Volume One, Chapter Thirteen: Do You Know Who Gave Me This Tie?

“There was a careless woman who accidentally spilled coffee on President Shen,” Li Nanxun said in her usual businesslike tone, but the implication behind her words was clear: that so-called accident was definitely intentional.

Song Qinian nodded slightly, clutching her clothes nervously as she stepped into the room.

Li Nanxun closed the door behind her from the outside. Song Qinian looked at the firmly shut door, then turned and walked inside step by step.

The room was spacious and luxurious—a suite, in fact. Song Qinian searched around but couldn’t find Shen Chiyan.

Only when she heard the sound of water trickling from the bathroom did she realize Shen Chiyan was taking a shower.

Should she put down the clothes and leave quietly?

Or should she knock and announce her presence?

Just as Song Qinian was agonizing over what to do, Shen Chiyan’s sultry voice came through the bathroom door: “Come in.”

Come in?

His footsteps had been so light—how did he know she was there?

Though puzzled, her body moved instinctively closer to the bathroom.

The nearer she got, the faster her heart pounded.

If he was showering, why was he inviting her in?

Could it be that he wanted her to help scrub his back?

She hesitated at the bathroom door, about to knock, but Shen Chiyan, seeming a little impatient, opened it abruptly.

Before Song Qinian could even see clearly, she was suddenly pulled inside with great force.

Startled, she found herself enveloped in a burning hot embrace.

Her first thought was how stiflingly warm it was in the bathroom.

Shen Chiyan must have turned the water to a scalding temperature; steam filled the room, obscuring vision completely, and his body felt feverishly hot, as if burning at forty degrees Celsius.

The next moment, her lips were fiercely sealed, her clothes stripped away.

When it was all over, Song Qinian felt as if she had run a marathon—her whole body ached, utterly drained of strength.

She was left slumped on the bathroom floor, gasping for breath.

Shen Chiyan had already left the bathroom.

Pain covered her body in bruises, dark purple and blue marks everywhere.

Song Qinian realized Shen Chiyan was particularly keen on leaving marks on her in such matters, as if marking his territory like a small dog.

They exchanged no words throughout; Song Qinian was speechless, while Shen Chiyan scorned any conversation.

At that moment, a shopping bag was tossed into the bathroom from outside, followed by Shen Chiyan’s cold voice.

“You have three minutes. Change into the clothes inside the bag and come out.”

When Song Qinian stepped out of the bathroom, Shen Chiyan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out. He held a cigarette, his expression unreadable.

She hesitated, then moved toward him.

As soon as she approached, Shen Chiyan suddenly grabbed her by the neck and pressed her against the window.

On the twenty-eighth floor, the sudden sensation of weightlessness made Song Qinian’s heart leap into her throat; her face went pale as paper.

She was afraid of heights and felt as if she might fall. Instinctively, she pressed both hands against the glass.

“Song Qinian, if I pushed you from here, would you splatter into a pulp or miraculously survive as a vegetable?” Shen Chiyan’s voice was devoid of warmth, his grip powerful, laced with murderous intent. She did not doubt he was capable of killing her.

One moment he was pressed against her skin, the next he threatened her life.

Terrified, her body trembled uncontrollably, her chest tightening painfully.

A mocking smile curved Shen Chiyan’s handsome lips. He released her, and her legs gave way, collapsing to the floor.

Looking down on her, Shen Chiyan’s voice was cold and detached. “That’s all it takes to scare you? Next time, at least pretend better.”

Song Qinian looked up at him and saw only his indifferent, aloof back.

“I’m going to a banquet later. You’re coming with me.”

Still reeling from the vertigo moments ago, she watched as Shen Chiyan picked up a tie and coldly ordered, “What are you standing there for? Get up and tie this for me.”

Biting her lip, Song Qinian shakily rose and approached him.

Her hands trembled with lingering fear.

No matter how composed she tried to appear, her trembling betrayed her.

Taking the tie from Shen Chiyan, she stood on tiptoe to fasten it around his neck.

She was only 1.63 meters tall, while Shen Chiyan stood at 1.88 meters—a significant height difference. Even on tiptoe, her arms couldn’t reach fully around his neck.

Without an ounce of concession, Shen Chiyan showed no intention to lower his head. Not daring to make him bend, she fetched a stool, planning to stand on it to tie the tie.

No sooner had she placed the stool before him than Shen Chiyan’s face darkened, and with a cold kick, he toppled it over. Startled, Song Qinian barely had time to react before he lifted her and set her on the desk.

“You’re so short, yet you’re still a miracle of human reproduction. Hurry up, or I’ll make you pay for wasting my time.”

The desk was high enough that sitting on it allowed Song Qinian to reach Shen Chiyan’s neck.

She carefully looped the tie around and meticulously knotted it.

They were so close that she could smell his refreshing, pleasant scent. Thinking back to the earlier bathroom scene, a blush crept up her cheeks.

She dared not meet his gaze but sensed his dark, icy eyes fixed on her, suffocating her with their intensity.

“Do you know who gave me this tie?” Shen Chiyan’s voice suddenly whispered near her ear, his breath warm against her skin, making her blush deepen.

“This was a birthday gift from Lin Qiutong on my eighteenth coming-of-age day,” he said.

Song Qinian’s hand paused briefly before resuming its careful work.

Having her tie the gift from Lin Qiutong was like stabbing at the softest spot in her heart.

“If it weren’t for your father, Lin Qiutong would have tied this herself.”

As he spoke, Shen Chiyan gripped Song Qinian’s chin, forcing her to look at him. His long fingers traced her tender, delicate face with a gentleness that belied the cruel words he spoke.

“I only want you to serve as an outlet for my desire. Your father is a sinner. You’re a sinner too. Don’t harbor delusions you shouldn’t!”

Biting her lip tightly, Song Qinian’s rosy cheeks slowly paled.

Don’t harbor delusions?

But she already had them. What was she to do?

Seeing Song Qinian’s wronged expression stirred an inexplicable irritation in Shen Chiyan.

Watching her white teeth bite her rosy lips, his dark eyes dimmed, a wicked fire rising within.

He brusquely released her chin, impatience clear in his voice: “Does tying a tie have to take this long?”

Song Qinian quickened her hands. Years ago, to become a competent personal secretary, she had learned and practiced various ways to tie ties.

Once finished, Shen Chiyan turned and left without a trace of tenderness—cold and resolute.

He said he would take Song Qinian to a banquet.

Upon arrival, she learned it was Lin Qiutong’s father, Lin Xing’an’s fiftieth birthday banquet.

No wonder Shen Chiyan had deliberately worn the tie Lin Qiutong had given him.