Ch.2 Haven't we met before

Chapter 2

"Wow, look over there! A beauty, a stunning beauty, the kind that could topple cities and kingdoms!"

Inside the Rolls-Royce, the driver pointed out Song Xinya to the assistant.

The assistant looked up, his eyes trembling with the shock of witnessing a truly top-tier beauty.

"She is indeed extraordinarily beautiful!"

Having accompanied Qin Yuhe to countless high-society events, he had seen all kinds of beauties—socialites, daughters of noble families—but none were as beautiful as the woman before him.

This woman was radiant and striking, her eyes sparkling with life and charm. With every glance, there was a captivating allure. The red skirt swayed with the wind, making her entire being resemble a blazing flame in full bloom.

She was like a nine-tailed fox from "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio," bewitching and dazzling beyond compare.

Qin Yuhe was famously aloof, strict, fastidious, and ascetic.

He had been set up on blind dates with no less than eighty women, each with top-tier looks and figures, yet the CEO hadn't fancied a single one.

Some he rejected outright just upon hearing the name, without even meeting them.

So for this blind date, Old Mrs. Qin simply didn't tell Qin Yuhe which family the girl was from, forcing him to go in completely blind.

Driver: "A woman this beautiful, surely President Qin would like her, right?"

The assistant gazed at that flamboyant flash of red and replied, "President Qin doesn't like this type of woman. He prefers the gentle, reserved kind. Moreover, he dislikes the color red most of all."

The driver, a married man and someone with experience, said, "An ideal type is never about a specific category, but a feeling. If you truly meet someone who catches your eye, whether they're a turtle or a pea, you'll like them no matter the type."

Assistant: "Then let's make a bet. I bet this blind date of President Qin's will be like the leeks in the field every winter—withering one batch after another."

Driver: "I bet President Qin will succeed this time."

Having been by Qin Yuhe's side for years, the assistant was very confident in his understanding of the CEO and felt sure about this bet.

"The wager is: whoever loses pays the other ten thousand yuan. How about it, dare to bet?"

The driver trusted his experienced intuition: "Bet it is."

The two of them looked towards the inside of the coffee shop, closely monitoring the outcome of the blind date.

………

Qin Yuhe sat in booth number 6. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his sharply defined face. Dressed in a white shirt and black suit, his back straight and posture elegant, he seemed coated in a layer of golden light, handsome and dazzlingly noble.

Most people nowadays idly play on their phones when they have free time. Qin Yuhe had no such hobby; he preferred reading in his spare time.

On the table lay a book written entirely in English; its Chinese translation was titled "Wuthering Heights."

His long, elegant fingers turned the pages, and a line of English leaped into his view—

"Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you."

In Chinese, it meant—

"Do not leave me in this hell without you."

A world without Catherine was a living hell for Heathcliff.

Qin Yuhe had never been in love before, nor had he ever fallen for any woman.

He was skeptical of the intense, flame-like, and fierce love that the male protagonist, Heathcliff, felt for the heroine, Catherine, in the book.

Could a man really feel such profound love for a woman?

The current Qin Yuhe believed not.

Due to his complex personal history and family background, the education he received from childhood was: a man should prioritize career and family honor; indulging in romantic love is irresponsible.

In their circle, most marriages were arranged alliances.

Reinforcing class status, solidifying social capital, complementing resources, expanding social circles, and preserving family honor through marriage—this was the meaning of his existence.

Qin Yuhe's gaze rose from that line of text and landed on a coin, the reverse side facing up. Below the national emblem design was the minting year: 2000.

Left behind by the woman who had slept with him.

He didn't usually use bookmarks; he used this coin as a marker, carrying it with him always.

His knuckled fingers picked up the silver-white coin, its rough texture transmitting through his fingertips.

A year had passed, yet he still vividly remembered the feel of her skin under his touch.

Her skin was smooth and delicate, soft as a cloud, feeling like warm, body-temperature silk against his hand.

She was sensitive; every touch from him would send excited tremors through her.

Beside him, she was like a petal battered by a storm — Jiaojiao trembling, helpless and pitiable. Her sobs sounded so heartrending that they moved him to respond more urgently.

Her body was covered in his marks.

Back then, the two of them stayed up all night, goofing around until eight in the morning, utterly exhausted yet exhilarated.

A strand of sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling upon her buttocks.

Before Qin Yuhe closed his eyes to sleep, he saw a black mole on her buttocks.

Right in the middle of her right buttock was a small, round black mole.

Her skin was very fair, and that perfectly round black mole stood out dazzlingly against her snow-white complexion, giving her a bewitching sensuality—very provocative, very alluring.

This was the only identifying mark she had left him.

If this mole were on her face, he would have recognized her at once upon meeting.

But of all things, it was on her buttock. If he wanted to identify her, he would not only have to ask her to take off her pants but also her underwear.

Can a woman's underwear be taken off without permission?

The location of this mole was truly awkward.

He would probably never find that woman.

As Qin Yuhe's thoughts drifted, the table was struck heavily, causing the liquid in the coffee cup to ripple in concentric circles.

A woman in a white dress had twisted her ankle and fallen against his table.

