The next day.
After finishing work at the TV station, Sang Lu first returned to Qinghe Bay.
Perhaps it was Feng Bai’s suspicious gaze from yesterday that had stirred a rebellious streak in her.
Sang Lu decided to dress up a little, making herself appear more fitting of the title "high-society wife" for the evening banquet.
She sent Feng Yan a message, asking him to pick her up directly from home.
The clock pointed to 5:40 PM.
Her phone vibrated—a message from Feng Yan.
[Feng: Garage.]
Sang Lu had just finished changing. She replied: [Okk~ Coming down now~]
Private garage.
The driver parked the car by the elevator lobby entrance.
Feng Yan stood leisurely by the hood, waiting.
The impeccably tailored black suit accentuated his tall, dignified figure—broad-shouldered, noble, and exuding an air of cool detachment.
A soft ding sounded.
The elevator doors slid open.
Hearing the noise, Feng Yan casually turned his head.
Suddenly, his dark eyes froze for a fleeting moment.
At the end of his gaze, Sang Lu walked toward him with a bright, confident smile.
A lake-blue strapless dress hugged her slender waist, outlining her curves elegantly.
Though spring temperatures were still mild, she draped a shawl loosely over her shoulders. Her naturally wavy hair cascaded freely, swaying gently with each step—playful and charming.
While her usual wardrobe was vibrant, her makeup tended to be minimal.
Today, however, she had gone slightly bolder—her lips a striking red, complementing her fair, glowing complexion.
Radiant, poised, and full of energy.
Spotting Feng Yan waiting, Sang Lu quickened her pace.
Standing before him, she beamed, practically glowing as she chirped in her clear voice:
"I didn’t believe your 'casual dinner' claim, so I picked a slightly more formal dress. Well? Not embarrassing for the great President Feng, am I~?"
The air in the private garage was still.
In an instant, her sweet, refreshing scent drifted over, enveloping his senses.
He was taller than her, so his gaze lowered slightly to meet hers.
Her confident, radiant smile reflected in his eyes.
Sang Lu didn’t expect Feng Yan to respond.
His opinion didn’t matter—she felt fantastic, and that was enough reason to praise herself.
After speaking, she breezed past him and slid into the backseat.
A moment later, the tall, imposing man bent down and joined her.
His cold, handsome features softened slightly, the usual frostiness diluted.
......
The spring breeze had painted the trees green.
Amid the rows of lush foliage, the black Rolls-Royce glided smoothly down the road.
Sang Lu leaned against the window, resting her chin on her arm as she admired the fresh greenery outside, her mood buoyant.
The thought of indulging in French cuisine later doubled her happiness.
The banquet venue was only a short drive from Qinghe Bay, and they arrived quickly.
Outside the courtyard.
Lucas, having learned that Feng Yan would attend today, had been eagerly waiting.
He had sent Feng Yan no fewer than ten, if not twenty, banquet invitations—all met with silence.
The elusive tycoon was notoriously difficult to pin down.
Yet today, Feng Yan had actually graced him with his presence.
To show respect, Lucas waited in the courtyard.
Soon, Feng Yan’s car arrived.
Lucas’ face lit up, his blue eyes brimming with enthusiasm. Before the driver could fully open the door, he rushed forward.
In his accented, less-than-fluent Mandarin, he greeted:
"Oh—President Feng, your presence is truly an honor—"
Before he could finish, his blue eyes widened dramatically.
Feng Yan stepped out of the car but didn’t approach immediately. Instead, he extended a hand inside and guided out a stunning woman.
Lucas gasped theatrically:
"WOW… SO beautiful! This must be President Feng’s newlywed wife?"
Sang Lu offered Lucas a polite smile.
Internally, however, she was screaming: Wow, this French guy’s tone is so exaggerated—it’s like watching a dubbed foreign film.
Feng Yan responded with a mild nod, his expression composed.
Then, effortlessly, his arm slid around Sang Lu’s waist, guiding her forward.
A silent answer to Lucas’ question.
Sang Lu stiffened slightly.
Unconsciously, her posture straightened.
Memories of being trapped in his iron grip every night flashed through her mind.
This man has some weird fixation with my waist…
Even when they returned to the family estate, he had pulled her close without warning.
Now, he seemed oblivious to her subtle tension, his demeanor as cool and unruffled as ever.
Before Sang Lu could mentally complain further, she was swept into the banquet hall by his commanding presence.
Inside, the opulent venue sparkled under crystal chandeliers.
The air was thick with the mingled sweetness of champagne and desserts.
The moment Feng Yan appeared, all eyes locked onto him.
Whispers erupted instantly.
"My God, is that Feng Yan?!"
"President Feng actually came—"
"I’ve never seen him at these kinds of soirées. Lucas must have some serious pull to—"
A young man in a tailored suit cut himself off mid-sentence when he spotted the woman beside Feng Yan, his pupils shaking:
"—Am I hallucinating? The famously unapproachable President Feng has his arm around a woman’s waist?!"
He couldn’t believe it.
The last time he’d seen Feng Yan so much as shake hands with a woman was years ago at a tech summit.
The crowd was already stunned by Feng Yan’s attendance, but the sight of a beautiful woman at his side sent shockwaves through the room.
The murmurs multiplied exponentially.
For a moment, Sang Lu drew even more attention than Feng Yan.
Lucas, being French, had invited many foreign guests—mostly MK Group’s business partners.
The foreigners wore their curiosity openly, scrutinizing Sang Lu’s every move with unabashed interest.
Sang Lu grew increasingly uncomfortable under the stares.
She’d just wanted a nice meal to heal her takeout-weary soul.
Instead… she’d become the main attraction?
Exhausting.
She felt like an animal in a zoo, gawked at by visitors.
Burdened by the weight of being "Feng Yan’s wife," Sang Lu forced a smile, acknowledging the curious gazes directed her way.
When no one was looking, she tugged lightly at Feng Yan’s suit jacket.
Unable to resist grumbling:
"This is your idea of a casual dinner? I feel like I’m being X-rayed—stared at from head to toe, then toe to head. Like a giraffe in a zoo."
Feng Yan glanced down at her.
His sharp brow bones deepened the intensity of his dark, inscrutable eyes. Even expressionless, his aura was overwhelming.
But Sang Lu had grown accustomed to his icy presence and no longer felt stifled.
Meeting his gaze, she continued:
"If I’m the giraffe, then you’re the polar bear—"
She paused deliberately, mischief dancing in her eyes.
Feng Yan’s brows furrowed slightly. Polar bear?
Before he could question it, Sang Lu grinned, playfully quirking an eyebrow:
"—The ice block in the polar bear exhibit, haha~"
Under the dazzling lights, Sang Lu held his gaze, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
The man fell silent for a few seconds.
Then, suddenly—
Her smile was infectious.
A faint trace of warmth flickered across his icy expression.
