Chapter 19: A Dangerous Man (1)

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As Meng Yier reached the elevator, the doors were about to close. She hurriedly pressed the button, and the doors slid open again. Inside stood a tall, slim man dressed entirely in black casual wear, his hat and mask concealing his features—Yan Yichen, who had just finished discussing matters with a friend and was on his way back.

Meng Yier, her cheeks flushed and steps unsteady, stumbled into the elevator. The man’s brows knit tightly together, his deep eyes turning cold and forbidding.

She entered and reached for the buttons, almost losing her balance as she did so. Yan Yichen’s instincts prompted him to reach out and steady her, but Gao Yang, who stood closer, beat him to it.

Yan Yichen’s gaze fixed on Gao Yang’s hand resting on Meng Yier’s waist, his eyes so icy they seemed capable of freezing everything in their path.

“Miss Meng, are you all right?”

Meng Yier wriggled free from Gao Yang’s hold, her bleary eyes meeting his as she mumbled, “I’m—I’m fine. Why are you still here? I don’t need you to escort me.”

With that, she pushed Gao Yang out of the elevator.

“Miss Meng—” Gao Yang called after her, helpless, as the doors slid shut on his words. He sighed softly, a trace of venom flickering across his otherwise impassive face. “Interesting woman. No one has ever turned down my overtures like this. Meng Yier is the first.”

——

Inside the elevator, Meng Yier turned around in a daze, now facing the man directly. She glanced at him, her unfocused eyes barely registering his presence, as if she hadn’t even noticed another person was there.

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Yan Yichen realized she still hadn’t recognized him. Perhaps it was the alcohol and her exhaustion—she leaned listlessly against the elevator doors.

Watching her, eyes closed and brows slightly furrowed, Yan Yichen felt his displeasure mount. This girl had gone out drinking with another man and returned home in the dead of night.

He recalled how six years ago, it was also after a drunken night that, in a haze, the two of them had crossed that line. Did this girl have no sense of self-preservation at all? His anger only grew.

A chime from the elevator snapped him from his thoughts. He glanced up—the elevator had stopped on the fifth floor, and the doors began to open.

He saw Meng Yier lose her balance, her body tilting backward.

“Careful—!” he called out.

Quickly, he caught her arm as she teetered, pulling her forward so that she fell into his embrace.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked, the shock in his voice mingling with annoyance and reproach.

“You’re the one who’s reckless! I was fine, leaning there—why did you pull me?” Meng Yier, still tipsy, hadn’t realized how close she’d come to danger.

Yan Yichen saw that the doors had fully opened but no one was outside—someone must have pressed the button and left. The doors soon slid shut again.

He glanced down at the woman in his arms—her delicate face flushed, lips slightly parted, her large eyes gazing dazedly up at him. The sharpness in his gaze gradually softened.

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She noticed him staring silently and reached up to pat his face with both hands. “Hey, why aren’t you saying anything?”

She scrutinized him. “Why are you wearing a hat and mask at this hour? Are you some sort of fugitive?”

As she spoke, she reached out, fumbling to remove his mask. Yan Yichen seized her restless hands, displeasure evident in his eyes.

“So I was right? Who are you, really?” Meng Yier found him strange—roaming about late at night in such a getup. Yet, as always when she was drunk, her courage bordered on recklessness; suspicion didn’t translate to fear.

As if making up his mind, Yan Yichen removed his mask, his eyes locking onto hers as he enunciated deliberately, “Yan Yi—”

They had met many times, and he had told her his name more than once. Yet it was clear she didn’t recognize his face.

Before he could finish saying “Chen,” Meng Yier suddenly felt a wave of nausea and retched.

Yan Yichen sensed something was wrong, but it was too late—she vomited all over his expensive black jacket.