“Having a breakdown really does take it out of you.”

In less than ten minutes, Liang Meng had drifted off in the passenger seat of Lin Qing’s car, her faint, delicate snoring filling the air.

“Must be nice being the little princess! Coming into the office every day all dolled up just to have a meltdown. All the hard, exhausting work falls to the rest of us.”

At a red light, Lin Qing glanced sideways at the sleeping Liang Meng. The complaints reverberating inside her head were deafening.

……

Three hours earlier.

The top floor of the Sansheng Building.

A two-hundred-square-meter CEO’s office.

Jiang Han, dressed in black from head to toe, had curled his long legs beneath him and was lying on his side on a black Barcelona chair, taking an afternoon nap.

The office was empty. Perfectly silent.

His long black eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly, like butterfly wings.

He turned over, one arm tucked beneath his head, when suddenly a faint, familiar warmth — sweet and clean — drifted into his senses from just above his nose.

Jiang Han’s brow furrowed in an instant.

Before he could shake himself free of that feminine fragrance, he felt a pair of slender, fair, beautiful legs press irresistibly down upon him.

The woman moved with the lightness of a cat.

One jade-white arm had just braced itself against his shoulder when the other hand — like the paw of a Persian cat — glided silently across one side of his hip.

Along the edge of that crystal-pale little calf, dark ink-blue vines seemed to bloom and creep, inching little by little toward his chest.

Entwining. Entangling.

The rhythm was light and swift, every step lethal.

Jiang Han exerted every ounce of his strength, yet he was pinned beneath the beauty, utterly unable to move.

Then came the familiar cascade of long hair, seizing the moment to tumble down.

That soft, feather-like sensation — as though floating on clouds — lightly grazed his chest.

Jiang Han reached out wanting to take hold of that beautiful face. The woman’s hurried breathing was drawing slowly, inevitably closer.

Her fair and delicate nose, her familiar blazing red lips, her white calves entwined in vines as she knelt upon his bed, the sweet and lingering warmth of her breath…

Everything was so achingly familiar, so charged with unspoken feeling.

It was Liang Meng!

Jiang Han jolted awake with a start!

Overcome with longing he had fought so hard to suppress, yet unable to contain a surge of unbridled joy, he tilted his chin up and kissed her at once!

Soft as flower petals.

Sweet as nectar.

Transcendently, breathtakingly beautiful.

A long-missed sense of closeness and fulfillment was breaking through his desire at the speed of light…

No. He couldn’t.

At the very last moment, Jiang Han shuddered violently — a pure reflex.

He shoved away Liang Meng — his sister-in-law — with both hands.

He couldn’t.

That final sliver of reason, like a firework that burns out too soon, crushed every last flicker of desire beneath a wave of darkness.

A cold sweat broke over him.

Jiang Han pressed a hand to his wildly heaving chest and jolted awake.

Thank goodness it was a dream.

His heart had yet to settle.

Even so, somewhere in his subconscious, he indulged in a moment of stubborn self-pity.

Thank goodness it was a dream.

Gazing up at the sunlight gradually sharpening above him, Jiang Han felt at once relieved and bereft.

Relieved — that it was a dream.

Bereft — that the sweetest dreams are always the first to end.

But the face that had been slowly drawing closer in that dream — her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her scent — why had it all felt so vivid…

So real.

“Whoa — !!”

Jiang Han lurched and rolled off the Barcelona chair, tumbling straight onto the carpet.

At this moment, it was no longer a dream.

It was the real Liang Meng.

She was right there, peering down at him with a perfectly innocent expression, watching him the way one might observe an animal on display.

“Dreaming again?”

Liang Meng, dressed in formal attire, gave a casual wave of her hand in front of his face, completely untroubled.

“Yeah… mm.”

Jiang Han pressed a hand to his chest and pushed himself up from the floor with a twist of his waist.

Impressively composed, for someone in such a disheveled state.

He could not tell Liang Meng that he had just been having an erotic dream about her.

The vines from that dream, coiled around something tangled and complex, went on spreading wildly in the depths of Jiang Han’s heart.

“How did you get in? Where’s the secretary? Did you make an appointment?”

Jiang Han’s expression swiftly returned to its usual composed, cool detachment.

Liang Meng clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her chin up with a proud, petulant air. “I snuck in!”

“And that’s something to be proud of.”

Jiang Han stood up and walked toward the liquor cabinet. He desperately needed a drink to steady his nerves.

He did not want to turn around — he was running from the feelings and desires buried in his subconscious.

“If you have something to say, say it, and… leave. I’m very busy.”

Jiang Han tossed back a mouthful of cold liquor, and the sharp heat that followed scorched a path straight through his unease and fear.

