Chapter 02
*
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Jiang Yi, usually unflappable, was annoyed at himself for suddenly wanting to approach someone. But he couldn’t stop his feet from moving. He was getting closer, just ten meters behind the man, when Old Man Fang suddenly stepped forward to shake hands with the mysterious figure. Jiang Yi’s steps faltered. As he hesitated, someone tapped his shoulder.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?”
“Who is that?” Jiang Yi asked, eyes locked on the target.
Yuming followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Ouyang Jinghui, the chairman of Longtai.”
Jiang Yi’s chest tightened, and his expression grew complicated. “That’s Ouyang?”
“The real deal,” Yuming said, oblivious to Jiang Yi’s reaction. “You see how warmly my dad is greeting him? Who’d have thought a thirty-two-year-old prodigy could have so much influence.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“I thought you only wanted to meet the new project manager.”
Jiang Yi smiled faintly but didn’t reply. Just then, a strikingly elegant woman walked up to Ouyang Jinghui and took his arm, greeting guests with perfect poise.
Jiang Yi frowned slightly. “His wife?”
“That’s Liang Menghai, a Taiwanese painter. Her small oil paintings sell for over a hundred thousand New Taiwan dollars.” Yuming was envious of Ouyang’s luck. “She’s not the type to care about titles—maybe she really likes Ouyang.
It was obvious that he was a fire—the kind that could burn away anyone’s self-control. Women would willingly throw themselves at a man like that, even if there was no future in it, just like moths drawn to a flame. Even someone as remarkable as Liang Menghai wasn’t immune.
Jiang Yi suddenly felt calm again. He kept his professional and private lives strictly separate and always knew where he stood. He had his own standards for what to think and do—and what not to. Some people were only meant to be observed from afar; getting too close might lead to disappointment. Traveling around Asia, Jiang Yi was always cautious—sometimes, even the smallest mistake could have big consequences.
“I’ll ask my dad to introduce you,” Yuming offered.
Jiang Yi grabbed his arm. “Forget it. Not today.”
Jiang Yi rarely changed his mind, and when he did, he always had a good reason. Yuming blinked. “What about the project manager?”
“Let’s see the manager first.”
Jiang Yi’s greatest strength was his ability to assess reality quickly. He always knew how to avoid pitfalls and unstable factors, so he wouldn’t be caught off guard by sudden changes.
This was their second near-miss—they still hadn’t exchanged a single word. But in Jiang Yi’s heart, it left an indelible mark. He didn’t want to admit that a man he barely knew could affect him so much, repeatedly disrupting his usual train of thought. Of course, he didn’t believe in attraction for no reason—at least, nothing that couldn’t be controlled by reason.
A few days later, Yifan Studio received an unexpected guest.
Ali called Jiang Yi back from an errand. Jiang Yi, who usually didn’t take such calls seriously, changed his mind when he heard the name “Liang Menghai” and decided to return immediately.
The artist, Carrie, intercepted him and winked. “She specifically asked for you.”
Ali was excited. “She’s a real beauty, and she seems important.”
“What does she want?” Jiang Yi always got straight to the point.
“She wants interior and landscape design for a villa in Yunxi. Total area is about 1,000 square meters.” Ali sighed. “That land is expensive—only the rich or powerful can afford a villa like that.”
Carrie grinned. “Looks like Ali’s target client. Anyone who comes to Yifan is ready to pay top dollar for design. As long as the paperwork is in order, we’ll get it.”
Jiang Yi thought for a moment. “Get me a hot coffee. I’ll go meet her.”
When Jiang Yi appeared, Liang Menghai was genuinely surprised. She hadn’t expected the rising star of interior design to be so handsome and tall, with the presence of a movie star. His quiet demeanor and professional manner didn’t put people off—instead, his seriousness inspired confidence. Most businesspeople were eager to please and impatient for results, but this artistic man clearly understood how to get ahead.
Jiang Yi set a cup of coffee in front of Menghai. “Ms. Liang, how can I help you?”
“I’d like Yifan to take on a villa project. I admire your quality and reputation and hope you can provide a perfect design,” Menghai said directly. “But I have a special request, which is why I wanted to meet you in person.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’d like you to be the lead designer. If you’re too busy, I can wait.”
This was the burden of fame, but Jiang Yi would only agree if it made sense. “I can promise to be involved in most of the design and to supervise the site regularly. But if you want a personal project, I might not have enough time.”
