The next day at noon, Xi Wanrong appeared in room 2808 of the Hyatt Hotel on time.
Chen Wanshan was already waiting inside with a gloomy expression.
"Where's the recording?" he asked straight to the point.
Xi Wanrong took out a recorder from her bag and waved it in front of him: "Where's the money?"
Chen Wanshan sneered and took out a check from his handbag.
Xi Wanrong's eyes lit up and she reached out to take it.
Chen Wanshan suddenly held her hand and said, "Delete the recording first."
Xi Wanrong raised her eyebrows, deleted the files in the recorder in front of him, took out her mobile phone, and deleted the cloud backup.
"Satisfied?" she asked.
Only then did Chen Wanshan let go of her hand and let her take the check.
"It's a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Chen."
She turned to leave, but Chen Wanshan suddenly called her: "Xi Wanrong."
She turned around and asked, "Anything else?"
Chen Wanshan stared at her with a sinister look in his eyes. "You'd better pray that those recordings are completely deleted and don't fall into my hands."
Xi Wanrong smiled and said, "Don't worry, I'm a trustworthy person."
She took the check and left the room without looking back.
——————————Time dividing line
In the Hermès flagship store at IFC, Xi Wanrong was trying on a crocodile leather Birkin bag worth 50,000 yuan in front of the mirror.
She turned slightly to admire her elegant posture in the mirror - her newly-cut chestnut curls hung on her shoulders, the Dior haute couture dress she bought from Taobao outlined her slender waistline, and the Manolo Blahnik high heels on her feet shone with a pearly luster under the light.
"I want this bag." She said casually, tapping the glass counter with her fingertips, signaling the clerk to make the bill.
Zhao Pingchi stood aside, holding a dozen luxury shopping bags in his hands, with beads of sweat oozing from his forehead.
He changed into a Burberry casual suit today, but his every move still revealed the spirit of the stock market. Standing next to Xi Wanrong, he looked like a follower carrying a bag.
"Wanrong, this bag...isn't it too expensive?" He lowered his voice and leaned close to her ear.
Xi Wanrong glanced at him sideways, her red lips curled slightly: "What? Are you worried about the money?"
Zhao Pingchi swallowed and didn't dare to speak again.
Just then, the shop door was pushed open and a clear and cool fragrance wafted in.
Xi Wanrong subconsciously looked up, her gaze passing over Zhao Pingchi's shoulder and falling on the slender figure at the door.
————That was a young boy.
He had short black hair, pale skin, and gray-blue eyes that looked like ice-cold glass, shimmering coldly under the light. He was wearing a private high school uniform, with a slightly open collar, revealing a delicate collarbone.
Xi Wanrong's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
She had seen many rich people, but never one like this - he just stood there, and without any luxury goods, it was already hard to look away.
"Master Ye." The Hermès store manager immediately came forward, his attitude respectful and almost fawning. "The bag you ordered has arrived."
The young man, Ye Qingliu, said "hmm" lightly, without even looking inside the store, and walked straight to the VIP room.
Xi Wanrong's fingertips unconsciously clenched the strap of her bag.
She recognized that face.
——Five days ago, she saw him in the financial news of the Ye Group. The only son of the Ye family, Ye Qingliu, was seventeen years old and worth tens of billions.
And now, he was standing before her.
Xi Wanrong's breathing quickened slightly.
Her gaze, however, was fixed through the mirrored reflection on the half-open door of the VIP room. Ye Qingliu sat in a vintage armchair, his slender fingers flipping through a crocodile leather sample book. His gray-blue eyes, under the light, resembled a frozen polar lake, cold and deep.
She paced her breathing, letting the rise and fall of her chest appear natural and unforced. Her Vertu phone was tucked into her palm, the camera trained on the boy's profile. The 0.5x wide-angle lens perfectly framed his superior nose, slightly drooping eyelashes, and the faint glimpse of his collarbone at his neckline.
The store's fragrance system just switches to a cedar base note, perfectly blending with the boy's cool aura.
"Crack."
The sound of electronic shutters was drowned out by the classical music playing in the store. Xi Wanrong looked down at the photos, a barely perceptible curve at the corner of her lips.
In the photo, Ye Qingliu is standing in warm light, his gray-blue pupils reflecting the neon lights outside the window, and the ice cracks on the edge of his irises are clearly visible after pixel magnification.
She noticed a hairline scar on the joint of his little finger as he turned over the leather sample—a detail never before revealed in the magazine.
She swiped the screen to switch to video mode. The camera slowly moved in, capturing the shadows cast by the boy's eyelashes as he lowered his eyes, and the subtle movements of his fingertips caressing the texture of the crocodile leather.
His fingers were long, with distinct joints, and his nails were meticulously trimmed, like carefully polished works of art.
"Wanrong?"
Zhao Pingchi's voice suddenly came from behind him, a hint of hesitation. He was holding a few paper bags, and beads of sweat were oozing from his forehead. He was obviously uncomfortable with the store's heating.
Xi Wanrong locked the screen calmly, slipped her phone into her handbag, and raised a perfect smile at the corner of her lips: "What's wrong?"
"What... are you looking at?" He glanced suspiciously in the direction of the VIP room, but the light coming through the crack in the door was not enough for him to see what was going on inside.
"Nothing, I'm just thinking about what color silk scarf to match." She walked casually towards the distribution area, her fingertips sliding across rows of silk scarves, and finally stopped on a dark blue "Aurora Kiss" - that was the limited edition that Ye Qingliu wore when he attended the equestrian competition last year.
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