Chapter Thirty: She Is My Woman

“Let’s go.” Luo Youcong turned around, his face expressionless. Mai Xijun seemed to realize something and followed him in silence. He wanted her to accompany him to a banquet… Yet she had done nothing to prepare, feeling the whole thing was utterly inexplicable.

Moreover, she had no idea what kind of event it would be. Was she expected to spend a fortune on an expensive evening gown she would only wear once, just to set off his distinguished presence?

Trailing behind Luo Youcong, Mai Xijun endured the respectful glances their colleagues threw his way, yet she kept a conspicuous distance, as if afraid to be tainted by association.

When they reached the ground floor, the crowd dispersed. Mai Xijun stood still, her gaze fixed on the car Luo Youcong usually drove, her brows knit in thought.

Luo Youcong, ever efficient, strode over and opened the front passenger door. He glanced back at her. “Aren’t you getting in?”

Mai Xijun said nothing, walking toward the car.

At that moment, the slanting rays of the setting sun fell across her face, making Luo Youcong lose focus for a heartbeat.

Mai Xijun had inherited all her mother’s best features; she, too, was a natural beauty. In Luo Youcong’s world, women had never piqued his interest—unless they served a purpose for him. He disliked perfume and heavy makeup on women. To most, he was not only an intimidating boss but also had another unflattering reputation whispered behind his back.

Mai Xijun would never have imagined that her colleagues secretly referred to Luo Youcong as—frigid.

The thought sent a chill down her spine. She composed herself in her seat and tried not to dwell on it.

Luo Youcong glanced at her in the rearview mirror. As she passed him, all he caught was the faintest hint of green apple—a scent he was certain was not perfume, which unexpectedly increased his favorable impression of her, though it was all in service of his own intentions.

Her face bore barely any makeup, appearing strikingly fresh and delicate—elegant brows, long lashes, clear bright eyes, a straight nose, lips tinged subtly with vermilion. Her features were exquisitely refined, as though God himself had sculpted her into a living porcelain doll.

Luo Youcong sighed inwardly. After years of tireless work, he had not touched a woman—hadn’t even spared one a second glance. At times, he wondered if he was destined for a monastic life.

In a high-end boutique, Mai Xijun changed into an evening gown before returning to the car, her heart full of unease. Luo Youcong, settling into his seat, leaned toward her. Instinctively, Mai Xijun shrank back, but he merely reached over and fastened her seatbelt.

Their eyes met as he raised his head, and for a moment, something unspoken simmered in the confined space. Luo Youcong looked at her for a fleeting instant; Mai Xijun, embarrassed, turned away, dropping her gaze and fiddling nervously with her thumbs.

The banquet was lively and bustling. Someone whispered a few words in Luo Youcong’s ear, prompting him to leave abruptly, abandoning Mai Xijun and leaving her feeling utterly out of place. She retreated to a corner, took up a glass of red wine, and sipped quietly.

“Miss Mai?” A man’s incredulous voice sounded at her side. Mai Xijun turned, blinking in confusion.

The eager expectation in his eyes startled her, but then, as if recalling something, she grew slightly excited. A broad smile broke across the man’s face.

“One million?!”

Her eyes sparkled with delight at the memory he evoked. “Yes, one million!”

With the confirmation, both burst into laughter, greeting each other in a way unintelligible to those around them.

From across the room, Shen Yanlie watched Mai Xijun chatting so animatedly with another man. He tightened his grip on his wine glass before tossing back the contents in one gulp.

Their conversation was cut short when Luo Youcong reappeared and unceremoniously pulled Mai Xijun away, leaving her to offer only a silent apology.

Shen Yanlie set down his glass and strode after them.

Damn this woman—hadn’t she said she couldn’t accompany him? Why, then, was she here, and with Luo Youcong, no less? Could it be that she’d refused him because she already had a date with Luo Youcong?

Suppressing a surge of anger, Shen Yanlie watched as the man who had paid ten million for Mai Xijun’s work followed closely behind.

Swirling his wine, Nian Yuchen turned to see Cheng Manli approaching. He smiled and went to greet her.

Little did anyone know, Nian Yuchen was drawn to girls as pure as Mai Xijun, though she would never be his. He himself was soon to be engaged. That beautiful beginning—the “one million”—he would keep buried deep within his heart. There would be no further crossing of paths, no extended connection.

“Mai Xijun, be my girlfriend.” Luo Youcong had pulled her all the way to the corridor beside the restroom, his tone so light it was as if he were discussing something inconsequential.

Mai Xijun didn’t answer. She began to doubt her senses—had she misheard? Or was she hallucinating? Her sight and hearing seemed at odds, unable to reconcile.

She was mortified, caught in an impossible predicament. He was her boss—she couldn’t afford to offend him, but… She still hoped to make a name for herself at LOV, to earn recognition so her mother would come looking for her one day. But just as she opened her mouth—

“I’m sorry, President Luo, but she’s my woman. So she can’t be your girlfriend.” Shen Yanlie spoke calmly, his expression unreadable.

Hearing his voice, Mai Xijun silently prayed she wouldn’t run into him again, but fate had other plans. Here he was, standing before her once more—defiant, nonchalant, hands in his pockets, exuding an air of insolence as if the world either existed entirely for him or not at all. He looked as dazzling as ever, impossible to ignore.

“So it’s President Shen. Long time no see.” Luo Youcong offered a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Tension filled the air—business was war, and beneath the calm surface, battle lines had long been drawn. Shen Yanlie, for all his refined manners, hid a streak of cold cruelty. The look in his eyes now was chilling, almost sinister.

Mai Xijun bit her lip, uncertain what to do. She’d heard rumors that the Luo and Eurasia families were at odds, though the truth was hard to verify and, given their equal power, the media dared only hint at it—no one would risk their own neck by reporting recklessly.

“Yes, it has been a long time since Milan. But let’s get back to the point—she’s my woman, you know.” Shen Yanlie deliberately played up his charm, pointing at Mai Xijun. She looked at him, at his dazzling confidence and rakish smile, both fascinated and unsettled.