When Luo Jiajun saw that his friend had managed to bring a woman home just by going out to buy seasonings, his jaw dropped: “Hey, are you trying to speedrun life? First a car, then a new place, and now you’re picking up women? Are you going to have a baby tomorrow?” He lowered his voice for emphasis, “She’s a Senior Partner, you know. If you make a move, you’ll have to take responsibility.”

“Shut up—” Jiang Quyan rolled his eyes, “She bought me the cake so I invited her to join us for a casual meal.”

Luo Jiajun whistled: “A meal, some drinks, and then it’s baby time.” He patted his chest confidently, “Do you want me to make an excuse to leave later? Just give me a signal, and I’ll totally play along!”

Jiang Quyan couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. He arranged the cleaned seafood on a plate and brought it out, then told Sussi to help herself to drinks and watch TV: “Make yourself at home. Jiajun and I don’t stand on ceremony here.”

“This apartment is just like mine, except yours is newer.” Sussi had already done a full circle, helping him clean up some clothes on the couch that hadn’t been folded yet.

Jiang Quyan tasted the broth in the pot. “Is it really that new? You can tell just by looking?”

“This is the second phase, built later, so it’s newer,” Sussi found it amusing. “Didn’t you ask about these things when you moved? You don’t even know what kind of apartment you’re living in?”

The decision to move wasn’t his. How could Jiang Quyan possibly know? But it wasn’t convenient to explain. “It’s a friend’s place—just happened to be available, so I took the opportunity. I didn’t ask much.”

Sussi pointed to the door with a playful expression: “Those ‘friends’ in suits outside?” referring to the two bodyguards at the door.

Jiang Quyan laughed it off: “Come on, sit down, let’s eat!”

The three of them sat around the coffee table in front of the TV, raising their beer cans for a toast. The TV was playing Wisely, with Kristy Yeung portraying a seductive nightclub singer. Her melodious voice lingered in the air.

“I still prefer her doctor outfit,” Luo Jiajun commented while drinking. “The white coat suits her temperament best. Heavy makeup just doesn’t have the same charm.”

Jiang Quyan hadn’t been following the plot. “So what exactly is her role? First, she’s a doctor, now she’s a singer?”

Sussi explained: “She has many identities. When the male lead first meets her, she’s a doctor. This is the second time, and she’s become the mistress of a Shanghai gang leader. No one knows her real identity yet; some guess she’s not even human. It’s a sci-fi drama; she might be an alien.”

“You like watching this?” Jiang Quyan thought senior partners wouldn’t have time for TV dramas.

Sussi was in it for the male lead, Gallen Luo: “Gallen is so handsome; I really like him. I’ve watched ‘At the Threshold of an Era’ three times.”

Luo Jiajun interjected: “Kristy’s character isn’t actually a mistress. She and the gang leader are father and daughter. TVB aired it a little ahead, so I’ve seen that part.”

Sussi looked at Jiang Quyan: “So it was a misunderstanding.”

Jiang Quyan didn’t notice the look; he was scooping a piece of meat from the pot for her: “You like Gallen’s playboy type? Be careful; he has a lot of scandals.”

“I know. He was just spotted with Jessica Hsuan again,” Sussi said, sweating from the heat. She took off her jacket, rolled up her sleeves, and tied up her long hair. “Sigh, I didn’t expect it. He and his wife seemed so loving—13 years together. I thought he was faithful and family-oriented. Turns out, all men are the same.”

“Don’t generalize all men; there are loyal ones too,” Luo Jiajun disagreed.

Jiang Quyan scoffed: “People who say that usually aren’t good men themselves.”

Sussi laughed heartily. After drinking, she wasn’t as reserved as when she first arrived. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a tissue, her bangs sticking to her forehead and cheeks, her face flushed from the spicy food. The steam from the hot pot made her pull at her collar to fan herself, her silk white shirt revealing the outline of her bra as it swayed.

“If he’s not a good man, then are you?” she leaned in with a teasing smile.

Jiang Quyan didn’t meet her gaze. Casually, he leaned back against the sofa, subtly putting distance between them. “I never claimed to be. Don’t get me wrong—I’m no saint either.”

Sussi didn’t press further, pulling back with a playful pout: “You admitted it yourself, so I was right. Men are all the same.”

Jiang Quyan considered how to respond. “Have you heard the saying, ‘A wife is not as good as a concubine; a concubine is not as good as an affair’?”