Menghai appreciated his honesty. “That’s enough. As long as you oversee it, thank you.”
“I know you’re a painter, so you must have unique insights into design. I welcome your input.” He pulled up a chair and sat down casually.
Menghai had always liked smart, efficient men—those who could grasp the main point in a few words. Only such people made communication effortless. “I want the interior and exterior to blend multiple elements, especially from different cultures.”
Jiang Yi’s professional instincts were sharp. “We’re committed to creating spaces with a new humanistic spirit, showcasing the artistic charm of modern living. We’ll interpret the home through naturalism, postmodern aesthetics, alternative individuality, and emotional space, depending on the owner’s needs. If you agree, please provide the property documents within three days. Then our designers will discuss the details with you and draft a preliminary plan. We’ll need patience from both sides—the design should be finalized within a month.”
“Thank you, Jiang Yi.” Menghai was impressed by his efficiency, her beautiful face breaking into a friendly smile. “Mr. Fang’s recommendation was right on the mark.”
As soon as the client left, Jiang Yi went straight to his private office and called Yuming. “What’s wrong with you?!”
Yuming protested. “What’s wrong with giving you a new client?”
“I haven’t taken on individual clients for a long time. I’m swamped with commercial projects.” Jiang Yi rarely complained—only when he was truly annoyed.
“Hey, look who it is. I wouldn’t just recommend anyone to you. Didn’t you say you wanted to get to know Ouyang Jinghui? Isn’t it more natural to do it through his lover?”
“I give up. I’ll deal with you later.” Jiang Yi hung up, sitting there feeling inexplicably frustrated.
A week later, Jiang Yi began seeing Liang Menghai frequently. Menghai lived in a small townhouse, half of which she had turned into a studio. She never explained the origin of the new villa.
Every three days, Jiang Yi would find time to check on the progress. When inspiration struck, he would sketch changes on the walls. Once, on a whim, he asked Menghai to paint on the roof. They ended up covered in paint, having a great time.
To Jiang Yi’s surprise, after spending so much time together, he began to feel a certain affection for Menghai—the kind that naturally develops between people who spend a lot of time together. Maybe it was loneliness, but their relationship began to go beyond client and designer, becoming a genuine friendship.
Jiang Yi always brought flowers or candy when he visited—a habit from his time abroad—making it hard for Menghai not to like this handsome designer. His aloofness was only skin-deep; his inner warmth, simplicity, and professional flair made him even more attractive.
Before they knew it, a month had passed, and the “Green Sound Pavilion” villa began construction. That evening, Menghai invited Jiang Yi to her home for dinner, promising to cook herself—a rare treat from an artist who loved to cook.
“I made clear boiled fish balls. They’re amazing,” Menghai boasted.
Jiang Yi had never really gotten used to Chinese food, but he tasted everything and complimented her skillfully.
When Menghai sat down beside him, Jiang Yi suddenly asked, “Will you marry him?”
She was taken aback. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” He went back to his soup.
“Marriage isn’t important.”
“I agree.” Jiang Yi looked at her. “But I feel like you need more… passion.”
“Because I’m not married?”
“No, it’s just a feeling.” Jiang Yi sat up straight. “Sorry, I’m being nosy. I just think someone like you should have autonomy.”
“For women, autonomy isn’t as important as security.”
Jiang Yi didn’t want to press further and tried to lighten the mood. “Even for a painter?”
“Painters are no different.” Menghai gazed at Jiang Yi’s handsome profile and sighed. “How many girlfriends do you have, anyway?”
Jiang Yi smiled. “More than you can imagine.”
“If Ouyang could just sit here with me, drink my soup, hug me, and say a few sweet words, I’d feel like I have both autonomy and security.”
Jiang Yi reached out, pulled her close, and said in a soft, movie-star voice, “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Menghai couldn’t help but laugh at the awkwardness, collapsing into laughter in Jiang Yi’s arms.
Just then, neither noticed someone entering the living room. He followed the laughter and frowned slightly at the intimate scene. The handsome couple was a sight to behold, but he would have been much happier if one of them wasn’t his girlfriend.
“Jinghui!” Menghai saw Ouyang Jinghui first and tried to pull away, but it was too late.
Jiang Yi turned around, feeling an unexpected sense of embarrassment—as if he were the one being misunderstood, not Menghai.
He stood up, holding his hands up in mock innocence, and looked at Ouyang Jinghui, who seemed to recognize him. Ouyang narrowed his deep eyes and asked in a low, pleasant voice, “Who are you?”
