Chapter 14 The Hunting Relationship

The dragon-patterned censer burned incense, but it was also medicine.

Zheng Dongyue wore an expression as if he had seen a ghost.

You didn’t even give me a heads-up, he yanked Pei Ze behind the screen, his face shifting through several shades of unease as he lowered his voice, Where did this woman come from?

Originally, he was just angry, but the matter wasn’t hard to handle.

Wasn’t it easy for investors to manipulate a newcomer?

As long as the other party had no backing, swapping resources or paying a bit of compensation to find an excuse to replace them was simple; if he wanted to be ruthless, he could even avoid paying a single cent in compensation.

But the scene before him was too explosive. How could he dare to play deaf and dumb and be the villain now?

Zheng Dongyue’s expression was on the verge of cracking, What’s her relationship with Second Brother?

How would I know? Pei Ze smiled faintly, Last time in Shenhai, I was even treated like a chauffeur.

Watching Xie Qingman outside the screen, Zheng Dongyue’s expression was complicated as he tried to mentally prepare himself.

Wait, shouldn’t we keep things separate? Let’s not even mention that our marriages are beyond our control—I can’t call her Second Sister-in-Law yet, Zheng Dongyue frowned, Even if she somehow manages to marry into the family—

He sneered, I’m not going to gift hundreds of millions as a wedding present, am I?

Where in all of Beijing would you find a fool who gifts hundreds of millions for a wedding?

Besides, there are plenty of beautiful women out there. How long can Second Brother’s interest last? There’ll come a day when he gets tired of her.

Hmm, that makes sense. Pei Ze nodded, his face full of sympathy as he reminded the panicked Zheng Dongyue, But he seems quite taken with her. The crew contract is already signed. If you breach it and pull funding now, you’ll be offending his darling.

Regardless of whether Ye Yansheng would intervene, since they had crossed paths, the necessary respect had to be given.

Fuck.

Zheng Dongyue completely lost his composure, the curse slipping out.

Meanwhile, outside the screen.

The silence in the main hall was too conspicuous. It was Bo Wenqin who narrowed his eyes and smiled, breaking the ice first.

No wonder you’ve been distracted today, arranging for someone to wait early on. So you’ve acquired a new sister Xie, he teased without restraint, Aren’t you going to introduce us?

Xie Qingman sensed the peculiar atmosphere around her and gently tugged at Ye Yansheng’s sleeve, silently looking at him.

This scene made both Pei Ze and Zheng Dongyue’s lips twitch slightly.

She’s putting on quite an act, Pei Ze thought.

Last time, she was all subtle thorns hidden in silk, neither submissive nor overbearing. Now she’s playing the fragile, dependent damsel—truly a natural actress. She knows how to perform.

Do I need to explain myself to you? Ye Yansheng grasped her hand in return, letting out a cool, mocking snort, As long as she knows me, that’s enough.

Despite his words, he still led her around to greet everyone, exchanging a few pleasantries and making brief introductions.

Bo Wenqin’s eyes sparkled with even greater interest but he didn’t press further.

Everyone present was shrewd; no matter what twists and turns their thoughts took, they tactfully set aside their curiosity.

Soon, some resumed playing cards, others discussed business, and those seeking pleasure continued their revelry.

The momentarily frozen atmosphere quickly returned to normal.

The main hall and the east and west wings were interconnected, with twelve landscape screens serving as elegant and imposing partitions. On the wall hung a painting in Qi Baishi’s Red Flowers and Ink Leaves style—one of fewer than twenty in the world—flanked by Zheng Banqiao’s running script couplet:

Autumn ages Wu’s frost, the trees are a deep green;

Spring melts Ba’s snow, washing the mountain roots.

The first two courtyards remained relatively tranquil, with activities kept within reasonable bounds, presenting the appearance of a clean and orderly leisure venue.

Apart from the main five-section compound, the inner areas of the peripheral courtyards resembled other private clubs—equipped for social gatherings, fitness, and entertainment, complete with bars, restaurants, herbal baths, hot springs, swimming pools, various sports courts, and salons for yachts and sports cars. Every functional area was thoroughly provided for.

As for what lay within the rear three courtyards, outsiders had no way of knowing.

Why hasn’t Old Ninth returned yet? Bo Wenqin suddenly raised his voice.

He’s handling matters in Lin’an and got held up, Ye Yansheng replied lazily, leading Xie Qingman to their seats.

