Five years later.
Cloud Summit, a six-star luxury hotel.
Chi Huan was nearly drunk into a puddle of mud, barely managing to stand upright with the support of her agent.
When they reached the elevator, its doors were already half closed.
The agent hurriedly pressed the button while calling out, "Wait a moment, wait a moment..."
The lavishly vintage elevator doors slowly reopened.
Just as the agent was about to help Chi Huan inside, he caught a clear glimpse of the man standing in the elevator and abruptly stopped in his tracks.
A man in his thirties was standing in the middle.
A face so handsome it was infuriating.
With clearly defined, cold features, a high nose bridge, as if carved by the hand of God with no margin for error, mesmerizing to behold.
Black trousers clung to the man's long and straight legs, impeccably pressed without a single wrinkle, and a handmade black shirt, obviously worth a fortune.
There he stood, handsome, noble, indifferent.
