Chapter 13: Elegant Exteriors, Drunken Red Dust

The tense atmosphere outside stood in stark contrast to the lively gossip in the tea room.

General Zheng, this isn’t fair of you. You didn’t even give me a heads-up when things went wrong.

Several executives who usually threw their weight around in the company didn’t dare put on airs now. They trailed after Zheng Dongyue, complaining incessantly. The Patriarch isn’t here to cause trouble, is he? The South China fund isn’t under our management—we can’t possibly share the blame equally, right?

If you weren’t involved, why are you so anxious? Zheng Dongyue lazily yawned.

He shot the latter a sidelong glance. Stop fishing for information here. I just flew back from New York after wrapping up work and haven’t even had a proper sleep. You all have better sources than I do.

That may be true, but given the Patriarch’s temper, the middle-aged man chuckled awkwardly, I’m afraid I might retire early.

They had every reason to be cautious—Ye Yansheng was indeed not someone to be trifled with.

Details of Ye Yansheng’s background before age 22 were unverifiable; the outside world only knew he had served in the military.

The Ye family clearly had high expectations for him, and he stood out among his peers. However, for unknown reasons, he left the military mid-career to enter business.

Even so, his achievements over the past few years were astonishing:

He graduated early from Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, became a member of the domestic Turing Sequence team, and partnered with Red Maple Fund while still studying abroad. Within just three years, he broke away from existing power structures to establish T&C.

During its founding phase, T&C faced retaliation and suppression from overseas capital. In the hedging phase, Ye Yansheng set a trap that dragged Western oligarchs into deep water. Leveraging regulations and connections, he executed a stunning counterattack—revealing glimpses of his methods and determination.

That same year, he invested in several technology and traditional projects, seizing emerging opportunities with sharp insight and decisive action. Companies that later went public on the NYSE, HKEX, and China’s A-share market all saw their market capitalizations soar—he never missed.

It was only then that the Ye family’s business empire began tilting toward his control.

When he finally took over the Ye family’s industries this past July, he immediately purged the headquarters with thunderous measures.

The chairman of the Ye family enterprises came from a collateral branch and had already stepped back this year. Speculations abounded regarding how behind-the-scenes resources were exchanged and why the collateral branch willingly relinquished power—but the outcome remained:

Though Ye Yansheng held the title of executive president on surface, with the Ye family’s tacit approval, he consolidated all control, decision-making, and executive authority over their commercial empire.

There were senior executives who tried to put him in his place, but his iron-fisted approach—seemingly casual yet shrewd—proved ruthless. Whenever he took action, it was brutal. Within months of assuming power, he had uprooted all opposition.

His military background shone through in his thunderous methods.

Now, it seemed this fire was about to burn its way downward.

If he wanted you to retire, he wouldn’t need to show up personally.

Pei Ze, who had been coldly observing for some time, suddenly smiled. Besides, you wouldn’t be the first to retire early anyway.

He tilted his chin toward another direction. I think Director Yu over there looks more nervous—why don’t you go chat with him?

The middle-aged man who’d been named turned ashen-faced, his expression darkening further. Director Pei, you can eat carelessly, but you shouldn’t speak carelessly.

The Guangzhou matter should have been settled by now—the other side hadn’t revealed anything.

But Pei Ze, Zheng Dongyue, and the others had returned to headquarters without leaking any information. What seemed like a routine meeting now felt more like a banquet at Hongmen.

The group entered the conference room one after another, each harboring their own hidden agendas, exchanging polite smiles and greetings.

About ten minutes later, the glass door of the conference room suddenly swung open, a wave of hot air rushing in and colliding with the cool air inside.

The chatter came to an abrupt halt.

Executives on both sides of the conference table, regardless of their schemes, rose to their feet respectfully.

Ye Yansheng’s expression was cold as he gave a slight nod.

His eyes were dark and intense, his demeanor sharp and severe. The broken line of his eyebrow added a touch of menace and defiance. The aura of icy aggression around him seemed almost tangible, sharply separating him from the others in the room and inspiring both awe and fear.

A sizable entourage followed him in. Only after he took his seat did the rest of the attendees gradually sit down.

Recognizing the officials from the Securities Regulatory Commission, the room fell into dead silence.

It was like the King of Hell calling the roll—whoever was named was as good as dead. The middle-aged man, who had looked sickly pale all along, felt his heart sink. Slumping into his chair, he hadn’t even managed to piece together an excuse before being escorted away for investigation.

He knew all too well—if his misdeeds came to light, he’d be spending the rest of his life behind bars.

Ye Yansheng didn’t even spare him a glance, as though he had no patience to waste on a lost cause.

Although they had said see you tomorrow that night, both were busy and hardly crossed paths.