What could possibly keep him there so long? Bo Wenqin scoffed. Don’t tell me he’s also tangled up with some beauty?

You should ask A-Xu about that.

The group had settled into their respective seats as host and guests, while the attendant silently warmed the cups and prepared the tea.

The first infusion was poured, its clear amber liquid filling the cups, releasing an orchid-like fragrance that was rich and enduring.

This was Special Tribute tea, not circulated on the market.

After rock tea became price-controlled, expensive varieties disappeared from open commerce. Any tea worthy of being stored in a vault was labeled not for sale.

I’m in no hurry—I’ve already passed on the message for him. But you’d better remind him to return soon, Bo Wenqin said with a faint smile. Things have been unsettled lately. It wouldn’t look good if things go sideways.

He left the warning hanging.

A flicker of emotion passed through Ye Yansheng’s eyes.

Although his demeanor had been detached all evening and his tone casual, he’d still bothered to exchange a few perfunctory words. Yet hearing this, he unusually offered no response.

It seemed he had no intention of continuing the conversation—or at least not here—as he turned to glance at Xie Qingman.

He hadn’t released her hand, his palm now cool against hers. He gave it a deliberate squeeze.

Cold?

Xie Qingman’s pinky twitched. She withdrew her hand and cleared her throat softly. It’s fine.

Ye Yansheng smiled soundlessly, watching her for a solid ten seconds.

His eyes held a hidden sharpness—a disarming blend of nonchalance and provocation concealing an unnerving intensity that set hearts racing.

Without a word or action, she inexplicably understood the meaning in his gaze:

Avoiding me?

Xie Qingman calmly lifted her teacup, her expression serene as still water, while the tip of her shoe pressed against him and gave a light kick.

A warning, albeit one devoid of threat.

No one noticed her movement, but covert glances and speculative assumptions lingered in the air.

Silent, yet palpably subtle.

The subtle atmosphere didn’t last long. A discontented complaint from the neighboring room shattered the stagnant air:

Damn, I was just getting into it, and you bail halfway? someone leaned out. Who’s gonna take over?

I’ve been losing all night without a single win, and you leave? You bolt faster than a rabbit when you’re ahead.

Another person at the card table followed his gaze and immediately ruled out Ye Yansheng and Bo Wenqin. Right, you’re not thinking straight. Let’s not involve those two—give the rest of us a fighting chance.

Eager to reclaim lost ground, he rolled his eyes and suggested, How about Sister Xie? She’d be perfect.

You’re just trying to take advantage of a young lady because you’re losing so badly.

If she loses, Second Brother will cover it. He’s not that petty. The guy was determined to find a novice to redeem himself and egged her on enthusiastically. Right, Second Brother?

Ye Yansheng paid no mind to what the others were thinking. He merely lowered his eyelids and asked her lazily, Feel like it?

Xie Qingman met his gaze pensively, responding ambiguously only after a few seconds.

Noticing her odd attitude, Ye Yansheng raised an eyebrow. Can you play?

He worried she might be too polite to decline.

Xie Qingman lowered her long lashes, her tone light and faint as she said, A little.

–

And a little truly meant just a little.

From mahjong to billiards to wine tasting, no matter the pastime, Xie Qingman seemed to have dabbled in everything yet never delved deep.

During a break, Xie Qingman took a few billiard shots.

On the Hermès Off Piste nine-foot American pool table, she broke from the side. The balls collided and rolled, some sinking into pockets, while the white H-embossed cue ball slowly came to a stop. Her form was standard, and she played decently, but unfortunately, her opponent sank the black eight first.

Not bad, the guy who won the game couldn’t help but praise. Sister Xie plays a pretty good game of pool.

In truth, Xie Qingman’s last few shots had been below her usual standard—otherwise, the game would have been dangerously close.

But winners tend to be gracious.

I’ve played before, but I’m not as skilled as you, Xie Qingman replied with a slight smile, unbothered.

Just then, a waiter opened a bottle of aged wine. The guy, wary of potential losses ahead, led the group back to the mahjong table.

After several rounds, wins and losses were nearly even.

Ye Yansheng and Bo Wenqin had left midway and had been gone for some time—no one knew whom they were meeting or what matters they were handling.

Yet throughout the evening, these young masters remained courteous to Xie Qingman.

