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At the end of June, the Hong Kong–Macau region officially entered its rainy season.
The air was humid and stifling. A sudden torrential downpour struck without warning, accompanied by roaring winds and flashes of lightning across the skies above Victoria Harbour, as if determined to soak the entire city to its core.
Raindrops trickled down the glass in no particular pattern. Inside the office building, many white-collar workers were stuck due to the storm.
A gust of wind blew in. Shen Tang covered her mouth, letting out a soft cough as she finished typing the last bit of her outline.
“How’s it raining again?” she murmured.
Linda walked out of the breakroom with freshly brewed coffee. Hearing her cough, she asked with concern, “You’ve been coughing for a week—still haven’t seen a doctor?”
Shen Tang responded with a nasal hum, “I’ll go once things settle down.”
“What about your boyfriend? Didn’t he bring you any medicine?”
It wasn’t surprising for Linda to ask that.
Everyone at the station knew that Shen Tang had a rich second-generation boyfriend named Wen Qi.
Two months ago, when she first joined the TV station, she caused quite a stir with her sweet and pretty looks. Many of the men in the building had expressed interest in her. At first, Shen Tang turned them down gently, but that didn’t stop them.
Eventually, Wen Qi somehow got wind of it. He started showing up during the busiest hours after work, parking his black McLaren Senna right outside the building—making a bold, unmistakable declaration of his claim. That immediately killed off the hopes of most of the men.
News of the beautiful new intern dating a wealthy heir spread quickly and even became a popular topic among staff. Quite a few female colleagues envied her.
Mist from the rain drifted in with the wind, and a colleague near the window, afraid of getting their documents wet, got up and shut the window with a click.
Shen Tang’s long lashes blinked slowly. She said vaguely, “It’s just a little cold. Might get better in a couple of days.”
Linda gave her a thumbs-up.
Shen Tang smiled, trying to refocus on the outline she hadn’t finished.
The cursor blinked steadily. Outside, the rain was pouring even harder.
But Shen Tang couldn’t help thinking of the gossip that had exploded on the news a week ago: a third-rate actress secretly meeting a mysterious man at night—suspected to be scheming her way into a wealthy marriage.
Hong Kong paparazzi were known for being ruthless and bold, always spinning stories of power, money, and beauty. This time was no different.
The photo in question was impressively taken. In the dim lighting of a car, a man and woman sat closely together, on the verge of kissing. The tension was thick with flirtation and innuendo—an image that set the imagination running wild.
The actress was a former Miss Hong Kong contestant and was caught in full face—no room for denial. The scandal even caused her to lose a chunk of her fanbase.
The black McLaren Senna had its license plate blurred out, but when Shen Tang saw the photo, her heart clenched with an ominous sense of dread.
After all, the man in the driver’s seat couldn’t be clearly seen—just a sharp side profile and a hand resting on the window: long fingers, pronounced joints, a slim and powerful wrist that gleamed coolly in the dark.
Shen Tang slowly zoomed in on the photo and spotted a barely noticeable scar on the man’s wrist.
That last shred of hopeful doubt in her mind was shattered completely.
Wen Qi had all the classic flaws of a rich young heir—prideful, arrogant, and constantly attracting women. Having grown up in the center of gossip, he never bothered explaining his scandals.
So when Shen Tang asked him about it, he just casually brushed it off: “Just a friend.”
A sour ache tugged at her chest, pulling her out of her thoughts.
They had been in a cold war for almost a week because of that.
At first, she’d been upset. But soon after, the station was preparing for a mysterious guest to appear on the financial show. The higher-ups were tense and constantly dropping by for spot checks and adjustments.
Everyone was scrambling.
Shen Tang barely had time to think about her relationship problems anymore.
The rain hadn’t stopped, and some coworkers, unable to wait, shut down their computers and prepared to head home.
Linda pulled out her umbrella and asked, “Tangtang, want to walk together?”
Shen Tang glanced at the time. It was already 6:30. She hadn’t brought an umbrella, and there was no telling when the rain would end. After a moment’s thought, she agreed.
“Sure, let me just shut down my computer.”
It was rush hour and raining—so it took forever for the elevator to come. Shen Tang and Linda squeezed in along with a few women from the legal department upstairs.
