Ye Shengsheng didn’t know how she left Harf Detective Agency.
The scorching summer heat reached 82 degrees Fahrenheit, with waves of blistering air rolling through the atmosphere.
Yet she still felt cold.
The streets were crowded with people brushing past each other and layers of honking cars. A taxi idled nearby, Mao Dong shouted her name from behind, and passersby couldn’t help but glance at her.
Ye Shengsheng heard none of it.
She moved like a lost soul, her eyes vacant, clutching a kraft paper bag so tightly her knuckles turned white, wandering aimlessly down the road.
Since childhood, she had been a rose growing wild and free. Even when faced with the most arrogant bullies, she never dimmed her fire—because behind the little princess stood her greatest source of confidence: King Ye Huaisheng.
When Ruan Qinglan gave birth to her, a postpartum hemorrhage led to the removal of her uterus, meaning Ye Huaisheng, in the prime of his life, would only ever have this one daughter.
Back then, her grandmother was still alive, often making a scene about not having a grandson, even going so far as to send women to her son’s bed in a ludicrous attempt to intervene. Ye Huaisheng had erupted in fury, putting an end to the old woman’s meddling before the matter settled.
In the end, by the time her grandmother passed away, the family register still bore no male heir.
As a child, Ye Shengsheng was puzzled. She was the darling of her kindergarten, so why did her aunts never smile at her during visits to the ancestral home? Later, Ruan Qinglan secretly told her it was because they had gotten Botox and couldn’t make expressions. That explanation barely satisfied her, allowing her to forgive those women plagued by wrinkles.
But as she grew older, such excuses no longer held up.
Ye Shengsheng once perched on Ye Huaisheng’s desk, forcing him to meet her gaze, her stubborn little face full of dissatisfaction. "Daddy, I spent so long up in heaven choosing you and Mommy to be my parents. You better cherish your little princess!"
Ye Huaisheng, ever the doting father, immediately presented her with a dazzling diamond and pledged to be her knight, forever devoted to his princess.
Ye Shengsheng, her ponytail swaying, corrected him: "Knights are the ones who come to marry me someday. You can just be a great king."
But she forgot—little princesses grow up, and kings grow old. And they fall ill.
Her mind flashed to the image of Ye Huaisheng rushing back from abroad.
That day, he had just stepped off a long flight, too exhausted to even adjust to the time difference before diving into handling Zhu Ze’s mess. At the time, she was too wrapped up in her own troubles to notice how much weight he’d lost. Now, looking back, the signs had been there all along.
With the economic downturn in recent years, Ye Huaisheng had poured every waking moment into his work, like a sponge endlessly absorbing water until it reached a point of saturation—or even collapse. Yet despite this, the major shareholders remained dissatisfied with the dwindling dividends. If not for the overseas project with Zhu Xiangnan, they would have revolted long ago.
Her father must have been torn back then. But for the sake of her happiness, he had severed all ties with Zhu Xiangnan without hesitation.
The more Ye Shengsheng thought about it, the heavier her eyes grew. Worry and fear twisted into helplessness, pounding against her chest. She had never felt so powerless before.
Ye Huaisheng and Ruan Qinglan seemed determined to keep her in the dark, pretending everything was fine. She didn’t know whether to confront them or play along as another actor in their charade.
After wandering the streets for two hours, she finally returned to the hotel lobby—only for someone to call her name.
Ye Shengsheng slowly lifted her gaze.
Under the dazzling glow of a three-tiered chandelier, a pair of long legs stepped into view. The man’s arms were well-defined, his phone flipping deftly in his palm. His refined Adam’s apple bobbed as a deep voice reached her.
"What happened?"
Bian Che stood before her, bending slightly, his dark eyes searching.
Ye Shengsheng didn’t answer.
Her entire body was numb, her forehead and chin flushed an unnatural red—likely sunburned.
Bian Che’s shadowed expression was unreadable. He reached out to brush her cheek, and she didn’t pull away, too dazed to react.
"Did those paparazzi harass you again?"
He had already dealt with the news coverage. The bigger headache was the Koenigsegg—the Third Young Master of the Huo Family’s brand-new car, wrecked before its first drive. Bian Che had paid the full price, planning to have it repaired and shipped back to the capital.
Her eyes must have been terribly red, because Ye Shengsheng had never seen Bian Che look at her like this before. He always seemed unshakable, as if nothing could make him flinch.
"No."
The paper bag in her arms rustled as her entire body trembled. Her voice was hoarse, weighed down by something immense.
Bian Che’s gaze shifted from her face to the kraft paper bag she clutched. With little effort, he pulled it free.
The hotel lobby’s air conditioning was strong as he flipped through the documents inside. His eyes paused on the letters spelling "SantAgositono," and something shifted in his expression. His fingertips grew damp against the paper.
"Who went to SantAgositono?"
Ye Shengsheng’s eyes reddened at the corners, the tears she’d held back all day finally spilling over. "My dad."
When those three words fell from her lips, Bian Che closed his eyes, feeling as if he’d been given a second chance at life.
His mind cleared.
"Go pack your things. We’re heading back to the capital soon."
He slid the documents back into the bag, then gently took her wrist. She followed numbly, like a puppet without a soul, drifting back to her hotel room.
