Chapter 1: Why Didn’t You Reply to My Messages?

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Early autumn in Beijing.

In a quaint, traditional hutong, nestled a private courtyard-style club named Luyuan.

Though labeled a leisure venue, it wasn’t a place ordinary people could enter—strictly invite-only. Everyone knew that the mysterious owner of this place had the surname Tan.

And in all of Beijing, there was only one prominent person with that surname.

As night deepened, the surroundings dimmed.

The carved wooden doors of the courtyard were exquisitely detailed—something that would have taken years of craftsmanship.

Inside the innermost private room of the club, two men in hoodies and sweatpants were casually playing pool.

A pure white crystal chandelier cast a bright light overhead. Another man sat alone on an emerald green sofa.

Unlike the others, this man wore a silver-gray suit—tailored and impeccable. He looked like he’d just come from a high-profile event. Everything about him exuded elegance and cold aloofness.

He crossed his long legs and leaned lazily against the armrest, a cigarette held between his fingers, watching the pool game with disinterest.

Clearly, his mind was elsewhere.

Minutes later, the two men left the table.
A server quickly came over, took their cues, and handed them warm towels to wipe their hands.

“President Tan, what’s with the mood tonight?”

The one who spoke had a distinctive Beijing accent, his tone playful. His name was Jiang Linjin, a longtime friend of Tan Qishen.

“What else could it be? He probably had another falling-out with Yan Man,”

He Cheng said with a smile, tipping back a drink.

Tan Qishen remained expressionless, ignoring their teasing. He lowered his eyes, gaze instinctively shifting toward the marble table.

Among the various colorful liquors sat a phone, open to his chat with Yan Man.

A series of white message bubbles—all from Yan Man. His replies were few and far between.

Jiang Linjin glanced over and smirked.

“Is that how you date someone? Always making Miss Yan take the initiative?”

Tan Qishen took a drag from his cigarette, pale smoke curling into the air. He finally spoke, his first words all night:

“Is it any of your business?”

His eyes lifted, gaze unfriendly.

“Fine, fine. You don’t like hearing it anyway.”

Jiang Linjin shrugged and gave up trying.

“You’ve been used to playing hard to get. Even in relationships you play cold. One day Yan Man’s gonna leave you.”

He Cheng chimed in.

Jiang added quickly,

“You won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to He Cheng. He is a married man after all.”

He Cheng’s smile faltered briefly at that, but he quickly recovered.

Tan Qishen flicked ash off his cigarette and muttered,

“Worry about yourselves.”

How he and Yan Man got along wasn’t anyone else’s concern.

Whatever happened, she always came to coax him in the end.

He wasn’t worried.

“Wanna bet what time Miss Yan will show up tonight?” Jiang Linjin leaned back, amused.

He Cheng checked his watch,

“Based on past patterns? Within the hour.”

Clearly, this wasn’t their first time witnessing this kind of situation.

Yan Man always came over herself, always the one to patch things up.

A golden hourglass sat on a nearby table, the fine sand slowly trickling down. Nearly half an hour had passed since Tan Qishen arrived.

The chat on the phone still lingered on the last message from earlier that morning:

Yan Man: [Baby, what time will you be home tonight?]

Complete with a heart emoji.

Tan Qishen still hadn’t replied.

His eyes lingered on that heart, silently listening to his friends banter, saying nothing.

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Twenty minutes later, a black Bentley with a Beijing “A” license plate pulled up in front of the courtyard.

Though it was autumn, the night still carried the remnants of summer heat.

Yan Man stepped out from the driver’s side. She wore a cream silk qipao that accentuated her elegant figure.

Her features were exquisite—bright and striking with a hint of seductive charm, but never overdone.

A true model through and through—elegant, regal, and radiant. From her looks to her posture, she was flawless.

The club manager, who recognized the car, came out to greet her before she could even knock.

Despite seeing her multiple times, he still found her beauty breathtaking, lowering his head in awe,

“Miss Yan, President Tan is in—”

“I know. No need to show me the way.”

Her voice didn’t quite match her sultry looks—it was soft and refined, with the gentle lilt of a Jiangnan accent.

She’d come here looking for someone more than once.

“Yes, yes, of course,”

the manager nodded quickly, watching her head toward the innermost private room.

When a staff member moved to knock, Yan Man stopped him with a glance.

Her long lashes curled, her brows slightly drawn. Her bold features gave off an icy, regal vibe when expressionless—a queenly coldness.

But the moment she opened the door, her expression changed. Gone was the frosty aloofness—replaced by a dazzling, tender smile.

She didn’t knock. She walked straight in.

Jiang Linjin, mid-conversation with He Cheng, turned and laughed when he saw her.

He raised his wrist to check the time and looked at Tan Qishen.

“Look at that. I guessed half an hour and even that was too long.”

Tan Qishen still sat where he was, appearing calm and indifferent—used to Yan Man always coming to coax him.

In his hand was a glass of amber-colored liquor, ice clinking, glowing gold beneath the orange light.

Seeing no reaction from Tan, He Cheng shook his head and sighed.

He grabbed Jiang Linjin and gave Yan Man a knowing look.

“We’ll give you two some space.”

Seconds later, the door closed behind them. Now only Tan Qishen and Yan Man remained in the private room.

Silence.

Yan Man had driven herself, so she wasn’t wearing heels. Even in flats, her tall, statuesque figure radiated confidence and grace.

Tan Qishen’s dark eyes lifted slightly to look at her.

He raised the glass to his lips—but before he could take a sip, it was taken from his hand.

The next moment, Yan Man settled onto his lap.

A soft, intoxicating scent enveloped him. The thin fabric of her qipao pressed against his suit pants.

His gaze darkened, but he didn’t stop her—just let her do as she pleased.

Yan Man still held the drink she’d taken from him.

Her eyes, lined like hooks, gleamed with allure. Her slender fingers gently rested on his shoulder.

Though she seemed like the kind of woman who could stand on her own—powerful and poised—she always showed vulnerability around Tan Qishen.

She smiled at him, lips slightly curved, voice gentle:

“Drinking too much isn’t good for your health.”

As always, she was the one to break the silence.

Then she tilted her head and drank from the glass herself.

Tan Qishen just stared at her, unmoved.

In seconds, she finished the drink.

Her expression didn’t change, though her lips glistened as if kissed by gentle night rain.

The scent of alcohol mingled between them.

She lazily toyed with his tie and looked into his eyes, her voice soft and sweet:

“Why didn’t you reply to my messages?”

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