“I came to discuss the distributor situation with you. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

Liang Meng knew nothing of Jiang Han’s dream. She made herself completely at home, sprawling back on the reception sofa in a languid, sprawling slouch.

“The Longquan matter — go ask your sister.”

Jiang Han did his best to sound indifferent.

“I’m asking you!” Liang Meng scoffed, spoiled and dismissive, rolling her eyes, before launching into her pitch with confident ease. “Longquan’s current distributors can only convert a few tens of millions in profit per year. So I want to restructure the channel distribution — shift from sixty percent offline and forty percent online to forty percent offline and sixty percent online. Focus mainly on the supply chain. A single live-stream session alone can move over one million in sales…”

This time, Jiang Han did not indulge her as he usually did. Instead, he cut her off directly. “I’ll say it one more time — the Longquan matter, go ask your sister! I am not the right answer!”

His voice was low and unyielding.

It left no room for anyone to push any further.

Liang Meng had come bounding in full of excitement, thrilled to have found what she thought was the magic password to open every door.

She had been burning to share her discovery with someone.

Jiang Han had shut her down cold.

Liang Meng’s expression froze for a moment. The string of arguments she had lined up died in her throat before a single one could escape.

It was as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head.

Jiang Han was a domineering CEO — much of the time he seemed calm and approachable, tolerant and easy-going, never spoiling for a fight.

Normally, a bit of banter was fine. But when he was truly displeased, Liang Meng could always tell in an instant.

The atmosphere had shifted. Something felt off.

This was not the Jiang Han she was used to.

“I’m just saying, Longquan’s path dependency has to be broken…”

Still, Liang Meng wanted to try once more. The group’s transformation was urgently needed, and right now she desperately needed someone to think it through with her.

As her guiding mentor and sounding board, Jiang Han was not just the most suitable person — he was the only one.

“Don’t rely on me, either!”

Jiang Han stood with his back to Liang Meng at the counter, issuing a sharp warning once more.

He was not the right answer.

Seeing that Jiang Han truly refused to listen to a word she said, Liang Meng first stared in disbelief.

Then her competitive spirit flared. Furious, she sat up straight, grabbed her bag from beside her in a fit of pique, and turned to storm out the door.

“Wait.”

Jiang Han’s voice, sharp and commanding.

Yet somehow, the force behind it dropped off sharply — considerably gentler than before.

Liang Meng secretly pressed her lips together and bowed her head to hide a smile.

She’d known it.

How could Jiang Han ever really leave her to fend for herself?

Since she was a child, he had always been her guardian, her protector, ready at a moment’s notice.

Playing hard to get again.

Liang Meng turned back with a secret flutter of delight. The volley of arguments lodged in her throat began to loosen, ready to pick up where she’d left off.

“Go on a blind date tomorrow evening.”

Liang Meng had been completely absorbed in her ideas for reforming Longquan.

Jiang Han’s words — flat and without a trace of warmth — struck her like a bolt from a clear sky, cleaving straight through her.

“What… what did you say?”

Liang Meng stood rooted to the spot, frozen, unable to believe what she had heard.

Jiang Han quietly pressed the stopper back into the whiskey bottle, then walked over with an expression as still as water. “I’ve already discussed it with your sister. Tomorrow evening, we’ve arranged a blind date for you.”

“I’m not going!” Liang Meng pulled back sharply.

“You have to go!”

Jiang Han set the whiskey glass down on the table with a firm thud. The ice sphere inside trembled with crystalline clarity.

Just like Liang Meng’s crystal heart.

“On what grounds?” Liang Meng stared at Jiang Han, her brow furrowed cold and sharp.

Jiang Han let out a quiet sigh. He truly had no grounds.

But he had one final card to play. “I’m telling you nicely now. If you won’t listen, I’ll have your sister talk to you tonight. Either way, it’s already been decided.”

Liang Meng looked at Jiang Han with disbelief in her eyes.

Jiang Han wanted to look away, but he held her gaze, unflinching.

“What gives you two the right to make decisions about my life?!”

Liang Meng snapped the words out, then rose and hurled a glass of liquor — splash! — straight into Jiang Han’s face before flinging the door open and walking out.

Clean and decisive, no hesitation!

Genuinely furious.

Gone too far.

A long moment passed.

Jiang Han bore the sharp, stinging burn of the alcohol and waited as the amber droplets, one by one, traced their way down his eyelashes and fell.

Only then did he quietly lift a hand, wipe his face — and fling the moisture away with weary, irritated disdain.

Five hours earlier…

Right here.

Directly across from where Jiang Han now sat.

Was President Wang.

Jiang Han’s fiercest rival, sitting there just like that, unmistakably provocative.

Jiang Han had his own burdens to carry.

President Wang was in his fifties — a legendary figure in the business world in his own right.

