LY - 1

The car broke down three kilometers away from the resort. Wen Di didn’t know the first thing about cars and couldn’t figure out what the problem was.

Out in the middle of nowhere, she had an appointment to discuss business and was pressed for time.

She decided to call the resort manager and ask for help.

The manager responded: “Mr. Yan has a car parked in our lot. He said you could use it anytime.”

The manager referred to Yan Heyu, who had taken her to the resort several times before. Wen Di herself was a regular guest at the resort, so the manager knew of her relationship with Yan Heyu.

Wen Di said: “Thank you so much for your help.”

Manager: “No need to be polite. I’ll arrange for a driver to bring the car over right away.”

Wen Di leaned against the car door, waiting for the driver. She checked the time on her phone and sent a message to Ming Jianjun: I’m very sorry, Mr. Ming. My car broke down halfway, so I might be delayed by about ten minutes. I’ll get there as soon as possible.

Ming Jianjun had arranged to meet her at the clubhouse at noon to discuss a collaboration. Wen Di was a screenwriter, and Ming Jianjun wanted to commission a drama based on his and his wife’s story—from their romance to their entrepreneurial success. He planned to give it to his wife as a surprise for their 30th wedding anniversary.

Ming Jianjun was the CEO of a publicly traded company and had a harmonious marriage that served as a model for couples in the business world.

Ming Jianjun replied: No worries. I’m stuck in traffic myself and may not arrive before you.

About ten minutes later, the car arranged by the resort manager arrived. Wen Di entrusted her broken-down vehicle to the driver, thanked him, and then drove Yan Heyu’s car to the clubhouse.

Rushing as fast as she could, she managed to arrive just in time.

Ming Jianjun had arrived earlier. When she entered the private room, half of the coffee in his cup was already gone.

Before she could say anything, Ming Jianjun preemptively apologized: “I arrived too early.” He gestured for her to sit down.

Interacting with someone like Ming Jianjun was both easy and comfortable. Despite his wealth, he didn’t exude an unapproachable aura.

Ming Jianjun sat relaxed on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, and gestured for her to have some coffee. He got straight to the point, explaining his requirements for the commissioned screenplay.

Wen Di asked: “Are you planning to hire Director Ruan’s team to shoot it?”

Ming Jianjun nodded: “You have a good relationship with Director Ruan. With a production team like yours backing this project, I feel reassured about investing in this drama.” Director Ruan was one of the most influential directors in the industry, and his name alone guaranteed quality. Although the drama was intended as a surprise for his wife’s 30th wedding anniversary, Ming Jianjun still intended to make money from it.

The meeting lasted less than two hours and went smoothly.

At the end, Ming Jianjun handed Wen Di a contract: “Take this back and discuss it with your boss. If there are any changes needed, contact my secretary directly.”

Wen Di flipped through the contract after accepting it. Ming Jianjun was generous—once the contract was signed, he would prepay three million yuan.

Ming Jianjun had other matters to attend to and left first.

After putting the contract in her bag, Wen Di visited the restroom before heading downstairs. Upon reaching the parking lot, she froze upon seeing the empty parking space.

She was certain she had parked her car in that spot when she arrived.

Using the spare key in her possession, she tried to locate the car but failed.

The clubhouse had only one open-air parking lot, and there weren’t many cars parked there at noon. After searching the entire lot, she couldn’t find the car.

Wen Di approached the security guard to explain the situation and requested to review the surveillance footage.

After confirming the license plate number, the guard informed her: “Mr. Yan took the Bentley about twenty minutes ago.”

Wen Di: “…”

Yan Heyu had gone on a business trip last week and must have returned without informing her.

She found a quiet spot to call Yan Heyu. He picked up just as the call was about to disconnect.

Wen Di demanded: “Why did you take the car? What am I supposed to do now that you’ve taken it?”

Yan Heyu frowned, not understanding what she was talking about.

His cold voice came through the receiver: “Wen Di, you’ve dialed the wrong number.”

Realizing he wasn’t joking, Wen Di explained: “I’m at the clubhouse right now. The car you took was the one I drove here from the resort. I was discussing business with someone here, and when I came down, the car was gone.”

Yan Heyu: “I thought it was the car I parked here before my business trip.”

Wen Di was speechless. People like Yan Heyu, who owned multiple cars, often parked them wherever they frequently visited. It was likely that he himself wasn’t sure which car was where.

“Have you returned from your business trip?” she asked.

