Chapter 3: How Many Did You Hire?

Ren Yishan had never heard of the Li family. She glanced at her father, and Ren Tianchuan nodded.

“The Li family’s reach extends from international trade to information development, even dabbling in aerospace. But they keep a low profile. If you can forge a connection with them, I won’t have to endure that tigress from the Jian family any longer.”

Weighing the invitation card in her hand, Ren Yishan knew this was about the fate of two families.

A smile played at her lips as her gaze slid past Xiao Yunchen. No one could tell what calculations she was making.

The villa’s door closed. In the sunlight, the air around seemed colder than ever.

“Qingqing, why not go out with friends tonight and unwind? Uncle Qian will arrange everything.”

The butler pressed a black private club card into Jian Qing’s hand. She recognized it instantly—it was for the “Haijing Heyan Club,” newly opened in the city center. Her best friend Yan Jin had one, but it required a weekly spend of at least a million to obtain.

“Uncle Qian, is this your kind of place?”

Uncle Qian fell silent.

“This was left by Madam, for you to have some fun. There’s a bit of money loaded on it.”

“A bit of money?”

At first, Jian Qing had no concept of what that meant.

But when she met up with Yan Jin that evening in the SVIP suite at Haijing Heyan, and six million flowed away like water while a roomful of young men sang around her, she found it harder to suppress her smile than to hold back a machine gun.

A little tipsy, Jian Qing clinked glasses with Yan Jin. Crimson lips brushed the rim, the wine gleaming like jelly—tempting to kiss.

“Jin Jin, you have no idea how outrageous Ren Yishan is.

“At first, I genuinely wanted to accept her. But she acts as if she’s got some illness. I say I love takoyaki, and behind my back, she claims I’m a flirt. Flirting with Xiao Yunchen is one thing, but she even spreads rumors that I dumped my childhood sweetheart, calling me fickle and notorious, saying I used to be a thug and now I’m a pervert!”

Yan Jin nearly spat out her drink, and the nearby male model hurried over with a tissue.

“Because of her, I’ve lost count of how many arguments I’ve had with my dad. My car was swapped for an old man’s ride, all my other keys confiscated and handed to Ren Yishan. I was kicked from the fourth-floor suite down to a first-floor storeroom. I feel like a modern-day Cinderella, damn it.”

“Cinderella couldn’t afford to hire male models.”

Yan Jin’s grin stretched wide.

“If Xiao Yunchen weren’t decent-looking, you’d have dumped him the last time he begged your mom in tears to invest in his family. Without the Xiao family, Xiao Yunchen is absolutely useless.”

“…”

“You really are the reincarnation of the Monkey King, aren’t you? How much has Xiao Yunchen’s face conned out of you? Burned once, twice, and you still don’t learn. How do you always fall for a handsome face? With all that money, you might as well buy me another car.”

“If he’s not good-looking, I don’t trust him.”

Jian Qing tilted her head back, her expression unreadable in the dim light. She drained her glass, but the taste was only bittersweet.

Others thought she was taken with Xiao Yunchen’s looks.

Though that did play a part, over two decades of shared history can’t be dismissed so easily. Even with a pet, one would have feelings after so long.

Especially considering that matter.

How could she not feel bitter?

Even as Ren Yishan tried to steal Xiao Yunchen away, Jian Qing couldn’t shake the sense of guilt toward him, wanting to leave a way back for both of them. She never imagined things would end so ruthlessly.

Clenching her teeth, Jian Qing glanced at Yan Jin, whose gaze was locked with the male model’s. In the end, she kept that matter to herself.

They say speaking your burdens aloud brings relief, but no matter what, Jian Qing couldn’t bring herself to say it.

She didn’t dare. She was more afraid than anything.

Her lips trembled as she poured herself another drink.

At that moment, Jian Qing’s phone rang.

The WeChat profile was pitch-black, labeled only “33.” It was already nine o’clock. The alcohol’s effects receded slightly.

She paused, and that impossibly handsome face flashed through her mind.

She answered. On the other end of the video call, Li Jingche sat in a plush private booth.

The white leather sofa could hardly contain his long, solid frame. Legs crossed, he gazed at the screen, noticing the dim lighting and the faces of several young men around Jian Qing. His expressionless face darkened.

“I thought I was the only one hired for this job?”

A cold aura radiated from him. He pressed a long finger to his temple, expression shifting slightly. Whether it was intentional or natural, his speech was unhurried and elegant, every movement of his lips and teeth drawing attention to his attractive mouth.

Only then did Jian Qing realize—

She was, perhaps, now someone with a boyfriend?

Hurriedly, she scrambled off the sofa, stumbling into the arms of a handsome young man who tried to steady her. Her face flushed crimson.

“Careful, miss.”

She looked up. Even the model’s good looks couldn’t hold her interest, and without a word, she covered the phone and dashed out of the suite.

Finding a secluded corner, Jian Qing felt a pang of guilt.

Li Jingche’s voice came through, low and hoarse, shadowed by the overhead light.

“Didn’t you say you liked older men?”

Jian Qing giggled foolishly. “Are you jealous?”

Silence.

“What a little glutton for attention.”

He said nothing, watching her with the stillness of a Buddha statue. Even through the phone, his oppressive presence was palpable.

Jian Qing, left to liven the mood by herself, found it less amusing. She cleared her throat—her head still spinning, but her voice steadier.

“Why did you call?”

“To check in.”

“Where are you?”

“Do you care?”

The question came out of nowhere. Though nothing had happened between them, Jian Qing was instantly swept by a wave of guilt.

Staring at his face in the video, she couldn’t even muster a spark of irritation. She nodded repeatedly.

“Of course I care.”

“Then tell me—what’s my name?”

“…”

“You’re not going to call me Friday, are you?”

Li Jingche’s words cut sharp; older than Jian Qing, yet at this moment, petulant as a child.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Excuse me, miss, are you all right?”

The club’s general manager, making his rounds, spotted Jian Qing sitting dazed on a chair and approached.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Would you like me to help you back to your suite?”

But when the manager caught a glimpse of her phone screen and saw the stern face on the other end, he knew he’d never forget it—

Wasn’t that… his boss?