Jingcheng.
In a district where every inch of land was worth a fortune, romantic parasol trees grew in abundance. An autumn wind blew through, blanketing the ground in gold that stretched for miles along the grand avenue.
Many people called this place the Golden Street—not only for the golden autumn leaves, but for the vast piles of money it represented. Further up the avenue, within row upon row of brilliantly lit, high-end private villas, lived people whose mere names could shake the political and business circles three times over.
Therefore, the cheapest car that dared to drive around here cost at least a million, for how else could one have the confidence to enter and rub shoulders with such supreme elites?
The late-autumn night breeze was slightly chilly, sweeping the golden leaves across the long avenue. Unexpectedly, a single figure was walking on foot up the seemingly endless street.
Heyue carried a heavy shopping bag, occasionally pausing to shift the bag of fresh, expensive imported fruit upward.
Any random item inside would clash terribly with the fifty-yuan outfit she wore.
She had no car, nor could she bear to spend money on a taxi, and every time she came to Wutong Shenyuan, her calves ached from the walk.
Yet she had no choice; the young master living inside simply loved to torture her by coming up with different ways to make her run errands.
With her head down, walking for half an hour, Heyue finally reached the security guard post. Fine beads of sweat had already seeped onto her forehead, and a flush of red bloomed on her cheeks from the forced aerobic exercise, making her complexion look delicate and tender.
She switched the shopping bag to her other hand and laboriously felt around in her bag for the gate key. Before she could take it out, she heard a voice behind her: "Hey, what are you standing there for?"
Heyue turned her head to look. It was a young security guard with a square face, likely new on the job and seeing her for the first time.
Heyue was not surprised by the disdain in his eyes. People who worked here were accustomed to pricing people; after all, bootlicking the high and trampling the low was the unspoken rule for navigating this pyramid-shaped society.
She watched as the young guard curled his lip and looked Heyue up and down. Her straight, long hair bore no traces of a perm or dye, and her palm-sized face was free of makeup. Her features were not particularly striking, but they were redeemed by her fair skin, a pair of clean, clear almond-shaped eyes, and a quiet, serene temperament.
Yet her cheap clothes instantly dragged down her entire aura; her entire outfit, even if she were to sell herself, couldn't match the value of a single expensive imported parasol tree planted nearby.
"Is this a place you can come to? Even the ones who get to go inside look like this, do you understand?" He made a lewd, undulating gesture with his hands, clearly mistaking Heyue for one of the high-end escorts summoned by the rich men inside.Never did she expect that a mere security guard's title could elevate his own status to that of a chairman of a listed company.
Heyue caught the sarcasm in the young guard's voice and ignored it, lowering her head to rummage through her keys. The ignored guard was displeased—who was this person, daring to brush him off?
He grabbed her slender arm, but the seemingly frail girl quickly twisted his hand back into a reverse lock, her tone utterly indifferent: "Are you a security guard, or are you just a dog kept by these rich people?"
"Are you looking to ge—" Before the guard could finish, an older security guard rushed out from the lodge. "Mazi, is that any way to speak to Miss Heyue?"
Seeing that he had backup, Liu Mazi pulled his arm free from Heyue and retreated behind the older man, complaining with a grievance, "Uncle, wasn't it you who said we couldn't let idlers in?" He glared at Heyue. "Especially poor people like this."
"She's Young Master Jiang's woman." Old Liu shoved Liu Mazi hard in the ribs with his elbow to shut him up, then turned around with a ingratiating smile to open the gate for Heyue. "Miss Heyue, are those things heavy? Shall I help you carry them?"
"No need." Heyue lowered her gaze and stepped into Wutong Shenyuan.
She walked forward, struggling under the weight of her bags. Behind her, Old Liu was still lecturing Liu Mazi: "How can you be so completely blind?"
"Which person out doing that kind of work dresses like her?" Liu Mazi grumbled. "You can't blame all of this on me."
Heyue closed her eyes, trying to banish the foul language from her mind, yet fragments of those dirty words still drifted into her heart.
Yet she had no right to turn around and retort, because she truly was no good person.
***
Wutong Shenyuan, Villa No. 7.
The moment Heyue pushed open the door, a wave of sharp, explosive laughter pierced her ears.
"Twenty-seven minutes and fifty-four seconds! Not bad at all, Young Master Jiang, your woman really does as she's told."
Heyue looked toward the young scion surrounded by the crowd at the center of the room. As their eyes met, he tilted his head and raised his glass to her.
His name was Jiang Shaoming, the only son of the Jiang Family and a well-known model. Over the past year, the number of magazine covers he had graced was too many to count on two hands, though gossip magazines outnumbered fashion ones by far.
After all, apart from his prominent background and countless women, the most important thing about Jiang Shaoming was that he was undeniably, strikingly handsome.His features possessed a delicate, feminine softness: narrow, upturned eyes, a high-bridge nose, and deep-set contours. A black stud gleamed in his earlobe, making him look just like the K-pop idols Heyue had adored back in high school.