Before they knew it, it was the 23rd of the twelfth lunar month—Minor New Year in the north, following the saying, Officials celebrate on the 23rd, commoners on the 24th.

Xie Qingman had grown up in Hong Kong, where the Winter Solstice was considered more important than the Lunar New Year, so this custom was unfamiliar to her.

But the festive atmosphere in the capital was strong, and after spending some time there, she found herself drawn into the spirit of the season.

She had just signed a contract that afternoon, though the production team hadn’t made an official announcement yet.

With costume fittings and a dinner gathering coming up, she decided to stay at the hotel. The Huo Family did own a luxurious estate in Beijing, but the only property under her name, while spacious, was inconveniently located. Traveling back and forth would be too much of a hassle.

You should’ve said something sooner. I already had the nearby place cleared out—you could’ve stayed there, Xiang Baozhu complained over the phone, sounding a bit put out. I told you last time you were in Beijing, you’re always so formal with me.

She was in Barcelona at the moment.

At the Miró Foundation art museum on Montjuïc hill, a high-end watch launch event was about to begin.

You’re not here anyway. Staying by myself wouldn’t be any fun, Xie Qingman replied lazily, soaking in the bathtub.

Don’t even mention it. This time, since you didn’t come, I’ve been all alone, Xiang Baozhu grumbled, adding with a cold laugh, You have no idea—at the pre-dinner cocktail, some jerk tried to…

Before she could finish, the call cut out.

Xie Qingman wasn’t sure what had happened.

Instinctively, she went to redial, but as a WeChat notification popped up, she got distracted and accidentally tapped Ye Yansheng’s number.

【Bad signal, talk later.】

Hello?

The notification and the call seemed to happen at almost the same moment.

Before she could hang up—before she even processed what was happening—Ye Yansheng answered. What’s up?

His low, unhurried voice sounded lazy, mingling with a background of noise.

Damn, what a mix-up.

She nearly dropped her phone into the water.

Nothing, nothing, I actually meant to— Xie Qingman started to explain that it was a wrong number, but then she heard a woman’s voice.

It sounded like she was singing an opera aria.

The last two words stuck in her throat, unspoken.

It was an a cappella passage.

The female vocalist’s singing was exquisitely delicate, carrying the graceful charm of Southern Kunqu opera. The peach blossoms dazzled the eyes as she sang, Fear the swift arrival of spring’s tidings, wind and rain may spoil the spring light. Hastily forgetting the immortal’s form, let not spring nights and blooming moons be lies…①

His surroundings were noisy—smoke, liquor, and revelry creating a clamorous atmosphere. Yet he seemed unusually close, making every word crystal clear to her.

Who’s that?

The question slipped out before Xie Qingman realized she shouldn’t have asked.

She paused, forcibly shifting the subject. The Peach Blossom Fan? Quite pleasant singing.

Hm? Ye Yansheng responded unhurriedly before letting out a low, cold chuckle, his tone dripping with nonchalance. Not as good as you.

What did he mean by good?

The remark felt both icy and flirtatious, leaving her with an indescribable discomfort.

An inexplicable frustration welled up in Xie Qingman, tightening her chest. Her demeanor cooled involuntarily. How could I dare compare to the company you keep? I merely caught you in a good mood.

Her words came out stiff, her tone far from pleasant. It’s late. I won’t keep you from your… entertainment.

She ended the call decisively.

Silence enveloped her ears. Alone in the hotel suite, the stillness bred a restless unease.

An uncontrollable irritation simmered within. Closing her eyes, Xie Qingman sank deeper into the warm bathwater.

Seconds later, rationality jolted her awake. She emerged from the water, her gaze sharp and lucid:

She’d overreacted. Truthfully, she had no right to.

Yet she felt no need to make amends. Whether his words were sincere or mocking, she refused to be toyed with or measured like some plaything. Did he expect her to be obedient and submissive, readily available for his amusement?

[Why the anger?

She replied instantly: [Mistapped.

[Not jealous?

… Unbelievable.

Xie Qingman had no intention of entertaining this.

The subtle woody fragrance of the room, amplified by the warmth and steam, made her drowsy. She reached for a towel and rose from the water.

[She came with a friend. Nothing to do with me.

How novel—since when did he need to explain himself to her?

As she towel-dried her damp hair, another message popped up before she could finish typing:

[Don’t believe me? Come check for yourself.

…What right did she have to check on him?

After multiple deletions and revisions failed to produce a suitable response, she decided to drop the pointless topic.

Then he sent a live location pin.

Ye Yansheng wasn’t particularly engaged tonight.

His usual crowd knew how to party, but after countless repetitions, their antics had grown stale and meaningless.