They were chatting excitedly about the mysterious guest expected next week.
“They say it might be someone from the Wen family—maybe even the richest man in the Hong Kong district…”
“Isn’t he famously low-profile and avoids the media? Why would he agree to come this time?”
“No idea. But I overheard Xu Taihua arguing with the director today—she wanted to host the interview, but he already picked someone.”
“If it really is that Wen, then no wonder she’s fighting for it.”
“I mean, he’s basically a living legend in the Hong Kong business world—wealthy, handsome, who wouldn’t want a shot?”
Shen Tang wasn’t interested in gossip, but she did catch the mention of the Wen family.
Could it be Wen Qi?
No, that couldn’t be right. Wen Qi was a racecar driver. Why would he appear on a financial talk show?
Shen Tang lowered her long lashes. I’m overthinking it.
Linda nudged her arm. “Tangtang, I heard the mysterious guest is really handsome. Aren’t you curious?”
Shen Tang shook her head. “I’m more worried about how I’ll get home in this storm.”
It was a valid concern.
It was hard to get a taxi in the rain, and the subway or tram was too far. She’d be drenched before she even made it to the platform.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Shen Tang looked down at the screen.
Wen Qi: [Location]
Wen Qi: Tangtang, I’ve got a dinner tonight. Come with me.
It was the first time he’d messaged her in a week. Shen Tang knew he was trying to offer an olive branch.
Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant to reply. Linda happened to see the message over her shoulder.
With a teasing smile, she said, “Well, since your boyfriend’s waiting, I’ll head off first.”
She was gone in a flash, leaving Shen Tang with no room to back out.
But thinking about what might happen once she got home, Shen Tang knew she and Wen Qi needed to settle this.
It took her half an hour to finally hail a cab.
The driver, a mainlander with awkward Cantonese, nodded when she gave her destination, and she leaned back to rest in the backseat.
The radio broadcast a weather alert in a clear female voice, warning of heavy rains for the next two weeks across the region. Drivers were urged to slow down and obey traffic rules.
The taxi swayed through narrow streets as raindrops splashed on the windows. Neon lights blurred against the night sky, casting a dreamy, hazy glow.
It was peak rush hour. Traffic in the city center was awful, horns blaring now and then.
Heavy rain along the coast had filled the air with thick fog. Visibility was low, and the driver had turned on the high beams, crawling carefully through the rain.
Neither of them noticed the black Rolls-Royce silently trailing the red cab, following at a steady but not-too-close distance.
As they turned a corner and began descending a slope, the car behind suddenly accelerated—its glaring headlights piercing the rain like knives.
The taxi driver didn’t react in time. The next second—
BANG!
The rear of the taxi was slammed with a heavy crash. The impact was so sudden, Shen Tang was jolted forward. Luckily, the seatbelt held her back.
“Bloody hell!”
The driver cursed as he slammed the brakes. Tires screeched violently against the road. It was deafening—but at least the car stopped at the top of the slope.
“You idiot! Don’t you know to brake going downhill? What the hell kind of driving is that?!
The driver was fuming. Ignoring the heavy rain, he flung the car door open and got out to confront the other party.
Shen Tang was still shaken. Her knuckles, gripping the armrest tightly, had turned white. When she finally let go, a prickly numbness spread through her fingers.
Rain poured down in sheets. Two beams of headlights intersected, casting a dim glow over the street corner, which had no streetlights.
By that faint light, Shen Tang caught sight of the car that had rear-ended them through the rearview mirror—a dark-colored Rolls-Royce, bearing a license plate from Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao, sitting silently and imposingly in the rain. Everything about it screamed wealth and power.
The taxi driver was already stomping toward the Rolls-Royce when the door suddenly opened, and a man in a suit stepped out, holding an umbrella. He looked like a chauffeur.
The two men exchanged a few words, their voices muffled by the rain—too unclear to hear.
The car’s owner never showed his face.
It wasn’t a major accident, but for Shen Tang, it was definitely a hassle. Once the conversation was done, they’d likely need to contact the traffic police for a tow and discuss compensation.
As a witness, Shen Tang would probably have to go with them to give a statement.
