---

Chapter 5: A Sense of Crisis

A single raindrop fell.

Then another, and another—one after another—unexpectedly pounding hard onto the flower petals by the window. The guests who had dispersed earlier now rushed back inside to avoid the sudden downpour.

Within seconds, Wen Hezhi’s eyes, which had held a shadowy depth, cooled and returned to their usual state—aloof and refined, distant and unapproachable.

As if everything from just moments ago had been nothing more than an illusion.

The crystal chandelier swayed slightly, casting flickering shadows across the floor.

Shen Tang blinked slowly. That the kind gentleman who had helped her before turned out to be Wen Hezhi—this fact wasn’t too difficult for her to accept.

Or perhaps, deep down, she had already guessed it.

After all, from the special Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macau license plate to the rare humility he had shown that day at the estate—every detail hinted that this man was no ordinary person.

Beside her, Old Master Wen asked, “Why are you so late?”

Wen Hezhi’s expression remained as calm as ever. As he walked past Shen Tang, a light breeze stirred around him.

There was a faint sandalwood scent—subtle and steady, not sharp like most perfumes, but gentle and restrained.

He walked to the center of attention and took his seat with composed elegance. Leisurely, he replied, “Got caught in traffic.”

Bai Xige followed closely behind. Upon hearing that, he laughed, “That’s true. And when we finally got to Xingchun Garden, Ninth Brother suddenly said he saw a stray cat and wanted to get out and find it.”

Wen Hezhi shot him a glance.

Old Master Wen, however, was intrigued. “A stray cat? Where did you see it?”

Bai Xige, feeling Wen Hezhi’s warning, vaguely muttered, “Only saw a glimpse before it ran off. No idea where it went.” He quickly changed the subject.

The atmosphere softened, and the banquet resumed its lively music and dancing.

At the table, Shen Tang’s phone vibrated. She glanced over and saw Wen Qi smiling as he picked up his phone.

But the next moment, as he read the screen, his smile froze slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Shen Tang asked.

“Nothing,” Wen Qi said, locking the phone screen. “Just something with the race team.”

Shen Tang knew about this—Wen Qi’s car team was competing soon, and as the team captain, he had to personally review and approve many things.

Seeing his pale face, she took the initiative to ask, “Is it urgent? Do you need to go take care of it?”

Wen Qi hesitated, clearly torn. After a few seconds, as if remembering something, he shook his head. “No need.”

He forced a smile and held her hand, speaking meaningfully, “Nothing is more important than today.”

Though his expression didn’t look quite right, the warmth in his palm reassured her.

Maybe the issue with the race team really was stressful.

Shen Tang smiled back at him.

But to outsiders, the scene looked like pure affection and intimacy.

Several media photographers raised their cameras and snapped shots.

Bai Xige noticed, raising an eyebrow. “Xiao Qi’s doing well—already getting engaged. And someone else doesn’t seem to feel the slightest sense of crisis.”

His tone carried that teasing, troublemaking edge, and it was obvious who he was referring to.

Old Master Wen awkwardly cleared his throat. “Old Nine, did you hear that? Xige’s talking about you.”

“Your nephew’s about to get engaged, and as his elder, you don’t seem to feel any urgency at all.”

But the man being called out sat there calmly, unmoved as ever. His long fingers lazily stirred the champagne in his glass, watching the bubbles burst one by one.

“Is that so?”

Wen Hezhi’s gaze drifted lightly, seemingly unbothered, landing on the hand-holding couple not far away. The party was reaching its peak, and many guests were praising the pair as a perfect match—handsome and beautiful, so well-suited.

Laughter and cheer filled the air.

Under the bright crystal lights, however, Wen Hezhi’s eyes were shadowed and unreadable.

His glasses were still fogged from earlier, faint and gray. He slowly took them off, pulled a pocket square from his suit jacket, and carefully wiped them clean.

All the while, his gaze remained fixed—not on their faces, but on Wen Qi’s hand resting on the girl’s shoulder, silently repeating the phrase:

“Sense of crisis.”

Not far away, Shen Tang suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Her green dress today had a small V-shaped cutout at the back. It was July, but the exposed patch of snow-white skin beneath the chandelier lights suddenly felt icy cold.

Like she was being watched by a venomous snake.

Without changing expression, she turned around—

Their eyes met.

Across the entire dance floor, through the crowd of beautiful gowns and elegant guests, Wen Hezhi sat upright at the main table, calm and composed, leisurely wiping his glasses.

Shen Tang froze for a second.

The man’s expression was calm. He gave her a gentle nod—polite and courteous, even from such a distance.

As if that unsettling feeling just now… was merely her imagination.

The clinking of champagne glasses beside her snapped her back to the present. Shen Tang smiled politely in return, putting away her thoughts.

—

According to Old Master Wen’s plan, after the opening dance, the banquet would move into the press conference stage, where the engagement between the Wen and Shen families would be officially announced.

But the rain outside had grown heavier. All of Xingchun Garden was now shrouded in mist, the plants trembling under the weight of the downpour.

Less than ten minutes remained before the announcement.

Shen Moshang glanced at his watch. Despite usually having a stern expression, he now wore a look of anticipation as he smiled and clinked glasses with business associates, accepting congratulations in advance.

Raindrops pounded down.

Ji Hanxiang looked around the hall, her expression puzzled.
“Where’s Xiao Qi?”

The press conference was about to begin—yet the main character was nowhere to be found.

---

Shen Shiying stood to the side, gloating.
“Could it be that Brother Wen Qi doesn’t like Shen Tang and has decided to cancel the engagement last minute?”