“Jinghui, don’t misunderstand. This is Jiang Yi, the lead designer for the Green Sound Pavilion villa,” Menghai hurriedly explained. “Jiang Yi, this is Jinghui.”
Jiang Yi walked up to him confidently. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ouyang.”
“So you’re Jiang Yi?” Ouyang didn’t soften his tone. “Do I need to reconsider my opinion of you and Yifan?”
This was Jiang Yi’s third encounter with him—and honestly, each time had gotten worse.
Yuming was about to leave for Malaysia on business for three weeks. Before he left, he dragged Jiang Yi out to play tennis. But that day, Jiang Yi, usually a strong player, kept missing shots, clearly distracted. In Yuming’s eyes, there was nothing that could truly shake Jiang Yi’s composure. Seeing him frown or lose focus was a rare sight.
“Seriously? You missed that shot?”
“Has Longtai taken over the Yunxi land?”
Jiang Yi wanted to talk business, so Yuming answered promptly. “Yes. They kept it quiet. I only found out a couple of days ago.”
“Besides the villas under construction, the remaining 60,000 square meters haven’t been planned yet, right?”
“As far as I know, they’re planning resort-style apartments or maybe a wellness club, depending on the terrain. But that’s just rumor. The final plans are still being worked out.” Yuming suddenly widened his eyes. “Jiang Yi, you’re not thinking…”
“I want to talk to Longtai.”
“Do you want Fang Enterprises to—”
“No.” Jiang Yi had his own plan. “I’ll handle this myself.”
“Let me know if you need help.” Yuming had no doubt about Jiang Yi’s abilities. “I hope I’ll hear good news when I get back.”
Meanwhile, Ouyang Jinghui had started investigating Jiang Yi. He had seen the design for the Green Sound Pavilion model home—it fully embodied a humanistic spirit, with creative landscape concepts and bold, modern layouts influenced by Scandinavian minimalism. The sense of space was impressive, and it was clearly the work of a master. Compared to the models from other companies, the difference was obvious.
Given that this man had taken his bath and now seemed to be embracing his girlfriend, Ouyang should have cut him out of any potential partnership without hesitation. But his instinctive respect for talent and sense of fairness made him reconsider.
One afternoon, when Ouyang received a call from Yifan Studio requesting a meeting, he realized that Yifan wasn’t just waiting for Longtai’s initiative—they were proactive and well-informed.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?”
“Who is that?” Jiang Yi asked, eyes locked on the target.
Yuming followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Ouyang Jinghui, the chairman of Longtai.”
Jiang Yi’s chest tightened, and his expression grew complicated. “That’s Ouyang?”
“The real deal,” Yuming said, oblivious to Jiang Yi’s reaction. “You see how warmly my dad is greeting him? Who’d have thought a thirty-two-year-old prodigy could have so much influence.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“I thought you only wanted to meet the new project manager.”
Jiang Yi smiled faintly but didn’t reply. Just then, a strikingly elegant woman walked up to Ouyang Jinghui and took his arm, greeting guests with perfect poise.
Jiang Yi frowned slightly. “His wife?”
“That’s Liang Menghai, a Taiwanese painter. Her small oil paintings sell for over a hundred thousand New Taiwan dollars.” Yuming was envious of Ouyang’s luck. “She’s not the type to care about titles—maybe she really likes Ouyang.
It was obvious that he was a fire—the kind that could burn away anyone’s self-control. Women would willingly throw themselves at a man like that, even if there was no future in it, just like moths drawn to a flame. Even someone as remarkable as Liang Menghai wasn’t immune.
Jiang Yi suddenly felt calm again. He kept his professional and private lives strictly separate and always knew where he stood. He had his own standards for what to think and do—and what not to. Some people were only meant to be observed from afar; getting too close might lead to disappointment. Traveling around Asia, Jiang Yi was always cautious—sometimes, even the smallest mistake could have big consequences.
“I’ll ask my dad to introduce you,” Yuming offered.
Jiang Yi grabbed his arm. “Forget it. Not today.”
Jiang Yi rarely changed his mind, and when he did, he always had a good reason. Yuming blinked. “What about the project manager?”
“Let’s see the manager first.”
Jiang Yi’s greatest strength was his ability to assess reality quickly. He always knew how to avoid pitfalls and unstable factors, so he wouldn’t be caught off guard by sudden changes.
