It wasn’t just anyone—standing there was none other than Zhou Huiwen, whom Cheng Youran had met that very afternoon. His delicate features seemed almost innocent, his gaze soft and misty, with a face so stunning it could rival any woman’s beauty.

“Wait a moment.”

Cheng Youran called out to him.

“Miss, are you looking for me?” The young man turned back with a hint of anticipation in his voice. His eyes landed on Cheng Youran’s impossibly gorgeous face, and a faint blush crept onto his cheeks.

Cheng Youran studied him intently. Seeing her hesitation, the young man spoke cautiously, almost timidly, “I’m very affordable. Not expensive at all.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.”

Cheng Youran waved her hand dismissively.

The young man’s gaze deepened, the mist in his eyes becoming heavier. He pressed his lips together, seemingly steeling himself. “I…I don’t even need payment.”

Cheng Youran: “…”

“Come sit and chat with me.” She gestured to the seat beside her as she sat down, her tone calm but inviting.

The young man’s eyes immediately curved into crescents as he smiled, radiating the energy of an oversized golden retriever wagging its tail. He cheerfully made his way to Cheng Youran’s side and sat down.

Feng Tiantian, on the other hand, was utterly dumbfounded as she watched the two chat and laugh like old friends. Her heart sank into despair. At this point, she wasn’t even worried about her dad finding out she’d come to a host club.

What she was worried about was Lu Zixiao finding out she had brought Cheng Youran here—and worse, that Cheng Youran seemed to be having the time of her life. She might as well start writing her will.

Feng Tiantian instinctively touched her neck, imagining her life flashing before her eyes. Without hesitation, she squeezed herself into the narrow space between the two and sat down. Her back was as straight as a ruler, and she wished she were two meters tall to block their view of each other entirely.

“What’s your name?”

Unable to figure out what Feng Tiantian was up to, Cheng Youran raised her voice a little as she spoke. It felt less like having a face-to-face conversation and more like trying to talk to someone across a Feng Tiantian-shaped barrier.

“Xie Jinzhou.”

The young man had a pleasant voice—clear, elegant, and with a unique charm that lay somewhere between a boy’s and a man’s. His words carried a natural hint of warmth and amusement.

“That’s a great name,” Cheng Youran praised, her tone light. “Did your parents give it to you, or did you change it yourself when you turned eighteen?”

“Definitely a name you changed yourself,” Feng Tiantian declared, tilting her chin as she scrutinized Xie Jinzhou. Even the small mole at the corner of his eye looked artfully placed. Not only was he better-looking than her, but his name also sounded better.

It had to be a name he chose later.

“The director gave it to me,” Xie Jinzhou said openly, his voice calm and steady. “The director of the orphanage. He was well-read and cultured.”

Feng Tiantian was taken aback for a moment. Then she remembered the five million yuan donation she’d made earlier that day. If it was going to someone like this, she began to regret it.

In Donghai City, even working as a delivery driver could earn a decent salary of several thousand yuan a month. Yet instead of taking those jobs, he chose to be here, trading his body for money. Feng Tiantian looked down on people like him.

After all, even as second-generation heirs, they still worked hard to build their lives. Xie Jinzhou came from an orphanage—what excuse did he have for not trying?

Cheng Youran, meanwhile, had fallen silent, lost in thought.

The atmosphere in the private room grew tense, the lightness from earlier evaporating in an instant. Xie Jinzhou’s shoulders trembled ever so slightly. Coming to Donghai City, he’d prepared himself for this—for pity, disdain, or outright disgust from others.

“How long have you been working here?”

Cheng Youran didn’t bother asking why he worked here. The answer would boil down to money—who would choose to be in a place like this if they had enough of it?

—So, she thinks I’m filthy, is that it?

Suddenly, Xie Jinzhou stood up and walked toward her. His strikingly beautiful face, almost otherworldly, carried a faint but undeniable intensity. He dropped to one knee in front of her, his gaze unwavering, stubborn. “This is my first day on the job. I’m not dirty yet.”

It was only then that Cheng Youran realized his eyes weren’t quite like Zhou Huiwen’s after all.

Zhou Huiwen’s gaze always held a certain warmth, a constant allure. But this young man, when not smiling, carried a sharpness in his eyes that seemed far beyond his years.

“Don’t overthink it. Wait here while I make a call.”

At that moment, Cheng Youran finally remembered Fang Liuyun, who was waiting in the car outside. Hurriedly, she took out her phone and called her.

About ten minutes later, Fang Liuyun arrived, her high heels clicking against the floor as she knocked on the private room door and stepped inside. “Ready to leave?”

“Not quite. Take a look at this person,” Cheng Youran said, gesturing toward Xie Jinzhou.

Cheng Youran took a small sip of her Coca-Cola.

Fang Liuyun, with her freakishly sharp memory—practically photographic—stared at Xie Jinzhou’s face and exclaimed in surprise, “He looks like Zhou Huiwen.”

Looks like? That was an understatement—it was practically identical.

Cheng Youran leaned closer to Fang Liuyun and quietly explained a bit about Zhou Huiwen. Her voice was so soft, however, that Feng Tiantian, sitting nearby, was left practically squirming with curiosity, desperate to catch even a fragment of their conversation.

…..

Late Night, Lu Corporation Tower

“President Lu is something else. The lights in his office are still on. If I don’t get home to sleep soon, I’m going to mess up my work tomorrow,” one employee said, yawning.

“Seriously, I respect him. Seven out of ten nights he sleeps in the office. He’s over thirty and doesn’t even have a kid yet.”

