April in Nam City, the fine rain pattered.
Dull black tiles, the eaves dripped.
On the lake surface, a small boat bobbed, spreading out ripples.
Unbeknownst to them, the fruit platter on the boat had overturned, its contents scattered across the deck, disrupting the entire humid night.
Inside the small, low bow of the boat, a milky-white hand, soft as cow's milk, was wrapped around the man's neck, using him as a support, leaning in very close.
The man narrowed his eyes slightly, and the movements of his hands grew stronger.
The unfamiliar sensation aroused Wen Ci's full red lips, which trembled slightly, and a soft, fragmented sound escaped between them: "Sheng Jinglan..."
The man, leaning against the side of the boat, slowly opened his eyes, seeing the beautiful spring within her lustrous, beautiful eyes.
Wen Ci's long, silky hair fell disheveled behind her, and with her hot breaths, fine sweat beaded on her forehead.
He smiled and withdrew his hand, brushing away a strand of jet-black hair that fluttered before Wen Ci.
His fingers traced down the buttons of her qipao, finding a vermilion mole by the girl's milky-white collarbone, utterly enchanting.
"Truly beautiful," he praised unreservedly, his warm palm pressing against it.
The spring rain pattered.
Inside the small, constantly swaying boat, a wave of romantic passion surged relentlessly.
Wen Ci couldn't help but lift her head, and in her hazy eyes was the man's stunning face, just like his name.
He had a pair of flirtatious, amorous peach blossom eyes, with a tear mole at the corner that accentuated his boundless desire.
For over twenty years, Wen Ci had lived by the rules, never imagining she would get entangled to this extent with a man she had only known for less than two months.
In a daze, Wen Ci's thoughts were pulled back two months ago.
The bitter cold had just departed, and all things welcomed spring.
The silent drizzle brought vitality to the earth, and Wen Ci's garden gradually sprouted new shoots after the cold winter.
On the first beautiful sunny day of spring, a qipao-clad beauty with an exquisite figure stood in the flower garden, divinely beautiful.
"A Ci, there are people outside again to visit Teacher Song." The speaker had simple braids on both sides, her apricot eyes revealing the simple charm of a young girl.
Her name was Su Hemiao, a student who had just arrived last year.
Because the elders on both sides had deep connections, Su Hemiao had always lived in the Wen family home, gradually becoming close with Wen Ci.
The Teacher Song she mentioned was Wen Ci's maternal grandmother — Song Lan Zhi.
The Wen family was a prominent family that inherited the embroidery culture of Suzhou.
As the previous generation's matriarch of the Wen family, Song Lan Zhi became famous early on; her embroidery skills were top-notch, and she had won many major international awards, with many of her famous works still preserved abroad.
She dedicated her entire life to developing the Suzhou embroidery industry, becoming extremely famous worldwide and welcomed by countless embroidery enthusiasts.
Song Lan Zhi's works were hard to come by, even with a thousand pieces of gold.
Five years ago, she announced her retirement, no longer accepting any commercial commissions, and even if people brought millions in wealth to their door, the Wen family remained indifferent.
Hearing Su Hemiao's implication, it was likely that those who came to visit her grandmother were there to invite her to embroider or sew.
Wen Ci calmly raised her watering can: "Didn't Uncle Cheng tell them that Grandma isn't in Nam City?"
Su Hemiao fiddled with her braid, tilted her head, and said, "He did, but those people refused to leave, saying they also wanted to visit Aunt Wen."
This "Aunt Wen" was not Wen Ci, but her mother, Wen Ruyu.
Wen Ruyu inherited the Wen family's assets. While Song Lan Zhi focused on her craft, Wen Ruyu dedicated herself to business, a capable woman wholeheartedly devoted to her career.
They took a step back, turning to inquire about Wen Ruyu, likely hoping to get in touch with her grandmother, Song Lan Zhi, through her mother. Such things happened frequently; Wen Ci had seen through these people's intentions long ago.
Her slender, jade-like hand stroked the snow-white fur on her sleeve cuff, her nails painted red like petals fluttering against a snowy sky. "It's quite inconvenient," she said. "My mother is probably still abroad, in a different time zone."
Wen Ruyu was on a business trip abroad; her plane had just landed today. According to her arranged itinerary, she would be there for at least another week.
As soon as she finished speaking, Butler Cheng hurried over to report on the situation outside.
Wen Ci slightly raised her eyes. "Don't they know that Grandma announced five years ago she no longer accepts private commissions?"
"They are persistently waiting outside, and they even deliberately prepared three grand gifts," Butler Cheng emphasized.
