Dressed in a pale pink little evening gown, her fair skin seemed even more radiant, especially that slender waist—so delicate it almost beckoned to be gently twisted and broken with a single firm squeeze.

Su Qingyue followed her mother into the top-tier private room of a high-end private club, her expression utterly blank.

Uncle Yan, with his stern yet composed demeanor and unsmiling face, was already seated at the head table.

“Hello, Uncle Yan!”

“Mm. Qingyue has grown up—please have a seat.” As he spoke, his gaze softened as he looked at Liu Yingxue: “Honey, come sit down. What took you so long?”

“Traffic was a bit bad on the way. By the way, where’s Yan Yang? He hasn’t arrived yet?”

“He’ll be here soon. Now, let’s start with a sip of warm tea.”

Watching the two of them chat so familiarly, like an old married couple, Su Qingyue suddenly recalled the days when her father was still with them and their family of three lived just as warmly and harmoniously.

She stared absentmindedly at the porcelain-white dinner plate before her, its cool, lustrous sheen catching her eye, lost in thought. She wondered if her dress was too tight; a heavy, suffocating weight pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

The door to the private room was gently pushed open, and a clear, gentle figure stepped in slowly.

She looked up—and there was Yan Yang, her half-brother from her stepfamily, with no blood relation to her at all. His features were soft and refined, his frame lean and lithe, and he wore a perfectly tailored light-gray suit that made him look both elegant and poised.

When his lips curved into a faint smile as they met her gaze, it reminded her of the first time she had come to this house, helpless and vulnerable, crouching in the corner of a room and crying. Back then, he had coaxed her softly, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze.

“Xiaoyue, you’ve grown up—you’re so beautiful.”

Yan Yang affectionately ruffled her hair.

“Brother Yan Yang, it’s been ages! You’re still so handsome and gentle.”

She replied obediently, while Liu Yingxue subtly frowned at the two of them.

“How well-behaved! By the way, I brought a classmate along—she’s someone you know, too.”

“Sici, come in.”

Upon hearing that name, Su Qingyue’s heart gave a sudden jolt. How could he be here?!

Fu Sici slowly walked in, dressed in a bespoke black suit that made his posture stand tall and distinguished. His features were deep and sculpted, with a high, straight nose and thin, slightly pursed lips, exuding an air of aloof elegance and icy reserve.

His cold gaze swept over Su Qingyue, who was wearing a pink little evening gown, then politely turned toward the head table.

“Hello, Uncle Yan, Auntie Liu. Sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all, Sici. It’s rare for you to grace us with your presence. Please, have a seat.”

Uncle Yan’s usually stern and composed face now wore an admiring look as he regarded Fu Sici’s imposing presence.

As the heir to Beijing’s foremost aristocratic family, Fu Sici was also an outstanding business prodigy, always the center of attention in any business setting.

“In that case, young lady, I’d better obey without further delay.”

Whether it was intentional or not, Fu Sici sat down directly in the seat next to her, causing her hand holding the fork to clench tightly.

Seeing her nervousness and discomfort, Fu Sici fixed her with a teasing yet understated glance.

Across from her, Yan Yang smiled gently at her.

“Xiaoyue, do you still remember Fu Sici? He was my college classmate. Before you went abroad, he used to visit our home all the time.”

How could she forget? During those tender, budding years of youth, she didn’t just remember him—his image was etched deep into her very bones.

Suppressing the flood of memories welling up inside her, she nodded calmly:

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, thank you, little sister, for keeping me so firmly in your heart,” Fu Sici said with a sly, half-smile—a polite remark that inexplicably made her feel suffocated.

Suddenly, under the table, the tip of his black leather shoe quietly brushed against the underside of her short skirt, then slowly, deliberately, teased and caressed her heel again and again, in a manner that was both deliberate and brazen.

Su Qingyue’s whole body jerked violently, as if blood had rushed straight to her head, and her clenched fists turned white at the tips of her fingers.

She remained completely still, her long lashes fluttering beneath her lowered eyelids.

“Yueyue, eat a bit more—you’ve gotten even thinner after four years abroad.”

Her mother’s gentle words reached her ears, but all she could do was nod nervously.

Under the table, his relentless teasing made her deeply agitated, and images of the past—when he had taught her and they had shared all sorts of intimate moments together—flooded her mind.

Unable to resist, she raised her eyes to look at him beside her. He still exuded that same aloof, composed aura, casually and elegantly discussing business matters with Uncle Yan and the others.

“Xiaoyue, do you have any plans to work somewhere in the future? Would you consider joining my company?”

“What? Oh, sure!”

All she could hear was the rapid pounding of her own heart, and she wasn’t even sure what she had just said.

“Then it’s settled! Once you’ve recovered, come join us. We have plenty of young, handsome guys at our company—someone as pretty and adorable as you is bound to be popular with everyone.”

“Okay, thank you, Brother Yan Yang,” she said with a sweet, obedient smile.

End of Chapter 4: The Earnestly Elegant Scoundrel