Chapter 110

The night in S City remained as vibrant as ever.

Brilliant lights illuminated the city, skyscrapers piercing the sky like a dazzling urban forest. Cars streamed through the streets, and crowds flowed ceaselessly.

As night deepened, an endless darkness fell over S City like a thick veil, shrouding its shadowy underbelly and allowing dark currents to surge beneath the surface.

A sleek black Maybach wove swiftly through the bustling traffic, darting past vehicle after vehicle toward its destination.

“Drive faster,” came a lazy command from the back seat, light and faint, as if it might be whisked away by the wind rushing past the window.

The driver in the front seat tightened his expression and promptly pressed the accelerator, boosting their speed a notch higher.

This banquet had been a whim of Jiang Li’s.

The driver had assumed it was just a passing fancy, so he’d been cruising at his usual pace. But her current demeanor left him uncertain.

In the end, these were affairs of the elite. He simply needed to focus on his job—driving the car steadily and safely.

The vehicle picked up speed, smooth and even.

Jiang Li lazily lifted her thin eyelids just a fraction. The car window reflected her cool cheek, and her narrowed, almond-shaped eyes instilled an instinctive fear in anyone who met them.

She had the quintessential face of someone heartless, Jiang Li thought.

【Ding. First Identity’s inaugural task issued.】

【Please have the host pull the task target to her side in front of everyone, grip her neck firmly, flash a provocative smile, and say—】

【”You’re so pretty. Perfect—my place is short one doggy toy.”】

Do rich people all play like this? Jiang Li mentally griped at 123. She even had to bring someone back specifically for the dog to play with.

123: 【…Ignore it. Rich folks just have these weird kinks.】

Is that so? I thought it was you with the weird kinks. Without warning, Jiang Li jabbed at 123. She’d been bantering with it the whole ride anyway—no harm in one more shot.

123 fell silent, merely instructing Jiang Li to figure out how to carry out the task herself.

Ah, how was she supposed to do this task…

Jiang Li rubbed her temples with a headache. Ever since arriving in this world, she felt like someone had jammed a stick into her brain and was rattling it around. Her mind just wasn’t up to the task.

She wouldn’t dwell on the dual challenges of her first and second identities—123 had already explained those were decisions from her previous world. But—

This identity was way too much trouble.

Whatever. Since she was here, she’d make the best of it. Jiang Li rested her chin on her hand and gazed distantly at the glittering cityscape, a curve tugging at her lips.

The chill on her face eased somewhat as curiosity stirred within her.

What kind of person was Li Qinghuan?

Traffic surged onward, multicolored lights flashing hypnotically across the car body, stealing away stray thoughts.

The night was pitch black, but the grand hotel’s sign blazed boldly.

Under the radiant lights, renowned directors chatted animatedly with producers backed by deep pockets. Actors and idols she knew or vaguely recognized nursed untouched glasses of red wine, laughing gaily.

This was the entertainment industry’s hottest playground for fame and fortune.

The surroundings buzzed with energy, but she had no intention of mingling. Li Qinghuan had chosen a quiet corner to sit by herself.

Her restraint clashed with the opulent banquet, yet her strikingly beautiful face drew eyes like a magnet.

She was like a seductive rose, alluring and dewy. Her deep eyes sparkled like the night sky, framed by long lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings.

“Who’s that?” More than a few people cast curious glances, subtly inquiring of their newly minted contacts.

“Her?” The respondent glanced indifferently, failing to match her face to any big shot they knew. Their tone dripped disdain. “Probably some plaything a company pushed in here. You know how it goes.”

Everyone present was sharp; they grasped immediately that she held no value.

The questioner lost interest in approaching, turning on their heel to schmooze with fresh prospects instead.

In this setting, a pretty face alone made someone the least worth talking to—some even deliberately steered clear.

After all, who knew if they’d tangle with some tycoon’s “pet” and end up covered in trouble?

People came and went around her. A few probed deliberately, but Li Qinghuan simply savored bite after bite of the special cake served to her.

Her mood was unusually bright tonight, with a sudden craving for something sweet.

“Little thing, are you new here?”

A figure approached, boldly stationing himself right in front of Li Huan and giving her an unabashed once-over from head to toe.

She hadn’t finished her cake yet, so Li Qinghuan didn’t respond. She merely kept her eyelids lowered, slowly plunging her fork into the soft cake.

From the man’s angle, he had a perfect view of her long, thick lashes drooping obediently, the upward curve of her lips giving her the look of a sly little fox.

So obedient, yet so fierce—it set his heart itching.

He’d struck gold tonight, he thought, eyes heating up. He straightened his tie with a finger, a refined smile on his face.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Yang Yu, the organizer of this banquet.”

Being the organizer meant he controlled all the connections here—or at least, he could leverage them to snag whatever quarry he desired.

With that simple line tossed out, Yang Yu smiled and watched the quiet woman with her head bowed.