The elevator climbed to the nineteenth floor. Bian Che swiped her key card to open the door.
As it swung open, the suite’s sensor lights flickered on.
Ye Shengsheng was guided to the sofa, where Bian Che left her to fiddle with something. She stared blankly at nothing in particular.
Suddenly, something cold pressed against her cheek. She instinctively jerked back, but the warm grip at the nape of her neck held her firmly in place. A spark of life returned to Miss Ye as she slapped his hand away. "What are you doing?"
Bian Che, crouched before her, didn’t dodge. Five red marks bloomed across his face. He clicked his tongue. "Ice. Do you want to ruin your skin?"
The ice pack, wrapped in silk, felt cool and soothing against her burning cheeks. Only then did she realize how badly they stung.
"Oh."
She took the ice pack from him and turned away, refusing to meet his eyes.
Bian Che watched her every flicker of emotion, his tone teasing yet edged with mischief. "Ye Shengsheng, this is the second time you’ve slapped me."
She knew she’d gone too far. Her fingers twitched guiltily. "I didn’t mean to. You got too close too fast—it was self-defense."
Bian Che gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "And the first time? Do you remember that?"
The natural disparity in strength between men and women became apparent as Ye Shengsheng instinctively pushed against Bian Che, yet couldn’t budge him an inch. Lowering her voice, she said, "Bian Che, something’s happened in my family. I’m really not in the mood to bicker with you right now. How about you hit me back instead?"
The two locked eyes in the silent room—one with a face full of sunburn, the other with a glaring red handprint. Both looked utterly disheveled.
Three seconds later, she rolled her eyes and handed him the ice pack. "Seems like you need this more than I do right now."
...
As infuriating as Bian Che could be, his competence was undeniable. In just a short time, he had already established contact with SantAgositono. Unfortunately, the institution remained tight-lipped about patient confidentiality. Undeterred, he reached out to a top-tier oncology specialist in the country and arranged a call for Ye Shengsheng.
Fortunately, Ye Shengsheng wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity for long.
Once she had calmed down, her intellect and emotional intelligence kicked back into gear. She began by researching SantAgositono’s medical achievements online, then subtly probed a few friends for information, gradually piecing together a basic understanding of tumors.
She suspected Ye Huaisheng’s condition couldn’t be too severe—otherwise, Ruan Qinglan wouldn’t be acting the way she was. Still, the news about Ye Huaisheng’s health served as a stark reminder: filial piety couldn’t wait.
After splashing cold water on her face in the bathroom and applying the ice pack for a while, the sunburn had faded enough to be barely noticeable. She smoothed on a thin layer of aloe vera gel, then returned to her room to change. When she stepped out again, she found Bian Che still seated on the sofa, typing away on his phone.
Leaning against the back of the couch, she cleared her throat lightly. "What happened today was an accident. I hope you’ll forget everything once you leave this room."
Bian Che didn’t respond, his fingers flying across the screen as he continued browsing the web, silent as a monk in deep meditation.
This kind of wordless resistance was the most grating.
Ye Shengsheng would’ve much preferred an outright screaming match. Her bright eyes glinted with defiance. "Don’t even think about using this against me. Once we’re out of here, I’ll deny everything."
Finally, Bian Che lifted his gaze to her face, the handprint still vivid on his cheek. His voice was cool, cutting straight to the point. "Putting everything else aside, your idea of a ‘hush fee’ stings quite a bit."
His gaze burned like an open flame, making her shift uncomfortably. "Anyone would lose control when faced with life-and-death matters like this. But whatever—you wouldn’t understand. You’re just an NPC devoid of human emotions."
Bian Che slowly rose to his feet, looming over her with exasperation. "Miss Ye, is apologizing a crime in your kingdom?"
He was the one cursed by misfortune lately.
Ever since that night at [Du], everything had gone wrong. First, he was inexplicably taken advantage of, then blackmailed for 70 million by some male model with compromising photos. In Hong Kong, the birthday gift he’d come to bid on was driven up to 120 million, and the borrowed Koenigsegg ended up wrecked beyond recognition.
Bian Che had been a domineering force since childhood—he’d never suffered so many losses in his life. His eyes bore into her like hooks.
"Fine. Let’s call it even," Ye Shengsheng declared magnanimously.
Bian Che was so irritated his nicotine cravings flared. But when his gaze landed on her still-swollen eyes, he took a deep breath. "I booked a flight back to Jing City in three hours. Are you coming with me?"
"Yes."
As she answered, Ye Shengsheng wheeled her suitcase over from the corner of the room. She grabbed the neatly hung dresses from the walk-in closet, hangers and all, and tossed them into the open luggage.
When she turned to gather her toiletries from the bathroom, she noticed Bian Che standing there like a foreman overseeing her work.
She shot him a sidelong glance. "Can your clothes walk into the suitcase on their own?"
He lifted a lazy brow, the familiar edge of sarcasm returning to his voice. "They can’t walk, but my suite’s butler will ensure they make it into the luggage."
Ye Shengsheng: "..."
She inhaled deeply, teetering between murder and restraint, before muttering a quick "Amitabha" to spare his wretched life.
Unbeknownst to him, Bian Che had narrowly escaped death once again.
