The rainy night in Beijing transformed neon lights into shattered fragments of color in the puddles below.
Ye Haoxuan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window at the top of Cloud Peak Club, looking down at the city that belonged to him. As the young CEO of the Ye Group, Beijing's undisputed crown prince, he was accustomed to this vantage point. Ice cubes clinked softly in his whiskey glass, reflecting his sharp, cold profile.
"President Ye, the Nan Gong family has arrived," his assistant announced quietly.
Ye Haoxuan nodded slightly without turning. The Nan Gong family—a rising business powerhouse in recent years, rumored to have ties to European royalty, mysterious and low-key. Tonight's banquet was for a collaboration project between their two families.
Inside the banquet hall, crystal chandeliers glittered, and elites mingled. But when she appeared, the entire room seemed to quiet for a moment.
Nan Gong Yuexi wore a simple moonlight-white gown, adorned only with an antique pearl hairpin. She wasn't conventionally stunning, but her eyes—deep as ancient wells, as if holding secrets spanning millennia—captivated. Her slightly raised chin revealed an innate nobility, yet carried a subtle, untouchable aloofness.
Ye Haoxuan's gaze lingered on her for three seconds—an unusually long time for him.
"Miss Nan Gong," he approached, his voice deep and magnetic. "I've long admired your reputation."
Yuexi turned, a flicker of nearly imperceptible surprise in her eyes before calm returned. "Mr. Ye."
Their hands met. Ye Haoxuan felt her cool fingertips, yet sensed an indescribable strength. Strangely, this simple touch stirred a vague familiarity in him, as if he had held this hand countless times in some forgotten dream.
"Have we met before?" The words escaped him, and he frowned slightly at his own impropriety.
Yuexi gently withdrew her hand, a polite yet distant smile gracing her lips. "I don't believe so. Someone like you, Mr. Ye, would be unforgettable."
Throughout the banquet, Ye Haoxuan's eyes unconsciously followed that moon-white figure. She conversed gracefully yet maintained an appropriate distance. What caught his attention more was her apparent fondness for a particular dessert—a European traditional pastry uncommon in Beijing, called "Moon Shadow Crisp."
Fragments of memory flashed in his mind. Twenty years ago, on a stormy night, six-year-old Ye Haoxuan encountered a lost little girl in the woods behind the family estate. Drenched and shivering, she didn't cry, just stared at him with bright eyes. He took her to his secret hideout—an abandoned greenhouse—and shared his privately stashed Moon Shadow Crisp with her. The little girl ate carefully, as if it were the world's most precious treasure.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I can't say. Nanny says I can't tell anyone."
"Where are you from?"
She pointed toward the distant, brightly lit buildings. "There."
That was the direction of the guesthouse where royal family members occasionally stayed.
Later, Ye family bodyguards found him. When he returned to the greenhouse, the little girl was gone, leaving behind only a handkerchief embroidered with a peculiar pattern. For years, he kept that handkerchief and the memory of that mysterious girl.
"President Ye?" His assistant's voice pulled him back to reality.
Ye Haoxuan snapped out of it, realizing Yuexi had slipped away unnoticed. He walked to where she had stood and found a handkerchief on the sofa—almost identical in pattern to the one he'd kept for years.