Even with no immediate reaction, he wasn’t impatient.

Someone unfamiliar yet present in this crowd could only be a toy from some minor entertainment company, offered up for minor favors.

And Yang Yu made a habit of such dealings.

Never failed.

See? She was already lifting her head to look at him now.

His elegant smile unwavering, Yang Yu leaned down gracefully toward the now-raised face of Li Qinghuan. “Beautiful miss, might I have the honor of a dance?”

Her slender frame and the gentlemanly smile on her cheek evoked an old-world courtesy, even as his extended hand lingered without reply.

Eyes were already turning their way.

But no one intervened, merely watching with concealed interest.

That familiar nauseating smirk.

Li Qinghuan found the special cake in her hand turning sour, like it had corroded. She set it down with a cold expression.

Her rare good mood for the night was utterly ruined.

“Who are you?”

Laughter snorted from the onlookers before Yang Yu’s gaze could sweep over, quickly vanishing into the crowd.

His proud introduction completely ignored by the little thing before him—despite his efforts to mask it, a flash of anger crossed Yang Yu’s face.

Brief, but unmistakable.

Gazing at the woman whose beauty exceeded his expectations, Yang Yu swallowed his irritation and repeated his introduction with a smile.

Li Qinghuan nodded and leaned back against the sofa. Though she looked up at him, Yang Yu felt the weight of a disdainful glare.

The look of someone eyeing trash—crystal clear.

He’d anticipated a feisty wildcat, but that didn’t mean Yang Yu would let her walk all over him. His lips tightened.

He was about to snap at her when another voice cut in from their side.

“Look at this—someone’s actually embarrassing President Yang.”

Yang Yu’s expression fully darkened. “Du Fang.”

His warning glare shot out.

Compared to Yang Yu’s lean build, Du Fang was corpulent, striding toward them now.

His words referenced Yang Yu, but Du Fang’s eyes roved over Li Qinghuan without restraint, brimming with raw greed.

He ignored Yang Yu’s sour look entirely, marching straight to Li Qinghuan with a full glass of clear liquid in hand, a grin splitting his face.

“The belle of the ball turns down President Yang’s dance. I wonder if this humble one’s drink might win her favor?”

Yang Yu sneered coldly. “Hah, I’m afraid this beauty isn’t fortunate enough to enjoy President Du’s liquor.”

A rival competitor? Losing this delicacy on the verge of tasting it? Yang Yu rarely encountered such prime goods—he wouldn’t yield easily.

His smile widening, Du Fang eyed Li Qinghuan’s impassive gaze upon them, taking it as budding interest.

Her sleek, almond eyes hooked coldly like a crescent blade scratching at his heart—not to mention the voluptuous figure hugged by her strapless red gown.

Heat flared in Du Fang’s chest; the liquor in his glass trembled.

He dismissed the nearby Yang Yu. Crude by nature and blunt in speech, Du Fang bulldozed ahead, especially with playthings like the woman before him.

“Drink this, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

He thrust the clear liquor right under Li Qinghuan’s nose, the liquid sloshing lightly.

“You couldn’t afford it.” Li Qinghuan didn’t spare the glass a glance. Her tongue tip flicked out to lick the silver fork from her cake, crimson and curling, a light laugh at her lips.

Who’d have thought the silver fork she’d brought tonight for killing would serve this purpose instead?

A delightful surprise.

With half-lidded eyes, Li Qinghuan savored the lingering cream on her tongue, sweet silkiness bursting on her taste buds.

She ate contentedly, offering Du Fang no further attention—and thus missed the ugly twist on his broad, square-jawed face.

Li Qinghuan’s firm rebuff caught him off guard; he hadn’t expected such a public slap.

All eyes were on him now. Du Fang’s face fell, his voice turning ominous. “Beauty, think carefully. In this circle, few who refuse me end up well.”

He clearly saw her as just another inserted toy, and he made no effort to lower his voice.

It was habit—threatening girls from small companies, claiming them for his own, using them up, and discarding them.

So noisy.

Li Qinghuan’s brow furrowed. She regretted agreeing to her unreliable mother’s urging to attend this banquet.

Not only had she run into pigs, but two of them at once.

She wanted to chop them up.

No extra expression showed on her face; she maintained her initial poise. But to Du Fang, it felt like a naked humiliation.

Not even a hint of fear?!

His face grew uglier still. He sensed the whispers starting around him—mocking that he couldn’t even handle a mere toy. Mortifying.

In such gatherings, regardless of status, people loved a good spectacle, especially if the target was untouchable.

It made for even juicier gossip.

The fragmented murmurs grew.

Smack!

The small glass shattered on the floor with a sharp crack, liquor spilling across the ground. The chatter hushed.

Du Fang lumbered closer with his bulk, oppressive and menacing. “Which company are you from?”

“From my family. What of it?”

A lazy female voice drifted from the crowd.