As she was leaving work, Yan Qingqing ran into Han Qian outside the building. He touched his stomach and murmured softly,
"Will there be food at the dinner?"
"It's buffet-style."
"Free?"
"You miser. Go start the car!"
One of Yan Qingqing's strengths was how effortlessly efficient conversations with her were—she was a woman unconcerned with trivialities.
Having grown accustomed to the warmth of the Alpha Clover, Han Qian now found it hard to adjust to the oversized Raptor. The gas pedal was overly responsive, requiring just a light touch for the speed to surge toward eighty. Before getting in, Han Qian tossed her a practically useless file—its only real purpose was to buy him a quieter ride.
But he had underestimated Yan Qingqing's sharp mind. Today, she didn't resemble a pampered mistress. She wore a white blouse with floral trim, a sapphire-blue uniform blazer, and cropped dress pants paired with white heels, perhaps four to five centimeters high. Her wine-red hair was casually tied up, and the subtle makeup transformed her entire aura.
"Look, look, look! Am I that captivating? Eyes on the road!"
How could such a cunning woman be cursed with such a sharp tongue? God always shuts a window when he opens a door. Han Qian sighed quietly and focused on driving. About ten minutes passed before Yan Qingqing spoke again.
"Han Qian, I think I get your idea now. You still want to do retail, just not selling clothes and the like. But take a look—across the street, the commodity and decoration centers are only two stories high. We're on the wrong side of the road. Customers go there first, then swing by RT-Mart for snacks and groceries. They won't cross over to our mall. We're in the wrong direction, and we can't compete with RT-Mart on price."
"I know. Two floors aren't enough. The renderings show four stories. I did the math—height-wise, we can make it work. And we won't be in conflict with RT-Mart's Fortune Street. I'm a new driver, so please don't distract me."
"So confident? Han Qian, give me something to hold on to. I'm begging you."
"I was the sole planner for Armor World. I sold it for money. Is that a satisfactory answer?"
Yan Qingqing was stunned, tilting her head to look at him with disbelief. *Armor World* used to be *Enjoy Department Store*, a mall on the brink of collapse under pressure from Glory Department Store and Old Mall. But then, out of nowhere, *Enjoy* underwent a complete overhaul and was rebranded as *Armor World*. It didn't just save itself from ruin—it earned high praise from the local authorities for caring about ordinary people over profit, and soon after, the green lights came on for every policy application.
Han Qian was behind that?
Yan Qingqing was skeptical. Just then, Han Qian let out a self-deprecating chuckle, eyes on the red light as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
"Remember that case the Enjoy Group's legal team was working on three autumns ago? Then, all of a sudden, it was buried and never brought up again. Want to know why?"
*Click.*
Yan Qingqing produced a lighter from who-knows-where and lit his cigarette. As she tucked it away, she gently shook her head.
"I don't want to know, and you shouldn't tell me. I'm already a lunatic—I don't need to provoke another one. A woman should never grow too curious about a man."
Han Qian opened the window, took a deep drag, and flicked the rest out. As the Raptor roared to life like a wild beast, a thought struck him—Wen Nuan would be at the dinner tonight. Which meant Lin Zongheng would show up too.
They were going to meet.
The Raptor came to a stop in the front parking lot. Han Qian opened the door and stepped out. At that moment, a sleek black Mercedes sports car carved a dark arc beside the Raptor and screeched to a halt. The passenger door flew open—Wen Nuan stepped out.
She was wearing the ethereal white gown Han Qian had once gifted her. The worry and fury in her eyes were unmistakable as they met his.
She had nearly hit him.
Of course—it had to be Han Qian. There were only a handful of bright red Raptors in the city.
The driver's door opened, and a man stepped out—slicked-back hair, chiseled features, an air of arrogance. He hurried around the car, fussing with his suit buttons, and called out anxiously:
"Nuan!"
Han Qian's expression darkened instantly. That tone of endearment gave away the man's identity. Lin Zongheng's eyes swept over Wen Nuan, then locked onto Han Qian, reading the storm in her gaze.
He exploded.
"Are you blind? Can't even check for traffic before opening your door? If some random chauffeur hit you, you'd deserve it."
Lin Zongheng thought he was standing up for Wen Nuan. As the heir to the Enjoy Group, he knew his rivals well. He knew this red Raptor belonged to Yan Qingqing—and Yan Qingqing didn't let anyone else, especially a man, touch her car. So who could Han Qian possibly be? Certainly not a senior executive.
Han Qian ignored him and offered Wen Nuan a faint smile. Just then, the Raptor's passenger door swung open, and a mocking voice rang out.
"Oh? And here I was wondering who was puffing up his chest in front of our dear Qian'er. Turns out it's the great sea turtle, Lin Zongheng! What an honor! Want to crash into me? Let's test whether your flimsy Benz can hold up against my ruby sweetheart!"
*Our dear Qian'er?*
Han Qian felt a bead of cold sweat drip down his forehead. Wen Nuan's gaze shifted. Gone was the concern—her eyes now burned with fury and hostility.
"Whose 'Qian'er'?"
She hadn't even said Han Qian's name, hoping to avoid a scene. But Yan Qingqing had already walked up, looped her arm around his, and beamed.
"Of course Han Qian belongs to *us*. What's wrong? Assistant General Wen—you know him?"
*Han Han Han Han Han Qian?*
Lin Zongheng froze. Then it hit him—Wen Nuan's haste getting out of the car, that voice over the phone a few nights ago—everything clicked. Rage erupted.
This guy got to her first?
He lunged, fist flying toward Han Qian's face. A peasant like this? Even if he were beaten to death, it wouldn't be a big deal.
"Lin Zongheng!"
Wen Nuan's shout came too late. The fist connected before Han Qian could react. Pain burst through his cheek, but without hesitation, he swung a leg upward, slamming it into Lin Zongheng's stomach.
President or not—same head, same legs. You think I'm scared?
Wen Nuan stepped in to stop Lin Zongheng from retaliating. Meanwhile, Yan Qingqing had kicked off her high heels and raised one like a weapon. One step closer and she'd crack his skull. Han Qian was now her company's asset—someone she needed to protect. Besides, she suddenly recalled hearing his name before.
Wen Nuan stood between Lin Zongheng and Han Qian like a storm, her voice low and dangerous.
"President Lin, do you really want to be the joke of Enjoy Group? Do you even see where we are?"
"But Nuan, he—"
"This is between him and me."
Lin Zongheng exhaled through gritted teeth, brushed off the dust from his suit, and shot Han Qian a venomous glare before storming toward the hotel entrance. Wen Nuan turned back to Han Qian. His right cheek was slightly swollen. After one last glance at Yan Qingqing, she turned and walked away.
Han Qian's eyes were cold, fixed on Lin Zongheng's retreating figure. He stood frozen in place. Beside him, Yan Qingqing slipped her heels back on and giggled sweetly.
"The name 'Han Qian' rang a bell, and now I know why! You're the guy who married Assistant General Wen out of the blue three years ago. Oh, the upper crust was buzzing. Tsk, tsk—former husband meets old flame. What fun! And your ex is something else too—pretending not to know you to avoid giving herself away? Adorably dumb."
Han Qian turned slowly, face thunderous. Yan Qingqing immediately raised her hand, her voice tinged with feigned grievance.
"Hey now, I've been on your side this whole time, haven't I?"