“Mm,” Yan Heyu replied. “I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

He hung up shortly afterward.

Wen Di wanted to ask when he had returned, but the call had already ended. She didn’t redial.

She had been switching cars all day. A few minutes later, the clubhouse manager came to find her and arranged for a car to take her home.

Once home, she collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep for an afternoon nap.

In her dream, she saw Yan Heyu, but halfway through, she was woken up by group chat notifications.

It was through these messages that Wen Di learned the exact time Yan Heyu had returned from his business trip.

Initially, a few female colleagues in the group were discussing new winter clothing, unrelated to Yan Heyu. Then, one colleague mentioned visiting a flagship store yesterday morning to buy a long-coveted bag, only to encounter a private shopping session where the store was closed to the public, serving only one customer and his entourage.

Only top-tier VIP customers could enjoy such services.

The group then began discussing this mysterious VIP customer—a man with a commanding presence.

“I almost swooned. His hands were so elegant, and several people around me said they wished they were the shopping bags he was carrying. (Giggles) Let me send you a video to check it out!”

“You recorded it? Why didn’t you say so earlier!”

“I didn’t film him on purpose—he accidentally wandered into my shot. By the time I realized, he was already walking away. There’s only a few seconds of footage, but you can take a look.”

Others in the group eagerly chimed in: “Any footage is better than none. Hurry up and send it!”

Having worked with Director Ruan’s team for five or six years, they were used to seeing handsome actors and beautiful actresses in the entertainment industry. Their eyes were spoiled, and it was rare for an ordinary person to catch their attention. Now, their curiosity was piqued.

Soon, the video was posted in the group.

Awakened by the noise, Wen Di opened her sleepy eyes and noticed the flurry of messages. She tapped to view them.

The first thing she saw was the frozen image of a familiar figure in the video. Even though he was wearing sunglasses—and even if he’d worn a mask—she would have recognized Yan Heyu instantly.

Unaware of the situation, she scrolled up to read the chat history.

It turned out Yan Heyu had returned to Beijing yesterday morning and visited the flagship store.

Wen Di clicked on the video. Yan Heyu was wearing a dark blue shirt, faintly showing thin burgundy and black stripes. He towered over his assistant and bodyguard by nearly half a head.

In one hand, Yan Heyu carried three shopping bags, while his assistant struggled with packages in both hands. His profile showed him giving instructions to the assistant before the video ended.

Wen Di watched the video twice. She had never seen Yan Heyu wear that shirt before, nor the watch on his wrist—it looked unfamiliar.

In the group chat, several colleagues continued their lively discussion:

“I feel like he resembles the ‘crown prince’ of the Yan family.”

“Have you ever seen Yan Heyu?”

“I caught a glimpse of him during a TV station investment conference a while back. He was surrounded by big shots—I didn’t dare approach him.”

Yan Heyu’s name was well-known. His company sponsored numerous hit TV dramas, but he rarely made public appearances. Though they hadn’t seen him in person, they were no strangers to gossip about him.

Whether it was his family background or his looks, Yan Heyu was a topic of endless discussion. Most intriguing of all was his romantic history, which could fill days and nights of conversation.

The group chat continued:

“Do we know who his current girlfriend is?”

“I heard he doesn’t have one—just lots of women.”

Another colleague chimed in: “I don’t think it’s Yan Heyu. He never indulges women. Rumor has it that during relationships, he only gives money. Would he go shopping for bags?”

“True.”

Forget about them—Wen Di had been with Yan Heyu for nearly three years and had never seen him shop. His clothes were always custom-made. Seeing him leave the flagship store carrying so many shopping bags felt jarring.

A colleague tagged her in the chat: Sister Wen Di, how’s your new project going? Should we consider writing this jaw-droppingly handsome man into your script? (Giggles)

Earlier this year, Wen Di had collaborated with Director Ruan on a TV series. This group was created for convenient communication, and although the series had already wrapped up, the group remained active.

Since it involved Yan Heyu, she didn’t want to engage further.

After exchanging a few casual remarks with her colleagues, Wen Di put down her phone and headed to take a shower.

For the past few months, she had been immersed in writing her new screenplay at the resort. She had finished the final chapter late last night and had been severely sleep-deprived. If not for the group chat notifications waking her up, she could have slept until evening.

After stepping out of the bathroom, Wen Di poured herself a glass of red wine, grabbed a blanket, and curled up on the balcony to drink.

When fully absorbed in her work, she could completely forget about Yan Heyu.