The conversation never stalled, and she faced no harassment or cold treatment. Even Zheng Dongyue, who had arrived fuming, was unusually silent and didn’t provoke her.

You’re really sitting tight, Pei Ze, who had been watching the drama all night, nudged Zheng Dongyue with his elbow. Second Brother isn’t here—why not take this chance to feel her out?

Stop fucking egging me on, Zheng Dongyue saw right through it and ignored him. Why don’t you go?

Didn’t he know Pei Ze?

This bastard lived for amusement and was clearly scheming.

I’m just concerned for you, Pei Ze said gleefully. It’s not like I invested hundreds of millions that ended up in her hands.

A vein throbbed on Zheng Dongyue’s forehead. He felt like beating Pei Ze up but held back, finally uttering just two words:

Piss off.

He wasn’t about to stir up trouble for no reason.

It wasn’t out of restraint or so-called chivalry—it was fear of Ye Yansheng and a desire to avoid unnecessary trouble.

The scions of Beijing’s elite could be all sorts of ways in private, but in proper settings, they knew to exercise self-restraint and uphold gentlemanly decorum.

They understood how to treat different people appropriately.

Until they figured out the relationship between Ye Yansheng and her, they wouldn’t even crack an inappropriate joke.

The evening remained relatively peaceful and quiet.

Time always flies when idled away. Xie Qingman only realized—upon hearing the commotion outside—that over two hours had passed.

Xie Qingman lowered her eyelids, spinning the mahjong tile she had just drawn absentmindedly.

Three dragons, seven pairs.

A great hand, yet she discarded one tile, her mind clearly elsewhere.

–

Ye Yansheng didn’t come straight in.

He stood under the corridor, chatting idly with Bo Wenqin as he lit a cigarette.

I’m genuinely puzzled—are you overly optimistic about He Jiu, or is this out of brotherly loyalty?

Bo Wenqin’s expression sobered. He’s certainly shrewd, but the He family dynamics are too complicated. We’re outsiders, after all—we shouldn’t—

The matter’s settled, no need to bring this up. Ye Yansheng let out a light scoff.

Bo Wenqin pressed his temples, suppressing the rising emotions. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten involved in this mess.

The scent of nicotine hung in the air as Ye Yansheng glanced sideways at him. Should I prepare generous gifts and visit your house tomorrow to express gratitude?

What a charmer!

Bo Wenqin finally laughed in exasperation, unable to hold back. Would it kill you to spare me the sarcasm?

No matter how composed one tried to be, Ye Er’s remarks were suffocating.

Ye Yansheng blew a smoke ring, leaning against the corridor pillar with a half-smile. Aren’t I just responding to you?

Fine, just fine.

I can’t control him, but I have to ask you—what exactly are you thinking? Do you really plan to spend your whole life tangled in business?

Bo Wenqin’s voice lowered, unusually serious. Not to overstep, but this wasn’t the path you were meant to take.

What defines what one should or shouldn’t do?

They say business can’t compare to politics, politics can’t rival the military, but truthfully, people like them all rely somewhat on family influence—none can completely break free.

What protects you also binds you. No matter which path you choose, you’re still manipulated by your family.

Go find someplace cooler to hang out, Ye Yansheng lifted his eyelids lazily. You are overstepping.

Bo Wenqin chuckled dismissively, not taking it seriously.

Then what about this? He tilted his chin slightly, his fox-like eyes lifting toward the figure inside. What’s the situation here?

Driven by curiosity all evening, the topic shifted direction.

Following his gaze, Ye Yansheng looked over, his vision piercing through the hazy window shadows to land directly on Xie Qingman.

Slender and tall with an icy, striking presence—she stood out unmistakably.

Ye Yansheng withdrew his gaze, seeming uninterested in conversation. His tone turned cold as he turned away, snuffing out his half-smoked cigarette. Aren’t you still overstepping?

Well done.

Bo Wenqin, always full of mischief, narrowed his eyes slightly at this.

Thinking of Xie Qingman’s face, he watched like an audience member at a play, meaningfully said: Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence—this woman and your past—

Ye Yansheng abruptly stopped and looked at him.

The lingering smoke hadn’t fully dissipated, spreading through the ink-stained night, brushing past his brows and eyes like a shadow—cold and devoid of warmth.

A moment of dead silence.

With a corner of the past unveiled, Ye Yansheng’s entire aura shifted—gloomy, sharp, and heavily hostile, utterly unlike his usual casual indifference. One glance was enough to chill someone to the bone.