This was their second near-miss—they still hadn’t exchanged a single word. But in Jiang Yi’s heart, it left an indelible mark. He didn’t want to admit that a man he barely knew could affect him so much, repeatedly disrupting his usual train of thought. Of course, he didn’t believe in attraction for no reason—at least, nothing that couldn’t be controlled by reason.
A few days later, Yifan Studio received an unexpected guest.
Ali called Jiang Yi back from an errand. Jiang Yi, who usually didn’t take such calls seriously, changed his mind when he heard the name “Liang Menghai” and decided to return immediately.
The artist, Carrie, intercepted him and winked. “She specifically asked for you.”
Ali was excited. “She’s a real beauty, and she seems important.”
“What does she want?” Jiang Yi always got straight to the point.
“She wants interior and landscape design for a villa in Yunxi. Total area is about 1,000 square meters.” Ali sighed. “That land is expensive—only the rich or powerful can afford a villa like that.”
Carrie grinned. “Looks like Ali’s target client. Anyone who comes to Yifan is ready to pay top dollar for design. As long as the paperwork is in order, we’ll get it.”
Jiang Yi thought for a moment. “Get me a hot coffee. I’ll go meet her.”
When Jiang Yi appeared, Liang Menghai was genuinely surprised. She hadn’t expected the rising star of interior design to be so handsome and tall, with the presence of a movie star. His quiet demeanor and professional manner didn’t put people off—instead, his seriousness inspired confidence. Most businesspeople were eager to please and impatient for results, but this artistic man clearly understood how to get ahead.
Jiang Yi set a cup of coffee in front of Menghai. “Ms. Liang, how can I help you?”
“I’d like Yifan to take on a villa project. I admire your quality and reputation and hope you can provide a perfect design,” Menghai said directly. “But I have a special request, which is why I wanted to meet you in person.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’d like you to be the lead designer. If you’re too busy, I can wait.”
This was the burden of fame, but Jiang Yi would only agree if it made sense. “I can promise to be involved in most of the design and to supervise the site regularly. But if you want a personal project, I might not have enough time.”
Menghai appreciated his honesty. “That’s enough. As long as you oversee it, thank you.”
“I know you’re a painter, so you must have unique insights into design. I welcome your input.” He pulled up a chair and sat down casually.
Menghai had always liked smart, efficient men—those who could grasp the main point in a few words. Only such people made communication effortless. “I want the interior and exterior to blend multiple elements, especially from different cultures.”
Jiang Yi’s professional instincts were sharp. “We’re committed to creating spaces with a new humanistic spirit, showcasing the artistic charm of modern living. We’ll interpret the home through naturalism, postmodern aesthetics, alternative individuality, and emotional space, depending on the owner’s needs. If you agree, please provide the property documents within three days. Then our designers will discuss the details with you and draft a preliminary plan. We’ll need patience from both sides—the design should be finalized within a month.”
“Thank you, Jiang Yi.” Menghai was impressed by his efficiency, her beautiful face breaking into a friendly smile. “Mr. Fang’s recommendation was right on the mark.”
As soon as the client left, Jiang Yi went straight to his private office and called Yuming. “What’s wrong with you?!”
Yuming protested. “What’s wrong with giving you a new client?”
“I haven’t taken on individual clients for a long time. I’m swamped with commercial projects.” Jiang Yi rarely complained—only when he was truly annoyed.
“Hey, look who it is. I wouldn’t just recommend anyone to you. Didn’t you say you wanted to get to know Ouyang Jinghui? Isn’t it more natural to do it through his lover?”
“I give up. I’ll deal with you later.” Jiang Yi hung up, sitting there feeling inexplicably frustrated.
A week later, Jiang Yi began seeing Liang Menghai frequently. Menghai lived in a small townhouse, half of which she had turned into a studio. She never explained the origin of the new villa.
Every three days, Jiang Yi would find time to check on the progress. When inspiration struck, he would sketch changes on the walls. Once, on a whim, he asked Menghai to paint on the roof. They ended up covered in paint, having a great time.
To Jiang Yi’s surprise, after spending so much time together, he began to feel a certain affection for Menghai—the kind that naturally develops between people who spend a lot of time together. Maybe it was loneliness, but their relationship began to go beyond client and designer, becoming a genuine friendship.
Jiang Yi always brought flowers or candy when he visited—a habit from his time abroad—making it hard for Menghai not to like this handsome designer. His aloofness was only skin-deep; his inner warmth, simplicity, and professional flair made him even more attractive.
