Chapter 6: Cold Wine in Spring Mountains

He forcibly pressed down her struggles…

Their gazes silently crossed in the air, creating an illusion of close combat.

The second-floor light refracted through the screen, casting alternating patterns of brightness and shadow around Ye Yansheng. His impeccably tailored suit, somber and melancholic in style, carried a hint of arrogance between nobility and decadence. Though his posture appeared relaxed and casual, there was an indescribable ferocity and ruthlessness about him.

He was watching her.

His scrutinizing gaze was too intense, too invasive, yet before she could feel offended, he tactfully averted his eyes with remarkable restraint.

In those brief seconds, a subtle tension silently spread.

Xie Qingman’s heart skipped a beat.

Truthfully, she hadn’t even recalled who this person was. She simply felt unsettled—unsettled by his earlier gaze that had locked onto her like prey.

Elusive yet irresistible.

But there was no time for her to ponder further, as the flicker of familiarity was abruptly scattered by an unexpected voice.

You came without giving any notice? If my uncle finds out, he’ll blame me for lacking courtesy.

The commotion had just erupted when it was halted.

Before Ye Yansheng could say anything, a young man hurried over, his cheerful greeting audible from afar. The stage manager trailed behind him with a worried expression.

From his entourage and demeanor, it was clear he was the hidden owner of this place.

My uncle…

The club’s behind-the-scenes owner paused meaningfully.

After scanning the room and noticing only Pei Ze seated beside Ye Yansheng, he cautiously asked, He didn’t come with you?

Perhaps genuinely irritated by the disturbance, Ye Yansheng seemed disinterested. He uttered a casual Just passing by, then added with a faint smile, He didn’t come. Otherwise, he might have caught quite a show.

His tone wasn’t exactly displeased.

The speaker remained calm, his words seemingly offhand, yet those nearby harbored their own concerns.

The flowing air seemed to slow.

Upon hearing didn’t come, the club owner’s expression relaxed slightly, as if he had breathed a sigh of relief.

But he clearly dared not show any neglect, remaining courteous to Ye Yansheng and offering repeated apologies.

Only when he turned to others did his expression darken, becoming downright grim.

You all truly honor me. The show on stage hasn’t even finished, yet you’ve already started one offstage. Those who know might think you’re here to support—

He smirked without warmth, But those who don’t would assume you’re here to sabotage.

Who would dare sabotage the He family?

Though he was merely a collateral relative of the He family, leveraging their influence to navigate financial circles, the weight of the He surname in the capital was well understood by all present.

The producer shuddered, straightening up. Young Master He, my sincerest apologies for disturbing you and your friends.

Eager to absolve himself, he added, It’s this woman who’s being disrespectful, bothering your friend. I’ll—

His twisted account was cut short by Ye Yansheng’s soft, derisive chuckle.

I wasn’t referring to her.

Ye Yansheng remained unshaken, still seated with effortless composure, exuding languid ease.

Yet his gaze felt heavy, pressing down on others until they could barely breathe.

I was referring to you.

The previously arrogant producer froze, unable to utter another word of his threats.

The young man surnamed He, the feared mastermind behind this club, was no small figure.

He moved through the Beijing Circle with unchecked authority.

Yet even someone of such illustrious background had to show deference to Ye Yansheng. Anyone with half a brain would know who not to cross today.

Some thoughts were better left unexplored—digging too deep might lead to unforeseen consequences.

Xie Qingman was equally taken aback.

She never expected him to cause her trouble, but neither did she anticipate that he seemed to be… standing up for her.

The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on her.

Seeing the situation escalate, the producer immediately sought to defuse it. He slapped his own face and said, My loose tongue has ruined your mood. I’ll get out of your sight right now.

But leaving wouldn’t be that easy.

Thinking of leaving already? Ye Yansheng’s tone was light, his smile faint and not reaching his eyes. You certainly think highly of yourself.

The same words.

Just minutes ago, he had used them to threaten Xie Qingman. Now, they were thrown back at him.

