Chapter 10: You Didn't Know This Was My Room?

Yan Feng found himself in an impossible situation. Gritting his teeth, he downed the glass of baijiu in one go. No sooner had he finished than the next glass was handed to him. One after another, the drinks kept coming.

Yan Feng had already been nursing a cold that day; his headache had only just begun to ease by evening. Now, with several drinks in his system, the splitting pain surged back with renewed force. By the eighth glass, he could hold out no longer. He swayed unsteadily, on the verge of collapsing.

Jiang Ciyou knew better than anyone that Yan Feng’s tolerance for alcohol was poor. As for herself, she could actually handle her liquor quite well.

“There are two left. I’ll drink them,” Jiang Ciyou said, stepping up to the table after Yan Feng set down his glass. Without waiting for objections, she picked up a glass, lifted her head, and finished it in one smooth motion. Then she reached for the last one.

The onlookers were taken aback. It was not unusual to see a woman drink, but to do so with such ease and grace was something rare indeed. Her slender, delicate fingers seemed made for finer things than this. In her elegant hands, the ordinary wineglass was transformed into a work of art.

As she tilted her head back, the line of her white neck was revealed—like a proud swan. She drank neither hastily nor hesitantly, her bearing calm and composed, tinged with an innate languor. It was as if she were not responding to others’ provocations, but enjoying a private revel, singing and drinking behind closed doors.

When Jiang Ciyou set down her glass, the crowd around her broke into spontaneous applause. Her expression remained unchanged, save for a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her look even more vivid and radiant—like a Damask rose in full bloom beneath the blazing sun, dazzling in her beauty.

“The wine is finished, President Bo. Surely your anger is appeased now?” she said, her words carrying a subtle edge.

Bo Jinxi’s expression remained unchanged, if anything growing even colder than before. After a long moment, a faint, mocking smile touched his lips. “Mrs. Yan and Mr. Yan truly are a devoted couple.”

With that, he turned and took his seat, his interest apparently spent. The others quickly stepped forward to offer toasts, and the brief episode was over.

Jiang Ciyou supported Yan Feng back to their seats.

Yan Feng was overcome with discomfort; his stomach churned as if he were about to vomit. Forcing himself upright, he muttered, “I need to use the restroom.”

Jiang Ciyou sat lost in thought, her gaze unconsciously drifting to the main table. In her daze, she suddenly felt a chill on her chest—a glass of red wine had been poured over her.

Then came Jiang Xiaoxiao’s feigned apology: “Sorry, I was just going to make a toast, but tripped on the carpet by you, sister.”

Jiang Ciyou looked up, a flash of anger in her eyes. Jiang Xiaoxiao had done it on purpose. She’d seen Jiang Ciyou in the spotlight at the main table, surrounded by praise for her genuine character. She wanted nothing more than to humiliate her, to see her embarrassed.

After her apology, Jiang Xiaoxiao turned to the side. “Mom, what should I do? I got sister’s dress dirty.”

Yao Shulan cast Jiang Ciyou a cold glance. “Your sister took so much from you growing up—what’s one dress? She won’t mind.” With that, she took Jiang Xiaoxiao’s arm and led her away.

As they left, Jiang Xiaoxiao glanced back, giving Jiang Ciyou a triumphant, taunting smile.

Watching Yao Shulan’s retreating figure, Jiang Ciyou couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow. Her parents’ betrayal hurt far more deeply than anything Yan Feng or Xia Ling had ever done to her.

The night the paternity test results came out, Yao Shulan had slapped her twice across the face. “So you’re that wretch’s daughter? I can’t believe I cherished my enemy’s child all these years. Why don’t you just die? Why won’t you die!”

Three years had passed, but the pain in her chest flared anew every time she remembered.

People all around were staring at her, whispering among themselves.

“It’s outrageous—what a spiteful little brat. She did it on purpose.”

“Exactly. Is that really your sister, Jiang? How could she be so vicious?”

“And Madam Jiang—how can she be so biased? Even if she’s not her birth daughter, she raised her for twenty years. Was there no affection at all?”

The story of Jiang Ciyou’s origins had already spread among the society ladies and debutantes of the capital. The young heiresses felt indignant on her behalf.

A few of the girls who had just added Jiang Ciyou on WeChat happened to be nearby and witnessed the incident. They quickly gathered around her.

“I’m fine. I’ll go clean up in the restroom,” Jiang Ciyou said.

“With so much wine, there’s no way you can get it out. Xinyi, hurry and get Jiang a clean change of clothes.”

“Jiang, come upstairs with me. I’ll find you something new to wear.”

Looking up, Jiang Ciyou saw it was the red-haired girl who’d stood beside the matriarch during the gift-giving earlier. She was strikingly pretty, dressed not in an elaborate evening gown but in a simple orange camisole and deep blue jeans—a casual, Western style.

Jiang Ciyou felt a sense of affinity for this Miss Bo and didn’t refuse.

After all, her dress was soaked through, the red wine glaringly obvious on the white cheongsam. She saw no reason to decline.

“Thank you, Miss Bo,” she said, following Bo Xinyi upstairs via a side elevator. They walked down a long corridor, from which there was a clear view of the banquet hall below. As Jiang Ciyou glanced toward the main table, she noticed Bo Jinxi was no longer there.

Soon, Bo Xinyi opened a door. “Jiang, wait here for a moment. I’ll fetch you some clothes.”

Jiang Ciyou nodded and stepped inside. In no time, Bo Xinyi returned, carrying a yellow camisole and a pair of dark blue wide-legged jeans.

“I just got back from England today. This is all I have—no formal dresses, I’m afraid,” Bo Xinyi said apologetically.

“This is more than enough. Thank you, Miss Bo.”

Bo Xinyi smiled. “I’ll leave you to change. Just come down when you’re ready. Don’t worry—the room is unused, the door’s locked by fingerprint. No one else can get in.” With that, she left and closed the door behind her.

Jiang Ciyou drew the curtains, walked to the sofa, and began to remove her dress. She had only gotten halfway when she heard a noise at the door. Suddenly, without warning, it swung open.

Startled, Jiang Ciyou grabbed her discarded cheongsam to cover herself and instinctively turned around. Her panicked gaze met the cold, inky eyes of a man.

Surprise flickered across his face at the sight of her changing, but his gaze quickly darkened. He strode in with long legs, facing Jiang Ciyou as he swiftly shut the door.

When she recognized his face, Jiang Ciyou let out a breath of relief. “President Bo?”

Bo Jinxi’s eyes remained fixed on her, his voice icy and unreadable. “What are you doing here?”

Jiang Ciyou explained, “My dress was accidentally soaked in red wine. Miss Bo kindly brought me some clean clothes.”

“Didn’t you know this is my room?”