He had made his name in a single decisive move, leveraging the land in the western district of the city years ago.

At the time, Jiang Han had been little more than President Wang’s errand boy, trailing behind him and carrying his bags.

It was precisely because of that loyal, attentive service that Jiang Han managed to attach himself to President Wang’s network — and that connection was what allowed him to trade ten properties in the western district and scrape together his very first pot of gold.

That first pot of gold. Stained with blood and things far uglier than blood.

Jiang Han pressed a hand to his forehead, laughing at himself with cold contempt deep in his heart.

What you get through foul means, you’ll pay back sooner or later.

Take now, for instance. Much as he resented it, he still had to swallow his distaste and sit there patiently while President Wang continued talking.

“I know you don’t like playing the stock market.” President Wang held his cigar with easy composure. “But short-selling stocks is really no different from short-selling real estate — both are just about cutting down the small fish and taking their money…”

“I’m not interested.”

Jiang Han had no desire to be a trillionaire. Sansheng was running smoothly and steadily as it was — that was good enough for him.

“In business, you earn by skill.” President Wang smiled with a touch of disdain and pressed on, trying to persuade him. “Whether you’re interested or not, the principle is the same!”

Years ago, Jiang Han had had nothing. He’d had no choice but to partner with President Wang to dig for gold. But the man he was today was not the man he had been then. He would not bow to any power for the sake of quick gains and ambition.

Jiang Han was filled with regret over having helped President Wang short the eastern district all those years ago.

It had caused Liang Meng’s parents to fall to their deaths. He was an indirect accomplice in what followed.

Now, he had no desire to compound one wrong with another.

In the long years that followed, Jiang Han often asked himself: does a person only develop a conscience — only learn to feel empathy — once they’ve achieved financial freedom?

If time could be turned back, would he still have gone mad with the desire for money and the desperate hunger to rise above his station, throwing everything aside without a second thought?

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be this afternoon?”

Jiang Han slowly raised his eyes, his gaze deep and fathomless.

The polite way of saying: time to leave.

“You know, business is really just like gambling.” President Wang let out a short, awkward laugh, deliberately digging in his heels, crossing his legs with unhurried confidence, and going on exactly as he pleased.

President Wang was very sure of himself.

Because in any negotiation, what mattered was never what was said at the table — it was whether the two men sitting across from each other carried enough weight to balance each side of the scale.

“Once you’re at the gambling table, the house and the player may each have a fifty-fifty chance of winning. But given enough time, the house always wins in the end.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the player only has so much money. But the house? The house has an unlimited supply.”

Jiang Han immediately grasped why his “old friend” President Wang had really come.

President Wang was wealthy, yes — but his wealth had not yet reached the threshold of “enough.”

To become the house that always wins at the table, he had no choice but to join forces with Sansheng and invest together.

Leveraging strength with strength.

Jiang Han looked up, brushing aside the fringe that had fallen across his brow.

Whatever schemes and calculations President Wang might be turning over in his mind, Jiang Han had only one quiet, unhurried response:

“I don’t gamble.”

“Then I’ll start by short-selling Longquan. Just to warm up.”

“Threatening me. Get out.”

President Wang studied him, his expression growing cold and ruthless by degrees. He pinched out his cigar, slapped the armrest, and stood.

Jiang Han was unfazed. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, watching the man walk away.

“Let Liang Meng and Zaiwu go on a blind date.”

President Wang, already on his feet, straightened his jacket, adjusted the clasp of the watch on his wrist, let out a sigh, and suddenly shifted to an air of breezy nonchalance.

This was even less likely than the business partnership.

Without waiting for Jiang Han to refuse, President Wang continued with his characteristic arrogance: “There are things that heaven knows, the earth knows, you know, and I know. You, Jiang Han, can’t get past that wall inside yourself — and Liang Meng can’t stay unmarried forever.”

Jiang Han said nothing.

President Wang played his final card. “Think about Zaiwu. He’s not like the rest of us. Those clear, guileless eyes of his.”

Those clear, guileless eyes…

A single sentence, a single memory — and it shattered the ironclad wall Jiang Han had built around himself.

President Wang was a cunning old fox. His wife, too, moved through the circles of wealthy socialites with dazzling, effortless grace.

But Wang Zaiwu — he had truly been sheltered and protected from a very young age.

Pure-hearted and kind, courteous and refined, the clear-eyed son of a wealthy family, untouched by the world’s cynicism.

“Zaiwu graduates from UCL this year. As for his looks — he takes after me, so he’s quite a presentable young man. Most importantly of all — he knows nothing.”

President Wang cast a contemptuous glance at Jiang Han, then left him with one parting remark.

“Think it over carefully.”

After President Wang left, Jiang Han sank into the past.

Liang Meng and Wang Zaiwu…