Anyone could see that the young master was in a foul mood, unwilling to show the slightest leniency.

Without his say-so, this matter was far from over.

A flicker of surprise crossed the club owner’s eyes.

If Ye Yansheng was displeased, a mere gesture would have someone else handle the matter. Some might even act on his behalf without a word, anticipating his wishes.

Why bother dealing with such a trivial matter personally?

Especially when the target was someone utterly insignificant.

The owner glanced at Pei Ze, who shrugged slightly as if to say, Don’t look at me, I don’t know either, before casually swirling his teacup lid, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle.

The producer’s face had turned ashen. No matter how humiliated he felt, he dared not show it.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

It was my blindness. I apologize to you and Miss Xie.

All his earlier arrogance had vanished. Not daring to show even a hint of resentment, he steeled himself and walked up to Xie Qingman. With a sharp crack, he slapped his own face:

Miss Xie, I was blind not to recognize your importance. I sincerely apologize.

So her absurd guess had been right, Xie Qingman thought.

He really had come to stand up for her.

Her gaze lowered slightly, long lashes trembling faintly, veiling the emotions in her eyes. Her reaction was unreadable.

It was impossible to tell whether she was startled or indifferent.

The crisp sound of slaps echoed through the dead silence, each strike forceful enough to make one’s scalp tingle.

Please show mercy and don’t hold it against someone like me.

But was he really begging for her mercy?

Xie Qingman averted her eyes from the wretched man and looked across the room, her heartbeat unusually rapid.

Her emotions were a tangled mess, but one thing was clear: the man sitting in a position of power was the more unpredictable and dangerous one.

With a single offhand remark, he had turned the situation upside down.

She shouldn’t stay any longer.

Getting involved with someone like him was like riding a tiger—hard to dismount.

Yet she still looked at Ye Yansheng and, in a calm, placating tone, said softly:

Let it go.

The farce ended as abruptly as it began.

No one cared about the cause, and no one dared to comment. The dance performance on stage resumed as if by unspoken agreement. Everything inappropriate had ceased abruptly. No matter how turbulent the undercurrents, the surface remained perfectly calm.

The matter was nearly settled when the man behind the scenes finally lifted his chin. You may leave, but we need to address this 300,000-yuan folding screen and the shattered teacups scattered across the floor.

He glanced at his subordinate. Take someone downstairs to calculate the damages.

It wasn’t an exaggerated demand.

The J.-M. Frank designed folding screen, despite its unremarkable appearance and non-cutting-edge materials, was exorbitantly expensive. Moreover, anyone daring to wreck his establishment and expecting to walk away unscathed was delusional.

Although Xie Qingman was the one who had broken the items, Ye Yansheng’s attitude made it clear that she wouldn’t be held responsible for the compensation.

He didn’t mind catering to preferences and doing a favor.

The unfortunate one would inevitably be someone else.

The man behind the scenes half-jokingly asked Ye Yansheng, Shall I have someone invite that young lady over?

There was no need for his intervention. Noticing Xie Qingman’s intention to leave, Ye Yansheng spoke up himself:

Stay where you are.

His gaze fell upon Xie Qingman—calm, icy, yet brazenly appraising for several seconds, demanding her approach.

Xie Qingman remained motionless.

She simply watched him, her forehead smooth as jade, lips sharply defined, and eyes clear and cold like autumn water reflecting light.

Those eyes were too vivid.

Even with her frosty expression, they retained an enchanting allure, as if seduction were etched into her bones.

Seeing her refusal to move, Ye Yansheng didn’t press her. Instead, he leisurely closed the distance between them.

For a brief moment, Xie Qingman instinctively wanted to retreat.

But for reasons she couldn’t articulate, she suppressed the reflex.

She stood her ground.

At that moment, the light converged on the stage center, creating an ethereal and melancholic atmosphere. The dancer arched her feet, raised her arms, her delicate shoulder blades elegantly poised like butterfly wings. The principal dancer spun on one foot, leaping like a phantom—both sorrowful and sharp.