Spoiled and pampered all her life, Shen Shiying naturally wouldn’t miss the rare opportunity to trample over Shen Tang.
“Mummy, you do know that Brother Wen Qi actually likes Sister Shuran, right? It’s not impossible that he’d call off the engagement.”

Originally, the engagement between the Wen and Shen families was supposed to benefit Shen Shiying, the biological daughter. But once Shen Moshang learned that the Wen family intended to marry her off to Wen Qi—a notorious playboy—the Shen family still desired the commercial alliance but couldn’t bear for their daughter to suffer in marriage. So, at the last moment, they replaced her with Shen Tang.

Shen Shiying provoked again:
“Even if you do end up marrying Brother Wen Qi, you’ll never be happy.”

But Shen Tang simply responded with an indifferent “Oh,” and calmly said,
“Say it a little louder, and you might make tomorrow’s headlines.”

Given the high stakes between the two families and the number of media outlets present, even a slight misstep could become a scandal.

“You—!” Shen Shiying was fuming at her unbothered tone but couldn’t think of a good comeback right away.

Ji Hanxiang stepped in to smooth things over.
“All right, Tangtang, don’t argue with your little sister.”

She turned to Shen Tang and changed the subject.
“The press conference is about to start. Send Xiao Qi a message.”

Shen Tang was already used to this kind of handling. She unlocked her phone and handed it to Ji Hanxiang, her tone flat:
“I already sent him one. He hasn’t replied.”

On the screen were two messages Shen Tang had sent at 7:15 PM.
It was now 7:30 PM, and there was still no response from Wen Qi.

A vague sense of foreboding rose in Ji Hanxiang’s chest. She called over Wen Qi’s assistant and asked,
“Have you seen Young Master Wen Qi?”

The assistant, Xiao Liu, was caught off guard. He suddenly remembered that earlier, when he had handed Wen Qi his phone, he had glimpsed a few messages:

Qin Shuran: [Wen Qi gege, happy birthday.]
Qin Shuran: [Wishing you happiness. (Image)]

After that, Xiao Liu gave the phone to Wen Qi, who glanced at it, visibly changed expression, and quickly left the crowd in a hurry.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Xiao Liu hesitated for a long moment before cautiously answering:
“It seems… Miss Qin is here…”

A loud boom of thunder exploded outside the window.

The only one who could make Wen Qi leave a banquet full of important guests—was none other than his white moonlight, Qin Shuran.

Ji Hanxiang’s expression visibly changed.

At that moment, the music stopped, the dancing ceased, and there were only two minutes left before the press conference was set to begin.

A servant suddenly burst in from the rain.
“Something’s wrong—Young Master Wen Qi is missing!”

Chaos erupted instantly. The entertainment reporters immediately caught the scent of a scandal and rushed in with their cameras for interviews.

Everything happened far too quickly. Flashes of magnesium light stung the eyes. The butler grabbed a walkie-talkie to call for security to restore order.

—

Upstairs.

Under the dim, solemn lighting, a man in a sharp suit looked down from above at the chaos below. At the center of the storm was that slender figure dressed in soft green.

The world below was in disarray, everyone with their own hidden agendas.
Yet the woman stood tall in the center, poised despite being besieged by media questions. Her back remained straight, like unbending bamboo in a storm. Her presence was calm and detached, her expression serene.

A flicker of intrigue stirred in Wen Hezhi’s deep, shadowy gaze.

Someone at his side asked quietly,
“Sir, shall we disperse the media?”

The wall lamps flickered.

“Not yet.”

The man withdrew his gaze, his voice smooth and composed, exuding the cool control of someone always three steps ahead.

—

Downstairs.

Xiao Liu finally pointed in a direction. Shen Moshang and Ji Hanxiang held off the press, clearing a path for Shen Tang to go upstairs and find Wen Qi.

Other servants were also searching frantically.

The Wen family had gone to great lengths to demonstrate the importance of this engagement. The Shen family was depending on it to regain footing. No matter what—Wen Qi had to show up.

The vintage spiral staircase was so long the end couldn’t be seen. Shen Tang lifted her dress and ascended step by step.

The wall lights flickered dimly, as if like slow, torturous knives—held aloft but never striking.

The carpet was handmade from cashmere—soft and luxurious. Her footsteps made no sound.

Rain pelted the windows. The sky outside was pitch black.

Shen Tang looked up—and saw a man standing at the second-floor corridor, tall and straight, caught between shadow and light.

It was Wen Hezhi.

He was looking right at her.

From his high vantage point, his gaze was calm and composed.

The stairs cast jagged shadows. Shen Tang, lifting her dress hem, slowly moved closer.

Hands in his pockets, the man walked down the stairs at a relaxed pace.

The storm raged outside. The chaos below boiled like an overcooked soup. Steam fogged the glass, the air damp and cold.

Within seconds, the two of them drew close. Just as they were about to pass each other—

A faint sandalwood scent drifted in the damp air, brushing the tip of Shen Tang’s nose.

Her breathing unconsciously slowed, waiting for him to step past her.

But the man suddenly stopped walking.

“Miss Shen.”

His voice was low, smooth, and warm. The two stood back to back—neither seeing the other’s expression.

Uncertainty and tension grew in the darkness.

The air stilled. Shen Tang sensed him turning—heard the faint sound of soft leather shoes sliding across the wooden floor.

In the darkness, he spoke:
“Still going up?”

His voice landed gently in her ears—an implicit suggestion cloaked in gentlemanly courtesy.

The rain tapped steadily against her heart.

She already had a premonition—whatever was upstairs, it would change everything.

Tree shadows danced faintly across her feet.

Shen Tang turned as well and met the man’s shadowed, unreadable gaze. She softly asked in return:

“Why shouldn’t I?”