Jiang Feng’s refusal to meet Ye Qingxuan once again sent ripples through certain circles in the Jiang family and even across Yanjing. However, his own life remained unchanged.
In the following days, he continued to bury himself in his study.
The books he read now were far from the dull, exam-oriented material of his past. His tastes had grown eclectic—anything that piqued his interest was fair game. Fortunately, though the study wasn’t vast, every book held substantial research value, satisfying his current needs.
One day, as he stepped out of his room with a book in hand, intending to read in the courtyard, a figure darted through the gate before its voice reached him—a slightly shrill cry: “Young Master Jiang, my dear brother! You really are fine! Haha, this is fantastic—I’ve missed you to death!”
The figure moved swiftly, closing the distance in an instant before throwing its arms open for an embrace.
“Get lost!” Jiang Feng frowned and kicked the intruder, sending him tumbling like a gourd.
Unfazed, the man scrambled up, dusting himself off with a chuckle. “Ah, Young Master Jiang, your reflexes are sharp, your kick majestic—reminiscent of my own prime! Clearly, you’re in perfect health. Come, someone’s treating us to drinks!”
Jiang Feng narrowed his eyes at this sudden apparition. His first impression? Tall and skeletal. If Jiang Feng himself was lean, this guy took it to extremes—nearly 1.8 meters tall yet likely weighing under 50 kilograms.
His arms were disproportionately long, his face elongated and gaunt. If he sprawled on the ground, he’d resemble nothing so much as a horse.
Fittingly, his name was Ma Lianhao—literally “Horse Face Hao,” a moniker that suited him perfectly.
At the sight of him, Jiang Feng couldn’t help but smirk.
If he had any real friends, Ma Lianhao was certainly one—though their bond was largely built on shared indulgence in wine and revelry.
Ma Lianhao’s father was a coal tycoon from the northwest, earning his son the label “the nouveau riche heir” in Yanjing’s elite circles. Perhaps aware of this, the father bankrolled Ma Lianhao’s attempts to buy his way into high society.
But as an outsider with no roots, pedigree, or education, his lavish spending only made him a laughingstock.
Jiang Feng had first met him at the Royal Noble Club, where Ma Lianhao had arrived with a sack of cash, demanding a membership card. After repeated rejections, he’d thrown a tantrum so spectacular it became the stuff of legend.
Somehow, Ma Lianhao had latched onto Jiang Feng afterward. His free-spending ways aligned perfectly with Jiang Feng’s tastes, and over time, they became inseparable—earning them the dubious title of “Yanjing’s Dynamic Duo.” (Not exactly an honor.)
Ironically, Jiang Feng’s relentless pursuit of Ye Qingxuan wasn’t just about pride or proving himself—it also traced back to a bet with Ma Lianhao.
The wager? A Koenigsegg One:1, a hypercar priced over 100 million yuan.
For a car enthusiast like Jiang Feng, it was irresistible—even if his driving skills were abysmal. His obsession with the car was less about passion and more about vanity, a desperate bid for validation.
But now, Jiang Feng’s smile faded. His voice turned icy. “Ma Lianhao. Tell me—was it you?”
“Was what me?” Ma Lianhao blinked in confusion.
“Never mind.” Jiang Feng waved a dismissive hand.
The Huadian Racecourse incident still gnawed at him. While his visit that day hadn’t been directly tied to Ma Lianhao (who hadn’t even been present), he’d asked just to gauge the man’s reaction.
Ma Lianhao forced a laugh. “Young Master, when you get serious, it’s downright terrifying. I’m impressed—and slightly traumatized.”
“Oh?” Jiang Feng replied indifferently.
“Absolutely!” Ma Lianhao nodded eagerly, eyes gleaming. “They say scholars of old radiated an awe-inspiring righteousness. You’ve been holed up reading—surely you’ve cultivated some of that aura. No, wait—not righteousness. More like… unstoppable dominance!”
Jiang Feng sighed. The man couldn’t even flatter properly—no wonder he was such a failure. Then again, hadn’t he himself been just as insufferable? The thought almost made him laugh.
Ma Lianhao, recognizing Jiang Feng’s moods better than his own, grinned and leaned in. “So, Young Master, about that drinks offer—are we going or not?”
“Who’s hosting?” Jiang Feng asked.
“Sister Hua.” Ma Lianhao’s expression turned sly at the name.
“Why would Sister Hua invite me out of the blue?” Jiang Feng’s interest was minimal.
“Ha! It’s hardly ‘out of the blue.’ After what happened at Huadian Racecourse, as the owner, she owes you some compensation, wouldn’t you say?” Ma Lianhao winked.
