On a Monday morning—loathed by every office worker—in a city perpetually caught in the throes of rush hour traffic, the only way to shave off time and boost efficiency is to navigate the maze of elevated highways. But that’s not counting the misfortune of getting caught in a traffic accident!
Fang Yuming, who had hoped to play the role of a “road warrior” fifteen minutes earlier, now sat gloomily trapped in his car. Though he’d managed to slam on the brakes at the last second and avoided joining the pile-up ahead, he wasn’t feeling particularly lucky or optimistic about his narrow escape.
The offending vehicle ahead was barely two meters away. By the time he got out to confront the reckless driver who’d braked so suddenly, a long line of cars had already formed behind him. When the anxious young man—who was in a hurry to pick someone up from the airport—returned to his car after a round of frustrated cursing, he found himself in a truly miserable predicament: stuck in the middle of the overpass, unable to move forward or backward.
The arrival of the traffic police felt like a godsend. Fang Yuming waited eagerly, hoping for a quick rescue. But the drawn-out process of investigation and evidence collection was agonizing.
Watching cars whizz past on the opposite side of the highway, Yuming scratched his head in distress. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had only ten minutes left to make his appointment. His usual resourcefulness was useless here; he wished he could sprout wings and fly out of the traffic jam.
Finally, a blue-uniformed, white-gloved traffic officer signaled for him to turn. Relieved and feeling reborn, Yuming deftly maneuvered his car out of the lane, cautiously following the flow at first. Once past the intersection, he floored the accelerator and zigzagged within the speed limit, racing toward his destination—the airport.
So, who could it be that made the usually proud and self-assured Fang Yuming so nervous?
The answer was about to be revealed.
“Fang Yuming, where’s my car and driver? You really do have a habit of being late,” came a lazy but commanding voice over the phone. Fang Yuming broke into a cold sweat.
“Sorry, Jiang Yi, your car’s on its way, and I’m your temporary driver. I ran into some trouble on the road—you’re not going to fire me for this, are you?” he said, inwardly reminding himself that he’d canceled an important meeting just to pick Jiang Yi up. For anyone else, he wouldn’t have bothered.
“You’ve got fifteen more minutes, or I’m taking a cab.” With that, Jiang Yi hung up.
“Hey—Yi! Seriously?”
To put it bluntly, Jiang Yi was Fang Yuming’s nemesis—and a formidable one at that. Yuming only befriended two kinds of people: those who were useful to him and those he admired. Jiang Yi was both, so Yuming had no choice but to submit.
Back in the US, they had once been classmates at a university in Texas. Jiang Yi had made a name for himself by publishing unique papers in business magazines as early as his sophomore year. He later earned a Bachelor’s in Environmental Design from Rice University and a Master’s in Architecture from UC Berkeley.
After graduation, Jiang Yi took the lead at two architectural design firms in New York and Washington, and he frequently appeared in international architecture and art exhibitions across Asia, Europe, and the Americas, winning awards in various international architectural competitions. Last year, the accomplished young interior architect founded “Yifan Architecture Studio” in Hong Kong and began expanding his work into mainland China.
All these achievements didn’t make Jiang Yi unapproachable, but he was a bit… eccentric. He had his own set of principles, an artist’s temperament, and was often unpredictable. Still, being his friend was easy, because he was generous and always motivated those around him to keep moving forward. If you couldn’t keep up with Jiang Yi, you’d soon fall out of his circle. Yuming was proud to have been his friend for three years, and he hoped that would continue.
Jiang Yi’s Chinese wasn’t perfect—he had grown up in the US and only recently moved to Hong Kong—but thanks to his natural talent and some prior exposure, he now spoke with surprising fluency. The reason Yuming was drawn to Jiang Yi, this “fake foreigner,” was his effortless style and noble demeanor—a rare and contradictory excellence that set him apart from his peers.
Five months ago, Jiang Yi set up a branch of Yifan Architecture Studio in City S. As a result, his schedule now alternated between Hong Kong, mainland China, the US, and international exhibitions—never resting for a season.
This season, he was in City S, and Fang Enterprises had officially contracted Yifan to have Jiang Yi serve as chief designer for the second phase of a four-star hotel project. In Hong Kong, he was also involved in the Citibank Tower project, so he’d been shuttling between the two cities.
During his last departure, his car had been hit by a drunk driver, so he’d left it with Yuming to get repaired. That’s why Yuming was responsible for picking him up this time.