In the stalemate, Bo Wenqin gave a half-smile and shrugged, pushing the door open for him.

Fine, pretend I never spoke.

The two walked one after another to the mahjong table in the east room, standing by to watch for a while.

Xie Qingman noticed Ye Yansheng behind her but paid him no mind, propping her chin with one hand while using the other to draw and discard tiles, seemingly still immersed in the game.

After a short while, her shoulder sank.

Ye Yansheng pressed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Why are you being so polite with them?

He could tell—she was being overly accommodating.

Holding good tiles back to prevent others from losing too badly; turning the tables effortlessly when at a disadvantage.

Throughout the entire evening, she hadn’t been serious at all—just maintaining perfect balance.

I let you join because I thought you might be bored. Ye Yansheng’s low voice murmured by her ear, carrying a hint of displeasure. It’s just a pastime—why are you so dutiful?

She certainly knew how to keep others happy.

Normally, she only ever bickered with him, so he hadn’t expected her to be so amiable with others.

Just playing around, why take it so seriously? Xie Qingman said carelessly. Afraid I’ll lose and spend your money?

Ye Yansheng chuckled lightly, his tone finally warming as the gloom in his eyes faded. Lazy and casual, he replied without a hint of seriousness, How could that be? I’m just worried you might get the short end of the stick.

He absolutely adored this side of her.

Xie Qingman curved her lips slightly, drawing a tile as she said airily, Then why don’t you join the game and go easy on me? Let me win a couple of rounds?

She didn’t look at him or lift her head, merely leaning slightly in his direction and resting against him.

It was a subtle movement, as natural as an instinctive act of reliance.

Ye Yansheng raised an eyebrow, feeling rather pleased, and was almost about to agree with a Sure.

Hey, hey, hey! Could you two mind the atmosphere a little?

The others at the table had been playing all night and were just hitting their stride, thoroughly enjoying themselves. They weren’t keen on Ye Yansheng joining in. One by one, they started teasing, their tones playful and exaggerated:

Second Brother, that’s not fair! Sister Xie is holding her own just fine—I haven’t even won two rounds yet, and you’re already playing favorites?

Exactly, you’re not as sporting as Sister Xie.

You’ve won plenty of times before, but we’ve never seen you show any pity for us brothers.

Bo Wenqin, who was sitting nearby, didn’t say anything. His eyes were too sharp; he had quickly caught on to what was happening.

This girl appeared aloof, but her demeanor wasn’t aggressive. She didn’t care about winning or losing—though she was clearly skilled, she didn’t like to show off.

Someone like her, who neither flaunted her abilities nor revealed any weakness, could easily navigate any situation if she wanted to.

But this attitude of hers was just too…

Bo Wenqin smiled faintly, thinking to himself what a pity it was that He Jiu wasn’t here to see he’d gained a sister from another mother.

Even so, in the following rounds, Xie Qingman stopped holding back and played her tiles as she saw fit.

She seemed to have either found her groove or activated some cheat code—her luck was simply too good.

Winner takes all, and she was cleaning up.

Gradually, the others at the table began to catch on.

But Xie Qingman knew when to stop. Shall we call it here? I finally managed to win a couple of rounds—it’d be a shame to lose them back.

If they continued, it was hard to say who would end up losing.

Xie Qingman had only been filling in to begin with.

She knew how to handle people and didn’t put on airs, making the whole interaction quite pleasant.

Now, with a polite suggestion, no one was going to refuse.

Besides, Ye Yansheng was standing right there. With his silent approval, who would dare say no?

–

By the time the gathering was winding down, it was already past midnight. Xie Qingman waited for Ye Yansheng for a while in the lounge.

The night was deep and heavy.

In the harsh winter of the capital, the air was dry and cold, the chill biting to the bone even without a blizzard.

The lounge was located in the east wing of the courtyard. Upon entering, a piece of cursive calligraphy hanging on the wall immediately caught the eye—the strokes powerful, elegant, and unrestrained.

The lounge was furnished with antiques and artifacts. To the left was a daybed, and to the right, a flower stand with a gold-inlaid multicolored porcelain surface, adorned with agate inlays. On it sat a set of Qing dynasty official kiln tea ware and a three-legged bronze censer shaped like a beast’s head with dragon patterns. On either side stood rosewood chairs carved with dragon reliefs. The other decorations were equally extravagant, making the place a true den of indulgence.