Her head knocked against the table number with a 'thump.'

The sign loosened, rotated halfway, turning the 6 into a 9.

The woman looked up, saw Qin Yuhe's face, and her eyes lit up. Her voice grew soft and coquettish, and she said in a flirtatious, ambiguous tone, "I'm so terribly sorry, sir. Let's exchange WeChat. I must properly apologize to you another day."

Qin Yuhe kept his head down, reading his book, his voice icy and devoid of warmth: "Matters that can be settled the same day don't require another."

The woman, feeling snubbed, stood up.

She noticed that the number on the card had changed from 6 to 9, but having just been rejected by Qin Yuhe, she turned and walked away without reminding him.

………

The coffee shop door was pushed open, and Song Xinya walked in.

A summer breeze swept through the hall, rustling the pages of the book on the table; the rustling sound was loud in the quiet cafe.

The hot, dry wind blew against Qin Yuhe's face, billowed into his white shirt, scorching his smooth skin.

He turned his head to look towards the entrance.

At the same moment, Song Xinya looked towards him.

Their gazes collided in mid-air.

Song Xinya's breath hitched.

So a man could be born more beautiful than a woman.

The moment their eyes met was like a slow-motion freeze-frame in a film. Everything and everyone else blurred, the surrounding light focused only on them, leaving only each other clearly visible in the other's eyes.

The instant she saw him, it was as if a rose in the corner had glimpsed the youth's light.

The moment he saw her, it was as if he'd spotted a single rose amid a rising, dense fog.

Song Xinya's gaze slid from Qin Yuhe's face to the number placard on the table: Booth 9.

He was her blind date.

Very different from what Li Cuirou had described.

A question flashed through her mind.

Black cat or white cat, as long as it catches mice, it's a good cat.

She would never settle for a scumbag, and she would never let go of a quality man.

Good things are like seats on the subway—if you don't grab them, someone else will.

Song Xinya pursed her alluring red lips, a bright, dazzling smile brimming with captivating charm as she walked toward him.

Her long, black wavy hair fell softly, swaying gently with each step.

The red dress clung softly to her figure, cinched at the waist to outline a slender curve, while her long legs emerged from the slit, a dazzling flash of fair skin.

Snowy skin against a red dress, her charm swaying with every movement.

Qin Yuhe observed the woman approaching him and realized for the first time that someone could wear red so beautifully.

The red was still bold and eye-catching, yet he didn't find it garish.

The sound of high heels tapping the floor ceased, and the unique, delicate fragrance of a woman drifted into his nostrils.

Song Xinya sat down opposite Qin Yuhe and got straight to the point: "I'm here for a blind date today."

Qin Yuhe: "So am I."

He closed his book, the coin imprinted with "2000" tucked and hidden within its pages.

"Song Xinya."

"Qin Yuhe."

They exchanged names.

Song Xinya lowered her eyelashes, picked up the coffee cup on the table, and took a small sip. Her crimson lips were stained with a layer of white foam, which then vanished, leaving behind a thin, glossy sheen.

Outwardly, she appeared calm and composed, but inwardly, her mind was in a whirlwind.

The Qin Family!

Qin Yuhe!

Who in the Beijing social circle didn't know of the Qin Family? Who hadn't heard of Qin Yuhe, the crown prince of that circle?

The name Qin Yuhe represented money, power, status, and—

being utterly unattainable.

Countless socialites and heiresses had tried to climb this tree named Qin Yuhe, using every trick and connection to get a meeting with him, to win his favor, to marry him and become the foremost lady of the Beijing social scene.

But all those socialites had failed.

A year ago, Song Xinya had heard Li Cuirou say that she was finding ways to get close to Old Mrs. Qin, all to arrange a blind date between Zhang Yingying and Qin Yuhe, to marry Zhang Yingying off to him.

A trace of understanding flashed in Song Xinya's smile. If she guessed correctly, Qin Yuhe's intended blind date today was Zhang Yingying.

Li Cuirou had arranged for her to meet a fifty-year-old, twice-divorced man with two kids, while arranging a date with the most esteemed man in the Beijing circle for her own daughter. This wasn't just favoritism; it was an insult.

Unexpectedly, through a twist of fate, Song Xinya had run into Qin Yuhe.

The coffee cup made a crisp sound as she placed it back on the saucer. Song Xinya looked over at Qin Yuhe, her gaze appraising him.

The white shirt was of excellent quality, stretched taut over his broad shoulders, creating a sharp, defined silhouette. The area over his chest muscles formed just the right amount of contour, full of tension.

The firm lines narrowed from his shoulders downward, the hem of the white shirt tucked into black suit pants, disappearing into a mysterious zone.

He looked like he'd be very good in bed.

Song Xinya suddenly felt parched and picked up her coffee cup for another sip.

Meanwhile, Qin Yuhe was also studying Song Xinya.

She was very fair, that kind of pure, translucent, delicate snow-white without a hint of impurity.

His deep, dark eyes watched her, and suddenly, a sense of familiarity washed over him.

Gazing into her eyes, he asked, "Haven't we met before?"

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