain—watching white mist swirl around the peaks, breathing in the crisp air, listening to the birds chirp—it would’ve been absolutely magnificent! Su Nan’s top private sanatorium was built right here for a reason.”
Speaking of which, the frustration on Sang Liu’s face was almost thick enough to turn into a storm cloud and pour a torrent of rain right over Zhang Qinghan’s face.
Calling this banquet “hosted by Sang Liu” was actually overflattering him.
It was only because of his father, Sang Qiang, that the banquet could pull in elites from all walks of life across Su Nan today. The true purpose of today’s event was to build connections for Sang Liu’s first entrepreneurial venture—a fashion company that had just achieved its first modest success. Sang Qiang had invited the heavyweights of Su Nan’s business world to help clear a path and network for his son.
Henri Jayer’s Vosne-Romanée Premier Cru red wine—with a global annual production of barely 3,000 bottles–over a hundred thousand yuan a bottle, was served like free tap water. Only a father would pull out all the stops like this for his son.
Supposedly, even the man making the biggest waves in Su Nan’s upper circle recently had been invited by his father. It was just a pity that Sang Liu used to be a good-for-nothing slacker, so he’d never had the chance to meet the man—much less standing around the man to curry favor. His father had to receive him personally instead.
Even so, after flitting social butterfly-style among the guests downstairs, mingling over clinking glasses, Sang Liu was already exhausted to the point of collapse.
To make matters worse, the banquet was originally supposed to take place in the garden outside the villa. But a sudden, lovely first snowfall mixed with a dreary drizzle left the guests—who were already lightly dressed—soaking wet like doused ducks scrambling for cover as they scurried back inside to the main hall.
He had just finished settling everyone in the downstairs hall, where the roaring fireplace burned and radiated cozy heat, before the guests finally began to warm back up.
Then, a fragile young woman—married to one of his father’s old business associates—was trembling all over, covered in goosebumps. Gritting her teeth, she held fast to his wrist and said, “Liu really is capable! No wonder your Uncle Niu is always singing your praises.”
Sang Liu couldn’t even remember which wife this was for Uncle Niu, only vaguely recalling that this woman was two years younger than he was.
Hiding his disdain behind a forced smile, he complimented Uncle Niu on his great taste and continued bustling among the crowd. The experience made him realize more clearly than ever that while he sought to expand his network, these people had arrived with the exact same intention—and even more remarkably, every single one of their paths converged on just one person.
The top figure in Sunan’s business world, whose yet-to-be-seen presence alone had driven today’s attendance up from around twenty guests to nearly a hundred—Zhao He.
Questions came right and left until his head spun, Sang Liu spotted Zhang Qinghan while slipping away for a bathroom break. Seizing what felt like a lifeline, he launched into a relentless tirade of complaints, finally tearing off the lifeless, artificial mask he’d been wearing all evening.
“Fuck, what a bunch of clowns! Every last one of them came here just to cozy up to that old widower. If they’re so desperate to meet him, why don’t they go ask my dad? What the hell are they asking me for? If I knew where the guy was, why would I waste my time playing mediator with these people? I’d drop to my knees, hug the tycoon’s leg, call him daddy, and get him to toss a few hundred million into my lap! Let’s see those garbage companies survive that!”
“Old widower?” Zhang Qinghan chuckled. “So his wife died?”
“Who knows? They say a man’s three greatest blessings in life are a promotion, a fortune, and a dead wife. He’s got more money than he can spend, no interest in politics, and he’s divorced—his life is basically complete. Unlike me, who is still struggling through the nightmare of starting a new business!” Sang Liu grabbed her arm, putting on a pitiful, melodramatic act like he might collapse in tears at any second.
Truth be told, Sang Liu was a stubborn one. On campus, the rumors about him always went: Oh, that Sang Liu? He’s that poor third-generation rich kid who, if he doesn’t work hard, will be forced to go home and inherit hundreds of millions in family fortune.
His parents expected nothing of him. He could party his life away or waste time like a useless slacker—as long as he didn’t try to start a business, the family wealth was more than enough for him to squander.
But Young Master Sang had zero passion for booze or women; he was utterly obsessed with entrepreneurship, determined to build an empire even bigger than his father’s.
Fresh out of college this year, he had eagerly launched a small modeling agency with less than five million yuan in seed capital—pocket change for the Sang family. Among the agency’s first batch of signed models was Zhang Qinghan, who was still in school and had just started her sophomore year in the fall.
The two shared the same major and were technically senior and junior sisters, though their paths rarely crossed back when Sang Liu was still in school. When he returned to campus to recruit talent for his startup, however, Zhang Qinghan instantly caught his eye.
Zhang Qinghan was short on cash, Sang Liu was short on personnel, and the two hit it off immediately. Still, she wasn’t foolish enough to tether herself long-term to a fledgling startup; she signed a modest two-year contract, figuring that if he couldn’t get the business off the ground even with the Sang family backing him, she’d simply stretch those long legs he was always raving about, grab her bag, and make a swift exit.
Thanks to his high opinion of them, her long legs weren’t just great for photo shoots—they’d undoubtedly help her run away a whole lot faster than anyone else.