Wen Ci didn't think much of it. "Given Grandma's personality, let alone three gifts, even thirty wouldn't sway her." "No, no," Butler Cheng waved his hand, explaining, "The three gifts aren't all for the old lady. They prepared gifts for the old lady, CEO Wen, and you."
"Me?" This made Wen Ci curious.
Anyone familiar with embroidery culture knows that the Wen family is presided over by the mother-daughter duo, Song Lan Zhi and Wen Ruyu, and rarely mentions this granddaughter of the Wen family.
Wen Ci was the sole heir of the Wen family, yet few knew that she was born with a natural talent for embroidery. Song Lan Zhi herself once said, "Give the child time, and A Ci's achievements will surely surpass mine." Many people gave gifts to her grandmother, but few prepared gifts for her.
Wen Ci suddenly changed her mind. "They've traveled a long way to get here, so of course, we should invite them in for tea. Lest it gets out that our Wen family doesn't know how to treat guests."
"Are you, A Ci, planning to meet them yourself?" "If they want to discuss business related to the shop, we'd be happy to. But if they want to invite Grandma out of retirement, I'd advise them to leave early."
"What if they don't want to give up easily?" They had also encountered people who would pester the Wen family and refuse to leave, or who would come back repeatedly.
"Then let them wait." Wen Ci placed the watering can back on the flower trellis, her voice as nonchalant as if carried away by the wind.
Butler Cheng understood implicitly and hurried to the reception hall to greet the guests.
"A Ci, I'm going to take a look too. I heard the three people who came this time are all very good-looking. There's a dazzlingly handsome young man, a stunningly beautiful young woman, and especially the man leading them." Su Hemiao had proclaimed herself a beauty enthusiast since childhood, and when commenting, she spoke effusively, "Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs—he must be at least 1.87 meters tall. I didn't get a good look at him at the door just now, but his aura is absolutely top-tier!"
"I think I heard the girl call him 'Uncle Ut,' but he looks so young, not like those uncles in their thirties or forties." Hearing her chatter on, Wen Ci helplessly reminded her, "Good thing Grandma isn't here, or she'd scold you for wasting time."
"A Ci, are you really not interested in handsome men?" Su Hemiao leaned in close, examining her flawless face from every angle.
Wen Ci was born with a pair of large, round, sparkling almond eyes; her eyelid creases were distinct and deep, and the slight upward curve of her outer corners added a unique charm.
She was the Wen family's pampered granddaughter; from head to toe, no part of her hadn't been meticulously nurtured, cultivating an ethereal, jade-like aura, unparalleled in beauty.
Anyone who had ever met Wen Ci was invariably captivated by her beauty.
Even seeing her every day, Su Hoa Mieu never tired of looking. "Who would believe you've been single since birth? If I were a man, no matter how much of a simp I was, I'd have to pursue you." Seeing Su Hoa Mieu's eyes light up, Wen Ci quickly reached out to stop her. "If you were a man, I'd probably run away before I even had a chance." Su Hoa Mieu didn't understand. "You don't like people who aren't proactive, and you don't like people who are proactive. So what kind of person do you actually like?"
She... what kind of person did she like?
Wen Ci lowered her gaze in thought, a few images flashing in her mind like tiny shards of glass drifting in the current of her memories, difficult to piece together.
She subtly curved her lips, offering no reply.
After Su Hoa Mieu left, Wen Ci unhurriedly walked from the flower garden to the front yard.
A moment later, a melody from a steel tongue drum echoed in the yard.
The drum sound seemed to reverberate through a tranquil, dark valley, captivating those in the living room as well.
The dazzlingly handsome man Su Hoa Mieu had once praised reacted first. "I think I hear something?"
"The melody is truly unique." The young woman perked up her ears, listening for the source of the sound. "Is it an instrument?"
"It's a steel tongue drum," the man sitting on the left suddenly spoke, his gaze indifferently fixed on the distance.
The young woman gasped in surprise. "Uncle Ut, your hearing is so sharp?" The man slightly raised an eyebrow, lazily picking up his teacup.
The steel tongue drum played on incessantly.
A moment later, he put down his teacup and stood up.
The wind blew past, and the crisp sound of chimes rang out from under the eaves. Wen Ci, wearing a green qipao, sat with a straight back, holding ebony drumsticks in her hands. Her eyes danced, and the drum face seemed alive.
Her dark hair framed her temples. She had it in a simple bun, secured with a jade hairpin.
As the wind picked up, strands of her hair fluttered like a cascade of green silk.
Wen Ci casually raised her eyes, meeting the brazen gaze of the other person.
The man leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on her intently, without the slightest hint of shyness.
When Wen Ci looked over, he slightly raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.
Like a fox waiting for its prey to fall into a trap.