Now that she was idle, Yan Heyu had become the entirety of her life.

Wen Di went to the living room to fetch her phone. Her last chat with Yan Heyu had been two days ago when she asked him what he was doing, and he replied with just two words: “In a meeting.”

She hadn’t disturbed him after that.

Their next contact was earlier today at noon when he had taken her car from the clubhouse, forcing her to call him.

Taking a sip of red wine, she set the glass down and walked straight to the front door.

As soon as she opened it, Wen Di received a call from Qu Pei.

Qu Pei was Director Ruan’s wife, Wen Di’s former teacher, current boss, and part-time agent.

When the call connected, Wen Di could hear the sound of elegant high heels in the background.

“Are you sleeping or writing a script?” Qu Pei’s voice on the other end sounded a bit rushed.

Wen Di: “I just woke up.”

“I’m letting you know—don’t meet with Ming Jianjun alone for now.”

Wen Di was confused: “Why not?”

Qu Pei explained: “His wife found out about his affair, and they’re investigating who the other woman is. Don’t get caught up in this mess—it’ll be hard to explain if you do.”

Wen Di sighed inwardly.

This man, who appeared to be the epitome of perfection in the eyes of outsiders, was also involved in an extramarital affair. Earlier that day, during their meeting, Ming Jianjun had spoken fondly of his past with his wife, seeming deeply devoted.

Wen Di reassured Qu Pei: “I already met with him at noon. For future contract matters, the company can handle it. I’ll scan the contract and send it to you right away.”

“Alright, send it to my email,” Qu Pei reminded her. “Also, don’t forget about Director Ruan’s birthday banquet tomorrow night. I don’t expect anything from you—no gifts needed. Just make sure you show up.”

“How could I forget Director Ruan’s birthday banquet? I’ve even set an alarm for it.”

Wen Di often forgot even her own birthday when she was busy, so it was no surprise that Qu Pei didn’t fully trust her memory.

Attending the birthday banquet was a minor matter. During the period when Wen Di was working on her new screenplay, several film and TV companies had approached Qu Pei to inquire about purchasing the rights. A few of these companies’ executives would be attending the banquet, and Qu Pei wanted to introduce them to Wen Di.

Suddenly, Qu Pei furrowed her brows and asked: “What are you fiddling with?” She guessed it was the sound of Wen Di unlocking her fingerprint-secured door, but the repeated attempts concerned her. “Is the lock malfunctioning? If it’s not working, I’ll send someone over to replace it.”

The fingerprint lock wasn’t broken. Wen Di had cleared all previously recorded fingerprints and changed the old password.

She replied to Qu Pei: “I’m resetting the password.”

“Was the old password leaked?”

“No.”

Qu Pei couldn’t understand why she was doing this. “Then why change the password for no reason?”

After setting the new password and closing the door behind her, Wen Di said: “To keep thieves out.”

Qu Pei warned her: “Just don’t forget the new password and lock yourself out.”

“That won’t happen,” Wen Di replied confidently—not because she trusted her memory, but because she had a spare key in her bag. If she ever forgot the password, she could always use the key to force the lock open.

After ending the call with Qu Pei, Wen Di returned to the balcony to continue drinking.

By the time she finished her glass of wine, dusk had fallen.

She had nothing to do.

When she was busy, she barely had time to breathe. But after just one day without work, she found herself feeling… utterly bored.

Wen Di washed the wine glass and placed it back in the cabinet before heading to the bathroom to soak in the tub to pass the time.

She didn’t have many friends—most of the people she knew were from work, and they occasionally met for meals and casual chats. She only had one close confidante, and her best friend was currently in Hengdian filming. Busy reading scripts, Wen Di didn’t want to disturb her.

Aside from work and reading, she didn’t have many hobbies. After spending months in front of the computer typing, her eyes felt strained, and she didn’t feel like picking up a book either.

At eight o’clock, with nothing else to do, she climbed into bed and fell asleep.

Drowsily, she heard the sound of the doorbell.

Out of reflex, Wen Di checked her phone, but there were no missed calls or messages. The person ringing the doorbell was clearly not Yan Heyu.

She turned on the light, wrapped herself in a bathrobe, and went to see who it was.

Through the video doorbell, she saw Yan Heyu standing outside her door—the man she had thought about all afternoon. Tonight, he was wearing a white shirt and carrying a trench coat in his hand.

Before she could open the door, he attempted to unlock it using his fingerprint again.