…

The group, chatting as they clocked out, suddenly fell silent when they saw Gao Qiao step off the elevator, a stack of documents in hand. They quickly straightened up and greeted him. “Good evening, Secretary Gao.”

“Good evening, everyone. Great work today,” Gao Qiao replied with a polite smile before heading toward the CEO’s office. As expected, the lights were still on. President Lu’s dedication to his work was unmatched.

Gao Qiao knocked lightly on the office door.

“Come in—”

Lu Zixiao’s deep voice came from behind the desk. He was seated at his computer, his long, slender fingers resting on the mouse. His brows were slightly furrowed, his mood clearly not at its best.

“President Lu, did we lose the bid for the Green City project?”

Gao Qiao sighed as he asked. The Li Group had deep roots in the north and natural connections with the capital. Historically, politics and business had always been intertwined.

Some battles weren’t lost due to poor competition but because the powers above simply wouldn’t allow you to compete.

Lu Zixiao shook his head, his tone carrying a touch of sternness. “No.”

“Then… did something go wrong with the Greater Yue Bay project?”

Gao Qiao’s heart skipped a beat. The Greater Yue Bay project was a colossal investment, with thirty percent of the Lu Corporation’s funds tied up in it. If something went wrong, the company’s annual profits would collapse.

But that didn’t make sense. As Lu Zixiao’s chief secretary, he would’ve caught wind of any issues before now.

Lu Zixiao raised an eyebrow slightly. His thin lips parted, and his tone carried an edge of incredulity. “No, not that either. Can you believe it? Cheng Youran doesn’t even have a proper fan club.”

Wait… what? Gao Qiao blinked in confusion. A fan club? Did he hear that correctly?

Lu Zixiao gently turned his laptop toward Gao Qiao, and in that moment, Gao Qiao realized just how naive he’d been before coming in.

Hard work? Not a chance.

On the screen were over a dozen open browser tabs, each one related to Cheng Youran: “Cheng Youran’s First Variety Show Since Her Comeback,” “Cheng Youran’s Alleged Spending Habits,” “Did Cheng Youran Get Plastic Surgery?” and so on.

In the bottom right corner, the QQ chat icon was flashing repeatedly. Gao Qiao glanced at it briefly.

—Cheng Youran National Fan Club Group Chat.

Lu Zixiao gave a small, approving tilt of his chin. Gao Qiao, caught off guard, reflexively said, “Yes, sir,” and clicked to open the chat history.

The first thing that caught his eye:
“Lu Zixiao has joined the Cheng Youran National Fan Club Group Chat.”

[President]: Welcome to the group! 👏👏

[How Much Is Half a Pound of Rock Sugar]: Bro, your username is something else.

[Lu Zixiao]: This fan club needs an overhaul. Your current disorganized and lackadaisical management style, along with allowing rumors to spread unchecked—do you think this has a future? I don’t. Below, I’ll outline a few key reforms for your management approach…

Gao Qiao stared at the screen, speechless. His mind scrambled to process the absurdity of what he was seeing.

“A few management requirements?” Gao Qiao glanced over the list and did a quick count—Lu Zixiao had outlined twenty-seven points and still didn’t seem ready to stop.

[President]: …

[Tian Tian]: Um, just saying, I think the group is fine as it is. No need to be so serious about it, right? @Lu Zixiao

[Eternal Youran Fan]: This guy’s just here to stir things up. President, just kick him out.

A notification popped up.

“You have been removed from the Cheng Youran National Fan Club Group Chat.”

“You find this unbelievable too, don’t you?” Lu Zixiao’s sharp features were laced with indignation. “If Lu Corporation operated with the same lack of discipline and structure, we’d have gone under eight hundred years ago.”

Gao Qiao fought to keep a straight face, carefully choosing his words. “And yet, they’ve managed to survive all these years.”

“Other fan clubs aren’t like this,” Lu Zixiao snapped.

Only today had he realized how professional some fan clubs were—they had dedicated station managers, teams to control public opinion, undercover members infiltrating rival fandoms, and an uncanny talent for delivering the most flattering compliments.

And Cheng Youran’s fan club?

Well…

[Candied Hawthorn]: Ugh, someone said our queen had plastic surgery. It’s clearly today’s god-tier styling! Their fave is the one who got work done—face full of fillers.

[Cotton Candy]: Don’t fight; they’re just jealous. Stay zen, everyone. By the way, what’s everyone having for lunch today?

[President]: Braised pork, cold eggplant salad, kung pao chicken.

“She just made her comeback—there’s no need to compare her to others,” Gao Qiao said cautiously, trying to tread lightly.

“What others have, Cheng Youran must have too.”

Lu Zixiao lowered his gaze, his voice calm but resolute. The light from behind cast a shadow over his face, making his expression unreadable.

Gao Qiao: …Great, another giant serving of dog food.

Just then, his phone rang. He answered without thinking, “Liuyun?”

It was Fang Liuyun’s first time calling him. Gao Qiao cleared his throat, covering a faint chuckle with his hand, momentarily forgetting to step outside for the call.

But the next second, his smile froze.

“What? Madam is at a host club and didn’t bring money?!” His voice, rising in shock, became impossible to suppress. “And you’re telling me not to alarm President Lu?!”

His throat went dry as his gaze involuntarily shifted toward Lu Zixiao, who was seated at his desk.

Lu Zixiao stood up unhurriedly, calmly rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing his forearms. His voice, now cold and dangerously sharp, cut through the air:

“Which club?”

=^_^=