Chapter 1

In the second year of coming to New York, the news reported that a once-in-a-century blizzard was approaching.

When the snowflakes drifted past the glass windows of the Manhattan Fifth Avenue apartment, Shang Mingbao paused in the act of trying on a dress.

No one expected the first snow to start in such a gentle manner.

In the spacious dressing room, long-pile carpets and chair backs were strewn with dresses and shoes. Her best friend from Hong Kong, holding a fruit-flavored lollipop, suddenly said, “A few days ago, someone ran into a clock screen on a plane.”

Shang Mingbao acted as if she hadn’t heard, walking to the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, kneeling on one knee, with her other bare foot resting on the long-pile carpet.

“The snow is coming so early this year.” She seldom saw snow, so she watched intently.

Looking down from this penthouse apartment, the streetlights on Fifth Avenue were already lit in the twilight. A woman wrapped in fur lit a cigarette in the wind and snow. A young man in a black jacket passed by her, holding a paper bag with a green and white plant sticking out of it.

Shang Mingbao’s gaze shifted, intrigued by the sight of someone carrying a green plant amidst the consumer crowd.

Her best friend was indifferent to the weather, lowering her voice and covering her mouth as she said, “People are saying Zhong Ping is gay, so how far did you guys get? He probably can’t perform, right?”

Zhong Ping was a movie star Shang Mingbao had admired for many years. Since last year, he had been aggressively pursuing her. She later found out that Zhong Ping had known about her family background all along and had been maintaining an improper relationship with his male superior for years. He approached her because he coveted her status as the third young lady of the Shang family, hoping to climb the social ladder.

Shang Mingbao really didn’t want to hear that name anymore. She closed her eyes to suppress her emotions. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t dare. Change the subject, please.”

Her best friend seemed oblivious to her displeasure and continued enthusiastically, “And those things people dug up online? He and his boss…”

Before she finished speaking, a cell phone was thrown straight into her lap.

“Enough already, Liao Yunuo! Do you want to call and ask him yourself right now?” Shang Mingbao suppressed the dizziness rising to her head and shouted, “Sophie!”

Sophie was her lifelong housekeeper. Hearing the call, she immediately pushed the door open, her expression tense. “What’s wrong?”

“Send Liao Yunuo home.”

Liao Yunuo happened to have plans for the evening, so she wasn’t upset by the abrupt eviction. Smiling, she got up and hugged Shang Mingbao’s shoulder. “Seems like you’re not over it yet. I’m serious; you should get out and breathe some fresh air. Gays are more common in Manhattan than homeless people. Why be angry for so long? You’re only hurting yourself.”

Before leaving, Liao Yunuo didn’t forget to grab a pair of red-soled high heels. “I like these. I’m taking them.”

Sophie arranged for a driver to send Miss Liao home and, upon returning, saw Mingbao nestled on the sofa, staring dazedly at the bustling skyline at dusk.

·

A few days later, Liao Yunuo returned, brimming with excitement, wearing the high heels she took last time. Behind her trailed a string of people, and she held up an invitation. “Get dressed!”

It was only three in the afternoon, but the indoor heating had made the alcohol’s aroma quite strong.

Shang Mingbao, holding a bottle of red wine, was half-lying on the chaise longue with her eyes closed. “Why get dressed?”

“Alan’s Bureau.” Liao Yunuo took the wine bottle from her and poured herself a full glass without hesitation. “Drinking alone is no fun. Come on, Alan invited a lot of friends.”

Alan’s surnamed Wu came from a prominent family, the fourth generation of the Wu family in New York since the Republic of China era.

With that, Liao Yunuo gave the housekeeper a look. “Sophie, iron the dress I brought and get your young lady to change.”

She snapped her fingers. “Don’t just stand there. Get Miss Shang ready.”

The private styling team, which served the stars and elites of Manhattan, had been instructed by Miss Liao to spruce up her friend who had let herself go.

Several people waiting behind her stepped forward and lifted Shang Mingbao. Unable to resist, she surrendered.