Some were rebelling against strict family rules, desperate for an outlet. Others, bloated with self-importance, sought increasingly depraved thrills after satiating their mundane desires—

At their core, they were all the same: well-dressed beasts using their lineage as excuses for decadence.

Amidst the debauchery and drunken revelry, Ye Yansheng had radiated indifference and impatience since arriving. Few dared approach him.

Only Bo Wenqin teased him. Quite the act, Young Master Ye. Always too busy to show up, and now you’re late to a rare gathering? Should I make you drink three penalties to save face?

Should I propose a toast to honor Young Master Bo’s dignity? Ye Yansheng arched a brow.

His tone was lazily indifferent, hinting at amusement, but his expression remained frosty.

The words were humble, yet carried a condescending scorn.

Spare me the sarcasm, Bo Wenqin chuckled.

It was all just trivial banter.

Even if Ye Yansheng dared to drink this penalty wine, someone still had to dare to serve it.

Unfortunately, the girl beside Bo Wenqin was socially inept. Taking it seriously, she presumptuously refilled Ye Yansheng’s glass.

Bo Wenqin narrowed his eyes, the slender ends tilting upward like a fox’s, his expression hovering between a smile and a smirk. Did your performance major teach you to be this clueless?

It wasn’t quite an accusation, but the girl beside him trembled, replying timidly, I study Kunqu opera.

Who asked about that?

Pei Ze, who had been engrossed in the card game, found it amusing and turned his head. Where did you pick up this girl?

Bo Wenqin’s eyes cooled by three degrees, clearly displeased. He explained coldly, She’s not with me.

Unexpectedly, Ye Yansheng suddenly asked, Kunqu opera?

The girl was slightly taken aback but nodded.

Finally showing a hint of alertness, she glanced at Bo Wenqin—who flashed a trace of surprise in his eyes and gestured with a lift of his chin.

With his permission, she parted her lips slightly and softly sang a few lines: The golden powder has not yet faded, carrying the fragrance of six dynasties. Across the world, the misty grass breaks one’s heart…①

Her skills were professional, but her presence was utterly dull.

Like an exquisitely crafted but lifeless marionette—obedient, compliant, every smile and frown tailored to please, yet utterly devoid of vitality.

Xie Qingman carried none of that eagerness to please.

Her eyes were too lively, yet their color was cold, always exuding an aloofness that kept others at a distance.

Her innocence was feigned, her timidity an act. In truth, she was inherently untamable, born with a cool and detached nature.

It seemed that only in that disoriented moment in the elevator did she reveal a trace of genuine emotion.

The more Ye Yansheng observed, the less interested he became.

He hadn’t actually intended for her to sing Kunqu opera, nor was he particularly fond of it. He had merely been reminded of Xie Qingman from that day.

Coincidentally, his phone vibrated at that moment, and he saw her name light up the screen. Hello?

Xie Qingman knew nothing of this. All she knew was that the location Ye Yansheng had given her was exceptionally discreet.

Discreet because, without someone waiting for her in advance, she could easily spend half a day lost in the labyrinthine alleys.

The Capital City Young Masters, having been repeatedly admonished by their families, generally avoided overly conspicuous spots.

Most of them frequented areas near Fuyou Street, Beichizi, or the vicinity of princess mansions, or even more secluded venues.

As for clubs along Chang’an Avenue, after November 2012, they were no longer the mainstream hangouts for the Young Masters circle. From then on, many clubs relaxed their membership criteria, lowering the threshold so that anyone with a decent background and sufficient fees could potentially join. Compared to the past, the clientele’s social standing had steadily declined.

Those with real influence tended to keep a low profile. After all, their families had repeatedly warned them: flaunting their status outside would only lead to trouble at home.

Miss Xie? The front manager of the private club greeted her with great courtesy, a warm smile on his face. Please follow me.

As he spoke, he signaled to someone behind him.

Xie Qingman followed at a leisurely pace, passing through a glazed-tile-decorated hanging flower gate adorned with Hexi painted designs, discreetly observing her surroundings.

Unlike typical courtyard homes, this private club was structured as a five-courtyard complex, interconnected by alleyways. Smaller courtyards were arranged around the periphery, each bearing elegant and unique names, ensuring privacy and tranquility.

The exterior resembled a maze, seemingly unremarkable, yet the interior’s construction costs surpassed even the land’s value—

Every brick and tile here was a relic from the previous dynasty, every table and chair an antique, and every decorative piece a priceless auction item.

The place exuded classical elegance, a tranquil oasis amidst the city’s bustle.

Past the second courtyard, the scenery shifted with each step—jade bamboo cast delicate shadows, the subtle fragrance of plum blossoms lingered, and koi fish swam beneath the zigzag bridge.

There, beneath the pavilion, she spotted the familiar figure.

