Vivian glanced at her watch. 8:40 p.m.
“I didn’t forget! I just got off work. I’m on my way.”
She hailed a cab.
Sophie’s birthday party was at a luxury private club—
the kind of place where most people never even saw the front door.
Apparently, Sophie had gone all out this year.
Sophie’s family had once been poor; her mom sold stationery by the school gate,
her dad worked as a restaurant cook and bought the occasional lottery ticket on his way home.
Then one day, luck struck—ten million RMB.
They invested wisely, turned the restaurant into a thriving chain,
and by the time Vivian saw Sophie again in college, she was a different person.
Despite the wealth, Sophie never changed around her.
They were still as close as sisters.

Vivian entered the club and immediately regretted it.
Colored lights flashed across the private room.
Sophie sat in the center, one arm draped around a delicate young man in a white shirt,
the other around a shirtless muscular “bad boy.”
Around them, laughter, perfume, and alcohol filled the air.
“Vivian! You made it!”
Sophie let go of her companions and ran over, pulling Vivian inside.
Vivian winced, retreating to the farthest corner.
Sophie followed, shoving a glass of orange juice toward her.
“Don’t worry, it’s just juice. I know you don’t drink. See how sweet I am?”
Then she waggled her brows.
“Heard the male hosts here are gorgeous. Want me to get you one?”
“No!” Vivian almost choked.
“Come on! It’s my birthday. Everyone plays along.”
“Seriously, I’m fine—”
But Sophie wasn’t listening.
Moments later, a handsome young man entered the room, flashing a polished smile.
Time blurred. Vivian sipped her juice, keeping to herself.
The poor boy, however, drank himself silly and started to wobble.
When he turned pale, Vivian jumped up.
“Don’t you dare throw up here! Come on, the restroom’s outside.”
The private restroom was occupied, so she half-carried him down the hall to the public one.

At that exact moment, Simon Min was stepping out of another private room nearby,
phone pressed to his ear after a business dinner.
He looked up—
and saw her.
Vivian Wen, at the end of the corridor.
Holding another man.
His brows drew tight.
He ended the call, eyes darkening, and started walking.

“Okay, you stay here and puke. I’m going back now,” Vivian said, helping the guy toward the men’s room.
She turned to leave—
—and crashed straight into a firm chest.
That familiar scent of cedar filled her senses.
She looked up.
Simon Min.
“Mr. Min—?”
Before she could finish, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the nearest storage room.
The door slammed shut behind them.
The narrow space pressed them close,
his steady heartbeat echoing against her ear,
his breath warm as it brushed the top of her head.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, controlled, dangerous.
“Who was that man?”
Vivian’s face flamed. She pushed lightly against his chest.
“Mr. Min, we can talk outside. It’s hard to breathe in here.”
“In such a hurry to get back to him?”
Simon’s tone dropped, rough and sharp.
The jealousy in his eyes left no room for doubt—
for the first time, Simon Min was no longer calm, no longer distant.
And Vivian realized—
he wasn’t just angry.
He cared.