It was, of course, futile.

Leaning against the entrance, Wen Di stared at the man on the screen.

Yan Heyu failed once more in his attempt to unlock the door. Suddenly, he looked up at the peephole.

Through the closed door, Wen Di locked eyes with him on the display screen. In that moment, she was once again captivated by his gaze.

His eyes were distant, devoid of any warmth, yet inexplicably magnetic, drawing her in for a second look.

Yan Heyu pressed the doorbell again and sent her a message: Not home?

Instead of answering, Wen Di countered: When did you return from your business trip?

She watched as the figure on the video doorbell typed a reply: Yesterday morning.

She had no intention of opening the door.

As if sensing her presence behind the door, Yan Heyu patiently called out: “Wen Di.”

Her tone was sharp: “Who is it?”

Recognizing her deliberate provocation, Yan Heyu responded calmly: “We last saw each other in bed six days ago.”

Wen Di never backed down in verbal sparring. She shot back: “If that’s true, then our last encounter in bed lasted less than three minutes. Otherwise, I’d definitely remember.”

Her words were both hurtful and insulting.

Yan Heyu stared at the peephole, his expression blank as he spoke in a low voice: “Do you really not remember how you begged me then?”

Wen Di smirked: “Did I beg you to last just one more minute?”

Yan Heyu: “…”

Her stubbornness showed no signs of changing anytime soon.

He knocked firmly on the door again: “Open the door and repeat what you just said to my face.”

Wen Di replied coolly: “Right now, I am speaking to you face-to-face.”

For someone who had come to visit, being denied entry was a treatment Yan Heyu had never experienced before.

Without another word, Yan Heyu turned and left.

Wen Di watched him disappear from the screen, his upright figure vanishing from view.

It was impossible to imagine him lowering himself to plead with anyone.

Her three years with Yan Heyu had been a constant tug-of-war—a process of trying to conquer each other. Neither was willing to compromise, and neither wanted to be the first to lower their pride.

Yet, against all odds, they hadn’t parted ways. Miraculously, they had stayed together year after year.

________________________________________

The next day, Wen Di woke up at 5:30 AM, angered by a dream.

Only then did she notice unread messages on her phone. One was from Yan Heyu’s assistant, Kang Bo, sent at 10:30 PM the previous night—long after she had already fallen asleep.

Kang Bo asked what time would be convenient for him to come by that morning to retrieve a document Yan Heyu had left in her study.

Every time she and Yan Heyu were in a cold war, Kang Bo’s messages would invariably appear on her phone, always citing the need to retrieve documents.

Nine times out of ten, when Kang Bo came to pick up the documents, he would also ask her to pack Yan Heyu’s luggage for an impromptu short trip. Knowing how difficult it was for Kang Bo as an assistant, and not wanting him to return empty-handed, she always complied.

While packing his luggage, Yan Heyu would call her, instructing her on which coat to bring or which shirt to include.

By the end of the call, their cold war would inevitably thaw.

It was their way of making up.

Today, Kang Bo used the same excuse—to retrieve a document.

Wen Di replied to Kang Bo: Sorry, Kang Assistant. I didn’t check my phone last night. I’ll contact Mr. Yan directly.

She then messaged Yan Heyu: Take all your things with you today. There’s no need for Kang Assistant to keep coming here to fetch your luggage for trips.

Yan Heyu replied: I’ll be there in an hour.

Wen Di poured herself a glass of warm water and curled up on the sofa to watch TV. Yan Heyu had quite a few belongings at her place—two entire wardrobes in the closet were dedicated to his clothes.

At 7:05 AM, she heard the sound of the door opening near the entrance.

Wen Di glanced over, locking eyes with Yan Heyu’s nonchalant gaze.

In his right hand, he held a spare key to the fingerprint lock, and in his left, he carried a shopping bag. The logo on the bag wasn’t from the flagship store he had visited in the video.

Wen Di couldn’t recall when she had given him the spare key—it had been too long ago. He must have found it this morning.

She averted her gaze, ignoring him completely.

Yan Heyu casually placed the shopping bag on the coffee table. Without haste, he walked in front of her, blocking the light from the floor lamp. Her entire figure was enveloped in his shadow.

He had a habit of exercising in the morning, and she could smell the faint scent of his freshly showered body wash mingling with the crisp fragrance of his aftershave.

Neither of them spoke.