The artificial hill and flowing water composed a scene like an ink-wash painting, elegant and free-spirited.

Ye Yansheng stood half-hidden in the soft ink-like shadows, resembling a blade sheathed—its wildness and sharpness concealed.

At the sight of her, the figure in the painting stirred.

Took you long enough? His deep voice held a hint of teasing.

How kind of you to worry, Xie Qingman replied coolly, her tone neither too high nor too low. Your one sentence cost me over an hour on the road.

What a thing to say.

Ye Yansheng wasn’t annoyed. His dark eyes met hers, and he let out a low chuckle. My fault for not picking you up earlier.

It wasn’t just traffic, either.

With the year-end approaching, traffic control in the capital had tightened more than usual. Many areas were either no-parking zones or completely blocked off.

Without a pass, detours were the only option.

Xie Qingman, in her 12cm heels, had walked a winding route all the way here, her temper fraying with every step.

The club owner, who had escorted her, hadn’t left yet. Hearing her remark, his cheek twitched involuntarily:

Who else could speak to Ye Yansheng with such bluntness and get away with it?

And yet, Ye Yansheng simply laughed it off.

But rules were rules—certain questions still had to be asked.

With a hesitant expression, the owner ventured, Young Master Ye, about the communication devices…

No need, Ye Yansheng said dismissively, taking Xie Qingman’s wrist. Let’s go.

Xie Qingman paused briefly, a flash of memory crossing her mind.

Earlier, while passing through the alley, she’d noticed the parking area filled with vehicles with black cloths draped over their license plates.

Putting two and two together, she understood.

So this place confiscates phones too?

–

At the same time, Zheng Dongyue stormed into the courtyard inscribed with the words Cleansing Azure. Furious, his voice arrived before he did.

He’s rebelling, absolutely rebelling! I’ve invested so much damn money—don’t I get a say?

Who’s upset you this time?

Some TV director actually dared to challenge me!

Zheng Dongyue was fuming. That old fool has lost his mind! Passing over a double-award-winning actress for a complete rookie! He signed the contract without even consulting me.

He tossed a file onto the side table, which contained audition details and the actor’s profile.

A few bystanders gathered around, clicking their tongues in admiration:

She’s quite the looker—gorgeous face and a great figure.

No kidding…

Yue, don’t be sore. I’d say the director’s got a better eye than you. In terms of looks and poise, this girl could easily outshine anyone.

Pei Ze, who usually couldn’t be bothered with such trivial matters, glanced over, then paused and took a longer look.

Wasn’t this the woman from Hong Kong?

Pei Ze’s expression tightened slightly.

Sure, she’s easy on the eyes, but even if she descended from the heavens, she can’t screw with my profits!

Not every company project required his personal attention. Compared to biotech and AI ventures, his investments in the entertainment industry were usually just pocket change—hardly worth his concern.

But this series had swallowed up hundreds of millions.

Spending that much to promote a newcomer? It was like tossing money into the water for the fun of it—pointless.

At least if you dropped cash on the ground, you’d hear it hit.

Zheng Dongyue grew angrier the more he thought about it, flying into a rage. Couldn’t they have given her the female supporting role? That old fool must be lust-blinded, probably having an affair with this—

Watch your language, Pei Ze suddenly interjected.

I haven’t blacklisted her yet—that’s respectful enough, Zheng Dongyue retorted irritably. What, is she your lover? Defending her like this.

There was no need for him to lift a finger.

Given the current online climate and the entertainment industry’s PR tactics and marketing companies’ ability to manipulate narratives—

The moment the production team made the official announcement, all hell would break loose.

Never mind how the public would perceive an award-winning actress being replaced; there was also a popular young actress in the second round of auditions. Her fans wouldn’t dare attack established stars, but they wouldn’t hesitate to tear into a newcomer. Once multiple factions started warring, both the newcomer and the drama would be finished.

Keep your mouth clean and leave me out of it, Pei Ze said coldly, staring at him. Even if there’s something going on, it would only involve your Second Brother Ye.

What the hell? Are you looking for a fight today? Zheng Dongyue hadn’t processed it. What does this have to do with Second Brother? He—

Before he could finish, Zheng Dongyue abruptly fell silent.

The golden nanmu lattice door swung open as Ye Yansheng and Xie Qingman entered one after another, barely half a step apart.

The surroundings plunged into an eerie silence.

The previously amused onlookers went mute, exchanging knowing glances with bewildered expressions.

Holy shit.

Zheng Dongyue opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, his expression shifting dramatically. After a long pause, he finally managed: What kind of show is this?

Good question, Pei Ze chimed in, never one to miss stirring the pot. Why don’t you go repeat what you just said and see how your Second Brother Ye reacts?

He added half-jokingly, Who was it you said you were going to blacklist again?