A wisp of smoke curled up from the incense burner.

I couldn’t quite identify the incense burning in the censer—it somewhat resembled Oriole Green, with its light and refreshing fragrance, though the sweetness in its base notes felt heavier, as if blended with something else, inexplicably pleasant.

The Receptionist held Xie Qingman’s coat and handbag, carefully hanging them on the purple sandalwood clothing rack shaped like a phoenix’s head, then refilled her tea:

Miss Xie, would you like me to prepare hot water for you?

Prepare what?

Perhaps noticing the question in her eyes, the Receptionist explained, We have a Hot spring here for bathing and hydrotherapy. If you’d like, we can change the water in advance for you.

Unlike natural hot springs, this was an artificial private pool.

No need, Xie Qingman said as she took her seat. I’ll just rest here for a while and leave soon.

The Receptionist acknowledged her words, added more incense to the censer, took a few steps back, and closed the door for her as she left.

The subtle fragrance spread, creating an intoxicating, soul-stirring sensation.

Feeling utterly bored, Xie Qingman thought to herself that she should have asked what kind of incense it was.

Resting her chin in one hand, her gaze swept around the room and settled on the authentic calligraphy scroll hanging on the wall. She stared at it for a long while, lost in thought.

This humble one is safe and well. Xiuzai has been here for over ten days, and everyone has gathered recently…

It was a Song dynasty replica of the Letter of Peace.

Imitating Wang Xizhi’s calligraphy.

The most precious Tang dynasty replica was housed in the Taiwan Museum, but the scroll before her could also be considered a rare treasure.

Xie Qingman hadn’t been tired initially, but perhaps the wait had been too dull. Leaning back in the rose chair, she gazed at the lines of cursive script and gradually felt a wave of drowsiness.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when someone patted her shoulder.

A Yin, let’s go.

A shadow fell over her as Ye Yansheng stood before her.

He leaned in slightly, one hand resting on the back of her chair, blocking most of the light.

His features were sharp, his aura imposing, his entire figure lean and cutting, exuding a sense of pressure.

Xie Qingman looked at him, blinking slowly.

What’s on your mind? Ye Yansheng’s voice was low and unhurried, tinged with a hint of amusement—the kind that was seductively ambiguous. Shall we go?

Mhm. Xie Qingman responded vaguely, her movements sluggish and compliant as she rose to follow him.

Her legs suddenly gave way.

As if all strength had left her, she uncontrollably stumbled into Ye Yansheng’s embrace, her forehead bumping squarely against his firm, taut chest.

The scent of Ye Yansheng instantly enveloped her.

The icy cedar notes pierced her soul, mingling with the fragrance of bergamot and the chill he’d brought from outside—dominant and sharp.

She couldn’t quite describe how she felt at that moment.

Half-drunk, half-awake, her consciousness was clear, yet her movements felt unusually heavy.

Xie Qingman let out a muffled Mmph.

Ye Yansheng glanced down, watching as she leaned against him, rubbing her forehead without any hurry to pull away. He raised an eyebrow slightly.

Surprised and inexplicably amused, he asked, What’s wrong with you today?

Xie Qingman covered her forehead and said nothing.

Sensing her unusual state, Ye Yansheng narrowed his eyes slightly and pressed his palm against her cheek.

He lifted her chin gently. A Yin?

She was burning up.

The chill from the cold air outside still clung to Ye Yansheng’s fingertips, unintentionally soothing Xie Qingman’s feverish warmth.

Her consciousness was fading, and almost instinctively, Xie Qingman pressed herself closer.

Feeling dazed, she nuzzled lightly against his palm, as if seeking reliance and comfort, drawing in the coolness from his body.

Her usual aloofness had vanished entirely. Her eyes were hazy, tinged with a drunken softness, as she murmured under her breath, So hot.

Ye Yansheng frowned slightly.

He gripped her chin firmly, creating distance between them, his slightly altered expression turning somber.

It hurts, Xie Qingman gasped in pain.

The forceful movement drew a soft whimper from her, but Ye Yansheng no longer looked at her. His gaze swept the surroundings before settling on the dragon-patterned lion-head incense burner where fragrant smoke curled upward.

Pale wisps of smoke curled upward, the intoxicating fragrance hanging soft in the air, silently inducing a sense of lethargy.