If it weren’t for Jiang Yi’s overwhelming presence, Yuming would have no trouble flaunting his own impressive family background. Fang Enterprises ran some of the city’s most prominent hotels and car clubs, as well as several art salons and galleries. As Jiang Yi once put it: “A bunch of businessmen who like to dabble in the arts, full of enthusiasm but lacking substance.”
Yuming couldn’t help but sigh at that remark. Though he had plenty of friends in the art world, Jiang Yi always managed to boss him around, overshadowing him every time. It was hard not to be impressed.
By the time Yuming screeched into the airport, Jiang Yi was already waiting. His light blue sunglasses hid his eyes, but it was obvious he belonged in the “most handsome” category. His clothes were always impeccably stylish, and his tall, well-built frame made him stand out like a celebrity wherever he went. Everyone who passed by couldn’t help but glance his way—he had what you might call a “human magnet” effect.
“What kind of efficiency is this?” The first words from the century’s most handsome man were a bit of a blow.
Yuming admitted he’d never been so humble: “I wasn’t more than fifteen minutes late, was I?”
Jiang Yi slung his simple bag over his shoulder. “Take me to the studio.”
“Aren’t you going to rest first?” Fang Enterprises had arranged a spacious serviced apartment for Jiang Yi, but the workaholic spent more time at the studio.
“I need to pick up some materials.”
“Can’t you relax for once? You just got here and it’s straight to work.”
“I’m not like some people who can just waltz around as they please, being the big shot.”
“Hey, you’re just as unpleasant as ever,” Yuming retorted. “I’ve been racking my brains over a new partnership with Longtai Group. The person in charge suddenly became extremely meticulous—totally different from last time. I just found out last week that the chairman’s back in charge, so everyone’s walking on eggshells.”
“Isn’t that better? Fang Enterprises won’t lose out. I just don’t get why so many companies tolerate people who cut corners. If the boss doesn’t have authority, the whole place falls apart.” Jiang Yi said casually, “If you land that project, introduce me to them.”
“The Longtai executives?”
“Yeah. I heard they’re making a big real estate investment in City S. I want to see if there’s any opportunity. If they open it up for bidding, that’d be even better.”
“Yi, you’re really ambitious.” Yuming was both impressed by Jiang Yi’s information network and happy to help him out. “Longtai is a major player—they have seven branches across Southeast Asia and are practically the industry leader.”
“Isn’t the local project manager Zhuang Chengjie anymore?”
“Wow, you know that too? Impressive.” Yuming laughed. “Zhuang used to work with Taiwanese investors, jumped from Jindu Real Estate to Longtai two years ago, and became project manager. But as soon as the chairman returned, he was fired.”
“I dealt with him last year. His reputation wasn’t good—getting fired was inevitable.” Jiang Yi was blunt but always to the point.
“He got too arrogant at Longtai. No matter how much power he had, once the boss came back from Singapore and took control, Zhuang was out.”
Jiang Yi smiled faintly. “The tiger’s back in the mountain. Have you met him yet?”
Yuming hesitated, unsure how to describe him. “Well… he’s a tough character.”
“When can I meet him?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow, pleased. “That’s more like it.”
“At seven o’clock the night after next, my dad’s throwing a celebration party for Longtai. It’s a show of force, but also a gesture of respect, to keep them from backing out. The business world is so complicated these days—you have to pull out all the stops to keep your partners in line.”
“Since I’ve been here, I haven’t met many people who actually get things done. Most just loaf around,” Jiang Yi said loftily. “Nine out of ten want to drag you to some nightlife spot. I wonder if they even have time for real work.”
“Hey, look at me! I’m one of the good ones, right? Don’t lump everyone together.” Yuming felt compelled to share one of Jiang Yi’s legendary moments. “Remember last time with those car dealers? You got so fed up you suggested playing bridge after dinner, and they all ran off.”
“What do those people know besides lining their own pockets?” Jiang Yi snorted. “I was being polite by not suggesting we play chess.”
When Jiang Yi turned sarcastic, few could withstand it—but he was always honest, making it hard to argue with him. He hated beating around the bush; in his world, there was only “necessary,” never “perhaps,” only “generally,” never “absolutely.” He valued facts and results, which often made him enemies. If not for his undeniable talent—which made people tolerate him—he’d have had a hard time surviving in such a cutthroat environment. Thus, the legend of “the arrogant Jiang Yi” was born.