Chapter 13: Elegant Exteriors, Drunken Red Dust

The tense atmosphere outside stood in stark contrast to the lively gossip in the tea room.

General Zheng, this isn’t fair of you. You didn’t even give me a heads-up when things went wrong.

Several executives who usually threw their weight around in the company didn’t dare put on airs now. They trailed after Zheng Dongyue, complaining incessantly. The Patriarch isn’t here to cause trouble, is he? The South China fund isn’t under our management—we can’t possibly share the blame equally, right?

If you weren’t involved, why are you so anxious? Zheng Dongyue lazily yawned.

He shot the latter a sidelong glance. Stop fishing for information here. I just flew back from New York after wrapping up work and haven’t even had a proper sleep. You all have better sources than I do.

That may be true, but given the Patriarch’s temper, the middle-aged man chuckled awkwardly, I’m afraid I might retire early.

They had every reason to be cautious—Ye Yansheng was indeed not someone to be trifled with.

Details of Ye Yansheng’s background before age 22 were unverifiable; the outside world only knew he had served in the military.

The Ye family clearly had high expectations for him, and he stood out among his peers. However, for unknown reasons, he left the military mid-career to enter business.

Even so, his achievements over the past few years were astonishing:

He graduated early from Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, became a member of the domestic Turing Sequence team, and partnered with Red Maple Fund while still studying abroad. Within just three years, he broke away from existing power structures to establish T&C.

During its founding phase, T&C faced retaliation and suppression from overseas capital. In the hedging phase, Ye Yansheng set a trap that dragged Western oligarchs into deep water. Leveraging regulations and connections, he executed a stunning counterattack—revealing glimpses of his methods and determination.

That same year, he invested in several technology and traditional projects, seizing emerging opportunities with sharp insight and decisive action. Companies that later went public on the NYSE, HKEX, and China’s A-share market all saw their market capitalizations soar—he never missed.

It was only then that the Ye family’s business empire began tilting toward his control.

When he finally took over the Ye family’s industries this past July, he immediately purged the headquarters with thunderous measures.

The chairman of the Ye family enterprises came from a collateral branch and had already stepped back this year. Speculations abounded regarding how behind-the-scenes resources were exchanged and why the collateral branch willingly relinquished power—but the outcome remained:

Though Ye Yansheng held the title of executive president on surface, with the Ye family’s tacit approval, he consolidated all control, decision-making, and executive authority over their commercial empire.

There were senior executives who tried to put him in his place, but his iron-fisted approach—seemingly casual yet shrewd—proved ruthless. Whenever he took action, it was brutal. Within months of assuming power, he had uprooted all opposition.

His military background shone through in his thunderous methods.

Now, it seemed this fire was about to burn its way downward.

If he wanted you to retire, he wouldn’t need to show up personally.

Pei Ze, who had been coldly observing for some time, suddenly smiled. Besides, you wouldn’t be the first to retire early anyway.

He tilted his chin toward another direction. I think Director Yu over there looks more nervous—why don’t you go chat with him?

The middle-aged man who’d been named turned ashen-faced, his expression darkening further. Director Pei, you can eat carelessly, but you shouldn’t speak carelessly.

The Guangzhou matter should have been settled by now—the other side hadn’t revealed anything.

But Pei Ze, Zheng Dongyue, and the others had returned to headquarters without leaking any information. What seemed like a routine meeting now felt more like a banquet at Hongmen.

The group entered the conference room one after another, each harboring their own hidden agendas, exchanging polite smiles and greetings.

About ten minutes later, the glass door of the conference room suddenly swung open, a wave of hot air rushing in and colliding with the cool air inside.

The chatter came to an abrupt halt.

Executives on both sides of the conference table, regardless of their schemes, rose to their feet respectfully.

Ye Yansheng’s expression was cold as he gave a slight nod.

His eyes were dark and intense, his demeanor sharp and severe. The broken line of his eyebrow added a touch of menace and defiance. The aura of icy aggression around him seemed almost tangible, sharply separating him from the others in the room and inspiring both awe and fear.

A sizable entourage followed him in. Only after he took his seat did the rest of the attendees gradually sit down.

Recognizing the officials from the Securities Regulatory Commission, the room fell into dead silence.

It was like the King of Hell calling the roll—whoever was named was as good as dead. The middle-aged man, who had looked sickly pale all along, felt his heart sink. Slumping into his chair, he hadn’t even managed to piece together an excuse before being escorted away for investigation.

He knew all too well—if his misdeeds came to light, he’d be spending the rest of his life behind bars.

Ye Yansheng didn’t even spare him a glance, as though he had no patience to waste on a lost cause.

Although they had said see you tomorrow that night, both were busy and hardly crossed paths.

