Font Size:
The two of them were very close, their foreheads nearly touching. Occasionally, their noses would brush lightly as they spoke. Both had been drinking, the scent of alcohol lingering in the air—rich but not unpleasant. It was as if the very air around them had turned warm and restless.
Tan Qishen’s large hand was wrapped around her slender waist. He lifted his eyelids and looked straight at her, his gaze unwavering.
“Where were you this afternoon?”
Yan Man’s expression didn’t change—she had expected him to ask that.
So, she answered truthfully,
“Photoshoot for Zibai’s commercial. I was on set.”
She hadn’t been in the industry long—barely a year—but thanks to her stunning figure and unique aura, she’d carved out a place for herself in the modeling world. Whether it was resources or fashion styling, she was already among the elite.
Tan Qishen narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint flashing in them. His fingertips gently kneaded her waist as he leaned in close to her ear, voice low and husky,
“Manman, you’re not being good.”
He had seen the photo of her and another man himself.
God knows where the paparazzi took it from, but in the picture, the two looked unusually close—not like just friends.
Yan Man looked up, her gaze meeting his cold and intense eyes.
She’d already guessed before coming here that he had seen the photo—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been ignoring her messages.
This kind of thing happened often enough that she’d grown used to it.
They’d been together for nearly a year, and she’d had to coax him more times than she could count—if not a hundred, then at least eighty times.
“That photo was just a matter of angle. We’re only work colleagues. Don’t you trust me?”
Her gaze was pure and sincere. Though her entire being radiated seduction and allure, her eyes were the exception—clear, bright, untouched by the dust of the world.
Tan Qishen’s hand tightened slightly on her waist. He smiled playfully and replied leisurely,
“I trust you. Of course I do.”
Even if that man had a few extra lives, he wouldn’t dare touch Tan Qishen’s woman.
Besides, Yan Man had chased after him for a year before finally winning him over. With how much she liked him, there was no way she’d betray him.
Tan Qishen knew very well the photo was taken deliberately by someone with ulterior motives.
But he just wanted her to come and coax him.
Maybe it was just some twisted quirk of his.
Yan Man instinctively sat up straighter.
“Then… are you not mad anymore?”
She was just about to ask if his anger had subsided when Tan Qishen interrupted her.
“What do you think your punishment should be?”
“???”
A row of question marks popped into Yan Man’s mind, though none showed on her face.
She really couldn’t tell what this man was trying to pull now.
Her voice remained gentle and soft,
“Didn’t I already explain? The photo was just—”
“Not that,” he cut her off.
His warm fingertips gently lifted her chin, tilting her head down.
He looked up at her and asked,
“Why were you late tonight?”
Usually when they had a fight, she would show up in under half an hour.
But tonight, he’d been waiting at the club for almost an hour before she finally arrived—and Tan Qishen wasn’t pleased.
Yan Man’s smile faltered slightly. Of all the things he could have been upset about, she hadn’t expected this.
This man was something else.
But after just a few seconds, she smoothly explained,
“I came as soon as the shoot ended. I even took a two-hour high-speed train.”
She was telling the truth. As soon as she saw the photo going viral online, she rushed back from another city.
She knew Tan Qishen would make a big deal out of it.
And sure enough, here they were.
Tan Qishen leaned back lazily against the couch, half-lidding his eyes. A faint smile lingered in his dark gaze—but whether he truly believed her or not, it was hard to tell.
Yan Man’s Bentley was still parked outside the siheyuan courtyard. As the two emerged, Uncle Nan stepped down from a nearby extended Rolls-Royce.
Uncle Nan looked to be in his fifties. He was the Tan family’s longtime housekeeper—every head of the Tan household had one, responsible for managing daily affairs. Tan Qishen, the newest family head, had Uncle Nan by his side since he was ten. It had been nearly fifteen years.
Uncle Nan instinctively took Tan Qishen’s suit jacket and gave a slight bow,
“Young Master. Miss Yan.”
Tan Qishen motioned for Yan Man to get in first, then instructed the driver,
“Take us to Park Hyatt.”
Uncle Nan sat in the front passenger seat. Through the rearview mirror, he glanced briefly at the couple in the back—then quickly looked away.
He’d heard whispers within the Tan family about Tan Qishen’s relationship.
Everyone had been expecting the classic “Cinderella dumped by the wicked mother-in-law” drama—but to everyone’s surprise, the family hadn’t reacted much at all.
The former lady of the house—Tan Qishen’s mother—had only reminded Uncle Nan to keep an eye on things and “don’t let anyone get hurt.”
A heavy burden had been passed down.
It was midnight on Chang’an Avenue, and the city lights still sparkled brightly, traffic flowing like a river.
Under the night sky, Beijing held a unique beauty—romantic and grand, luxurious and vibrant.
It was like stepping through a thousand years of history, where ancient bells and modern lights mingled in harmony.
The dark-colored Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the Park Hyatt, looking both domineering and dignified.
Uncle Nan opened the rear door. Tan Qishen and Yan Man stepped out. Before going inside, Tan Qishen said one thing:
“The usual.”
Uncle Nan halted his steps, didn’t follow them in, and nodded.
“I’ll come pick you up in the morning.”
Tan Qishen nodded back and led Yan Man inside, his arm wrapped around her waist.
They stopped in front of a unique elevator.
A private VIP lift—one of the few in all of Beijing.
The elevator ascended directly to the 66th floor.
This was Tan Qishen’s private domain. He didn’t stay here often—only occasionally, and only when he was with Yan Man. A few nights here, or sometimes just a few hours.
The elevator chimed with a soft “ding.”
It opened directly into a bedroom—an exclusive design.
The lights turned on instantly.
The 66th floor of the Park Hyatt offered the best view of Beijing—Front Gate, the Forbidden City, Drum Tower, the entire CBD laid out like a glowing map. Lights flickered along the central axis, and cars streamed below like rivers of light.
But no one admired the view.
Yan Man was pushed against the wall.
Tan Qishen protectively placed his palm behind her head.