As they neared their destination, Yuming suddenly remembered something and, with a flourish, pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Jiang Yi. “Here, this is for you.”
“‘Arches’?” Jiang Yi read the name on the card and smirked. “Classy name.”
For some reason, Yuming always found himself blushing at Jiang Yi’s teasing. “Don’t worry about the name—this is the most refined spa in town. It’s a diamond VIP card. I know you never take time to relax, so I got this for you. Pretty thoughtful, huh?”
“Since when did your family open a bathhouse?”
“Why do you always have to twist things?”
“Accepting bribes usually leads to trouble.”
Yuming laughed. “You get a gift and you’re still full of complaints!”
As soon as they arrived at the studio, Yuming got out of the car and prepared to hail a taxi back. “Thanks,” Jiang Yi said curtly, waving as he drove into the underground garage.
Jiang Yi rarely said “thanks,” so every time he did, it was oddly touching. Yuming suddenly felt that spoiling Jiang Yi was a bit masochistic. But Jiang Yi had a knack for attracting people who admired him and were willing to work for him—and it was always Jiang Yi who ended relationships, never the other way around. To put it simply, it was what people called “charisma”—something intangible, but undeniably present in Jiang Yi.
The moment Jiang Yi stepped into the studio, the design team erupted in cheers. Not every boss was this popular. Ali and Xiao Le had been working overtime, living in darkness for days. Now that their boss was back, they expected him to take over the toughest clients, as usual. Jiang Yi never slacked or shirked responsibility, so he commanded great respect and inspiration in the team.
But Jiang Yi wasn’t a superhero—he needed rest, too. After returning, he couldn’t immediately focus on work. Four hours later, he decided to finish organizing the new materials and then head back to his apartment to sleep.
When he woke up, it was already 7:15 in the evening. Suddenly inspired, he decided to take up his friend’s offer and, after changing, headed to the luxurious “Arches.” The place wasn’t far—just a ten-minute drive from his apartment.
The moment he stepped into the lobby, he was impressed by its grandeur. When he handed over his “diamond” card, the treatment he received was far from tacky, as he’d expected. Though it couldn’t compare to some European bathhouses, it was still quite upscale. The tens of thousands of yuan stored on the card were more than enough for a lavish visit.
To his relief, the atmosphere was as leisurely as a resort, which surprised Jiang Yi. Yuming had always had a better sense for public venues. Jiang Yi decided to relax thoroughly. He never shied away from material comforts, but he also thought it foolish to be greedy for them. He believed in going with the flow—comfort was just a side benefit of success, and he deserved it.
Jiang Yi wasn’t a fan of the atmosphere in local bathhouses. Most of the patrons were middle-aged businessmen with potbellies, and the female masseuses, if skilled, usually lacked attractive figures or looks—nothing extra to catch his eye. He found it all rather dull.
He turned on the LCD screen on the lounge chair, but there was no satellite TV, so he gave up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he headed for the baths.
The only thing worth praising was that the place wasn’t crowded and the water quality was excellent. Still, Jiang Yi, with his slight germaphobia, was hesitant about the large pools. Glancing around, he noticed that a small, partitioned pool seemed to have only one person in it, so he headed straight there.
The moment he stepped into the perfectly heated water, every cell in his body relaxed. Gradually, Jiang Yi noticed the man in front of him—he was leaning back, eyes closed, seemingly undisturbed by Jiang Yi’s arrival. His straight nose and well-defined lips made his face stand out in the mist. His smooth, tan skin glowed in the water, radiating vitality. His physique, rare among Asians, exuded strength. His muscular arms rested on the edge of the pool, and his well-formed chest and abs were faintly visible underwater. There was no roughness about him—he was like a lazy, mature lion, calmly awakening in the hazy, ambiguous atmosphere.
Their eyes met, and both were momentarily stunned. For the first time, Jiang Yi’s heart trembled at the sight of a stranger’s gaze. The sharp, questioning look exchanged between them was wordless, but unmistakable. Jiang Yi felt he might have offended the man, but couldn’t quite read the exact message. The invisible pressure unsettled Jiang Yi, who was usually in control.