Before they knew it, a month had passed, and the “Green Sound Pavilion” villa began construction. That evening, Menghai invited Jiang Yi to her home for dinner, promising to cook herself—a rare treat from an artist who loved to cook.
“I made clear boiled fish balls. They’re amazing,” Menghai boasted.
Jiang Yi had never really gotten used to Chinese food, but he tasted everything and complimented her skillfully.
When Menghai sat down beside him, Jiang Yi suddenly asked, “Will you marry him?”
She was taken aback. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” He went back to his soup.
“Marriage isn’t important.”
“I agree.” Jiang Yi looked at her. “But I feel like you need more… passion.”
“Because I’m not married?”
“No, it’s just a feeling.” Jiang Yi sat up straight. “Sorry, I’m being nosy. I just think someone like you should have autonomy.”
“For women, autonomy isn’t as important as security.”
Jiang Yi didn’t want to press further and tried to lighten the mood. “Even for a painter?”
“Painters are no different.” Menghai gazed at Jiang Yi’s handsome profile and sighed. “How many girlfriends do you have, anyway?”
Jiang Yi smiled. “More than you can imagine.”
“If Ouyang could just sit here with me, drink my soup, hug me, and say a few sweet words, I’d feel like I have both autonomy and security.”
Jiang Yi reached out, pulled her close, and said in a soft, movie-star voice, “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Menghai couldn’t help but laugh at the awkwardness, collapsing into laughter in Jiang Yi’s arms.
Just then, neither noticed someone entering the living room. He followed the laughter and frowned slightly at the intimate scene. The handsome couple was a sight to behold, but he would have been much happier if one of them wasn’t his girlfriend.
“Jinghui!” Menghai saw Ouyang Jinghui first and tried to pull away, but it was too late.
Jiang Yi turned around, feeling an unexpected sense of embarrassment—as if he were the one being misunderstood, not Menghai.
He stood up, holding his hands up in mock innocence, and looked at Ouyang Jinghui, who seemed to recognize him. Ouyang narrowed his deep eyes and asked in a low, pleasant voice, “Who are you?”
“Jinghui, don’t misunderstand. This is Jiang Yi, the lead designer for the Green Sound Pavilion villa,” Menghai hurriedly explained. “Jiang Yi, this is Jinghui.”
Jiang Yi walked up to him confidently. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ouyang.”
“So you’re Jiang Yi?” Ouyang didn’t soften his tone. “Do I need to reconsider my opinion of you and Yifan?”
This was Jiang Yi’s third encounter with him—and honestly, each time had gotten worse.
Yuming was about to leave for Malaysia on business for three weeks. Before he left, he dragged Jiang Yi out to play tennis. But that day, Jiang Yi, usually a strong player, kept missing shots, clearly distracted. In Yuming’s eyes, there was nothing that could truly shake Jiang Yi’s composure. Seeing him frown or lose focus was a rare sight.
“Seriously? You missed that shot?”
“Has Longtai taken over the Yunxi land?”
Jiang Yi wanted to talk business, so Yuming answered promptly. “Yes. They kept it quiet. I only found out a couple of days ago.”
“Besides the villas under construction, the remaining 60,000 square meters haven’t been planned yet, right?”
“As far as I know, they’re planning resort-style apartments or maybe a wellness club, depending on the terrain. But that’s just rumor. The final plans are still being worked out.” Yuming suddenly widened his eyes. “Jiang Yi, you’re not thinking…”
“I want to talk to Longtai.”
“Do you want Fang Enterprises to—”
“No.” Jiang Yi had his own plan. “I’ll handle this myself.”
“Let me know if you need help.” Yuming had no doubt about Jiang Yi’s abilities. “I hope I’ll hear good news when I get back.”
Meanwhile, Ouyang Jinghui had started investigating Jiang Yi. He had seen the design for the Green Sound Pavilion model home—it fully embodied a humanistic spirit, with creative landscape concepts and bold, modern layouts influenced by Scandinavian minimalism. The sense of space was impressive, and it was clearly the work of a master. Compared to the models from other companies, the difference was obvious.
Given that this man had taken his bath and now seemed to be embracing his girlfriend, Ouyang should have cut him out of any potential partnership without hesitation. But his instinctive respect for talent and sense of fairness made him reconsider.
One afternoon, when Ouyang received a call from Yifan Studio requesting a meeting, he realized that Yifan wasn’t just waiting for Longtai’s initiative—they were proactive and well-informed.