The business meeting had ended, and it was exactly ten o'clock at night.

He Yanxi, slightly intoxicated, hadn't driven himself. His driver had been waiting outside the clubhouse for some time, and upon seeing him exit, swiftly opened the rear passenger door.

He Yanxi bent slightly to sit inside, his long fingers idly pulling at his tie. After a brief moment, he waved his hand, and the driver, understanding the signal, started the car. They exited the clubhouse and began cruising down the main road.

The city of Kyoto was ablaze with lights, its splendor unmistakable.

He Yanxi, his tall frame leaning against the back of the seat, rested his fingers on the bridge of his nose, tapping gently as his thoughts wandered.

When he returned to his villa, he took a quick shower, then noticed a message from his grandfather in his phone.

A string of digits.

Contact name: Wen Ruan

Accompanying the number was a message, a "well-intentioned" reminder from his grandfather:

[He Yanxi, you know full well the relationship between the Wen family and me. When you meet Wen Ruan, you must make sure to clarify things properly. Don't even think about saying anything out of line and angering her. Wen Ruan has been frail since childhood; your grandfather has done everything he could to raise her to this state, so she cannot endure any of your nonsense.]

A delicate flower in a greenhouse?

Not quite.

He Yanxi vaguely remembered a chubby little girl trailing behind him years ago, running out of breath when she tried to catch up, her face flushed with a persistent cough. Her large, round eyes, reddened from coughing, resembled those of a rabbit—pitiful and vulnerable.

Her tiny body would bleed from the slightest bump, crying out in pain and asking for comfort, tears welling up at a harsh word.

Delicate indeed.

His clenched fist lightly tapped his forehead. [Grandfather, you've learned to send texts now?]

[Is that the point? You think I don't know how to have someone else send a message?]

He Yanxi typed, [Is this a roundabout way of setting up a blind date?]

[Blind date? You two are already practically engaged.]

[As the gentleman, you should take the initiative.]

"..." Soon, another message came through from his grandfather:

[Pay attention to Wen Ruan's preferences and restrictions.]

[Don't think this is unnecessary. As a gentleman, it's only right for you to care for her.]

"..." He Yanxi wasn't displeased as he read the file his grandfather had sent. It made sense that someone like Wen Ruan, who had been so carefully nurtured as a delicate young lady, would have a list of preferences and restrictions.

He Yanxi opened the document, finding it far shorter than he had anticipated.

It was simple and formal:

Likes quietness, enjoys drinking white tea.

Hobbies: chess, reading.

Dislikes: crowded places; stuffy air; sweet foods, particularly chocolate.

Allergy history: dust, fur.

He Yanxi smiled lightly after reading it. It was indeed succinct, though each point presented its own challenges.

Time passed slowly as He Yanxi dealt with his tasks, resting his forehead in his hands.

After a while, he removed his glasses, feeling slightly tired, rubbing his brow, his gaze wandering to his phone.

He checked the time—ten minutes past eleven.

At this hour, he wondered if that young lady was already asleep.

There was no specific directive regarding this matter, but tomorrow, his grandfather would undoubtedly start pestering him again.

With a slight frown, He Yanxi decided against calling her at such a late hour and instead typed out a message.

*

[Grandfather suggests we meet first. When is convenient for you? I'll have my assistant arrange it. — He Yanxi]

Wen Ruan had a habit of reading before bed, and as she was immersed in a book, she received the message from He Yanxi.

She paused for a moment, memories of the past resurfacing.

He Yanxi—her betrothed since childhood.

Her memory of him was still stuck in the time before she turned ten, with only vague recollections and no particularly strong impressions.

The one thing she did remember was that He Yanxi didn't like her much.

She had thought that she would never have any further connection with this nominal fiancé of hers.

However, months ago, her grandfather's health deteriorated completely in a private estate in Russia. He insisted on returning to China for his final days, refusing treatment abroad.

The family respected his wishes, and a week later, when he showed slight improvement, he was transferred to one of Kyoto's best hospitals.

The matter of Wen Ruan and He Yanxi's early, absurd betrothal had never been mentioned by either family, seemingly left to fade away.

But when her grandfather fell into a critical condition, the old men of both families met again, and, out of the blue, the engagement was back on the table.

The marriage between the two families was raised again, but for three months, He Yanxi remained silent.

At this point, this message was simply a formality, a response to the pressure from the family.

Wen Ruan smiled faintly, resigned.

She responded to the message: [Any time works for me. Please feel free to arrange at your convenience, Mr. He.]

He Yanxi, never expecting her to still be awake at this hour, thought to himself: A delicate young lady, shouldn't she be following a more regular schedule?

He typed: [How are you still awake?]

But then reconsidered and deleted it, deeming it unnecessary.

He checked his assistant's recent schedule and changed his message to: [How about the day after tomorrow, at 5:30 pm?]

Wen Ruan replied: [That works. I'm in Kyoto, so there's no problem.]

He Yanxi: [Great. I'll pick you up that afternoon, and I'll try to come a bit earlier.]

Wen Ruan didn't refuse; both families valued face, so the proper formalities would be observed.

It wasn't surprising that He Yanxi was taking care to be proper. If he hadn't come to pick her up, it would have been a loss of face for the Wen family.

Wen Ruan could tell exactly how things were going. The next morning, she found herself in the living room, with the family's designer waiting for her, bringing several dresses for her to try on.

The designer had selected a modified white chevron-patterned qipao for her. It wasn't traditional but held a subtle and unique allure.

Wen Ruan's beautiful figure was well defined, her graceful posture accentuated by the dress. The tasteful slit revealed her long, fair legs, adding a hint of sexiness to her elegance.

Her beauty wasn't the type of delicate, bone-thin aesthetic, but a perfect harmony of skin and bone, an elegant blend of grace and sensuality.

Her mother, pleased, couldn't help but marvel at the final look, her assistant designer equally in awe.

"Ruan, you look stunning. Your fiancé is sure to be completely captivated by you."

Wen Ruan smiled faintly, with little emotion, her thoughts clearer. She had never forgotten that He Yanxi had disliked her as a child.

Before she turned ten, she had been in Kyoto, always running after He Yanxi, who, along with his friends, had treated her as a nuisance. She remembered it all clearly.

No matter. She could handle it—whatever came her way.

After her makeup was done, the makeup artist added a beauty spot under her left eye, making her delicate face even more enchanting.

As she was finishing up, a message from He Yanxi came in:

"On the way. I'll be there in about half an hour."

Wen Ruan, adjusting her outfit, casually replied:

"No rush, Mr. He. Please drive safely."