Before they knew it, it was the 23rd of the twelfth lunar month—Minor New Year in the north, following the saying, Officials celebrate on the 23rd, commoners on the 24th.

Xie Qingman had grown up in Hong Kong, where the Winter Solstice was considered more important than the Lunar New Year, so this custom was unfamiliar to her.

But the festive atmosphere in the capital was strong, and after spending some time there, she found herself drawn into the spirit of the season.

She had just signed a contract that afternoon, though the production team hadn’t made an official announcement yet.

With costume fittings and a dinner gathering coming up, she decided to stay at the hotel. The Huo Family did own a luxurious estate in Beijing, but the only property under her name, while spacious, was inconveniently located. Traveling back and forth would be too much of a hassle.

You should’ve said something sooner. I already had the nearby place cleared out—you could’ve stayed there, Xiang Baozhu complained over the phone, sounding a bit put out. I told you last time you were in Beijing, you’re always so formal with me.

She was in Barcelona at the moment.

At the Miró Foundation art museum on Montjuïc hill, a high-end watch launch event was about to begin.

You’re not here anyway. Staying by myself wouldn’t be any fun, Xie Qingman replied lazily, soaking in the bathtub.

Don’t even mention it. This time, since you didn’t come, I’ve been all alone, Xiang Baozhu grumbled, adding with a cold laugh, You have no idea—at the pre-dinner cocktail, some jerk tried to…

Before she could finish, the call cut out.

Xie Qingman wasn’t sure what had happened.

Instinctively, she went to redial, but as a WeChat notification popped up, she got distracted and accidentally tapped Ye Yansheng’s number.

【Bad signal, talk later.】

Hello?

The notification and the call seemed to happen at almost the same moment.

Before she could hang up—before she even processed what was happening—Ye Yansheng answered. What’s up?

His low, unhurried voice sounded lazy, mingling with a background of noise.

Damn, what a mix-up.

She nearly dropped her phone into the water.

Nothing, nothing, I actually meant to— Xie Qingman started to explain that it was a wrong number, but then she heard a woman’s voice.

It sounded like she was singing an opera aria.

The last two words stuck in her throat, unspoken.

It was an a cappella passage.

The female vocalist’s singing was exquisitely delicate, carrying the graceful charm of Southern Kunqu opera. The peach blossoms dazzled the eyes as she sang, Fear the swift arrival of spring’s tidings, wind and rain may spoil the spring light. Hastily forgetting the immortal’s form, let not spring nights and blooming moons be lies…①

His surroundings were noisy—smoke, liquor, and revelry creating a clamorous atmosphere. Yet he seemed unusually close, making every word crystal clear to her.

Who’s that?

The question slipped out before Xie Qingman realized she shouldn’t have asked.

She paused, forcibly shifting the subject. The Peach Blossom Fan? Quite pleasant singing.

Hm? Ye Yansheng responded unhurriedly before letting out a low, cold chuckle, his tone dripping with nonchalance. Not as good as you.

What did he mean by good?

The remark felt both icy and flirtatious, leaving her with an indescribable discomfort.

An inexplicable frustration welled up in Xie Qingman, tightening her chest. Her demeanor cooled involuntarily. How could I dare compare to the company you keep? I merely caught you in a good mood.

Her words came out stiff, her tone far from pleasant. It’s late. I won’t keep you from your… entertainment.

She ended the call decisively.

Silence enveloped her ears. Alone in the hotel suite, the stillness bred a restless unease.

An uncontrollable irritation simmered within. Closing her eyes, Xie Qingman sank deeper into the warm bathwater.

Seconds later, rationality jolted her awake. She emerged from the water, her gaze sharp and lucid:

She’d overreacted. Truthfully, she had no right to.

Yet she felt no need to make amends. Whether his words were sincere or mocking, she refused to be toyed with or measured like some plaything. Did he expect her to be obedient and submissive, readily available for his amusement?

[Why the anger?

She replied instantly: [Mistapped.

[Not jealous?

… Unbelievable.

Xie Qingman had no intention of entertaining this.

The subtle woody fragrance of the room, amplified by the warmth and steam, made her drowsy. She reached for a towel and rose from the water.

[She came with a friend. Nothing to do with me.

How novel—since when did he need to explain himself to her?

As she towel-dried her damp hair, another message popped up before she could finish typing:

[Don’t believe me? Come check for yourself.

…What right did she have to check on him?

After multiple deletions and revisions failed to produce a suitable response, she decided to drop the pointless topic.

Then he sent a live location pin.

Ye Yansheng wasn’t particularly engaged tonight.

His usual crowd knew how to party, but after countless repetitions, their antics had grown stale and meaningless.

