“Qifeng…” Song Qiao, hurrying to catch up, froze as she took in the scene. A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. Jiang Qifeng had once pursued Xiang Wan. If it hadn't been for Xiang Wan's reckless driving—the accident that injured Jiang Qingran—he might never have given up on her. That was what she feared now: that his old feelings for Xiang Wan would reignite. Just as she was debating whether to pull Jiang Qifeng away, a silver-gray Ferrari glided to a smooth stop at the entrance. A familiar voice cut through the tension. “What’s all this?” Xiang Wan turned her head to see He Hanchuan stepping out of the car. He strode over, his long legs covering the distance with unhurried grace, and stopped beside her. He arched an eyebrow. “What’s this? Two weeks of training and you still haven’t learned how to greet guests?” Snapping back to reality, Xiang Wan gritted her teeth and forced herself to her feet. She then performed a stiff, formal bow. “Good evening, Mr. He.” The movement made a wave of nausea rise in her throat, and a faint tremor ran through her body. He Hanchuan’s eyes narrowed, perhaps catching the scent of alcohol on her. “Drinking on the clock is forbidden. You know that, don’t you?” “I’m sorry, I…” Seeing Xiang Wan’s debased posture, Jiang Qifeng frowned. His body moved before his mind could, stepping slightly in front of her as if to shield her. “Mr. He, what brings you here?” “Just a routine inspection,” He Hanchuan said, his gaze flicking dismissively over Xiang Wan. “I didn’t expect to find one of my own employees causing trouble for you right at the entrance, Mr. Jiang.” He paused. “After two weeks here, didn’t your manager teach you how to properly make amends?” Xiang Wan bit her lip so hard she could taste blood, her eyes stinging. When she turned her head, she met He Hanchuan's icy gaze. He was cornering her, pushing her to the very edge. But the thought of the Xiang family… Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she lowered her head again and slowly, deliberately, knelt. Her knees hit the floor with a soft thud. Xiang Wan squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them to look at Jiang Qifeng. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jiang. Please, forgive me.” Jiang Qifeng remained silent, his expression hardening. He Hanchuan stood behind her, a chilling glint in his eyes. He casually adjusted his cufflinks. “It seems you know your place after all,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. “Then you can stay there until he decides to accept your apology…” His words were cut short by a splash of liquor across Xiang Wan’s face. “Xiang Wan,” a voice dripped with contempt, “it’s been two years, and you’re still this pathetic over a man.” Xiang Wan flinched, stunned. By the time she came to her senses and wiped the stinging liquid from her face, Jiang Qifeng was gone. He must be so disappointed in me, she thought. He Hanchuan watched the scene unfold without a flicker of emotion. He walked over and stopped before her, looking down. “Since the guest hasn’t forgiven you,” he said flatly, “you know what to do.” With that, he turned to leave. “He Hanchuan…” Her voice, barely a whisper, stopped him. “Do you really love Jiang Qingran that much?”