Jingcheng's September still held the heat of summer, and after several months of scorching, even the nights retained a suffocating, scorched warmth.
Cheng Weiyue lived with her parents in the heart of the city, in Tinglan Alley, a place so plainly simple it bordered on rustic amidst the bustling, thriving marketplace.
Their house was an old-style courtyard residence, with orange lanterns still hanging at the door.
Her mother, Zhao Ruolan, had gone out to play cards with her friends, while her father, Cheng Cunzheng, pinched a brush in his study, practicing his calligraphy.
Cheng Cunzheng, a university professor all his life, conducted himself with a considerable measure of dignity.
His gaze turned to Cheng Weiyue, who was preparing to leave with her bag, and his brow furrowed as he said in a stern voice, "Going out so late at night? Haven't even graduated from university yet and your mind is already wandering?"
Cheng Weiyue had a very beautiful face, one that, if placed in ancient times, would be described in unofficial histories as disastrously enchanting to the nation.
Especially her charming, animated, large round almond eyes, which slightly tilted upward at the corners and always seemed moist, with large, dark pupils reminiscent of a cat's.
Under the light, she wore no makeup, her palm-sized oval face boasting naturally rosy lips and a complexion that was pinkish-white and delicate. With just a ponytail, the flyaway hairs at her temples fell down, adding a touch of softness.
She was indeed more eye-catching than others who had meticulously applied makeup.
But despite possessing such a face that could flaunt beauty imposingly, her temperament was remarkably easygoing.
At the moment, she paused in her steps and looked towards Cheng Cunzheng, her tone soft and gentle, "Dad, I'm going out to find Zhao Hanchen."
Cheng Cunzheng's expression immediately softened.
Clearly, he was quite assured when it came to Zhao Hanchen.
Cheng Cunzheng waved his hand, instructing, "Be careful when you go out to have fun."
He then lowered his head and continued writing.
Cheng Weiyue stood on the side of the road, looking at the text message Zhao Hanchen had sent ten minutes ago, "Yuxian, twelfth floor."
The Yuxian Zhao Hanchen mentioned was a clubhouse in the center of the city, a place of exorbitant luxury where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. Zhao Hanchen had his own private suite there, with the best view and the best feng shui.
Cheng Weiyue clutched her phone and took a taxi, giving the driver the address.
It had not been long before the car started when it began to rain.
"This damn unlucky weather," the driver, a simple and honest middle-aged man, looked at Cheng Weiyue's quite pretty but unadorned face and said with concern, "That's not a good place, you know. You should be careful going there as a girl."
A blush of embarrassment appeared on Cheng Weiyue's face as she pursed her lips, "I'm going to meet my boyfriend."
The driver glanced at Cheng Weiyue through the rearview mirror a few times and silently sighed.
Those who frequented Yuxian were either rich or noble, and obviously, it was a tale of a naive young woman, beguiled by her own beauty, caught the eye of a profligate son.
Their paths crossed fleetingly, and the driver, feeling it was not his place to comment, quietly drove on.
"Miss, we've arrived," the driver parked the car by the road.
The entrance to Yuxian, with its traditional Chinese-style retro decor, looked refined and cultured.
Cheng Weiyue hurried in, still getting wet from the rain.
Her temple flyaways were dripping wet, and her pink sweater was stained with dark marks left by the heavy rain.
As she walked from the doorway to the elevator, she brushed shoulders with many exquisite and beautiful people.
Places like this were never short on beauties.
Around Zhao Hanchen, even more so.
Thinking so, her mind drifted slightly until the elevator "dinged" open and she snapped back to reality.
Cheng Weiyue had been to Yuxian before, so she took out the access card Zhao Hanchen had given her, swiped it, and pressed the button for the twelfth floor.
The twelfth floor housed only two VIP suites; one of them was Zhao Hanchen's, on the left-hand side.
The corridor was long and quiet, with a subtle fragrance wafting through the air. The entire hallway featured floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a view of Jingcheng's most prosperous night scene when gazing down.
Cheng Weiyue hastened her steps, yet she still noticed that the room on the right, which was always silent and unoccupied, had light spilling from the half-open door.
In that light, Cheng Weiyue saw a man standing in the corner, slightly slanted as he leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, displaying a superior height which seemed to reach about 188 centimeters.
He was facing away from her, clad in a black suit. His fingers, holding a phone, were defined and slender; the skin around his wrist was very white. Cheng Weiyue could vaguely make out his sharp jawline and the superior contours of his side profile. His presence exuded an indescribable air of aloofness and purity.
It resembled the white snow on mountaintops.
It was also like the last wisp of luxury turned into ash after burning brightly.
Mysterious, noble, and languid.
She paused for too long, and the man seemed to detect her presence, apparently about to turn his gaze towards her.
In a fluster, she withdrew her gaze and darted into the private room.
Meanwhile, at the corridor's end, the man holding the phone heard Wei Tingyao on the other line calling out to him, "Jingwei, why are you silent?"
Zhou Jingwei touched his brow with his fingertips, his voice lazy and slightly husky, "It's nothing, I just saw...."
Wei Tingyao hated it when people left their sentences hanging, "Saw what?"
Zhou Jingwei let out a low laugh, his voice carrying a faint, barely detectable softness, "A little deer."
"Does Yuxian have an animal exhibit now? Old Zhao is really upping his game."
Yuxian's owner, Zhao Ximo, was a mutual friend of theirs in the same elite circle.
Zhou Jingwei didn't reply, but simply said, "Enough about that, I'm going in."
"Right, right, you've just returned to the country, and they won't let you off until they've drunk you under the table," Wei Tingyao hastily said, "Don't waste your time chatting with me, Attorney Zhou, go on and get busy."
On the other side, just as Cheng Weiyue stepped into the room, she was hit by the pungent scent of liquor.
She was allergic to alcohol and felt uncomfortable even just smelling it.
Everyone present fell silent for a moment upon seeing her.
After all, a woman who had been by Zhao Hanchen's side for three months was not to be underestimated.
"Isn't that Yueyue? Come over here! Hanchen's gone out for a smoke, he'll be back soon. Look, we even saved you a seat!"
The speaker was Zhao Hanchen's childhood friend, Li Zhao, who had an innocent-looking youthful face, but his heart was as dark as Zhao Hanchen's.
Cheng Weiyue pinched the flesh in the center of her palm to resist the dizziness caused by the smell of alcohol, and took a seat beside Li Zhao.
The crowd warmed up again, some drinking, some singing. Someone even sat directly opposite Cheng Weiyue, not minding in the least as he wrapped his arms around his companion, kissing her passionately on the couch.
Feeling awkward, Cheng Weiyue lowered her head and picked up the glass of lemonade from the table to drink.
That was, until someone wrapped an arm around her waist from behind in a dominant move, pulling her into an embrace.
Cheng Weiyue caught the familiar scent, a refreshing fragrance mixed with the pungent smell of cigarettes.
Her glass of lemonade almost spilled, and she quickly gripped it tighter, turning to look at the newcomer.
It was Zhao Hanchen.
Today, he wore a steel-grey shirt that outlined the shape of his impressive physique. With a pair of mischievous phoenix eyes boldly expressive, he gazed at her with a hint of amusement in his eyes, presenting a face that could bewitch anyone's heart.
Elegantly handsome.
Indeed, such a captivating appearance was enough to make countless women throw themselves into the flame.