The shimmering chandeliers cast a muted glow over the opulent ballroom, its grandeur contrasting the cold chill creeping into the palms of Shen Qingqian's hands. She moved gracefully through the crowd, the tray in her hands steady as if bolted to her, her gaze sharp, cutting through the sea of champagne bubbles and fake smiles. She knew where she was headed—the center of it all, where the man who had haunted her nightmares for five years stood: Gu Jingming.
He was there, bathed in the brilliant light beneath the crystal chandelier, dressed in a striking Versace suit. He looked every bit the predator, a sleek, well-dressed leopard amidst the sycophantic crowd. A sea of smiles and flattering words swirled around him, all aimed at the power in his pocket, not the man himself.
Her lips curled in a barely perceptible sneer.
Pathetic.
Five years had passed, yet these people's faces hadn't aged a day.
Shen Qingqian didn't falter in her stride; if anything, she quickened her pace. Opportunities only favor those who dare to seize them.
At that moment, a woman in a Chanel suit scanned the room with an impatient frown, her empty glass held out in search of refills.
Shen Qingqian's eyes lit up with recognition. Without missing a beat, she adopted a demure, eager expression, rushing forward. "Madam, would you like me to refresh your drink?" she asked, her voice soft and respectful.
The woman glanced at her with a sideways sneer, but said nothing. She handed Shen Qingqian the glass with a swift, cold flick of her wrist, her fingers brushing against the back of Shen Qingqian's hand—icy, dismissive, tinged with a haughty arrogance.
Shen Qingqian lowered her gaze, stepping seamlessly into the crowd. She grazed the shoulder of a middle-aged man in a sharp suit, who frowned and shifted aside, but she used his movement to her advantage, slipping through with ease. Now, she was just two meters away from him.
The air around her seemed to thicken with the familiar, intoxicating scent of his cologne—Armani, mingling with the rich aroma of red wine, overpowering and dominating her senses.
Five years. Even his scent had stayed the same.
Her eyes remained fixed on the marble floor beneath him—smooth, flawless, and untouched. Perfect.
Gu Jingming was holding court, his voice loud and booming, "A blue diamond, the Heart of the Ocean, worth one hundred million dollars. When the hammer fell, the entire room rose to applaud!"
"Mr. Gu, you truly are extravagant!" someone exclaimed.
"Is this diamond for a lady?" another teased.
Gu Jingming laughed heartily, pulling a social media influencer into his embrace. The girl leaned into him with a giggle, her fingers trailing deliberately across his chest.
Now.
At the moment his body leaned back and his laughter filled the air, the middle-aged man Shen Qingqian had brushed against staggered back half a step, attempting to tap Gu Jingming on the shoulder.
It was now or never.
With a sharp sidestep, Shen Qingqian pretended to stumble, but in truth, she collided perfectly with the man's elbow.
"Ah!" she cried out, her wrist twitching—her tray tipped, and a cascade of 1982 Lafite spilled like blood from a wound.
Crash!
The wine splattered across Gu Jingming's expensive suit, the deep red liquid spreading across the fabric like an open gash.
The sound of shattering glass rang through the room, and the once-vibrant party fell into stunned silence.
Everyone froze, their eyes fixed on him.
Shen Qingqian, now sitting on the floor amidst the shards of glass, bled from a small cut on her fingertip. Her face was pale, lips trembling, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "I... I'm so sorry, Mr. Gu! It was an accident, I swear!" she stammered, her voice breaking.
She huddled, small and trembling, as if the storm had broken her, her shoulders hunched, shaking from fear.
But only she knew the truth—her heart, steady as steel.
The room erupted in a frenzy.
"Are you blind? Watch where you're going!"
"That's a custom suit! You couldn't pay for it even if you sold your life!"
"Where's the security? Get her out of here!"
The insults rained down, but Shen Qingqian kept her head low, letting the tears fall. The more vicious the curses, the more real the scene became.
Gu Jingming glanced down at the ruined suit, his expression dark as a storm cloud. Yet, when his gaze shifted to the trembling girl on the floor, something about her stopped him. His fury hesitated.
Her eyes were wide with fear, tears clinging to her lashes, but beneath that fear was something else—something sharp, almost defiant. There was a quiet challenge in her gaze, a refusal to break.
In the midst of her chaos, she radiated a cold, unyielding strength.
Interesting.
For the first time that evening, the party felt... intriguing.
"Enough." His voice was low, but it sliced through the silence, commanding attention.
He moved towards her, the sharp click of his shoes on broken glass punctuating the tension. He stopped in front of her, leaning down, his long fingers gripping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze.
The heat of his touch sent a jolt through her, and she almost bit her tongue to keep from pushing him away. His fingers were warm, relentless, and when he spoke, there was a hint of something... teasing.
"What's your name?" His tone was unexpectedly playful.
Shen Qingqian's voice caught in her throat, a sob threatening to break free. "Shen... Shen Qingqian," she whispered.
Gu Jingming narrowed his eyes, as if savoring her name, weighing it on his tongue.
Suddenly, Shen Qingqian felt a cold shiver crawl down her spine—someone's eyes were fixed on her from above, as sharp as daggers.
She quickly wiped her tears, her gaze flicking upward in a barely noticeable movement.
In the shadows, a figure in black stood like a statue, his form shrouded in mystery. His face was hidden, but his presence, powerful and oppressive, made her certain of one thing—he was watching her. Watching the scene she had so carefully orchestrated.
Good.
Both targets were now in play.
Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to steady it, lifting her tear-streaked face and meeting Gu Jingming's scrutinizing gaze with a mixture of fear and defiance.
It was a challenge without words, a question in her eyes:
Can you catch me?
A slow smile crept across Gu Jingming's lips. He released her chin, but as his hand pulled away, his fingers brushed just slightly against her ear—a touch charged with something dangerous, yet undeniably intimate.
"Get up," he ordered softly. "No need to kneel. I'm curious... Are you really this clumsy, or was it all part of the plan?"
Shen Qingqian slowly stood, her dress stained with wine, the shard of glass she had hidden still tightly clutched in her palm.
The game had only just begun.