Chapter 18: Her Graceful Composure

As the man spoke, he gently nipped at her earlobe, his breath laced with the rich scent of cigars, sharp and dangerous. Though the private room was filled with distinguished guests, none stepped forward to defend her as she was teased and put on the spot. Clearly, the man holding her possessed a status even higher than the others.

She was no longer the willful, reckless heiress she had been four years ago. Now she had a son to raise and lost things to recover; she could not afford to provoke such a dark and dangerous young master. If force would not work, then she would have to yield.

A soft, ingratiating smile curved South Zhi's lips. She gentled her voice, coaxing, “Young Master Mu, I was reckless today. I sincerely apologize. I’m not feeling well—could you let me go?” Her face paled further, fine beads of sweat gathering on her delicate nose, making her look genuinely unwell.

But who was Master Mu? Sympathy had long since been fed to the dogs. He raised his brows, looking at her with chilling menace in his eyes, though a lazy smile played about his handsome face. “Little Mu has let you touch him and even acted as your human cushion. Apart from apologizing, don’t you think you owe him a thank you?”

His voice was low, hoarse, and sensual, but to South Zhi, it sounded as if the devil himself were speaking. She had never before encountered such a brazen, enigmatic man whose depth was impossible to gauge.

Suppressing the urge to slap him, she nodded. “Thank you, young Master Mu.”

Mu Sihan took in her increasingly pale face and the desperate endurance that seemed to hang between life and death. His dark eyes narrowed; after a moment, a single cold word slid from his lips, “Leave.”

She seized her reprieve, grabbed her bag, and hurried away in her heels. Dressed in a crimson gown, her figure was slender and alluring from behind. Though she moved quickly, her bearing remained graceful and poised—a woman of contradictions.

Once South Zhi had gone, Lan Yanzhi slid over to Mu Sihan’s side. “My friend, you’re quite the rogue with that little miss.”

Mu Sihan clamped a cigar between his lips, scoffing, “What’s so little about her?”

Lan Yanzhi recalled South Zhi’s shapely figure. “Her bust must be a 34C—not little at all.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a sharp kick landed on his calf. He let out a yelp. “Fourth Brother, she’s not even your woman yet and you’re already so protective?”

Mu Sihan, tall and aloof, leaned back against the sofa. The cigar between his lips remained unlit. He closed his long, dark eyes, as if the faint, elegant scent she left behind still lingered near his nose.

“Damn, Fourth Brother, what’s that on your trousers? Wine?”

Mu Sihan was in white slacks, and the vivid crimson stain between his legs was strikingly conspicuous.

Something seemed to occur to him. Mu Sihan cursed under his breath. Rising from the sofa, he strode out with a chill in his bearing.

…

South Zhi had not returned to the private room, nor was she answering her phone. Yanran intended to look for her, but Qin Yubing was quicker. “I’ll go find Zhi Zhi!”

As Qin Yubing stepped out of their room, she saw the door to the neighboring suite open. Out walked a young man in white, as stunning as a god. Dozens of black-clad bodyguards appeared as if summoned from nowhere, bowing in perfect unison. “Young Master Mu.”

He waved them off. “You’re all dismissed.”

After the bodyguards dispersed, the man glanced over at Qin Yubing. As she took in his face—so flawlessly handsome it would put the most popular star to shame—and the formidable aura that warned strangers away, her breath caught sharply in her throat.