She obediently sat through two hours of grooming, from hair care to styling, skincare, makeup, and nails, finally emerging as a new person.

The girl reflected in the full-length mirror was slender and graceful, with chestnut straight hair shining softly. The bangs, styled recently, now looked delicate and chic.

A black Bentley was waiting by the curb. Seeing the two figures descend the steps, the driver bowed and opened the back door.

The car’s interior was preheated just right. Once inside, Liao Yunuo opened the champagne, took off her coat, and couldn’t wait to say, “Let me tell you, Xiang Lianqiao’s grandson is also here!”

“Who?”

The study-abroad circle in New York is vast, with people from various backgrounds popping up like mushrooms after the rain every day. Yet, it’s also very small, especially in the circle she and Liao Yunuo belong to. Those who fit in have always been there, and those who don’t can’t get in, no matter how hard they try. Shang Mingbao couldn’t imagine who could make Liao Yunuo so excited.

“Xiang Lianqiao!” Liao Yunuo repeated with emphasis.

After thinking for a few seconds, Shang Mingbao uncertainly asked, “Your… ex-boyfriend? Oh, sorry, he already has grandchildren.”

“…Miss, don’t you study history?” Liao Yunuo was almost incredulous.

The name, listed alongside various celebrities with commas in the textbooks, might not be a household name, but a quick search in the library would reveal a whole row of monographs, memoirs, and biographies, with footprints spanning continents and oceans.

“My dad always says Ambassador Xiang was an upright, modest, and very elegant and charismatic person. Although they only met a few times, he left a very deep impression and inspiration on my dad, who had just arrived in the U.S.” Liao Yunuo said while sipping her drink, “I never thought Alan had such a connection. He never mentioned it before.”

She spoke with great emotion, but Shang Mingbao didn’t take in any of it. Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of the surname “Xiang,” followed by a long period of distraction.

The car windows were tinted with dark, privacy film. Through the glass, the flickering lights of the Upper East Side townhouses appeared hazy and indistinct.

Lost in thought, Shang Mingbao’s gaze moved, bringing her back to reality. She loosened her grip on her chin.

How strange, she thought. In the depths of winter, on these affluent, prestigious streets, how could someone still be… riding a bicycle?

He wore a modest black windbreaker, zipped up to cover half his chin. Underneath a black beanie, silver earbuds stood out, and a headphone wire swayed with the sharp, cold wind as he rode.

The Bentley only traveled alongside him for a second before sliding past the street corner.

Under the high streetlights, amidst the swirling, large snowflakes, Shang Mingbao glanced back, only to see that half of his face exposed to the cold seemed excessively indifferent, yet also exceedingly calm and composed.

She didn’t know that ten minutes after she arrived at the Wu family mansion, this bicycle also entered the Wu family’s front yard. The young man, who had just been wearing the windbreaker, hurried up the steps and, with a swift motion, unzipped it to reveal a perfectly fitted black evening suit underneath. He walked into the same brightly lit building she had entered.

·

The Wu family residence was designed by a famous architect, grand and elegant. From the checkered windows covered by heavy curtains on the fourth floor, the sounds of a live, small orchestra playing drifted out.

The reception was set up in the foyer, where there was a spacious cloakroom that neatly stored all the guests’ coats and handbags. Various luxurious cashmere and fine wool garments were carefully hung.

Shang Mingbao took off her coat, handing her wool overcoat to the servant for safekeeping. Then, together with Liao Yunuo, she turned past the screen, walked through the hall, and finally arrived at the spiral staircase where they met the two hosts of the Wu family.

The host of this private dinner party was the youngest son of the Wu family. Since it was his first time hosting such an event, his mother accompanied him to ensure everything went smoothly.

In the seven-meter-high atrium, the crystal chandelier’s wind chime pipes hung like a waterfall. The mother and son were dressed impeccably: he in a suit and she in a royal blue silk evening gown, Baith displaying the characteristic warmth and impeccable charm of the Upper East Side.

