Yan Feng’s eyes lingered on Jiang Ciyou's face, a scornful smirk twisting his lips. "Got a boyfriend?" "That's right. Weren't you the one who said I should get a boyfriend if I got lonely? I've been sleeping alone for three years. It's not exactly unreasonable, is it?" A faint smile played on Jiang Ciyou's lips. "What's the matter? One rule for you and another for me?" Yan Feng shrugged, unfazed. "Even better if you have. If he can finally get you to stop pestering me, I'll personally deliver a handsome gift to thank him." He didn't believe for a second that she had a boyfriend. He knew her little games all too well. She must have seen him on the phone with Xia Ling and hired someone to put on a show. And a convincing one at that. The man's jealous, furious tone as the call ended… he could feel it right through the phone. She'd undoubtedly meant for him to hear it. That night, they naturally didn't sleep in the same bed. Jiang Ciyou took the bed, while Yan Feng made a pallet on the floor. He still had that much gentlemanly conduct left in him. Before going to sleep, Jiang Ciyou deliberately cranked the AC down to its lowest setting and hid the remote. When she woke in the middle of the night and saw Yan Feng huddled on the floor, shivering and clutching a pillow, a wave of satisfaction washed over her. By the time she woke up in the morning, Yan Feng had caught a cold. She paid him no mind and left directly for the TV station. Jiang Ciyou was a television host, primarily responsible for the midday news, with her own segment called "Midday News Eye." She was fairly well-known in her circle. Recently, however, the primetime anchor, Sister Lin, had left for another network, and Jiang Ciyou was vying for the coveted position. After her midday broadcast, her time was her own. Jiang Ciyou returned to the Yan family home at four in the afternoon. Yan Feng had also just gotten back, looking as if he’d just been to see Xia Ling. When Yan Feng returned, Jiang Ciyou had just finished changing and was applying the last touches to her exquisite makeup. Today, she wore a gambiered silk cheongsam. The collar and waist were adorned with intricate, tone-on-tone embroidery—invisible from a distance, but up close, revealing a design of exquisite, almost supernatural craftsmanship. Seeing Yan Feng enter, Jiang Ciyou rose and executed a slow, deliberate twirl right in front of him. "Well? Do I look good?" As much as Yan Feng despised her, he couldn't deny it: Jiang Ciyou was beautiful. Incredibly so. Her figure was flawless. Standing at five-foot-seven, the high heels made her look exceptionally striking. The cheongsam, haute couture, fit her like a second skin. The hem fell to her ankles, revealing a sliver of delicate, pale skin that sparked an impulse to reach out and touch. Her waist was impossibly slender, yet she was far from skinny; her curves were full and lush where they ought to be. Yan Feng dragged his gaze from her chest to her stunning face. The dress itself was a simple, clean color, but paired with that devastatingly beautiful face, it created a unique, captivating allure. She was like a celestial vixen from an old legend, newly transformed into human form—an alluring enchantress with a disarming hint of innocence, a temptress who seduced without effort, all while feigning naivety. His Adam's apple bobbed. Still, his face remained a cold mask. "It's ugly. White doesn't suit you at all." Jiang Ciyou rolled her eyes. She turned back to the mirror, bending at the waist to apply her lipstick. "Of course. In your eyes, only Xia Ling is suited to wear white." After finishing her lipstick, Jiang Ciyou straightened up, flashing a brilliant, challenging smile at Yan Feng's reflection in the mirror. "Then I'll wear white just to spite you." For a moment, Yan Feng found the woman before him unbearably vibrant, a vision of captivating charm. Even the arrogant, spoiled tone of her voice sounded less like a challenge and more like coquettish banter, sending a strange tingle through him. But the realization hit him just as quickly. She was doing this on purpose, trying to seduce him. Yan Feng frowned. "Jiang Ciyou, stop playing these games with me. Even if you were standing there naked, I wouldn't give you a second glance." With that, he tossed out, "I'll be waiting in the car," and left the room. Ten minutes later, Jiang Ciyou slid into the car. Yan Feng was leaning back in the rear seat with his eyes closed. "Lao Chen, to the Lushan Villa." An hour later, the car finally reached the foot of Lushan Mountain. It wound its way up the mountain road, flanked by tall, lush plane trees whose leaves formed a dense canopy, blotting out the sun. The light dimmed instantly, as if they had entered a long tunnel. After what felt like an eternity, the view suddenly opened up. A grand, castle-like edifice slowly came into view, and the atmosphere around them instantly became lively. The vast lawn was already dotted with luxury cars. Countless attendants in white shirts and black vests were busy receiving guests. Under the direction of one such attendant, their car was parked in the open-air lot. Then, they were escorted into the "castle." The heavy, ancient doors stood open, a red carpet hundreds of meters long unfurling from within, guiding the guests. Jiang Ciyou stared at the intricate patterns under her feet, genuinely shocked. It was a handmade Persian carpet from Isfahan, woven from wool, cotton, silk, and threads of gold and silver, its colors brilliant and its craftsmanship complex. The one they were walking on was of the highest quality, typically valued at two hundred thousand U.S. dollars per square meter. Gazing at the seemingly endless stretch of red, Jiang Ciyou couldn't help but draw a sharp breath. Everyone knew the Bo family was the wealthiest in the country, but their fortune had always been an abstract concept. Now, standing here, it was terrifyingly concrete. The interior of the villa was even more astounding: a display wall of priceless blue-and-white porcelain, a massive antique English grandfather clock, and vintage European chandeliers. Antiques, all of them. And this was just the ground-floor banquet hall. One could only imagine the treasures hidden within the rest of this "castle." Old Mrs. Bo's style of hosting was rather traditional; there were one hundred tables for the banquet tonight. Round tables lined both sides of the carpet, each seat already designated with a guest's name, as indicated on the invitations. The Yan family's two seats were at table 99. "Look over there, the one in the black Zhongshan suit looks like the Director of the Land Bureau. And the man in white, isn't that the mayor of Rongcheng?" "Forget the mayor of Rongcheng, the mayor of the capital is here too! Several officials from the Central Government came. Old Mrs. Bo’s influence is just immense." "Exactly. Out of these hundred tables, all of Rongcheng only got two tables' worth of invitations, and we're placed at 99 and 100." "Compared to those heavyweights, getting a seat at 99 or 100 is an honor in itself." The ones chatting were Mrs. Zhang and Mrs. Qin, wives from Rongcheng's top families. They were friends with Jiang Ciyou's mother, Yao Shulan, so Jiang Ciyou naturally recognized them. They ran into each other head-on. Jiang Ciyou had no choice but to greet them. "Mrs. Zhang, Mrs. Qin, good evening." When Mrs. Zhang and Mrs. Qin saw Jiang Ciyou, a flicker of pity and regret crossed their eyes. "Ciyou! You came too." "Your mother and Xiaoxiao are presenting their gifts to Old Mrs. Bo right now. You should hurry over and say hello."