Rebirth of the Pureblood Aristocrat

A month ago, Han Qi got a tattoo.

The shop was called “Floral Banquet.” Painted in black and gold, with oval-shaped doors and windows, it was small in size yet decorated with an old-world elegance, like a miniature Baroque chapel from the Middle Ages. Although it was located near the university, its flow of customers was scant. Every time Han Qi passed by, he never saw anyone enter or leave. The tea-colored glass doors prevented any glimpse of the interior.

Mysterious and classical things always caught Han Qi’s attention. After lingering outside several times, he finally decided to step inside one evening.

A wind chime rang softly as the shop owner turned to look at him. Despite the dim lighting, it was still possible to discern that the proprietor was a strikingly handsome man.

Crimson lips curved into a beguiling smile. “Here for a tattoo?”

Han Qi nodded and sat down openly on the elegant black wooden sofa.

The owner went to fetch his tools. As Han Qi glanced around, he asked, “Are you here alone?”

“I’m more than enough on my own,” the owner replied, returning with his instruments.

Han Qi was about to tease, “No wonder business isn’t great,” but paused abruptly, for just then, he caught a flash of deep red in the man’s eyes.

—He must have been seeing things, or perhaps the man wore colored contacts.

The owner leaned close and asked, “What would you like?”

Han Qi considered the question. “I’m not sure. I’ll leave it to you.”

The man suddenly laughed, his lips upturned with an almost hypnotic charm.