“Whose car is that? It’s gorgeous!”
The crowd murmured in awe as the sleek engine roared.
Even Summer Wen couldn’t hide her envy, her eyes gleaming with greed.
If that belongs to some rich young heir, she thought, maybe I can get his attention…
Right on cue, a young man stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked in their direction.
Summer straightened, tossing her hair, her best smile ready.
But just as she was about to greet him, the man passed her—
and went straight to Simon Min.
He bowed slightly.
“Sir, the car is ready.”
Summer froze.
What?
The car—belonged to him?
The man who’d just been eating street food with Vivian Wen?
Impossible.
Simon rose calmly and turned to Vivian, holding out his hand.
“Shall we?”
Vivian blinked at the gleaming supercar, stunned, but placed her hand in his.
Summer’s jaw dropped so far it nearly hit the ground.
Her heart twisted with disbelief and jealousy.
Just what kind of man has Vivian hooked this time?
Her fists clenched. Her pretty face warped with envy.
Whatever Vivian Wen had—she would take.
And this man, especially—she vowed—would one day be hers.

Inside the car, Vivian sat stiffly, her fingers knotted in her lap.
It was her first time in such a luxurious vehicle.
“Mr. Min…” she said softly, glancing around, “You didn’t… rent this again, did you?”
Before Simon could answer, Henry Zhang turned from the driver’s seat with a grin.
“Miss Wen, I’m the company’s top rental driver. This gentleman just booked the car a few minutes ago. Where would you two like to go?”
Vivian turned back to Simon, lips pressed tight.
“Renting something like this can’t be cheap.”
Simon’s tone was mild.
“I rent often. The rate’s fine.”
“Often?” Vivian frowned in disbelief.
Simon’s face remained perfectly composed.
“Luxury car rentals share an account with the luxury goods platform I used for your engagement event. They give me a discount.”
Vivian nodded slowly, guilt pricking her chest.
“Mr. Min, you really don’t have to do all this for me.”
Simon tilted his head.
“Why? You don’t like it?”
“That’s not it.” She bit her lip.
“It’s just… you’re not exactly rolling in money. You should save where you can. Relying on appearances and little tricks like this—it can make people lose sight of what really matters. I want to earn enough one day to buy my own car. When that happens, I’ll take you for a drive.”
Her smile was radiant and sure, her eyes steady as sunlight.
Simon’s gaze lingered on her face, the corners of his mouth softening.
“Deal.”

That afternoon, as Vivian carried a stack of documents to the printer, she passed the company’s photo studio.
A sharp voice rang out.
“You call this food? I told you to get me lunch, not this disgusting street slop! Do you want to lose your job?!”
Vivian paused.
It was unmistakably Summer Wen.
Inside, Summer was berating her assistant, whose uniform was splattered with rice and sauce.
Tears streamed down the girl’s face as she trembled under the verbal assault.
Vivian caught a passing staffer.
“What’s going on?”
The man sighed.
“New artist. Total diva. Refused to wear the shoes the stylist gave her, said her feet hurt—demanded designer sneakers instead. Then she got hungry, told her assistant to buy food. The poor girl grabbed seafood rice from a nearby stall, and Summer dumped it on her.
The problem is—this commercial has to be shot today. She’s the client’s pick, so we can’t replace her. If she keeps this up, no one’s leaving before midnight.”
He shook his head and walked off.
Vivian hesitated.
Normally, she’d stay out of it—but the whole crew was suffering because of Summer’s tantrum.
That, she couldn’t ignore.
She stepped inside.
The assistant’s eyes were red and swollen; Summer stood smugly, arms crossed.
“Now go get seafood rice from the Michelin restaurant across town. I won’t shoot a thing until it’s here.”
“But… it’s really far, and it’s very expensive…” the assistant whispered.
Summer sneered.
“Then maybe you should’ve stayed on the streets begging, instead of working here.”