Just as Young Master Sang, in the prime of his youth, was eloquently waxing poetic about how ridiculously sweet the old widower’s life sounded, a sharp call of “Liu!” nearly scared the soul right out of his body.
He turned around in sheer horror as Uncle Niu’s new wife approached, swaying her slender waist, holding a glass of champagne with dainty, arched fingers.
Sang Liu’s face turned as pale as ash as he turned his gaze to Zhang Qinghan. His eyes screamed: Save me save me save me!
Zhang Qinghan curled her lips into a smile and methodically pried away the hand that was desperately clinging to her arm. Like severing a dying man’s last lifeline, she didn’t hesitate for a single second. “You two enjoy your chat, I’m heading downstairs.”
She waved her sleeve as she took her leave, gently patting his shoulder. “After all, I shouldn’t let Young Master Sang’s banquet go to waste.”
Sang Liu’s face turned blue, feeling the exact boomerang he had thrown earlier slam straight into the middle of his forehead.
He gritted his teeth. Vindictive woman.
He really shouldn’t have provoked this woman, who was infamous for holding a grudge over the pettiest slight.
Over two hours into the banquet, twilight had fallen and it was almost midnight. As the lively, glass-clinking party neared its end, she finally made her appearance in the main hall.
Under the grand crystal chandelier above, fine fragments of light flickered down. Amidst the cheerful laughter and the faint aroma of alcohol in the air, her eyes cut through the sea of tailored, sharp-fitting gentlemen’s suits and women’s diamond-encrusted evening gowns, coming to rest on the hem of a soft pink dress peeking out from behind the pillar.
Who could have guessed that below the serene, elegant wooden structure of the top floor, the main hall on the first floor would be so lavish and magnificent?
A voluminous dress swayed gently as a pair of black suit trousers brushed tightly against its hem in a humid, suffocating embrace. Beside them, the warm orange glow of candlelight cast their silhouettes onto a massive medieval fresco behind them, where the sacred, pure face of the Virgin Mary reflected the intertwined figures of a man and woman stealing an impassioned embrace in hiding.
Perhaps feeling Zhang Qinghan’s stare on her for too long, the woman in the pink dress turned her head, her face flushed red. Wiping away a trace of moisture from the corner of her lips, she smiled and gave Zhang Qinghan a gentle wave.
Zhang Qinghan crossed her arms as the woman turned back around and whispered something. A moment later, a man in an indigo suit stepped out from behind the pillar and walked off. Zhang Qinghan could only see his back—she didn’t recognize him, nor did she care to investigate. She shifted her eyes back to Li Yangyang’s face, which was glowing with satisfaction and radiant contentment.
Li Yangyang walked over to her, scanning her from top to bottom, her face showing the exact same disappointment as Sang Liu. “You didn’t see him?”
Zhang Qinghan smiled faintly and casually took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, using it to moisten her throat, which had been dried out by the cold balcony wind.
Li Yangyang instantly understood. The lingering haze of desire in her eyes cleared up in a flash, and she pulled Zhang Qinghan toward a quiet corner. Drawing a sharp breath, unable to contain her blend of excitement and nervous tension, she urged, “Tell me.”
Zhang Qinghan, on the other hand, remained entirely unhurried, turning the tables on her first: “You certainly know how to set people up.”
Li Yangyang thought she wasn’t satisfied, “Dear ancestor, he is the only one that fits your criteria in the entire Su Nan. Do you know how many people I pestered and how many pillow-talk I had to dig in order to get his whereabouts? That idiot Sang Liu can’t even see the man at his own banquet!”
Zhang Qinghan, “He is an old widower!”
“Don’t spout nonsense!” Li Yangyang snapped indignantly. “He was divorced, his ex-wife isn’t dead!”
Li Yangyang grabbed her arm exactly where Sang Liu grabbed her earlier, it seems like her arm was a fair game tonight. “Think about what Austen said,It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. He is the most sought-after divorcee in the entire Su Nan right now. If you don’t seize him, you are against the universal truth.”
“He is older than me by 17 years. If he worked harder, he could’ve been my dad.”
“Then let’s put it this way. Think about his face and do you think you can call that face ‘dad’?”
Zhang Qinghan fell silent. The hand holding the champagne flute gestured toward her. “He’s lame.”
Li Yangyang drew in a sharp breath. Afraid that Zhang Qinghan might be losing sight of what really mattered when it came to something this important, she hurriedly opened her mouth to protest.
But Zhang Qinghan smiled. A captivating, radiant beauty bloomed across her face, as though the last traces of ice had melted away. Li Yangyang had always known that as long as Zhang Qinghan was willing to make use of her beauty, she could effortlessly secure the very best opportunities and resources.
Her name had an icy, aloof ring to it, but her figure was anything but cold. Don’t even mention her dazzling smile when she curled her lips. The sports car that stopped for her this semester had topped the total from the previous two years.
Zhang Qinghan downed her champagne in one go. The drink slid down her throat like a refreshing spring, soothing the dryness from waiting idly on the balcony, exposed to the biting cold, and warming her chilled body.
She turned the empty glass upside down toward Li Yangyang. A triumphant smile danced across her face as she cheerfully finished the sentence Li Yangyang had been about to shout.
“But he’s the richest cripple around.”