Fu Jinyan’s world narrowed to the single white glove lying on the polished marble floor. It was a stain on his pride, a beacon of his humiliation. Su Luo’s command, “Pick it up,” echoed in the silent, opulent hall of the couture house, each word a hammer blow against his ego.
He was Fu Jinyan. Men begged for his audience. Corporations trembled at his name. He did not fetch.
His jaw was a knot of steel. He looked up, expecting to see triumph in her eyes, a vicious satisfaction. But there was none. Her expression was placid, her gaze distant, as if she had already moved on and was merely waiting for a minor inconvenience to be resolved. It was this chilling indifference that broke him.
Jian Moran watched from the side, a subtle, cutting amusement in his eyes. He didn't speak, didn't need to. His presence amplified Fu Jinyan's disgrace a thousandfold.
With a tremor of pure, unadulterated rage running through him, Fu Jinyan bent. The fabric of his bespoke suit, worth more than most people's cars, strained across his back. His fingers, which signed billion-dollar deals, closed around the soft leather of the glove. He rose, his face a mask of stone, and held it out to her.
Su Luo didn't even glance at it. Her eyes were fixed on the exit.
“Hold it for me,” she said, her voice light, airy, and utterly dismissive. Then she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, holding her glove like a footman.
Jian Moran clapped him lightly on the shoulder as he passed. “Come along, driver. We have dinner reservations.”
The drive to ‘The Pinnacle’ was a silent torture. Fu Jinyan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, as he watched them in the rearview mirror. They spoke softly, Jian Moran’s hand occasionally brushing Su Luo’s. They didn’t look at him once. He was just part of the car.
The Pinnacle was the city’s most exclusive private dining club, a place where fortunes were made and destroyed over a single glass of wine. As Fu Jinyan, laden with shopping bags from a dozen luxury brands, followed them through the grand entrance, he felt the burning stares of his peers. Whispers followed him like a disease.
“Is that… Fu Jinyan? What is he doing carrying bags?”
“And who is that with Jian Moran? My god, she’s stunning.”
“Didn’t Fu Jinyan just divorce his blind wife? He’s fallen so far, so fast.”
His humiliation was a public spectacle.
As they were being led to their private terrace overlooking the city, a loud, booming voice cut through the hushed ambiance.
“Well, well! If it isn’t the mighty Fu Jinyan, brought to heel at last!”
A portly man with a slick, arrogant smile strode towards them. Zhang Wei, CEO of Titan Corp, a boorish rival Fu Jinyan had crushed in business deals more than once.
Zhang’s eyes swept over the scene with undisguised glee: Jian Moran, the untouchable prince of the Jian family; Su Luo, a beautiful mystery on his arm; and Fu Jinyan, their glorified porter.
“Reduced to a bag boy for your ex-wife and her new man?” Zhang sneered, his voice dripping with venom. He turned his attention to Su Luo. “I always said that blind woman was a curse, Jinyan. A dead weight. Looks like she finally dragged you down to her level before finding a better host.”
He then bowed obsequiously to Jian Moran. “Mr. Jian, a true pleasure. A man of your stature shouldn't be seen with such refuse,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards both Su Luo and Fu Jinyan. “Wise of you to associate with winners.”
Fu Jinyan’s fists clenched. He took a step forward, a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in three years surging through him.
But Jian Moran simply raised a placid eyebrow. “Luo Luo,” he asked softly, ignoring Zhang completely. “Is this fly bothering you?”
Su Luo, who had been observing Zhang with an unnerving stillness, finally spoke. Her voice was not loud, but it sliced through the room like a shard of ice.
“Zhang Wei. Titan Corporation.”
It wasn't a question. It was a death sentence.
Zhang was taken aback. “You know me?” He puffed out his chest. “Of course, you do. Everyone in this city knows who holds the real power.” He decided to press his advantage, turning back to Jian Moran. “Speaking of power, Mr. Jian, my Skyreach project is set to redefine this city’s skyline! I’m just waiting on final approval from the Elysium Group. An investment firm of their global stature… if you could perhaps put in a good word? My proposal is on the desk of their top director right now!”
Fu Jinyan’s blood ran cold. Elysium Group. The most powerful and mysterious financial dynasty in the world. Their influence was absolute. Even the Fu Corporation was a minnow compared to them. For Zhang Wei to secure their backing would be a coup of unimaginable proportions.
Su Luo gave a small, chilling smile.
“Elysium Group?” she mused, as if the name were a casual acquaintance. She pulled out her phone, a sleek, unbranded device of black obsidian. She tapped the screen once.
“Uncle Chen,” she said into the phone, her tone familial and light. The entire dining room had fallen silent, watching the unfolding drama.
“It’s me. I’m fine… Yes, the air here is a little… polluted.” Her eyes flickered to Zhang Wei. “Quick question. The Titan Corporation proposal for the Skyreach project… The one on your desk.”
She paused, letting the silence stretch, letting the hope on Zhang Wei’s face curdle into confusion.
“Shred it.”
She hung up.
The silence that followed was absolute. It was the silence of a tomb.
Zhang Wei’s florid face had turned the color of ash. “What… what game are you playing? Who are you?” he stammered, his bravado collapsing like a house of cards.
Su Luo’s smile widened, but it held no warmth. It was the baring of teeth. “I’m just a ‘blind woman’,” she quoted his own words back at him. “A ‘curse’.”
Just then, Zhang’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket. He fumbled for it, his hands shaking. He answered, his face draining of all remaining color.
“What do you mean the deal is terminated?! Blacklisted?! Our stock is… WHAT?!”
He dropped the phone. It clattered on the marble floor. His entire empire, his life’s work, had been annihilated in a thirty-second phone call.
He fell to his knees. The great, arrogant Zhang Wei, groveling at the feet of the woman he had just insulted. “Miss Su! Forgive me! I am a blind fool! I am trash! Please! I didn’t know! Please give me another chance!” he begged, tears and snot streaming down his face.
The public humiliation was total. Every powerful figure in the room looked on in stark terror, re-evaluating the silent, beautiful woman who could command the legendary Elysium Group with a single word.
Fu Jinyan was paralyzed. The world had tilted on its axis. The woman he had tormented for three years, the ‘gold-digger’ he had despised, held the kind of apocalyptic power he could only dream of. He had thought he was a king ruling a kingdom. He now realized he had been a fool living in a cage, and he had just insulted the empress who held the key.
Su Luo didn't spare the pathetic man on the floor another glance. She stepped around him as if he were a piece of garbage.
Her gaze, cold and sharp as obsidian shards, landed directly on Fu Jinyan.
She looked him up and down, from his shocked face to the designer bags in his hands, to the single glove he still clutched like a fool.
“You see, Jinyan?” she said, her voice a soft, venomous whisper that only he could hear. “This is what happens to things that have outlived their usefulness.”