Dressed in simple jeans and a fitted black top, Xia Yan hardly looked like the heiress of a prominent merchant family or the cold-blooded assassin she once was. Her attire was deliberately low-key, perfect for blending into the city. She tied her hair back into a sleek ponytail and grabbed her bag.
Today, she had arranged to personally pick up some sensitive items she had purchased through the black market. Delivery was too risky; she couldn't trust anyone but herself to ensure the transaction went smoothly.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pavement as Xia Yan walked through the crowded streets. She moved with a quiet confidence, her sharp eyes scanning her surroundings. The items she had ordered—specialized tools and materials—were tucked safely in a black case slung over her shoulder.
As she made her way back, a commotion up ahead caught her attention.
A sleek black car careened around the corner, skidding dangerously close to the sidewalk. People screamed and scattered as the vehicle spun out of control, heading straight toward a young child standing frozen in its path.
Without thinking, Xia Yan moved. Her body reacted instinctively, senses honed from years of training. She darted forward, scooping up the terrified boy just as the car screeched to a halt inches away. The child clung to her tightly, his small body trembling. His wide, tear-filled eyes stared up at her as she set him down gently on the sidewalk.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice calm but firm.
The boy shook his head, his sobs quieting under her steady gaze.
A cold voice interrupted the scene.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Xia Yan turned to face the speaker: a tall, imposing man with sharp features and a piercing gaze. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his presence radiating authority and power.
This was Liang Chen, though she didn't know it yet. His dark eyes studied her with suspicion, his expression cold and unreadable.
"Saving a child," she replied flatly, her tone devoid of emotion. His gaze shifted to the boy, who had now latched onto her leg, his small hands clutching her jeans.
"That's my nephew," Liang Chen said, stepping closer.
Xia Yan raised an eyebrow. "Then you should've kept a closer eye on him."
Her words were blunt, almost dismissive, and it clearly caught him off guard. Women usually fell over themselves to receive attention from him, whether through flattery or false humility. But this young woman, with her indifferent tone and calm demeanor, acted as though he was just another passerby.
"You're saying this wasn't planned?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
Her lips curled into a faint smirk. "If you think I staged a near-accident involving a child to get your attention, you're either paranoid or delusional…or probably both." She glanced down at the boy, ruffling his hair gently. "You should take better care of him."
Without waiting for a response, Xia Yan turned and walked away, leaving the dumbfounded Liang Chen standing there.
He watched her retreating figure, his brows furrowing. There was something about her—something that didn't align with the typical behavior he was used to. Most women in his circle were either calculating or openly enamored, always seeking a way to ingratiate themselves with him. But this one... she hadn't even spared him a second glance after her sharp remark.
His gaze flickered back to his nephew, who was still staring after her with wide eyes.
The tense silence following the accident was shattered when Liang Chen's fiver-year-old nephew, still clutching his uncle's hand, turned and pointed toward the retreating figure of Xia Yan. His small voice rang out, high and clear, cutting through the air like an arrow.
"Mama!"
Liang Chen froze mid-step. His sharp, calculating gaze snapped to the boy, who was gazing adoringly at the retreating woman.
"What did you just say?" Liang Chen asked, his deep voice tinged with disbelief.
"Mama!" the boy repeated with even more conviction, his chubby hand waving toward Xia Yan, who disappeared around the corner without so much as a backward glance.
Liang Chen's impeccable composure cracked for a fraction of a second. His expression was blank, almost comically so, before it darkened. He knelt down, gripping his nephew's tiny shoulders and speaking with deliberate calm.
"HanHan, you know Uncle isn't married, right?"
The boy tilted his head, his big, innocent eyes blinking up at his uncle. "But she's pretty! Like a mama."
Liang Chen exhaled, his brows furrowing slightly. This wasn't the reaction he expected—not from his nephew, who was usually wary of strangers, and certainly not from the woman who had barely spared him a glance.
He straightened, smoothing his already-perfect suit. A rare flicker of doubt crossed his mind. He glanced down at the boy again, who was still staring wistfully in the direction of Xia Yan's departure.
"Little Han," he began, his tone lighter but still edged with incredulity, "does Uncle not look handsome anymore?"
The child didn't even glance at him, his entire focus fixed on where Xia Yan had been.
Liang Chen's brows twitched, his lips pressed into a thin line. He turned toward his assistant, Yang Rui, who stood nearby, trying his best to blend into the background. Unfortunately for him, his boss's dark gaze now rested squarely on him.
"Well?" Liang Chen demanded, his tone deceptively calm.
Yang Rui, a man known for his diligence and sharp intellect, straightened immediately. Adjusting the glasses perched on his nose, he cleared his throat. "Sir, you remain as handsome as ever. Statistically speaking, your attractiveness is objectively beyond reproach."
Liang Chen narrowed his eyes. "But?"
Yang Rui hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to choose his next words carefully. Finally, he adjusted his glasses again and said, "However... it appears that the young lady who rescued Young Master Han may not have been influenced by your usual... aura."
Liang Chen's gaze darkened further, his piercing eyes promising untold consequences if this discussion continued.
"Are you saying," Liang Chen began slowly, his tone like ice, "that I am not attractive enough to gain her attention?"
Yang Rui gulped. This was a minefield. But his professionalism—and self-preservation—forced him to respond with diplomacy.
"Sir," he said carefully, "the young lady didn't even look at you. Perhaps she's... an outlier?"
Liang Chen's expression hardened, and Yang Rui knew he had chosen the wrong answer. He mentally prepared himself for extra hours of work, or perhaps a trip to the most remote branch office of the Liang Corporation.
Meanwhile, Liang Chen glanced back at his nephew, who had now picked up a stray pebble and was examining it with great interest. He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.
The idea that someone—anyone—could simply ignore him was... novel. For most, his name alone was enough to command respect, attention, and more often than not, adoration. Yet this woman had not only disregarded him, she had done so with the kind of dismissiveness usually reserved for background noise.
His lips curled into a faint, self-deprecating smirk. "Interesting."
Yang Rui blinked in surprise. His boss rarely used that word.
"Sir?"
"Nothing," Liang Chen replied smoothly. His demeanor shifted back to his usual calm, collected self. "Let's go."
He scooped up his nephew, who immediately began squirming.
"I want Mama!" the boy wailed, tears welling up in his eyes.
Liang Chen's expression turned frosty again, and he handed the boy off to Yang Rui. "Handle this," he said curtly, before striding toward the sleek black car waiting nearby.
As he stepped into the vehicle, his thoughts lingered on the mysterious woman. Who was she? And why did she seem completely immune to the charm and presence that most people couldn't ignore?
The faintest trace of a smile curved his lips.
He would find out soon enough.
Xia Yan returned home, setting the black case on her desk and locking the door behind her. Her day had been productive—she had secured the tools she needed and even managed to avoid unnecessary complications.
The boy she had saved briefly crossed her mind. His wide eyes and trembling hands reminded her of the children she had failed to protect in her past life. A faint pang of guilt pricked at her, but she pushed it aside.
Her life now was about survival, power, and revenge. Emotions had no place here.
Still, she couldn't help but smirk as she thought of the tall, overbearing man who had confronted her. His suspicion, his disbelief—it had been written all over his face.
"Men like him," she murmured to herself, "always think the world revolves around them."
Her smirk deepened as she leaned back in her chair, already dismissing the encounter. If he was wise, he wouldn't cross her path again.