“Auntie, Alan,” Shang Mingbao greeted them, and Mrs. Wu warmly opened her arms to hug her.

“It’s been so long since you’ve been out, Alan must feel honored,” Mrs. Wu said, holding Shang Mingbao’s hands warmly, then giving her son a sideways glance.

Wu Alan shrugged casually, “You should call me Bai Yan, otherwise, I’ll have to call you ‘Babe’.”

Shang Mingbao’s English name, given by her parents, was “Babe,” which fit her status as the cherished daughter of the Shang family. However, Wu Baiyan didn’t like calling her that, feeling it gave her an advantage.

Shang Mingbao tilted her head slightly, her rose-colored lips parting as she resisted the urge to retort, instead offering a signature fake smile.

She and Liao Yunuo arrived rather late, near the end of the welcoming period. A servant led them up the stairs, and Mrs. Wu watched for a few seconds before turning her gaze back to her son. “Most of the guests have arrived. You go upstairs and accompany Mingbao; I’ll handle the remaining guest.”

Wu Baiyan had the same idea but still asked, “Is he really coming?”

All the invited guests were his close friends, either wealthy or highly esteemed cultural and artistic figures in New York. The last guest, who was running late, was someone he didn’t recognize.

Or rather, someone he shouldn’t recognize. They had only met once in China when Wu Baiyan was still young, while the other person was already in high school.

Mrs. Wu adjusted the collar of her evening gown. “Since your father extended the invitation, he will come.”

·

A black carbon fiber bicycle glided smoothly around the last street corner before stopping in front of the Wu family mansion.

The path and steps leading to the Wu residence were covered in snow, showing the messy footprints of the guests, which were gradually being covered by new snowfall.

Xiang Feiran bent his long legs slightly and exhaled softly before checking his watch. There were still fifteen minutes left until the time specified on the invitation.

He parked and locked his bicycle among the luxury cars in the courtyard, then ascended the steps while removing his windbreaker. To prevent his suit from wrinkling while riding, he hadn’t buttoned it. As he walked, he buttoned his suit jacket in a mannerly fashion and took off his beanie, revealing his tousled black hair.

The Wu family’s doorman watched the entire process, his expression subtly intrigued. When Xiang Feiran reached the entrance, the doorman restrained himself and politely smiled, saying, “Sir, may I see your invitation, please?”

It wasn’t his fault; after all, he had never seen someone arrive at a formal event in outdoor gear.

Xiang Feiran, having moved into his new apartment only a few months ago and being too lazy to update his address, hadn’t received a physical invitation. He remained calm, unfazed by the request, and instead opened his email and retrieved the invitation from his “Deleted” folder.

As Xiang Feiran handed over his phone, his two fingers lightly pressing it, the doorman couldn’t help but notice his long, well-defined fingers, which inexplicably gave an impression of strength.

The doorman’s smile changed subtly as he apologized and took the windbreaker from Xiang Feiran with both hands.

The path leading to the staircase was luxurious and long.

His phone vibrated, and Xiang Feiran glanced down. It was a message from the band’s lead singer, complaining that the drummer he hired as a replacement showed up drunk and performed terribly.

As the Christmas season approached, the band’s performance invitations and fees were rising. No one wanted to damage their reputation. Xiang Feiran continued walking, typing a message with one hand, promising to make up for it with a free performance day.

After dealing with this, he reached the end of the long hall. He put away his phone, adjusted the temples of his glasses, and put on a pair of bronze half-frame glasses, presenting himself properly for the banquet.

Mrs. Wu was instructing the butler on the dinner details. When she caught a glimpse of Xiang Feiran, she involuntarily paused, the words she was about to say forgotten.

The butler, puzzled, followed her gaze.

In their line of sight, an Eastern man approached from the depths of the hall. He had an outstanding build, a wide yet slender frame that carried the black suit elegantly, exuding a memorable, young, and austere aura.

Outside the row of Roman windows to the right, snow drifted down in the night.