Huatian Club.
Sister Hua juggled endless money and socializing daily. She was a stunning, refined woman—yet deeply lonely. Not for lack of suitors, but because she’d grown accustomed to admiring herself in solitude. It might not be healthy, but she had no plans to change—not until a man who could captivate her at first sight and dominate her world appeared. Only relentless work and wealth filled her void.
Signing a contract, Sister Hua yawned, stretching her lithe frame. Nearing thirty, maintaining such a figure took effort. Time hadn’t marred her face, though. As a woman, what more could she want?
Knock, knock… knock, knock…
A rap at the door.
“Come in,” she called, brushing hair from her forehead with a delicate hand.
Her secretary entered, bowing slightly. “Boss Hua, Young Master Bai called. He’d like to invite you for lunch.”
“Lunch?” Sister Hua murmured, waving it off. “Decline. I’m busy.”
Ding Lin nodded. “Anything else?”
“Get me a coffee,” Sister Hua said.
As Ding Lin turned, Sister Hua recalled something. “Ding Lin, how many days since that day?”
She hadn’t taken Jiang Feng’s wild claims seriously, but lately, they’d crept into her idle thoughts.
Ding Lin—the young woman who’d dealt with Jiang Feng and handed him a five-million-yuan check—paused, then replied, “Counting today, exactly one week.”
“A week already?” Sister Hua said absently, distracted. After a moment, “Go on, then.”
Ding Lin agreed, stepping out. A glance back froze her—Sister Hua’s face had drained of color.
She hesitated, about to speak, when thud—Sister Hua slumped from her chair.
Sister Hua woke three hours later, the sharp sting of disinfectant filling her nose. Blinking heavily, she found herself in a hospital bed.
Ding Lin sat nearby, worried. Seeing her stir, she brightened. “Boss Hua, you’re awake!”
Sister Hua didn’t know why she was here, but her body ached, breathing burned—she was sick. “Am I ill?” she rasped.
Ding Lin nodded, unsure how to explain.
Sister Hua’s heart sank.
A week ago, Jiang Feng had warned her through Ding Lin—words she’d laughed off. Now, they felt real.
“What’d the doctor say?” she asked, suppressing panic.
“They said you’re overworked. Rest up,” Ding Lin whispered.
Overworked? Without Jiang Feng’s warning, she might’ve believed it. Now, she doubted. His words might be true—absurd as that seemed, her body screamed it.
People fear the unknown, but understanding it reveals their folly. Sister Hua regretted ignoring Jiang Feng. No medicine could undo that now.
After a pause, “Did you call Jiang Feng?”
“Yes, but his phone’s off,” Ding Lin replied.
Ding Lin found the timing uncanny. She’d joined Sister Hua for a full checkup recently—Sister Hua was fine then. Not exhaustion, but Jiang Feng’s prediction, perhaps. She’d called him en route to the hospital, hoping for help, but no luck. She’d stayed by Sister Hua’s side.
“Have you sent someone to find him?” Sister Hua asked.
“No, but he’s been at Yanjing University lately. Shouldn’t be hard,” Ding Lin said.
“Then…” Sister Hua almost said to fetch him, then shifted. “No, we’ll go to Yanjing University ourselves.”
“Boss Hua, your condition—” Ding Lin fretted.
Sister Hua smiled wryly. “I’ll manage.”
Last time, Jiang Feng diagnosed her at Huatian and offered a prescription. She’d dismissed it as madness, stormed off, and trashed the note—gone now. He’d helped once; she’d spurned it. She sensed he’d changed—sending someone might not work. She’d apologize in person, hoping he’d forgive her ignorance.
Ding Lin hesitated, then hurried to arrange it.
*****
Sophomore year’s paperwork was done. Ji Yan, swamped for days, finally had an afternoon free to hold a class meeting for Business Management Class 3, where she remained counselor. Students greeted her warmly as she entered—they knew her well.
Smiling, Ji Yan asked, “Everyone here?”
She’d called class monitor Qi Xiaoyi to book a large room. This was routine.
Qi Xiaoyi, a short-haired girl, stood. “Teacher Ji, one’s missing—Jiang Feng.”
“Jiang Feng?” Ji Yan’s brow creased, her mood souring.
Director Wang Hai had flagged Jiang Feng for scrutiny. She’d checked on him recently, but he hadn’t changed—skipping the meeting.
“Did you call him?” Ji Yan asked.
Qi Xiaoyi grimaced. “Yes, but his phone’s off.”
Ji Yan tried herself—same result. Her face darkened. “Fine, let’s start.”
As she spoke, a voice piped up, “Teacher Ji, who’s Jiang Feng?”
“Yeah, who? Is he in our class? Never seen him. Guy or girl?”
Ji Yan’s face flushed with frustration. Jiang Feng was a legend of absence—unmatched. She resolved to confront him seriously. If he didn’t shape up, she’d push for expulsion. She couldn’t handle such a student.
Then, a soft voice came from the door: “Is Jiang Feng in this class?”
All eyes turned. The classroom hushed.
A girl stood there, serene as a blooming snow lotus, her faint smile captivating instantly.
Ji Yan recognized Chen Siran, startled. Stepping out, she asked, “You’re here for Jiang Feng?”
She’d seen them together outside the library—unlikely friends, given their gap. Not that she scorned Jiang Feng, but Chen Siran wouldn’t befriend a wastrel. She’d let it slide then; their statuses made a fuss unwise. Now, Chen Siran’s presence muddled her assumptions.
Chen Siran nodded, smiling. “Yes, Teacher Ji. I heard he’s in Class 3. Is he here? Could you call him out?”
Ji Yan’s expression twisted. “I was about to start the meeting. He’s the only one absent.”
“Not here?” Chen Siran’s disappointment showed. “Do you know where he is?”
Ji Yan shook her head, bemused. “Something urgent?”
“A personal matter,” Chen Siran said after a pause.
She’d meant to invite him to her birthday party but held back—too private. She’d tried his number—off—waited at the library, then came here. His absence left her deflated.
Saying no more, she turned to leave.
As she did, another voice called, “Classmate, is Jiang Feng in this class?”