Offstage, Ye Yansheng stood before her, merely a step away.

This seemed to be their first true encounter.

Beneath his tousled hair were pitch-black eyes, sharp and profound, with a faint scar at the end of his left eyebrow.

His features were rugged, exuding ruthlessness and aloofness, yet tinged with a reckless charm. A contradictory aura:

Like fierce flames burning over frozen seas, or spring mountains blanketed in cold snow.

Dangerous, yet unforgettable for a lifetime.

He stood with his back to the light, looking down at her, his dark pupils resembling clear, profound lakes.

Within arm’s reach.

Xie Qingman inexplicably felt a sense of peril, as if escaping the tiger’s den only to fall into the dragon’s lair, and she subtly furrowed her brows.

How dare you…

She wanted to say something to break the tension.

But the moment she spoke, Ye Yansheng reached out, his cold fingers brushing against her neck, sending a shiver through her.

An ambiguous gesture.

Teetering between intimacy and provocation—like a lover’s caress yet akin to a blade at the throat—it made her heart race.

Xie Qingman’s instincts screamed, cutting her words short.

She reflexively tilted her head back, straightening her neckline, her chin inadvertently grazing his fingertips.

Are you nervous?

Ye Yansheng had unintentionally found her carotid artery.

Pounding violently.

Her slightly upturned neck appeared slender and fragile. This posture inexplicably evoked a desire to disrupt its composure.

Ye Yansheng raised a brow, not withdrawing his hand, but instead offering her a folded handkerchief, his gaze darkening:

You seem afraid of me.

Only then did Xie Qingman notice he had merely wiped away the tea stains splashed on her clothes.

No, she declined without taking it, calmly watching him with a gaze as cool and detached as frost. I’m just unaccustomed to strangers crossing social boundaries.

Her tone was polite yet distant. Still, thank you for stepping in to help me earlier today.

This earned a low, amused chuckle.

Stepping in to help?

Ye Yansheng withdrew his hand and after a pause asked mildly, Is that why you didn’t run away this time?

Xie Qingman was perplexed. They were strangers—what did he mean by this time?

My surname is Ye, Ye Yansheng. He curved his lips and leaned closer, his dark eyes locking with hers. We’ve met before, though you may not remember.

Deliberately, he closed the distance further, breaching social etiquette entirely.

The power imbalance between them was stark, his proximity creating overwhelming pressure.

Trapped against the second-floor railing with no retreat, Xie Qingman nearly raised her hands to push him away.

What are you doing? she whispered.

Her uplifted wrist was caught firmly in his palm as his voice—cold and tinged with the nonchalance of authority—reached her:

Don’t move.

Xie Qingman’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

【Don’t move.】

Those two words acted like a command, instantly reviving memories from that stormy night in Hong Kong months ago.

Fragments of recollection flickered through her mind, frame by frame.

She never imagined their reunion would unfold like this.

That night in the car, shrouded in dim light, she had only wanted to escape—anyone would flee from an armed stranger who might be dangerous—in her panic, she hadn’t seen his face clearly, hadn’t dared to.

Then she was knocked unconscious.

Compared to that night, the current situation was no better; if anything, it made past events feel like mockery.

Any remaining patience evaporated.

Xie Qingman studied Ye Yansheng expressionlessly for a few seconds before offering a brittle smile. Without warning, she drove her knee upward sharply toward him.

But he sidestepped effortlessly.

In the next instant, a powerful force pressed her down, quelling her struggles—the disparity in strength was absolute. Even a fraction of his strength rendered her immobile.

Instead of creating distance, he drew nearer.

So close their skin touched, so near their breaths mingled—a proximity fit for desperate intimacy.

She was no match for him.

Weren’t you just thanking me? Ready to burn the bridge after crossing the river?

Ye Yansheng restrained her effortlessly. Though his smile was faint, his aura lacked its usual sharpness and menace, leaving only a trace of condescending amusement:

After all, you and I have crossed paths once before.

Crossed paths?

Xie Qingman sneered inwardly. More like crossed paths with calamity.

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