She lowered her head and opened WeChat, ready to message Wen Qi to let him know about the delay, when—
Knock, knock, knock—
Someone gently tapped on the car window.
Even through the rain, the gesture was polite and respectful.
Shen Tang looked up and found herself staring at a young man’s face.
“I’m terribly sorry, miss. Due to our mistake, we’ve caused you some trouble,” he said courteously. “The taxi is no longer drivable. To express our apologies, my employer says he can give you a ride.”
The problem she’d just been fretting about now had a ready-made solution. Shen Tang looked at him with a hint of suspicion—this all felt a little too convenient.
As if sensing her doubt, the man offered a sheepish smile. “The taxi driver has agreed to settle this privately. Please rest assured, we mean no harm.”
Raindrops splashed silently against the asphalt, blooming like fleeting flowers.
The black car sat quietly in the rainy night, its specially tinted windows making it impossible to see inside.
Shen Tang hesitated but nodded, still unsure.
The young man tilted his umbrella slightly and opened the taxi door for her.
Even the taxi driver came over to apologize, the anger from earlier gone—he must’ve been offered decent compensation.
Shen Tang gave him a polite, faint smile in return.
She walked a few steps forward. Rain soaked the hem of her skirt before she finally reached the Rolls-Royce.
The assistant opened the door for her. Raindrops beat down on the umbrella—
one after another, drowning out the nervous pounding of her heart.
Inside, a man who had been resting with his eyes closed seemed to sense her presence and slowly opened his eyes.
Everything around them seemed to slow. Raindrops fell with crystal clarity against her eardrums.
The man sat motionless inside, pristine and composed. Shen Tang stood outside, half of her skirt already drenched.
Her back straightened instinctively. Her heart was beating fast. The assistant beside her spoke:
“Miss, this is our sir.”
Only then did she react.
She followed the umbrella’s black edge upward and saw the man clearly.
Even seated, his tall figure was apparent. Though his posture was relaxed, his back remained straight. The tailored black suit outlined a flawless physique.
The lighting was dim, outlining the sharp contours of his side profile—strong jawline, prominent nose bridge, and gold-rimmed glasses that gave him an air of refined elegance and restrained power.
Something told Shen Tang that this man was not someone to cross.
Logically, in weather like this, taxis were hard to come by. These people had offered help. It made perfect sense to accept the ride.
But now, standing before him, feeling his powerful presence, a sense of retreat rose within her.
It wasn’t until the assistant urged her again that she forced herself into the car.
The door closed behind her.
Rain hammered down like a flood.
The driver began to move slowly. Even with his presence reserved, the man beside her exuded a dominating aura.
Shen Tang kept her gaze lowered, her fingers gently curled. Her good upbringing taught her not to look around in someone else’s car.
The wet hem of her skirt clung to her skin with a chilly dampness. She rubbed at it absentmindedly.
That subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed by Wen Hezhi.
He shifted slightly and, without a word, handed her a cashmere blanket.
Shen Tang’s eyes fell on his hand—long, pale fingers, slender and well-proportioned, like the handle of a jade fan, elegant and beautiful. Veins ran subtly across the back of his hand, and on his wrist, a Patek Philippe watch glinted faintly in the dim light.
The man inclined his head slightly and spoke in calm Cantonese:
“Miss, I apologize.”
His voice was low, smooth, and cut through the rain like silk.
Shen Tang froze for a moment, then gave him a polite smile—only to meet his gaze directly.
Behind the gold-rimmed lenses was a pair of dark, faintly smiling eyes—impenetrable and unreadable.
They looked like a quiet, deep swamp—mysterious, and dangerous in a way that lured people in.
Shen Tang immediately looked away, clearly unnerved.
The grey blanket settled over her legs, still holding the warmth of his fingers and a faint scent of sandalwood.
The car glided along the coastal highway. Mountain villas and iconic Hong Kong buildings flickered past outside the window. The car was silent. No one spoke again.
Her phone vibrated again in her hand.
Wen Qi: Tangtang, are you there yet?
Outside the window, the scenery slowly retreated. Shen Tang held her breath and glanced nervously at the powerful man beside her.
Then, she bit her lip and softly said—
“Sir, could you please go a bit faster? My boyfriend is waiting for me.”