Some were rebelling against strict family rules, desperate for an outlet. Others, bloated with self-importance, sought increasingly depraved thrills after satiating their mundane desires—

At their core, they were all the same: well-dressed beasts using their lineage as excuses for decadence.

Amidst the debauchery and drunken revelry, Ye Yansheng had radiated indifference and impatience since arriving. Few dared approach him.

Only Bo Wenqin teased him. Quite the act, Young Master Ye. Always too busy to show up, and now you’re late to a rare gathering? Should I make you drink three penalties to save face?

Should I propose a toast to honor Young Master Bo’s dignity? Ye Yansheng arched a brow.

His tone was lazily indifferent, hinting at amusement, but his expression remained frosty.

The words were humble, yet carried a condescending scorn.

Spare me the sarcasm, Bo Wenqin chuckled.

It was all just trivial banter.

Even if Ye Yansheng dared to drink this penalty wine, someone still had to dare to serve it.

Unfortunately, the girl beside Bo Wenqin was socially inept. Taking it seriously, she presumptuously refilled Ye Yansheng’s glass.

Bo Wenqin narrowed his eyes, the slender ends tilting upward like a fox’s, his expression hovering between a smile and a smirk. Did your performance major teach you to be this clueless?

It wasn’t quite an accusation, but the girl beside him trembled, replying timidly, I study Kunqu opera.

Who asked about that?

Pei Ze, who had been engrossed in the card game, found it amusing and turned his head. Where did you pick up this girl?

Bo Wenqin’s eyes cooled by three degrees, clearly displeased. He explained coldly, She’s not with me.

Unexpectedly, Ye Yansheng suddenly asked, Kunqu opera?

The girl was slightly taken aback but nodded.

Finally showing a hint of alertness, she glanced at Bo Wenqin—who flashed a trace of surprise in his eyes and gestured with a lift of his chin.

With his permission, she parted her lips slightly and softly sang a few lines: The golden powder has not yet faded, carrying the fragrance of six dynasties. Across the world, the misty grass breaks one’s heart…①

Her skills were professional, but her presence was utterly dull.

Like an exquisitely crafted but lifeless marionette—obedient, compliant, every smile and frown tailored to please, yet utterly devoid of vitality.

Xie Qingman carried none of that eagerness to please.

Her eyes were too lively, yet their color was cold, always exuding an aloofness that kept others at a distance.

Her innocence was feigned, her timidity an act. In truth, she was inherently untamable, born with a cool and detached nature.

It seemed that only in that disoriented moment in the elevator did she reveal a trace of genuine emotion.

The more Ye Yansheng observed, the less interested he became.

He hadn’t actually intended for her to sing Kunqu opera, nor was he particularly fond of it. He had merely been reminded of Xie Qingman from that day.

Coincidentally, his phone vibrated at that moment, and he saw her name light up the screen. Hello?

Xie Qingman knew nothing of this. All she knew was that the location Ye Yansheng had given her was exceptionally discreet.

Discreet because, without someone waiting for her in advance, she could easily spend half a day lost in the labyrinthine alleys.

The Capital City Young Masters, having been repeatedly admonished by their families, generally avoided overly conspicuous spots.

Most of them frequented areas near Fuyou Street, Beichizi, or the vicinity of princess mansions, or even more secluded venues.

As for clubs along Chang’an Avenue, after November 2012, they were no longer the mainstream hangouts for the Young Masters circle. From then on, many clubs relaxed their membership criteria, lowering the threshold so that anyone with a decent background and sufficient fees could potentially join. Compared to the past, the clientele’s social standing had steadily declined.

Those with real influence tended to keep a low profile. After all, their families had repeatedly warned them: flaunting their status outside would only lead to trouble at home.

Miss Xie? The front manager of the private club greeted her with great courtesy, a warm smile on his face. Please follow me.

As he spoke, he signaled to someone behind him.

Xie Qingman followed at a leisurely pace, passing through a glazed-tile-decorated hanging flower gate adorned with Hexi painted designs, discreetly observing her surroundings.

Unlike typical courtyard homes, this private club was structured as a five-courtyard complex, interconnected by alleyways. Smaller courtyards were arranged around the periphery, each bearing elegant and unique names, ensuring privacy and tranquility.

The exterior resembled a maze, seemingly unremarkable, yet the interior’s construction costs surpassed even the land’s value—

Every brick and tile here was a relic from the previous dynasty, every table and chair an antique, and every decorative piece a priceless auction item.

The place exuded classical elegance, a tranquil oasis amidst the city’s bustle.

Past the second courtyard, the scenery shifted with each step—jade bamboo cast delicate shadows, the subtle fragrance of plum blossoms lingered, and koi fish swam beneath the zigzag bridge.

There, beneath the pavilion, she spotted the familiar figure.