Just then, a manager hurried over, looking anxious and about to speak, but the man raised a hand to stop him. With a splash, he stood up, his athletic frame making a striking impression. His perfect waist and hips highlighted his masculine charm. He stepped onto the tiles, took the towel the manager offered, wrapped it around himself, and headed to the VIP lounge.
As Jiang Yi stood there, dazed, a masseuse approached and said, “This pool is reserved for Mr. Ouyang. If you’d like to use it, please make a reservation a week in advance.”
“Huh?” Jiang Yi was disdainful of such arbitrary rules. Just because someone had money, they could reserve a pool? Wasn’t everyone here rich? It turned out he’d not only trespassed, but also interrupted someone’s private time. Ridiculous!
Before the masseuse could explain further, Jiang Yi got up and headed for the locker room, thinking, “Everyone here is crazy! For a so-called high-end club, there are always people putting on airs. No matter how good-looking, they’re just empty shells.”
Once his mood was ruined, Jiang Yi decided to leave. As he finished dressing in the locker room, he saw the same man enter at the other end. Wearing wooden clogs and a robe, he had a different aura. He looked up and saw Jiang Yi. Their eyes met again, but this time, the man pretended not to recognize him and walked past, heading to change.
Maybe it was rude, but if the first encounter was accidental, this one was deliberate. The man was exactly Jiang Yi’s type, so he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as the man took off his robe and opened his locker, admiring his smooth, graceful movements.
“If you’re worried about germs, you shouldn’t come to a public bath,” Jiang Yi suddenly said.
Closing the locker, the man didn’t mind being naked in front of Jiang Yi again. He dressed calmly and, as he fastened his pants, turned to look at Jiang Yi. “I don’t plan on coming back.”
Jiang Yi didn’t know why he smiled, but he did, naturally.
As he left “Arches,” he thought, did he want to come back, either? Maybe this fleeting encounter was the most ideal kind. Jiang Yi wasn’t one for fantasies—he didn’t believe everything needed an ending. Sometimes, a momentary feeling was better than the disappointment of getting to know each other too well.
That man had stirred something unusual in him—a long-dormant desire that pulsed beneath his calm exterior.
From the next day on, Jiang Yi returned to his usual self, throwing himself into the project and tapping into his full potential. He was used to fighting his own battles.
“Yifan Studio” was his life’s work, and he put in several times more effort than others to expand it. He knew that success never came easily. To make people take you seriously, you needed both financial power and social status. Though Jiang Yi was already well-known in the industry, what set him apart was that he cherished his success and worked even harder to maintain it.
For the party the next night, he chose a low-key Gucci suit. Yuming had already told him that Chinese parties weren’t about discussing champagne origins or jewelry appraisals—at most, it was just business small talk. For events he wasn’t good at, Jiang Yi usually chose to stay quiet and observe, waiting for the right moment to make his move. It was the safest strategy.
Jiang Yi was good at managing his appearance. A simple pocket square was enough to highlight his refined taste—not flashy, but elegant enough to leave a lasting impression.
Yuming was always satisfied with Jiang Yi’s presence. Having such a polished friend at social events made him feel proud. In Yuming’s eyes, Jiang Yi’s pride and confidence were innate, but they never detracted from his charm. Instead, they gave him a pure, magnetic appeal. He could remain noble in a corrupt world—Jiang Yi was a paradox, like a clear stream with occasional impurities, reflecting others’ flaws but never hiding his own, always honest.
At the party, every unmarried woman’s eyes were drawn to Jiang Yi, as if by magic. Yuming walked over to greet him, laughing. “You’re always right on time, not a minute late.”
“Hmm.” Jiang Yi scanned the room discreetly. “I hate being cornered for small talk. I’ll stay on the sidelines. Don’t call me unless it’s important.”
Knowing Jiang Yi had no patience for gossip, Yuming didn’t push. “As soon as the target appears, I’ll come get you.”
“OK.” After a few steps, Jiang Yi turned back. “Where’s the brandy?”
“Ask the waiter by the B-section table.” Yuming laughed. Jiang Yi always had a logic all his own.
Jiang Yi stayed in a secluded spot for fifteen minutes, but people still came up to hand him business cards. He accepted them politely, made small talk, and then found another spot.
Half an hour later, he spotted someone and thought he was mistaken. As he got closer, he realized he wasn’t. Rarely, Jiang Yi’s heart beat faster, and he felt the urge to approach a stranger—and, to make matters worse, it was the same man.
Chapter 01
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