Sussi shook her head, still laughing.

“That saying is quite accurate,” Jiang Quyan explained. “Men are inherently fickle. A wife isn’t as exciting as a mistress, a mistress isn’t as thrilling as an affair, and even an affair isn’t as enticing as the one they can’t have. The harder something is to get, the more they want it—it’s the thrill of conquest. So if a woman is too easy to pursue, men quickly lose interest. But if she’s distant, unattainable, it keeps them hooked.”

Sussi listened intently: “What about you? You’re a man too.”

Jiang Quyan admitted freely: “Yes, I’m a man too.”

“Then who’s the one you can’t have?”

“Haven’t found them yet. I mean, look at me—I’m good-looking. Getting someone I want shouldn’t be difficult.”

Sussi called him out: “So there is someone. Don’t try to deny it—women’s intuition is spot on. Who has such high standards that even you don’t stand a chance? A ‘flower on the high mountains’? Oh! So that’s your type.”

Jiang Quyan firmly denied it. “I told you, no such person. Don’t be so nosy. Nosy women aren’t attractive.”

By the end, all three were quite drunk, the living room littered with beer cans. Seeing Sussi wasn’t fully sober, Jiang Quyan wanted to send her home, but the senior partner waved him off, striding out in high heels with steady steps, leaving Jiang Quyan impressed. He himself felt unsteady even in slippers.

Luo Jiajun also went home on his own.

Leaving the mess for later, he hurriedly showered and went straight to bed. He slept in and almost ran late the next day—for Guan Xuexin’s shoot.

Even on vacation, it was impossible to truly be free of work.

Jiang Quyan juggled multiple roles, often feeling like he needed to split himself into three. Even off-duty, his phone stayed on 24/7—there was never such a thing as true “rest.” On top of that, he handled core business matters, controlled key media channels and resources, and had extensive experience. Many tasks couldn’t simply be delegated.

Besides, he personally managed Guan Xuexin’s schedule. As an underage girl navigating the entertainment industry, she needed a reliable, loyal, and experienced agent to guide and protect her—something her father, Guan Zhengying, had repeatedly emphasized.

This was Guan Xuexin’s first luxury brand endorsement since returning to Hong Kong, and Jiang Quyan took it seriously. He had been involved in every step, from negotiating the contract to finalizing the deal. The shooting plan had been set a month in advance, with wardrobe, styling, location, and creative direction carefully coordinated with the brand.

In addition to the usual promotional photos and cover images, the brand had an additional request this time—to shoot a commercial. Reportedly, the investment in this project had broken the brand’s previous budget records. A custom-built set was constructed, luxury cars were rented, fresh flowers were airlifted for decoration, and the brand’s exclusive model was brought in to act alongside Guan Xuexin.  

“CUT!” The director called out, “Joanne, after stepping out of the car, don’t walk away immediately. You can touch the car’s body, glance around casually, and check your lipstick or outfit in the side mirror. Make your movements more showy!”  

By the afternoon, Guan Xuexin was exhausted, her expression slightly stiff, but she persisted in retakes until the director was satisfied. She walked over to the monitor to review the footage. “Wow, this angle has such a great vibe. It even has a bit of a retro feel.”  

Jiang Quyan ruffled her hair. “You worked hard. Good job.”  

The director was equally pleased. “This shot reminds me of an old one of Vincent’s from years ago.”  

“Me?” Jiang Quyan was surprised. He didn’t recall such a thing. “When was that?”  

Guan Xuexin was intrigued. “I want to see! Do you have the photo?”  

The director pulled up a picture on his phone and showed them. “This was years ago. You had just debuted, and I took this shot at the Hong Kong car exhibition. You probably don’t remember, but I’ve kept this white suit picture for a long time—couldn’t bring myself to delete it. Every time I look at it, I’m amazed. I remember the newspapers back then described you as ‘A pristine white magnolia, blooming in Hong Kong.’ A true ‘Hong Kong White Magnolia.’”  

At that time, long coat-style suits were back in fashion, inspired by Chow Yun-fat’s look in ‘The Bund’, and modeling agencies dressed several of their models in them. But not everyone could pull it off—it required both height and broad shoulders to avoid looking overwhelmed, and your aura had to match the pristine color— Otherwise, it could look more like mourning attire.  