Wen Di didn’t look up, unsure if he was looking at her or elsewhere. Her gaze was level with his hand hanging by his side—his long fingers were toying with the spare key, and the watch on his wrist matched the one from the video.

She silently pointed toward the bedroom, signaling for him to pack up his things himself.

This was perhaps one of the rare highlights of her life—she actually had the chance to kick out Yan Heyu, the arrogant crown prince of the Yan family.

But Yan Heyu didn’t go to pack his things. Instead, he took the glass of water from her hand.

Wen Di tilted her head to look at him.

Yan Heyu stared directly into her eyes, brought the glass to his lips, took a small sip, then handed it back to her.

He sat down beside her.

Wen Di leaned forward, placing the glass on the coffee table. She refused to drink from the same glass he had used while they were in a disagreement.

At the same time, Yan Heyu instinctively reached out to steady her shoulder, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall off the sofa.

Once Wen Di settled back into the couch, his hand dropped away as well.

Yan Heyu gazed at her profile and broke the silence first: “If you can’t sleep in the mornings in the future, come to the villa to find me. No matter when—I won’t change the password to keep you out.”

His words carried an underlying implication about her changing the password to keep him out.

Wen Di didn’t bother wasting breath arguing. She pointed toward the bedroom again, urging him to hurry and pack his things so he wouldn’t disturb her morning nap.

Yan Heyu didn’t respond. Instead, he opened a small app on his phone, glanced at it briefly, then asked her: “Did your period come earlier this month?”

Wen Di: “…”

When she had her period, she occasionally became unreasonable and moody.

“No,” she replied curtly.

Yan Heyu exited the app and locked eyes with her. “Then why are you throwing such a tantrum without end?”

Wen Di rested her chin on her hand, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Changing the password to my own house is now considered throwing a tantrum?”

Yan Heyu wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself. He countered her question with another: “When you’re busy, you sometimes forget to return my calls, and going a day or two without contacting me is normal. Why is something that’s acceptable for you not okay for me?”

As soon as he finished speaking, he realized how pointless the question was. Asking her wouldn’t make a difference.

Because she was double standards incarnate.

He retrieved Kang Bo’s number and made a call, instructing his assistant: “Collect all surveillance footage related to me from 6 AM when I left the airport the morning before yesterday until 7 AM today, and send it to Wen Di’s email. Make sure there are no gaps.”

Kang Bo was visibly stunned on the other end of the line. His boss had never disclosed his itinerary to anyone before.

Yan Heyu ended the call and turned to Wen Di: “Changing the password will not happen again.”

Whether or not there would be a next time, this time he had chosen to back down.

Wen Di was relatively satisfied.

As for sending her the surveillance footage, it was unnecessary. She didn’t have the habit of checking up on him, nor did she like being checked up on. All she wanted was an attitude from Yan Heyu.

Now that he had shown some semblance of an attitude, Wen Di didn’t care about anything else. “You don’t need to trouble Kang Assistant with this.”

She sent a message to Kang Bo herself, telling him not to bother collecting the footage.

Kang Bo repeatedly thanked her, thinking no one was as reasonable as Wen Di.

Yan Heyu handed her the shopping bag he had brought earlier. “I won this while playing cards last night.” After a pause, he added: “There are still quite a few gifts piled up in the living room of my villa. You can come over and unpack them when you have time.”

Wen Di didn’t lack anything, but she liked the word “piled” in his sentence.

Yan Heyu leaned back into the sofa, glancing around the living room.

Wen Di looked at him curiously. “What are you looking at?”

Yan Heyu asked: “How much is this apartment worth now?”

“About fifty million yuan,” she replied, puzzled by his sudden inquiry about property prices. “Why do you ask? What are you planning to do?”

Yan Heyu: “I’ll transfer fifty million to your account, and you add my name to the property deed. From now on, the house will be half mine.”

Wen Di found this amusing. “You, someone who can’t even remember how many houses you own, are you short on half of my apartment?”

“No,” Yan Heyu replied. “Add my name, and next time you want to change the password, you’ll need my permission.”

The password issue was just one part of the reason.

He continued: “Whenever we argue in the future, you can move my things to my half of the room, so I won’t have to come over to get them. Once we reconcile, you can bring them back yourself.”

As he spoke, he extended his hand toward her.

It was clear what he intended—to pull her into his arms.

Yan Heyu didn’t give her time to hesitate, lifting her into his embrace.

What followed was the reckoning for her sharp-tongued remark from the previous night, where she had sarcastically asked him to “last one more minute.”