After ninety-nine online romances, I finally met my ex in person when school started.

The convoy drove to the highest point of the mountain.

The massive black wrought-iron gates opened wide to both sides. Thirty bulletproof Maybachs slowly drove along the driveway lined with plane trees, eventually stopping at the main fountain square in front of the European-style castle.

The air was salty and damp with the scent of the deep sea, and carried a stale sense of class oppression.

The Filipino domestic helpers, dressed in uniform, stood in two rows, their hands folded in front of their abdomens, bowing deeply.

The car door slid open.

Su Mucheng stepped out of the car, her haute couture white knitwear billowing slightly in the sea breeze. She looked at the extremely luxurious manor before her, at the medieval reliefs inlaid on the walls, and a hint of unease flashed in her eyes.

This is the pinnacle of power on Hong Kong Island; any single item here is worth more than several lifetimes of effort for an ordinary person.

Her fingers were cool to the touch, and she unconsciously clenched the hem of her clothes.

A warm, large hand reached out and forcefully pried open her curled fingers, sliding in little by little through the gaps to interlock her fingers.

Zhu Xun Chuan stood beside her. The man was dressed in a simple white shirt and slim-fitting trousers, his posture upright. He didn't look at the antique paintings and calligraphy, but simply turned his head, his gaze falling on Su Mu Cheng's face.

"Your hands are so cold." Zhu Xun Chuan squeezed her hand. "The climate in Hong Kong isn't good for people."

The suffocating feeling in Su Mucheng's heart instantly dissipated. She leaned closer to Zhu Xunchuan, her peach blossom eyes curving into a beautiful arc: "It won't be cold as long as you're here."

Jiang Yao got out of the car from behind, wearing ten-centimeter high heels.

The leader of the Northern Territory surveyed the manor and let out a cold laugh. She took two quick steps and naturally grabbed Zhu Xun Chuan's other arm, pressing her stunning curves against his arm.

"They've carved a few broken stones, set up a few servants to serve tea and water, and they have more rules than the main hall of the Jiang family." Jiang Yao whispered in Zhu Xun Chuan's ear, her breath sweet as orchids. "Brother Chuan, where am I sleeping tonight? The bed here is big, can the three of us squeeze in?"

Su Mucheng's cheeks flushed instantly. She glared at Jiang Yao angrily, but did not let go of Zhu Xunchuan's hand.

The two women, one on the left and one on the right, were secretly competing with each other.

Zhu Xun Chuan was not swayed by Jiang Yao. He used his elbow slightly to give her a warning tap on the side of her waist.

"Let's go inside and talk business."

The European-style main living room, with its eight-meter-high ceiling, is resplendent in gold.

The giant crystal chandelier imported from the Czech Republic reflected a dazzling light. Mr. and Mrs. Pan Hongxuan needed to go to the back room to consult the old man, so they left temporarily.

Three young women were sitting on the French velvet sofa in the lobby.

They were wearing Chanel suits from the current season and holding bone china teacups, enjoying afternoon tea. These were the daughters of the second and third wives, Pan Shaoze's younger sister Pan Manni, and her cousin Pan Jiayi.

Seeing Su Mucheng enter.

Pan Manni did not get up or greet anyone. She picked up her teacup, blew on the floating rose petals, and turned to look at Pan Jiayi beside her.

"How ridiculous... a mainland actor."

"Elle a l'air si bon marché." (She looks cheap.)

(This is a forced attempt to show off. Ah Yin doesn't know what the top high society is like, so I just made it up. Don't mind it... I also had Doubao translate the French for me.)

The two spoke rapidly in French, their words drawn out, their eyes openly scrutinizing Su Mucheng from head to toe with condescending disdain.

In their eyes, celebrities from the mainland are nothing more than high-class socialites, and they are not worthy of stepping onto the red carpet of the hillside villa.

Using French was a blatant way of taking advantage of Su Mucheng's inability to understand, and using it as an opportunity to show off her so-called socialite manners.

Su Mucheng really couldn't understand.

But she wasn't blind. The hostility and contempt in the other person's eyes were even more blatant than those of the second-tier actresses vying for resources on set.

She instinctively gripped Zhu Xun Chuan's hand tightly.

Zhu Xunchuan stopped in his tracks.

He didn't get angry, nor did he lose his composure. He led Su Mucheng to the marble coffee table opposite the sofa and calmly sat down. Jiang Yao sat down next to him, crossed her legs (which were covered in black stockings), and took out a butterfly knife from her sleeve.

Zhu Xun Chuan casually picked up a cup of Ceylon black tea that had just been poured on the table and brought it to his nose to smell it.

"It's a shame."

The pure, elegant French, with the distinctive throaty accent of Parisian Left Bank nobility, flowed calmly from Zhu Xunchuan's lips.

Pan Manni and Pan Jiayi's laughter stopped abruptly. The two stared in astonishment at the young man sitting opposite them.

Zhu Xun Chuan put down his teacup and switched to English.

He speaks with an extremely standard West End London old-money accent, with clear pronunciation and an air of composure.

"Your pronunciation has the fishy smell of fishmongers from the port of Marseille," Zhu Xun Chuan said, his gaze sweeping over the two of them. "Also, the way you hold your teacups for afternoon tea, with your little finger curled up at an angle of more than fifteen degrees. In the Duke of Windsor's estate, that's called the privilege of the nouveau riche."

The hall was deathly silent.

Several Filipino maids carrying trays looked at each other in bewilderment.

Zhu Xun Chuan leaned back on the sofa, his fingers gently tapping the leather armrest.

"You've learned a few broken foreign phrases and you dare to flaunt them? The Pan family of Hong Kong Island claims to be a century-old family, yet their upbringing is this rotten?" Zhu Xun Chuan's tone was calm, but his words were piercing.

Su Mucheng opened her eyes wide, looking at her man with adoration. At this moment, Zhu Xunchuan's inner strength completely overwhelmed the magnificent gold and jewels filling the room.

Jiang Yao burst out laughing.

She flung the butterfly knife from her hand, the blade flashing between her fingertips.

"Brother Chuan, what are you talking about with these country bumpkins about the Duke of Windsor? That limited edition Hermes Himalayan crocodile bag next to her, even the collar on the Tibetan Mastiff my dad raises in Fengyang is more authentic than that." Jiang Yao retorted sharply, showing no mercy.

"Who do you think you are to cause trouble in our Pan family!"

Pan Manni completely broke down. She had been pampered since childhood and had never suffered such humiliation.

She suddenly stood up, her face flushed red, grabbed the scalding cup of black tea on the table, and splashed it on Su Mucheng's face without any hesitation.

The movements were extremely fast.

Su Mucheng closed her eyes in fright.

Zhu Xun Chuan didn't even lift his eyelids, remaining seated in the same place.

"Whoosh!"

A cold, icy light flashed across the living room without warning.

No one saw how the dark figure appeared.

The scalding hot black tea, along with the entire bone china teacup, was sliced ​​in two evenly in mid-air. The tea landed precisely on the carpet due to gravity, without spilling a single drop on Su Mucheng.

At the same time.

Pan Manni let out a sharp scream.

Hermès limited edition bag, worth three million, which she had placed next to the sofa, had its shoulder strap completely broken.

Bai He, dressed in a Filipino maid's uniform, stood beside Pan Manni.

Her movement paused the instant sheathed the knife. The blade of the high-density ceramic dagger was less than three millimeters from Pan Manni's carotid artery.

Those eyes hidden under her bangs were lifeless and empty; she looked at Pan Manni as if she were a corpse.

"Don't move. My hands are shaking." Baihe's voice was hoarse and devoid of any emotion.