“Oh?”
Ma Lianhao’s expression turned even more suggestive as he leaned in. “Young Master, this is a golden opportunity for you! You know exactly what kind of woman Sister Hua is—usually, you wouldn’t even get a chance to get close to her. Now that she’s throwing herself at you, you’d better make the most of it. Who knows? There might be a pleasant surprise.”
Jiang Feng and Ma Lianhao were birds of a feather—one would fan the flames, the other would stoke the fire. They had pulled plenty of shady stunts together before. Hearing this, Jiang Feng chuckled and said, “Fine, let’s go have a few drinks.”
Of course, his reason for going had nothing to do with what Ma Lianhao was imagining.
Ma Lianhao’s face lit up with excitement, and he urged, “Then hurry up! Wait—no, Young Master, shouldn’t you change into your ‘ladies’ man’ battle gear first? This outfit is a bit… lacking.”
“Your Young Master here is dashing and effortlessly charming. No matter what I wear, I’m still the handsomest man alive. Stop worrying your d*mn head over it,” Jiang Feng retorted irritably.
In truth, Jiang Feng’s fashion sense was at least three streets behind his womanizing reputation. This outfit had been specially picked out by a servant—though it was just some generic international brand, it still looked far more presentable than his usual garish choices.
“Right, right, of course,” Ma Lianhao nodded like a pecking chicken, teasing, “Who knows? Maybe Sister Hua has a thing for this style. How could I ever doubt your taste, Young Master?”
Jiang Feng couldn’t be bothered to engage with this clown, but he hesitated for a moment. “I’m technically under house arrest right now.”
It wasn’t that he feared his grandfather’s wrath—he just didn’t want unnecessary trouble.
“What the hell?!” Ma Lianhao’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “Young Master, are you kidding me? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve been ‘under house arrest’ at least eight or ten times. Can’t you come up with something new? Hurry up, or Sister Hua will lose patience, and then we’re screwed!”
*****
With Ma Lianhao behind the wheel of his obnoxiously flashy orange Lamborghini, they sped recklessly toward the Huatian Racecourse.
Inside the Huatian Club near the racecourse, Jiang Feng finally met the infamous Sister Hua that Ma Lianhao had been raving about.
To be honest, even with Jiang Feng’s notoriously high standards, he had to admit—Sister Hua was a stunning beauty.
Her lips were full, her eyes smoldering, and the vibrant red cheongsam she wore, though bold, suited her perfectly, accentuating her flawless figure in a way that made hearts race.
But the most captivating thing about her was her eyes—misty and alluring, though not deliberately seductive. It was simply an innate charm, radiating from her very bones.
“Born to enchant,” Jiang Feng mused silently. No wonder Ma Lianhao drools at the mere mention of her. This kind of allure is truly hard to resist.
Even from a few meters away, Jiang Feng could catch the intoxicating scent of her perfume—mature, enticing, making his gaze linger a little longer than necessary.
When Sister Hua spotted Jiang Feng, she let out a silvery laugh—exaggerated yet undeniably fiery. But Jiang Feng wasn’t fooled. Behind her laughter, he could see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes.
‘Well, that’s a bit unfortunate,’ he thought wryly. It seems the reputation of ‘Young Master Jiang, the good-for-nothing playboy,’ is truly set in stone.
“Sister Hua, I’ve brought you your guest! Come on, shake hands!” Ma Lianhao stepped forward with a cheeky grin.
“Get lost, you little brat! How dare you try to take advantage of me?” Sister Hua swatted his hand away playfully before extending hers to Jiang Feng with a smile. “Young Master Jiang, you’ve finally arrived. I’ve been waiting so long, my eyes are about to sprout flowers!”
Jiang Feng gave a faint smile, briefly clasping her hand before letting go. “Sister Hua, still as smooth-tongued as ever. Aren’t you afraid I might take you seriously?”
“Why would I be afraid?” She giggled. “I meant every word.”
Despite her words, she felt a flicker of surprise. She had met Jiang Feng several times before, and every time, he would cling to her hand like a leech, causing no end of trouble. This time, however, he had barely touched her before releasing it.
Had his past infatuation not been so blatant, she might have even wondered if she had lost her charm.
And for some reason, this time, Jiang Feng seemed… different. After a closer look, she realized it was his outfit.
Accustomed to his usual garish wardrobe, the more subdued tones of his current attire caught her off guard. Her gaze lingered on him, thoughtful.
“I’m a man of honesty myself. Since Sister Hua enjoys speaking the truth, I’ll do the same.” Jiang Feng’s eyes narrowed slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he enunciated each word:
“You. Are. Sick.”