Chapter Sixteen: Damn, My Sister Is So Righteous

“Fu Yanchi, you’re being ungrateful after all the help.”
“Zhuang Bo, who gave you the nerve to add Sister Mianmian on WeChat?” Fu Yanchi’s eyes were filled with warning.
“Don’t you dare have any dirty thoughts about her.”
Zhuang Bo shrugged. “If I don’t add her on WeChat, how else can I contact her? You insist on keeping it from her, not letting her know you’re helping her behind the scenes.”
As he spoke, the corner of his mouth twitched into a slight smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not like you, eyeing your brother’s girlfriend.”
“So what? My brother isn’t worthy of Sister Mianmian.”
“True, your Sister Mianmian is so beautiful, and your brother doesn’t appreciate her—he insists on chasing some older woman. I really don’t understand his taste.”
Zhuang Bo shook his head repeatedly.
Fu Yanchi cast a disdainful glance around the room. “I asked you to set up a detective agency, and this is the best you could prepare overnight?”
“This is already the best I could do after waking up at midnight and spending four hours on it.”
Zhuang Bo took off his hat and leaned close to Fu Yanchi.
“My prince, look at these dark circles under my eyes. And you have me, a top hacker, doing detective work, investigating her boyfriend and his mistress. If word got out in our circle, I’d be laughed at.”
“That’s because you’re an intruder.”
“Thanks for the compliment. It’s just my skill, okay?”
Zhuang Bo emphasized again, then couldn’t resist belittling him.
“Your brother’s got to be miserable having a younger brother like you.”
“I’m ashamed to have a brother like him.”
A deep, cold voice slipped from his thin lips, his narrow eyes dark with gloom.
“What’s your plan to thank me?” Seeing Fu Yanchi’s stubbornness about to erupt, Zhuang Bo quickly changed the subject.
“See you tonight at the Glamour Bar.”
With that, Fu Yanchi stood and walked out.

———

Luo Yunmian sat alone in a corner of the room, her gaze vacant as it rested on the contact list, her finger slowly scrolling down. The cold light from the screen illuminated her pale face.
A flicker of loneliness passed through her eyes—after six years in the Hong Kong district, she had so few friends.
Memories flashed through her mind like a slideshow.

For six years, she had stayed in the Hong Kong district because she had fallen in love with Fu Tingshen, leaving behind the familiar city of Jing.
Her entire life revolved around Fu Tingshen. To win his favor, she fully catered to his tastes.
She recalled once wearing a qipao, standing before Fu Tingshen with eyes full of hope, but he only glanced at her carelessly and said coolly,
“This qipao is pretty, but too flashy. I don’t really like it.”
From then on, her wardrobe was filled with teal business suits.
She opened the closet door and looked at the neatly stacked, lifeless work outfits, her lips curling into a bitter smile.
“Hah…”
What kind of life had she lived all these years?
She turned and opened the adjacent cabinet, revealing rows of custom-made qipaos collected lovingly by her grandmother.
Her eyes reddened; she forced a bitter smile as she picked out a qipao to change into, carefully adjusting her attire.
Standing before the mirror, she looked at the somewhat unfamiliar reflection—her former self, graceful and confident in a qipao, now a vague memory.
She sighed softly, unfastened her hair, letting her seaweed-like curls cascade down. Picking up her lipstick, she carefully applied it in the mirror.

The Glamour Bar.
The bar’s decor was dominated by dark tones, with a towering ceiling where a rotating hourglass decoration symbolizing the passage of time hung.
When Luo Yunmian entered, especially after removing her trench coat, she attracted many gazes.
She wore a high-collared ink-colored qipao, as if stepping out of a painting from the Republic era. The qipao hugged her body perfectly, accentuating her curves.
Her waist was slender, just a gentle grasp; her chest full and alluring without revealing too much; the skirt slit revealed glimpses of her jade-like legs. Her hips were perky from behind, swaying gracefully with each step, epitomizing the soft, sensual beauty of an Eastern woman, drawing much attention.
Especially striking was her delicate face framed by waist-length hair, her eyes innocent yet filled with desire.
She found a spot on the terrace and ordered a bottle of red wine.
As dusk fell, the dazzling lights reflected on the shimmering waters of Victoria Harbour, while passing boats traced elegant lines on the sea.
Luo Yunmian blew softly on the gentle sea breeze, admiring the intoxicating harbor view. Her mood felt unexpectedly open and bright. Before, her eyes never noticed the scenery around her—they only saw Fu Tingshen—and she missed too many beautiful sights.

A beautiful woman drinking red wine often attracted men with ulterior motives in bars, especially one dressed in a qipao that caught the eye.
Luo Yunmian’s love for qipaos came from her grandmother.
In her heart, only a woman in a qipao could express the unique gentle charm of Eastern femininity.
In the past, whenever attending important occasions with her parents, she always wore a qipao.

The fitted qipao outlined her graceful figure, especially her slender waist, causing many men at banquets to fall for her and compete eagerly for her contact information.
In Jing city, the saying went, “Luo Yunmian’s waist is soft, and her qipao makes countless men willing to bow to her.”
Today, Luo Yunmian appeared in a qipao, perhaps largely because of Fu Tingshen’s hurtful words: “She’s just a tool.”
A quiet determination stirred within her, wondering how she had become so worthless, reduced to nothing more than a tool.

Sure enough, a well-dressed man in a suit approached nervously but expectantly, bowing slightly and politely asking, “May I buy you a drink?”
Luo Yunmian gently swirled her glass, raising her almond-shaped eyes, sparkling as they met his.
Just that glance made the man’s heart flutter as if brushed lightly by a feather.
Luo Yunmian parted her red lips, her voice casual yet strangely alluring.
“Trying to hit on me?”
So blunt—he clearly hadn’t expected such directness. He sat opposite her with a bottle of red wine.
Luo Yunmian glanced at it—an ’82 Lafite. Looks like another rich heir wasting his fortune.
They clinked glasses, and perhaps from the wine, a flush rose on Luo Yunmian’s cheeks. The evening breeze seemed to favor her, gently tossing a few strands of hair playfully past her ear, swaying softly in the wind.

When Fu Yanchi stepped out of the private room and casually glanced over, he saw this scene.
The woman’s smiling eyes looked happily engaged with the man opposite her. His gaze traveled down from her waterfall of hair to the ink-colored qipao hugging her slender waist.
His eyes darkened, as if only he knew just how soft her waist truly was.
His cold gaze then swept to a man shamelessly staring at her nearby.
“Hah, out here having fun and already learned how to hit on men?”
Zhuang Bo, who had come out a moment later, looked toward his gaze in surprise.
“Damn, such a righteous lady,” he muttered in Cantonese.
He nudged Fu Yanchi’s arm, eyes sparkling with a hint of flirtation, but when he met Fu Yanchi’s gaze, he immediately backed off.
Fu Yanchi’s eyes retained a smile, but the coldness on his face grew more apparent.
Luo Yunmian turned back unconsciously and froze, staring at the man walking toward her, a sudden wave of panic rising in her heart.