The wealthy socialites around him heaped him with praise, and his striking looks only added to his allure.
Hearing the adoration in his hard-drinking friends' voices, Jiang Shaoming could not entirely hide his smugness. He threw his head back, downed the whiskey in his glass in a single gulp, crossed his long legs, and walked toward Heyue.
Behind him, the crowd, already numb with alcohol, plunged back into the thumping music. Some cheered and shrieked as they shook their hips, while others, driven by drink, embraced and kissed.
Jiang Shaoming walked toward Heyue step by step. Being a tall, well-known fashion model, his stride was undeniably captivating.
Heyue pressed her lips together, suppressing her rising displeasure, and spoke: "Didn't you say your stomach was hurting?"
That was why she had rushed out the moment she finished work, hurrying to the imported supermarket he had named to buy the fresh vegetables he liked, and even a whole old hen. Yet she never expected he was only toying with her just to show off in front of his friends!
Even hearing Heyue say this, Jiang Shaoming felt not a shred of guilt for playing with her emotions; instead, he grew even more pleased with himself. He loved seeing Heyue reluctant yet forced to obey.
Jiang Shaoming's partially unbuttoned shirt reeked of a chaotic mixture of stale alcohol and cheap perfume. He reached out and gently pinched Heyue's cheek. "You really are my most obedient woman." He turned around, his slender fingers pointing at the extravagantly dressed women scattered throughout the crowd. "You were the fastest one to get here."
Jiang Shaoming's unconcealed smugness trampled Heyue's dignity straight into the dust.
Her long eyelashes fluttered. Her grip on the shopping bag loosened, and it hit the floor with a dull thud. Two tomatoes rolled out, spinning across the ground until someone in the wild crowd stepped on them, crushing them and splattering juice everywhere.
The blonde-haired guy who had spoken earlier watched the drama unfold with amusement. "Jiang-shao, is your woman getting angry?"
Jiang Shaoming hated nothing more than losing face in front of others. He threw an arm around Heyue's waist, giving the soft flesh at her hip an intimate pinch. "How could that be? My baby would never be angry with me, right?"
He brushed the tip of his nose against Heyue's cheek, and the overpowering stench of alcohol made her stomach turn.
When Heyue met Jiang Shaoming's gaze, she looked nothing like an obedient, gentle little rabbit.
Jiang Shaoming sidestepped to block the others' view. "What? Want to chew me out?"
His voice was lowered to a murmur, entirely swallowed by the deafening music in the private room. Following Heyue's gaze down to the shopping bag scattered on the floor, his expression rapidly chilled.
As it turned out, what had tumbled out wasn't just the vegetables Heyue had lugged up the steep slope because she wanted to boil soup for him; there was also a magazine. The cover prominently featured Jiang Shaoming's handsome face. Yet in the photo, he looked so gentlemanly and refined—without his ear stud, dressed to the nines, holding the hand of another young lady from a prestigious family with eyes full of tenderness.
The blonde guy spotted the magazine as well. He bounded excitedly off the sofa, snatching it up a second before Jiang Shaoming could, completely oblivious to Jiang Shaoming's clenched jaw and grinding teeth.
"Jiang-shao, it's the engagement news about you and Yaoyao!" He hopped over to Heyue's side, playing the joker. "Miss Heyue, you aren't jealous, are you? Don't worry, Jiang-shao won't abandon a beauty so easily. You can always be his mistress on the side."
Faced with his teasing, Heyue merely shot him an indifferent look. The blonde guy shrank his head back, sheepishly retreating. What a block of wood this woman's personality was.
Jiang Shaoming acutely felt the oppressive atmosphere radiating from Heyue beside him. He forced a smile, his grip tightening significantly as he leaned down close to Heyue's ear to threaten her: "Why aren't you smiling yet?"
Sensing the subtle tension in the air, the blonde guy immediately pretended to be dead drunk, staggering off to the side and taking the incriminating magazine along with him to bail Jiang Shaoming out.
Now that there was no one around them, Jiang Shaoming's expression soured instantly. He seized Heyue's wrist, giving her no room to struggle, and dragged her straight toward the floor-to-ceiling window.
The moonlight was like water, chillingly cold, filling him with intense agitation. He hated it when Heyue was angry, and after ten years, he still found himself unable to completely control her.
"Congratulations," Heyue spoke first.
"And then?" Jiang Shaoming forced a casual tone, though his grip on Heyue's wrist only tightened further.
Heyue simply looked at him, her pretty eyes filled with detachment, coldness, and even disgust.
Jiang Shaoming frowned, irritated as he licked his lips and pulled out a cigarette to light.
"Do you think that once I'm married, you'll be free and won't have to fawn over me anymore?" Jiang Shaoming sneered. "Keep dreaming."