Jiang Ciyou suddenly turned around, her gaze locking onto the tall figure in the distance.
As he walked by, it felt as though dark clouds descended, his powerful presence intimidating those around him into silence, their eyes reflecting respect, admiration, and even fear.
His aura was chillingly cold.
It couldn't be him.
Her "little gigolo" was nothing like this. He was like the blazing sun in midsummer—passionate, reckless, and somewhat playful.
Every time they met, he would actively flirt, tease her when she was most vulnerable, and shower her with affection when she thought of giving up. He was a master at the pleasures of their intimate encounters.
Jiang Ciyou often poked at his chest, jokingly saying, "You're just like a male Daji." He would smirk wickedly, grasping her chin, "Then you're like a female Zhou Wang?"
How could such a carefree man be the ethereal young master of the capital right in front of her?
She tried to convince herself otherwise, but unease lingered in her heart.
After the gift-giving segment ended, guests began to take their seats. She settled down early, scanning the crowd, but that man's figure was nowhere to be found.
Jiang Ciyou sat quietly, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts. Her gaze eventually landed on the number marked "little gigolo," lost in thought.
A vague feeling crept over her that she was being watched. Heart racing, she abruptly looked up.
There he was! On the second floor of the banquet hall, a pair of cold eyes were fixed on her.
It was him!
Though they were too far apart for her to be sure, her heartbeat quickened uncontrollably.
Driven by a strange impulse, she dialed the number.
The man on the second floor remained still, seemingly unaffected by her action.
She breathed a sigh of relief—thankfully, it wasn't him.
Just as she lowered her gaze, ready to hang up, the call unexpectedly connected.
The familiar low voice came through the receiver: "Speak."
Jiang Ciyou didn't respond, her eyes still glued to the man on the second floor.
He was also staring back at her, an unspoken tension filling the air.
After a few seconds, Jiang Ciyou instinctively hung up. Sure enough, the man on the second floor slowly slipped his phone into his pocket.
Her heart felt like it was being squeezed, making it hard to breathe.
How could this be?
Why was it like this?
There truly was no one who looked exactly the same.
Bo Jinxi was actually her "little gigolo" for three years!
Her mind raced with memories, particularly of their first encounter.
That night, Yan Feng took Xia Ling abroad, and her friend Shen Nuo dragged her to the "Black Club." She remembered drinking a lot, and Shen Nuo had ordered several male models. In a twist of fate, she ended up having an intimate encounter with one of them.
The next morning, although she felt regret, seeing the model's almost devilishly handsome face sparked a different kind of thought.
Why should she endure a loveless marriage when she could seek pleasure?
So she wrote him a check for a hundred thousand: "How about I take care of you from now on?"
From then on, their meetings never occurred at the Black Club again. She had only been there once. Instead, she gave him an address—the Green Lawn Villa. For three years, he lived there, and every month, she'd give him a check, visiting him whenever she pleased.
They never discussed each other's families or identities, only seeking joy in each other's company.
He was the most rebellious and daring part of her life. But when she realized that this part was beyond her control, she decided to end their relationship.
She thought they would return to their separate lives, never crossing paths again, only to find that the once-weak prey now eyed her as the hunter. Somehow, she had already fallen into his trap.
When Yan Feng returned, he found Jiang Ciyou sitting in a chair, lost in thought. Her face was pale, her expression vacant, as if she had suffered a great shock. The bright gleam in her eyes had faded, leaving them hollow and pitiful, evoking a sense of sympathy.
Yan Feng suppressed his urge to ask what was wrong and sat down beside her.
He could guess it was about Yao Shulan and Jiang Xiaoxiao. The mother she had called for twenty years was now a stranger.
The banquet began, and he noticed Jiang Ciyou downing drink after drink, clearly burdened with thoughts.
When she poured another drink for herself, he finally took hold of her glass. "Aren't you a girl? Don't drink so much!"
Jiang Ciyou smiled playfully, "What, are you worried about me?"
Yan Feng's tone turned serious: "Today's an important occasion. Don't embarrass the Yan family by getting drunk."
"I just had a breakup; can't I drink a bit to drown my sorrows?" She feigned nonchalance, but her eyes were already a bit red from the alcohol.
He felt a pang in his heart, but quickly hardened his expression: "Jiang Ciyou, even if you get drunk under the table today, I won't feel sorry for you for a second."
She fell silent, continuing to drink.
How did her little gigolo turn into a young master? Did he even know about her identity as Mrs. Yan? He had played the part of a gigolo for three years without ever explaining himself. What was his true intention?
Sorrow! How overwhelming that feeling was!
As the banquet progressed, guests flocked to the main table to toast. Yan Feng stood up: "Let's go toast the old lady."
He walked ahead, while Jiang Ciyou followed with her wine glass in hand. Soon, they reached the main table, which was crowded with people.
The old lady had left early, leaving only Bo Jinxi to hold court.
Many guests had come to toast, but most simply clinked glasses, with Bo Jinxi barely drinking in return.
When the crowd thinned, Yan Feng saw an opportunity and approached Bo Jinxi. "Fourth Master Bo, I'm Yan Feng from the Yan family in Rongcheng. I've long admired your reputation. Let me toast you."
He offered his glass, waiting for Bo Jinxi's response.
However, Bo Jinxi showed no intention of lifting his glass. Yan Feng's hand hung in mid-air, the atmosphere suddenly becoming awkward.