Qin Qinxi followed the service staff into a private changing room.

Several sets of riding attire were hung on the wall.

White breeches, black riding boots, and a beige helmet—everything was her size.

She stood frozen at the doorway, her gaze moving from the breeches to the boots and back again.

She reached out to touch the fabric of the breeches—smooth, thick, and surprisingly sturdy.

She flipped up the collar and glanced at the size label.

Yes, it was her size. How did he know?

When Qin Qinxi stepped out of the changing room, Vio was already waiting outside.

Bali had also changed and was standing beside him.

Vio was dressed in a black riding suit, his boots polished to a mirror shine, the seams of his trousers perfectly straight, and his shirt collar buttoned neatly—

not left open, not rolled up—

making him look impeccably put-together from head to toe.

Qin Qinxi thought that when he wasn’t wearing slippers, he looked even more upright and aloof, like a figure straight out of a picture book rather than a real person.

Vio gave her a quick once-over, his eyes sweeping from her helmet to her breeches, then to her boots, pausing for a moment.

A faint curve played at the corner of his lips, but he said nothing.

The man walked forward, and Qin Qinxi fell in step behind him, taking in the surroundings.

The arena was vast, with a track stretching off in the distance,

the flags at the bends fluttering in the wind, and farther still, rows of stables with red-tiled roofs and white walls, neatly aligned.

What lay beyond that? She couldn’t make it out clearly, only feeling how immense the sky was and how wide the land stretched,

with a hazy horizon at the edge of her vision, where sky and earth seemed to merge.

Qin Qinxi suddenly felt a pang of anxiety.

She’d never been to a place like this before. The kind of riding she was used to was nothing like this...

Two horses were tied to the railings—one black, one brown.

An Arabian horse, its head held high,

its mane gleaming in the sunlight like silk draped over its neck, billowing in the breeze.

The black horse was sturdier, with broad shoulders and a deep chest, its four legs long and straight,

and hooves as big as a bowl, leaving deep imprints in the sand.

“That one’s yours,” Vio said, walking up to the black horse and pointing toward the brown one beside it.

Qin Qinxi swallowed hard and approached the brown horse, meeting its gaze.

The horse looked back at her, its large eyes glistening, its lashes long, and steam puffing from its nostrils, warm against the back of her hand.

She reached out to stroke its neck, but pulled her hand back halfway.

It was far too tall—more than a head taller than she was.

The horse she’d ridden before had a back level with her waist, and she could step onto the stirrups without anyone’s help.

But this brown horse’s back came up to her chest, and she had to stand on tiptoe just to reach its mane.

Embarrassed, she looked over at Vio, ready to say outright that she couldn’t ride,

but seeing Bali and the uniformed staff standing nearby, she didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up.

Bali stepped onto the stirrups, planted his hands firmly, and vaulted effortlessly onto the black-and-brown horse, his movements crisp and efficient.

He was astonished—but he didn’t let it show on his face.

The boss had booked the whole place for this woman.

Hiring the entire venue wasn’t cheap; it was billed by the hour, covering clearing the area, security, and service staff, adding up to at least several hundred thousand.

Not only had he reserved the whole place, but he’d also let her ride his second prized steed.

That brown Arabian horse, named “Sultan,” was the boss’s backup mount, purebred and worth millions.

Normally, no one else was allowed to touch it, yet now he was letting this woman ride it.

He tugged on the reins, turning the horse’s head, then squeezed its flanks with both legs, and off they went.

Qin Qinxi watched his figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance, her mind consumed by a single thought:

She was going to be thrown to the ground, trampled into a heap of mud, reduced to a mere scrap of paper.

She hurried to catch up with Vio.

He had already kicked his leg over the horse’s back, settling himself securely atop the black steed, looking down at her from his lofty perch.

She ran up to the horse and tilted her head back to look at him.

“Mr. Mansero.”

Vio held the reins, his gaze lowered as he looked at her.

“I can’t…” She dropped her head, her voice barely audible.

“You can, can’t you?”

“No, not like this…”

End of Chapter 59: Chapter 59