The artificial hill and flowing water composed a scene like an ink-wash painting, elegant and free-spirited.

Ye Yansheng stood half-hidden in the soft ink-like shadows, resembling a blade sheathed—its wildness and sharpness concealed.

At the sight of her, the figure in the painting stirred.

Took you long enough? His deep voice held a hint of teasing.

How kind of you to worry, Xie Qingman replied coolly, her tone neither too high nor too low. Your one sentence cost me over an hour on the road.

What a thing to say.

Ye Yansheng wasn’t annoyed. His dark eyes met hers, and he let out a low chuckle. My fault for not picking you up earlier.

It wasn’t just traffic, either.

With the year-end approaching, traffic control in the capital had tightened more than usual. Many areas were either no-parking zones or completely blocked off.

Without a pass, detours were the only option.

Xie Qingman, in her 12cm heels, had walked a winding route all the way here, her temper fraying with every step.

The club owner, who had escorted her, hadn’t left yet. Hearing her remark, his cheek twitched involuntarily:

Who else could speak to Ye Yansheng with such bluntness and get away with it?

And yet, Ye Yansheng simply laughed it off.

But rules were rules—certain questions still had to be asked.

With a hesitant expression, the owner ventured, Young Master Ye, about the communication devices…

No need, Ye Yansheng said dismissively, taking Xie Qingman’s wrist. Let’s go.

Xie Qingman paused briefly, a flash of memory crossing her mind.

Earlier, while passing through the alley, she’d noticed the parking area filled with vehicles with black cloths draped over their license plates.

Putting two and two together, she understood.

So this place confiscates phones too?

–

At the same time, Zheng Dongyue stormed into the courtyard inscribed with the words Cleansing Azure. Furious, his voice arrived before he did.

He’s rebelling, absolutely rebelling! I’ve invested so much damn money—don’t I get a say?

Who’s upset you this time?

Some TV director actually dared to challenge me!

Zheng Dongyue was fuming. That old fool has lost his mind! Passing over a double-award-winning actress for a complete rookie! He signed the contract without even consulting me.

He tossed a file onto the side table, which contained audition details and the actor’s profile.

A few bystanders gathered around, clicking their tongues in admiration:

She’s quite the looker—gorgeous face and a great figure.

No kidding…

Yue, don’t be sore. I’d say the director’s got a better eye than you. In terms of looks and poise, this girl could easily outshine anyone.

Pei Ze, who usually couldn’t be bothered with such trivial matters, glanced over, then paused and took a longer look.

Wasn’t this the woman from Hong Kong?

Pei Ze’s expression tightened slightly.

Sure, she’s easy on the eyes, but even if she descended from the heavens, she can’t screw with my profits!

Not every company project required his personal attention. Compared to biotech and AI ventures, his investments in the entertainment industry were usually just pocket change—hardly worth his concern.

But this series had swallowed up hundreds of millions.

Spending that much to promote a newcomer? It was like tossing money into the water for the fun of it—pointless.

At least if you dropped cash on the ground, you’d hear it hit.

Zheng Dongyue grew angrier the more he thought about it, flying into a rage. Couldn’t they have given her the female supporting role? That old fool must be lust-blinded, probably having an affair with this—

Watch your language, Pei Ze suddenly interjected.

I haven’t blacklisted her yet—that’s respectful enough, Zheng Dongyue retorted irritably. What, is she your lover? Defending her like this.

There was no need for him to lift a finger.

Given the current online climate and the entertainment industry’s PR tactics and marketing companies’ ability to manipulate narratives—

The moment the production team made the official announcement, all hell would break loose.

Never mind how the public would perceive an award-winning actress being replaced; there was also a popular young actress in the second round of auditions. Her fans wouldn’t dare attack established stars, but they wouldn’t hesitate to tear into a newcomer. Once multiple factions started warring, both the newcomer and the drama would be finished.

Keep your mouth clean and leave me out of it, Pei Ze said coldly, staring at him. Even if there’s something going on, it would only involve your Second Brother Ye.

What the hell? Are you looking for a fight today? Zheng Dongyue hadn’t processed it. What does this have to do with Second Brother? He—

Before he could finish, Zheng Dongyue abruptly fell silent.

The golden nanmu lattice door swung open as Ye Yansheng and Xie Qingman entered one after another, barely half a step apart.

The surroundings plunged into an eerie silence.

The previously amused onlookers went mute, exchanging knowing glances with bewildered expressions.

Holy shit.

Zheng Dongyue opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, his expression shifting dramatically. After a long pause, he finally managed: What kind of show is this?

Good question, Pei Ze chimed in, never one to miss stirring the pot. Why don’t you go repeat what you just said and see how your Second Brother Ye reacts?

He added half-jokingly, Who was it you said you were going to blacklist again?