Fortunately, Jiang Quyan had been in his early years then—his face still delicate and youthful, his demeanor untouched by the industry’s wear and tear. That was how he managed to wear white so effortlessly, exuding a serene yet striking presence, as if he had stepped straight out of a winter’s dream. Even the notoriously sharp-tongued Hong Kong media had been generous with their praise.  

“So it’s true,” Guan Xuexin murmured, staring at the old photo. “Dad wasn’t exaggerating.”  

The director admired his own artistic taste even more. “One of you is dreamy and romantic, the other is pure and elegant. Both of you are stunning. I should print these two images and frame them together.”  

Jiang Quyan shuddered. “Is that really necessary? Everyone looks good when they’re young.”  

Guan Xuexin had a sudden idea. “Why don’t we take a new one right here? We’ve got a car anyway—this could be a real ‘then and now’ comparison. If it turns out well, I want a print too!”  

The director turned to the wardrobe team. “Do we have a white suit? Any length will do, as long as it’s white.”  

There were plenty of suits prepared for the male models, so the wardrobe stylist quickly found one. Glancing at Jiang Quyan’s frame, she pulled a set from the rack. “Try this one for size. If it doesn’t fit, we’ll swap it.”  

Before Jiang Quyan could protest, he was already being shoved toward the dressing room. “Wait! Can’t I say no? I don’t want to do this!” But no one listened, and the makeup team was called in to get him ready.  

While he was changing, the director called for a fifteen-minute break.  

Guan Xuexin sat down on a folding chair next to the monitor. Her dress was tight, making it hard to breathe, so she tried to loosen the belt a little. Just then, a commotion erupted behind her. She turned her head toward the noise and saw assistants pushing a catering cart toward the set, stacked high with drinks, snacks, and rows of neatly packed gift bags.  

At the same moment, someone approached her with a large bouquet of fresh flowers.  

“Boss Guan stopped by to visit. This is for you, Miss Xuexin. He also sent refreshments and gifts for the entire crew—such a thoughtful gesture! The boss really dotes on you.” The assistant’s voice was sweet.  

Guan Xuexin’s eyes swept over the crowd, and she immediately spotted her father. Her face lit up as she ran toward him. “Dad!”  

Guan Zhengying caught his daughter in a warm embrace. “My little girl keeps growing more beautiful.”  

Guan Xuexin happily kissed his cheek. “When am I not beautiful? How come you’re free to visit today?”  

He patted her head affectionately. “I came to check on you. Has my Ah Xue been behaving at work?”  

“Of course!” She proudly pulled him toward the monitor. “Doesn’t this look amazing? I could totally be an actress. Dad, you should buy a film company!”  

Only this spoiled princess could make such a request. And Guan Zhengying indulged her. “Sure. Whatever you want.”  

The brand representatives and assistant directors all came over to greet the big boss. Guan Zhengying wanted to speak with the director, but when he couldn’t find him, Guan Xuexin pointed toward the sports car set. “He’s over there—taking photos of Vincent.”  

Guan Zhengying raised a brow. “Why is he the one getting photographed? Wasn’t this your shoot?”  

“We’re just having fun with a nostalgic throwback.” She led him over to see Jiang Quyan in the white suit. “Isn’t he ridiculously handsome? He doesn’t look 35 at all—if you told me he just debuted, I’d believe it.”  

At that moment, Jiang Quyan turned slightly away from the car, the hem of his white suit lifting ever so slightly. The pristine fabric gleamed like fresh snowfall, exuding an ethereal elegance.  

Guan Zhengying’s face darkened. “Who told him to do this?”

Guan Xuexin hadn’t noticed the change in her father’s expression. “The director showed us his old photo, so we decided to do a 15-year comparison. Don’t worry, it won’t delay my work.”

“Tell the director to delete them,” Guan Zhengying said coldly. “And from now on, no more of these shoots.”  

Guan Xuexin was confused. “Why? It’s just for personal keepsake, not for public release.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Who wants to keep them?”  

His tone was laced with authority and restrained anger.  

Guan Xuexin tensed, sensing something off. Though she didn’t fully understand, instinct told her to act first—she hurried over to the director and requested the photos be deleted.  

Meanwhile, Jiang Quyan had also noticed Guan Zhengying’s presence. Jiang Quyan stood frozen by the car, his entire body tense, his face deathly pale.

The ever perceptive Miss Guan promptly dispersed the surrounding people and cleared the scene.  

Guan Zhengying glanced at Jiang Quyan calmly. “Come here.”