Ye Yansheng’s gaze turned cold as he knocked over the incense burner with a sweep of his hand.

Thud—

The overturned burner emitted a dull sound, jostling the tea set on the flower stand and sending it crashing to the floor in a messy heap.

Dust and smoke swirled in the air—a seductive poison, a lethal fragrance. The faint tendrils of smoke thickened instantly, clinging to his coat and the hem of her dress, enveloping them in an inescapable haze.

Within the beast-headed, dragon-patterned burner, incense burned—but it was also a drug.

After a long while, the dust settled in the air, the ash of the incense covering the unburned remnants, and the last threads of smoke finally dissipated.

Feeling the person beneath his grip tremble, Ye Yansheng loosened his hold on Xie Qingman.

She couldn’t steady herself and slumped back into the rosewood chair.

Perhaps his grip had been too forceful—a red mark lingered at the junction of her jaw and neck.

The mark stood out starkly against her snow-white skin, the contrast intense. Combined with her posture, as if she had been thoroughly mistreated, the scene before him felt overwhelmingly ambiguous and subtle.

Ye Yansheng’s eyes darkened.

He had clearly been angered earlier, his dark eyes shadowed with intensity, as if veiled in gloom.

But in the few seconds their gazes met, the emotion in his eyes grew murky, obscure, and intensely predatory.

It was as if he were assessing—or perhaps admiring—a prey that had fallen into his grasp, one he could manipulate at will.

Lofty and dangerously dominant.

Xie Qingman shivered under his stare.

A thrill of complete subjugation shot up from her tailbone, and combined with her fall, it briefly jolted her back to awareness.

Her lips parted, her breath unsteady. Ye Yansheng…

Hmm? he responded distractedly.

You— Xie Qingman’s voice trembled, her chest heaving violently as she forced out two words, Don’t you—

Ye Yansheng raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer.

Don’t what?

He lifted her chin, a smirk playing on his lips though his eyes remained unmoved. What are you afraid of?His tone was detached, yet thoroughly unpleasant.

Of course she was afraid.

The imbalance of power was all too clear—he had trapped her within a confined space, assuming the posture of a predator.

And she, with no strength to resist, her back pressed against the chair, had no room to retreat, no means to fight back.

—By all appearances, this was a situation where he could take whatever he wanted.

If he so wished.

But before her chaotic thoughts could fully form, the weight of his presence lifted abruptly as Ye Yansheng stepped back and turned to leave.

He was gone.

Xie Qingman stared blankly at his retreating figure, blinking slowly as the realization dawned on her.

He just… left?

…Damn, what kind of move was that?

A wave of confusion washed over her, mingled with restless irritation.

The heat within her surged, burning hotter, threatening to consume what little rationality she had left.

At this point, trying to decipher his intentions was pointless—Xie Qingman only wanted to escape this troublesome place.

She braced herself against the armrest of the rosewood chair, attempting to rise, but her body felt weak and uncooperative.

Still, she wasn’t completely immobilized.

Supporting herself on the flower stand, Xie Qingman struggled to her feet and steadied herself. Scanning her surroundings, her eyes fell on the cashmere coat and chain-strap bag hanging from the round-carved phoenix-head clothing rack, and a headache set in.

A distance of just a few meters took her three or four minutes to navigate.

The overturned bronze burner, scattered incense ash, shattered porcelain shards… the lounge was in complete disarray. The water stains on the floor had been tracked everywhere under her steps—a scene of utter chaos, strikingly reminiscent of the aftermath of… certain activities.

Xie Qingman leaned against the wall, pulling out her phone, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her skin.

Before she could do anything, footsteps sounded behind her. She turned and collided with a gaze that seemed both mocking and amused.

Her phone slipped from her hand.

Ye Yansheng leaned forward slightly, catching it effortlessly. He rotated it in his palm, his eyes dark and intense, the scar through his left eyebrow adding to his sharpness. Yet his gaze toward her was lazy, and he let out a low, husky chuckle. You’re quite something.

You—

Xie Qingman froze, not expecting him to return after leaving.

But before she could finish, Ye Yansheng lifted her with one hand, hoisting her over his shoulder.

Xie Qingman was truly stunned.

What are you doing? She pushed against him, but her strength was feeble and ineffective.

The sandalwood clothes rack toppled to the floor.

Ignoring her struggles and protests, Ye Yansheng carried her effortlessly as he strode outward.